Atonement: The Lonely Ridge Collection

by Lyz Kelley

  Atonement

  Lonely Ridge Collection

  Lyz Kelley

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Blurb: Atonement

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Author Notes

  More Books By Lyz Kelley

  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  There is a tribe of people I need to thank, especially for helping me with the technical aspects of this book.

  First Tina Marie Bisiaux, MS, MAC, LADC-S and Derek Shihan for helping with the co-dependent and substance abuse emotional arcs for a user and those who love them. Very powerful stuff. Second to Sean for your help with the gaming and LGBTQ aspects of my story. Julia Freewoman, aka the Resident Geek, for pushing me to stretch my gaming imagination.

  Aidy Award for allowing me to bounce plot ideas around, and to Faith Freewoman, my fantastic editor, who worked tirelessly to make the best book possible. For Carol Agnew, who crossed every T and dotted every I.

  Melody Simmons who created an excellent cover for my story.

  Last, but not least, the Kelley’s Heroes for spotting last minute typos and inconsistencies.

  You all have my sincere gratitude.

  ~Lyz

  Blurb: Atonement

  Riches to Rags.

  Does Rachelle Clairemont deserve a second chance?

  With her father in jail and her hometown reeling from the recent FBI raids, she’s hoping to rebuild her life. The last thing she expects is to find is help from a super-sexy video gamer geek.

  Entrepreneur Jacob Reyes has escaped to Colorado for a much-needed rest before developing his next game world. He’s looking for inspiration in the mountain valley, not expecting an interior designer to get his creative juices flowing.

  When Jacob asks Rachelle to redesign his vacation home, she has no idea she’s headed deeper into a world of jealousy and manipulation. But she’s a survivor, and swears she will never trust anyone again. Can Jacob provide her a soft place to land until she discovers there’s no better place to call home than Elkridge?

  Chapter One

  “What idiot put these instructions together?” Rachelle slid the sheet of nonsense closer, then looked at the set of electrical cords.

  Of course the black wires weren’t marked. And the labeled pictures didn’t help either. Rachelle rubbed her temples, trying to hold off the thumping ache.

  “Why does everything have to be so hard?”

  She rocked back on her heels and looked around the twelve-hundred-square-foot space. Gone was the original oil painting of an Indian chief. Gone were the handcrafted pool table and bar. Gone were all the artistic pieces the creative side of her loved. The furnishings she spent years collecting to design the perfect home for her father, all gone—seized by the government as punishment for her father’s sins.

  Her father’s arrest for drug trafficking, tax evasion, and a couple dozen more offenses, forced her out of the only home she’d ever known and into the position of having to take the first job available. She hated turning her beloved entertainment room into a sterile video gaming theatre, but she couldn’t pretend she was fasting anymore.

  She might have been proud of the six-figure makeover if the new job hadn’t forced her to work in the one place she never wanted to see again. The place she’d worked hard to make perfect, both to avoid her father’s anger, all while providing a safe home for her and her brother.

  The modern chrome and leather chairs and floor-to-ceiling screen created a theatre of imagination, and ensured the new owner had no distractions—that was the idea, anyway. Jacob Reye’s assistant, Ben, said the owner wanted a place where he could relax, rejuvenate, and create.

  Unfortunately, life wasn’t a day at the spa.

  The sparse furnishing reminded her just how empty her life had become. Life had given her such a hard shake, her world ended up broken into tiny, unrecognizable pieces. Add in a couple of weeks to move, plus a couple of months to realize her old life had evaporated before her eyes, and what she ended up with was a bunch of nothing.

  She pressed her elbows into the steel grey wool carpet to study the ultra-modern game chairs the shipping company delivered that morning.

  “Whoever invented these things should be shot.”

  The ergonomics of the design were off, as well as the functionality. But she wouldn’t complain—to the owner anyway. She was just happy to have the work.

  “Do you need help?” A voice as deep and smooth as her dark roast coffee ambled its way into the room.

  Her heart gave a little leap of surprise. On all fours, she rotated to look at the intruder. “Who are you? The construction work is done. Nobody should be in here.”

  When he didn’t answer, she repositioned to see him more clearly.

  He didn’t appear threatening, but held her gaze for several heartbeats, a frown pulling at the edge of his mouth. He studied her some more, then shifted sideways to see what she’d been working on. “I see my chairs have arrived.”

  Your chairs? Ooops. She hadn’t recognized Jacob Reyes, CEO and founder of Exlander Force, from photographs she found with a Google search. Right now his hair was mussed, and he hadn’t shaved. The stubble set the tone for his sexy, bad-boy style, but then the loose-fitting jeans and flip-flops left the geeky in place.

  However, the video game guru and multimillionaire standing in the doorway was much more than his digital images.

