Rescuing the Bad Boy

by Jessica Lemmon

She opened her eyes to find Donovan standing in front of the cold fireplace examining the work he’d done. In all her busyness to get ready for the charity dinner, she hadn’t seen the final product.

  The corner of his mouth kicked up as he plunged his hands into his pockets. In black slacks and a gray dress shirt, sleeves cuffed revealing tattooed forearms, Donovan looked ridiculously sexy. Which would’ve been fine if the only area that responded was the part between her legs. Yes, her erogenous zones had sat up and taken notice, but they were not the problem. The problem was that her heart sat up and noticed, too. And that was forbidden.

  “I needed a break.” She strolled over to him, trying to project an air of nonchalance she did not feel.

  His eyes moved over her body, making her pull her shoulders back, put a little extra sass in her steps. Him looking at her the way he did now made her feel pretty. No… made her feel beautiful.

  “I needed a break from you in that dress,” he said, his voice a sensual husk. “Hard to be professional while sporting a boner.”

  Sofie tossed her head back and laughed. That shouldn’t be sexy. And part of her wished he wasn’t—but he was. Everything he said, everything he did, was sexy to her. A sure sign she was a goner. Through and through.

  He erased the gap between them, pulled his hands from his pockets, and wrapped his arms around her waist. Wide palms covered her butt cheeks over her dress. He squatted down, kissing her deeply and running his hands beneath her flared skirt, up her thighs, and over her panties.

  When his lips left hers, a deep growl reverberated from his throat. “Lace.”

  She raised her arms and looped them around his neck. “Surprise.”

  He squeezed her ass again. “When is this thing over?”

  He was talking about the party. But her thoughts were elsewhere. Because the “thing” between them would be over soon as well. That talk was coming, she guessed.

  “Things are winding down,” she said. “The auction winners will be announced promptly at ten.” She turned her head to take in the clock on the far wall. “I should probably get back in there. I need to draw the winners.”

  “I’ll help.” He let go of her rear, his hands smoothing her skirt. He straightened and she turned to make her way to the ballroom. Before she got too far, his fingers laced with hers. “Never showed you,” he said, tugging her back to him. “Used your rock.”

  He stepped away from the fireplace to reveal the jagged heart-shaped stone in the very center of the design. When she’d found it, she thought it was interesting. Not necessarily usable, since the heart was imperfect. But in the design with other imperfect pieces, it was… well, the whole was kind of perfect.

  “Wow,” she whispered.

  “The only piece that could’ve gone there. I swear to you, there was this exact shaped hole.”

  A heart-shaped hole. And the only piece able to fill the hole was the piece she’d found. So much symbolism. She said nothing and his comment hung in the air as the clock ticked away behind them.

  Running out of time. They were running out of time for everything.

  “Better get things wrapped up,” he said, squeezing her fingers with his. “Sooner we get these people out of my house, the better.”

  She nodded. The sooner they got these people out of his house, the sooner she would get to be with Donovan alone. And soon after, he would be packing up and leaving the Cove.

  Bittersweet emotions clogging her chest, she kept hold of his hand and walked with him out of the great room.

  Donovan and Sofie ran smack into Evan, who was coming from the direction of the ballroom. Asher trailed behind him blowing a trail of vapor from his mouth. Donovan had already given him shit about his new electronic smoking habit, but he knew, a former smoker himself, how hard it was to quit.

  “Looking for a drink away from the stiffs,” Evan announced.

  Donovan looked to Sofie, who gave his fingers a quick squeeze, then let go. After she sauntered toward the ballroom, Donovan said to Evan, “I can help you with that.”

  His buddy’s arched brow said he had thoughts about that silent bit of communication between Donovan and Sofie, but he ignored him.

  The three of them walked to the dining room where a handful of people were having cocktails. Faith was in here, too. No sign of her douchebag ex-fiancé, but Connor was nearby. Donovan was glad. He didn’t know what Michael was up to, but Faith was better off without him. Hopefully, Connor could run interference if necessary.

  Donovan cut through the crowd with a polite smile, ducked behind the bar, and grabbed a bottle of bourbon and a stack of plastic cups.

  Five minutes later, Asher, Evan, and Donovan were sitting in the back of Donovan’s topless Jeep parked in the field behind the mansion.

  Like Donovan, Evan hadn’t bothered with the tie tonight, dressed in pants and a button-down shirt. Ash hadn’t bothered dressing up at all—in his signature all-black ensemble of jeans and a tee and cowboy boots. Donovan undid another button on his shirt, anticipating the moment he could get out of the stiff slacks and into broken-in jeans.

  “Hell of a party in there, man.” Asher chucked back a shot and held up his cup.

  Evan refilled it. “Yeah, impressed.”

  Donovan shrugged, finishing his own drink. “Didn’t do anything. Just gave Sofie the space she needed.” Except the space between the two of them. Where they were concerned, he hadn’t given her much space at all. And she hadn’t given him any. He tried to make that sound bad in his head. Couldn’t do it.

  “Who woulda thought?” Evan said contemplatively as he gazed in the direction of the mansion. “Us three screw-ups making something of ourselves.”

  Asher grunted. “Who says we’re there?”

  Evan socked him in the arm. “You were on the cover of Rolling Stone, asshole.”

  “You’re both famous,” Donovan said. “I’m just a layman who builds fireplaces.”

  “Dumbass.” Asher held out an arm. “You own a freaking mansion.”

  “Yeah, you own a mansion,” Evan agreed.

  Donovan felt their eyes on his profile, knowing this was their way of trying to draw an answer out of him. The answer they wanted to hear. What they didn’t know, or maybe what they did know and were in denial about, was that nothing had changed with the mansion. Donovan was still selling. He was still leaving.

  “Mine for now,” he said. “But the mansion is going to belong to Alessandre soon.”

  “You gettin’ a new place in the Cove?” This from Evan.

  “Nope. Going back.”

  “So this thing with you and Sofie…” Evan started.

  He bit the inside of his cheek. This thing with him and Sofie. What was there to say about that?

  “We’ll work it out.” Not an answer, but the only answer he was willing to give.

  “Shit, Donny. You’re as big of an idiot as Asher.”

  “Hey! What the fuck did I do?” Asher grabbed the bottle of bourbon and refilled his cup. Donovan let him fill his cup as well. “Leave him alone, Mr. Almost Married. Not all men are cut out to be dads and husbands.”

  “Amen,” Donovan said, downing his drink in one swallow.

  “Idiots.” Evan snatched the bottle for himself.

  “Maybe,” Asher said. “Doesn’t stop us from getting what we want. There’s something to be said for having your cake, having different cake whenever you want. Having cupcakes in between.”

  Donovan chuckled at Asher’s stupid joke. But that wasn’t the case with him at all, was it? Promiscuity was a novelty. A novelty, he knew all too well, that wore thin after a while. A twitching dick was something he could live with. A raging libido was something he could bury—hell, had buried for seven years.

  What he couldn’t live with was the idea of lashing himself to Sofie and this town. Pretending to be a guy who knew how to be one-half of a relationship when he knew the deep, dark truth.

  He wasn’t good at relationships. He wasn’t good at family.


  He wasn’t good… not for either of them.

  The guests had finally gone, and Sofie was so exhausted, she could collapse.

  She’d bid farewell to absolutely everyone: Ruby, the kids, and Evan’s family, whom she thanked one-by-one for showing up and for their generosity. The Downeys, Shane and Crickitt August included, were an incredibly genuine family.

  After the caterers had packed up, and the sound guys wound up their wires and packed up the microphones, two guests were left. Her dedicated employee-slash-bestie, Faith, and practically-live-in landscaper-slash-handyman, Connor.

  Michael had left some time ago. That was the extent of the information Faith had shared, come to think of it. No matter. Sofie would get the full story soon enough.