  His attention flicked from the chairs back to her face.

  When the scrutiny became too uncomfortable, she got to her feet as gracefully as she could manage. “You must be the new owner.” She straightened her blouse and smoothed back her hair—which, like everything else in her life, had spun out of control.

  “Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m Jacob. I take it you’re the interior designer Ben’s been raving about.”

  She’d take the compliment, if for no other reason than she’d need references later. Right now all she wanted to do was finish this job and finally, completely write “the end” to this chapter of her life. Every day she remained in the place added to the continuously looped heartache.

  “That's nice of Ben to say.” She considered the grey walls and the brushed stainless-steel bar. The design had come together better than expected, but the entertainment room missed the feminine touches she liked to add. The décor exuded masculinity, just like the owner. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Like it?” His eyes darkened. “It’s like you read my mind. It’s perfect. Better than I imagined.”

  Relief eased the knot in her stomach. At least Jacob wasn’t as hard to please as her father.

  She slammed the door on the memory, refusing to think about the psychopath who’d turned her world inside out. “I’m sure you’ll want to look around, so I’ll get out of your way. Just let me know when I should come back.”

  “Wait.” He reached out a hand as she walked by, then caught himself. “It looks like you’re almost finished.” He pointed toward the chairs. “I have another set of these chai
rs in San Diego, and I learned the hard way that they can be a little tricky to put together since the instructions are missing a few steps.”

  Tell me about it.

  He leaned in a little closer. “We can knock out the setup before Ben gets back with lunch. How about it?”

  “I spoke to your assistant this morning. I thought he was in California.”

  “He was. We just landed an hour ago. I came along to see how the new design is coming and sneak in a mini vacation.”

  “Do you always fly with your assistants?”

  She cringed, knowing the answer was none of her business. But she was curious.

  Based on the video calls, Ben was in his mid to late twenties and had a body made for magazine covers. His rapid-fire approach to things gave the impression he was always in a hurry to be somewhere else, and could be a bit overwhelming. He switched topics probably as often as he changed wardrobes. However, she admired his bold charm. He lived out loud and real. He didn’t hide his personality and was the type of real she’d never been allowed to be.

  Jacob chuckled. “No. I don’t travel with my assistants. Ben’s my half-brother.”

  Brother? Wow, she didn’t pick up on the family relationship, and his openness startled her, although both were refreshing. She hesitated a second, letting the information settle.

  A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Jacob's mouth, like he wasn’t surprised by her assumptions. His eyes flickered with a hint of humor.

  “It’s not always easy working with family,” she offered, to explain her weird reaction.

  “No.” He leaned a little closer, like he wanted to tell her a secret. “It’s not.”

  She didn’t move back. She just let her senses take in his masculine scent, which reminded her of a coastal breeze. An image of him standing on a sailboat, the wind in his hair and his tanned face tilted toward the sun, stole into her mind along with his scent, an image that matched the smooth timbre of his voice.

  She let his masculinity wash over her until her apprehension receded, but not the magnetic pull. She’d been around his type most of her life and should be wary, but for some reason, he’d sneaked in under her radar.

  “Maybe I should just let you get on with your day." She gripped the stair railing tighter. "I’m assuming putting the chairs together can wait.” With a handful of misgivings, she climbed out of the self-imposed trap. Slowly ascending the staircase, she peeked over her shoulder at the sailor man.

  Sure enough, he was staring with such focus, her breath hitched in her throat. He wasn’t dangerous...at least she didn’t think so...but he had an intensity about him.

  “Is there something else you need, Mr. Reyes?”

  “Jacob,” he reminded gently. He stood at the bottom of the stairs with one foot on the bottom step. “I have a proposition for you.”

  She clutched the stairwell to stop her feet from skedaddling in the opposite direction.

  Hosting parties for her father had normally resulted in a variety of indecent propositions. She’d been on display, like a cow in an auction ring waiting for the highest bidder.

  Jacob Reyes needed to make the next move.

  She waited to see where he headed with his proposal, and slipped seamlessly into her disinterested pose—a mental state to establish distance and guard against evoking a reaction. Powerful men liked to dominate and chase, like a wolf tracking a rabbit. She’d do nothing to stimulate his carnal instincts. To outsmart his offers of diamonds, trips, cars, and whatnot, she needed to analyze his approach, and counter it.

  Then again, his offer might be decent.

  But she couldn’t take the chance. She’d survived this long by being careful.

  She’d never again be for sale to the highest bidder.

  “And what are you offering?” She lifted her chin a bit higher and squeezed her shoulder blades together.

  “Since you nailed what I was looking for in this room, I was wondering if you'd be willing to redesign the rest of the house.”