  Connor, still dressed in casual pants and a dress shirt, walked side-by-side with Faith into the foyer. They paused at the front door, where Sofie stood, having just seen out an older couple by the name of Townsend.

  Faith hugged her. “Great job tonight, babe.”

  “Yes. Nicely done, Sofe,” Connor said, pulling an arm around her neck and kissing her forehead.

  “Thank you both for your help.”

  Connor gave her another squeeze, then let her go.

  Faith dug her keys from a small purse as Donovan came around the corner.

  Sofie tried to keep her heart from leaping at the sight of him, but it was no use. His jet-black hair had been styled back at the beginning of the night, but now was falling over his forehead in that disheveled way she’d grown used to. Even dressed in the harmless attire of black pants and a button-down shirt, Donovan Pate was a potent mixture of masculinity and danger.

  A danger to your heart.

  “You out?” Donovan asked.

  Connor shook his extended hand. “For now.”

  For now.

  Sofie felt the words stab the center of her chest. She knew Connor planned to do a few minor repairs before the sale. After that, Pate Mansion, the mansion she’d come to genuinely enjoy, would become Evergreen Cove’s premiere bed-and-breakfast.

  “Thanks for everything, man,” Donovan said. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “I know.” Connor smiled. “When are you heading back?”

  Final. This conversation was so final.

  “Hey, Sofie, can you walk me to my car?” Faith. God bless her. She must have known Sofie could use a distraction.

  “Sure thing.” She followed Faith to the door.

  “Be out in a minute,” Connor called after them.

  Faith bit her lip and nodded curtly.

  Well. That was interesting.

  The girls stepped onto the covered porch then walked along the cobblestone driveway, looping their arms together to keep from teetering in their heels. Faith’s car was parked close by, since she was among the first to arrive, so the walk was short.

  In front of her Mercedes, Faith paused. “Are you going to be okay? Are you sure you don’t want to leave?”

  “Are you going to tell me what happened tonight between you and Michael?” Sofie asked, changing the subject. What she really wanted to know was what was happening between Faith and Connor. She suspected something was going on between those two. If not in practice, at least in thought.

  “I know better than to believe in second chances.”

  Sofie met her best friend’s navy eyes, chewing on that bit of advice for herself.

  “Michael…” Faith shook her head as if exasperated. “You know what? I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Okay, hon. You don’t have to.” Sofie got that. She really did.

  “Thank you.” Faith’s shoulders fell, the relief evident.

  “Drive safe.”

  Faith’s hand stilled on the door handle. “Are you going back inside?”

  Sofie nodded.

  “Are you staying?” Her eyebrows drifted into a look of concern.

  Sofie nodded again. Like she’d be better off if she stopped now? She’d already fallen for Donovan. Already wanted him to stay in the Cove. How could this situation get any worse? But instead of admitting any of it, she simply said, “Straight through.”

  Faith climbed behind the wheel of her Mercedes and pulled away. Connor came outside next, revved the engine of his gold Mustang, and without a word to Sofie, rumbled down the driveway behind Faith.

  Blowing out a breath, Sofie tipped up her chin. The white full moon, the starry sky, the pine trees and maples dotting the yard… she couldn’t remember a more perfect night, unless she counted last night. Last night had been pretty perfect, too.

  Abruptly, she missed Gertie’s presence. The mutt had gone home with Faith yesterday evening. Faith’s sister Skylar offered to watch her for a few days. As fun as the mutt was at the campout, a charity dinner was no place for a dog. Sofie prayed Skylar could help find a family who deserved a great pet. If she didn’t, Sofie would have to make sure she did. She may not be allowed to have a dog at her apartment, but she refused to send Gertie to a shelter.

  “There you are.” The low rumble of Donovan’s voice wound around her aching heart.

  Sofie’s eyes sank shut. Much like he’d given up Dog, he was going to give her up in the same way.

  And you are going to give him up.

  They were both walking away.

  Strong arms wrapped around her waist and his fingers linked around her middle. She rested her hand over his. He didn’t ask her to stay tonight. But then he’d stopped asking a long time ago.