  Oh, God no. Her next breath got stuck halfway to her throat. He had no idea he was crushing her heart, but he was doing an excellent job.

  Her mind whirled with dozens of reasons why she shouldn’t touch a project like this, and there was only one reason to do it, and it trumped all others.

  Money.

  The government had frozen her family’s assets. She’d never quite understood the value of a robust bank account until she had nothing.

  She let out a self-conscious chuckle, hoping to cover her trepidation. “That is a nice offer, Jacob.”

  “But?”

  She clung to the railing to keep her hands from shaking. “But it would take months to redesign the whole house, and I can’t commit to such a large project.”

  He proceeded up the stairs, his head down, his frown hardening. As she suspected, he wasn’t the type to take no for an answer. She braced to hold her ground, refusing to be the compliant daughter anymore. She was free. Free to choose the next step. At least that’s what she kept telling herself.

  “I’ll pay you well.”

  I’m not for sale. “I’ll pass,” she responded without taking a breath.

  He stopped a step below where she stood. “There are very few designers who can transform a room the way you did, Ms. Clairemont. You have a unique talent. One which needs to be showcased, and I intend for this home to be a designer’s dream—magazine coverage and all. If it’s not about the money, maybe it’s about the challenge. So, what do you say?”

  Trust me, it’s not me you want.

  She locked her knees to keep herself from jumping at the chance to create with abandon. To mix textures and colors and styles. To live out loud. To have her designs published in a magazine. Oh, so tempting. “Mr. Reyes, your offer is intriguing, but I have another job starting tomorrow.” At least I hope I can find something.

  The fear of the unknown again pressed in.

  His face wilted before blooming into the most glorious smile. “How does three million dollars and six months sound? And for you, a hundred grand for your time.”

  A hundred grand, as in a hundred thousand?

  She choked. How could she turn down a job doing what she loved?

  She could tell he sensed her hesitation, because his glowing enthusiasm continued to spread across his entire face.

  Caution rolled over her as easily as scented body lotion. She could smell and feel it sinking into her skin.

  She needed the money, but was working for a stranger...a guy who was clearly loaded with cash...just another tempting trap? Plus, she didn’t want to redesign her childhood home. The eight-thousand-square-foot, six-bedroom mansion had been stylishly decorated until her father destroyed everything with his greed.

  She needed to avoid getting caught in another gilded cage. The same cage her father snared her in using family obligations and money and social standing. She wouldn’t be ambushed by a man—never, ever, ever again.

  “Your offer is very generous, but—”

  "Don’t turn me down just yet. Think about it for a few days.”

  With a whoosh, her tension drained away, leaving her mollified. She could call in a few days and tell him she’d secured another job—any job.

  The angles of his face softened, except for the dimple in his whiskered cheeks. “Can I tempt you to stay for lunch?”

  He moved closer. Way too close.

  She should leave, but he smelled delicious, like a day on the beach, the wind in her hair, and sand beneath her toes. She understood the risk of being too close to a man, but she couldn’t move.

  “What do you say?”

  A nervous chuckle slipped out, and her cheeks heated. “I’m sure you want to get settled in your new home.”

  The quick tapping of footsteps on the upper floor announced the arrival of Ben. "Hi, Rachelle. Are you staying for lunch?"

  “Well, I…” Why was she hesitating? She shouldn’t be hesitating. She gestured toward the top of the stairs. “I
need to get going.”

  Jacob gave her a slow, confident smile, the kind that took just long enough for her to wonder whether she should even consider helping him redesign her home—well, his home, now.

  He was gorgeous in a messy, bad-boy geek kind of way, and she wished her heart hadn’t decided to do a workout at that very moment.

  Ben disappeared to answer a ringing phone.

  “I’ll be here for a week before I need to head back to California, in case you change your mind.”

  “Thank you for your offer, but I won't change my mind.”

  She couldn't deal with him—the guy who knew how to make a pair of worn-out jeans and a formfitting T-shirt skimming over a toned torso look sexy. Weren’t gamers supposed to be reclusive and on the pale, skinny, glasses-wearing side, never having seen the light of day? Not tanned and built like a Grecian god.

  She picked up her purse, and he followed. “If you’re not interested in lunch, how about we get together for dinner tomorrow?”

  Dinner? He wasn’t asking her out on a date...was he? “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I don’t like to mix business with—”

  “Pleasure?” His attention dropped to her mouth and lingered way too long. “I don’t know anyone in town, and I was hoping for some company. You know, pizza, beer, something casual. Besides, we can finish putting those chairs together.”

  Oh, yeah, those stupid chairs.

  His pizza offer seemed legit. Dinner only. No bed sports. If it wasn’t legit, he hid his intentions well.