  He settled his cheek against hers.

  “Come inside, Scampi. Have a surprise for you.”

  Before she could stop herself, hope leaped in her chest. Had he changed his mind about selling? Was he staying? Or maybe, he wasn’t staying but didn’t want to end what they had between them. Her fingers continued to brush his knuckles, but she stayed silent, afraid to give a voice to any of the thoughts in her head.

  He kissed her temple and pointed her toward the house, dropping his hand to her butt where he cupped one cheek as they walked inside. As he pushed open the front door and ushered her over the threshold, she tried to lighten the mood.

  “My backside was lonely before you came back to town.”

  She expected him to laugh, but when the front door closed behind her, she turned to find his expression serious. He took her in from head to toe, slowly, purposefully. Then he snagged her hand, spun her around, and pressed her body up against the door with his.

  The night seven years ago replayed in her mind.

  The foyer, barely lit by soft yellow sconces. The light fading into the dark floors, thick drapes, highlighting the raw intension on Donny’s face. As if history was repeating, Donny breathed into her ear and bit her earlobe.

  She arched her back and rubbed herself against him, feeling his hard length press into her belly.

  “Scampi.” He tugged her bottom lip with his teeth.

  “Donny,” she whispered, feeling the significance of this moment. The weight of this moment.

  He smiled down at her.

  She managed a small smile in return. “If this is my surprise, I approve.”

  “Giving you a do-over, sweetheart.”

  His hands curved around her ass. He kissed her again.

  “A do-over?” she asked when she lost his lips.

  “Library.” He tipped his head to the room on her right.

  Where it had all started. Technically, it started in the parking lot of the Wharf, but they both knew the most significant act had occurred here, at the mansion. Kind of perfect it should end here, too. The charity dinner was over, Gertrude was gone, and Donovan was leaving. But, evidently, not before making good on the vow to give her a do-over on that first night they shared together.

  Perfect. Achingly perfect.

  She twined her fingers into his black hair. “Couch or rug?”

  “Good memory.” He kissed her softly and repeated his words from that fateful night. “Couch or rug?” He lifted her like he did se
ven years ago, his hands cupping her backside. Her legs answered by wrapping around his waist.

  She continued raveling his hair around her fingertips and staring down into his pale silver blue eyes, wondering if he remembered what came next.

  He did.

  “Where do you want to make love?” His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

  “You didn’t mean it then,” she couldn’t resist pointing out.

  “No.”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah, Scampi,” he answered. “I mean it now.”

  She brushed the hair off his forehead as he walked her to the doorway.

  “You don’t get hard and fast tonight,” he told her. “You get slow and sweet. You get what you deserved the first time around. You get me taking my time, making sure you get what you deserve. Tonight”—he kissed her—“you get everything you want.”

  Not everything, her breaking heart reminded her.

  This was Donovan’s good-bye. He wasn’t going to stay. He was giving back the thing he’d taken from her, only this time, gift-wrapped.

  A good-bye present.

  She was going to accept. Because she couldn’t physically walk away from him while his eyes held hers and his mouth said all the right words. On a very selfish level, she refused to walk away from an evening bathed in the promise of slow and smooth.

  Before Donovan left her again, she wanted every bit of him she could get. Every ounce he was willing to leave behind. Because she would treasure it. When the nights got long and lonely, these were the memories she would unpack and curl herself around.

  Placing a kiss on the center of his mouth, she whispered, “Couch.”

  Same as seven years ago, he smiled up at her.

  “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Sofie’s hair was up, worn in a loose arrangement of curls. Donovan put her on her feet and, resisting reaching for her body, put his hands in her hair instead.

  He felt beneath her curls until he found a bobby pin. He pulled the tiny piece of metal free, careful not to take her hair with it. One loose curl spilled out. She turned green, green eyes up to his, and the power of her gaze zapped his chest like a bolt of lightning. He freed another. And another, repeating the process and dropping pins to the hardwood floor in a series of muted clatters.