Don't Forget Me

by Meg Benjamin

  He grimaced. “So you can be a wedding planner again?”

  She smiled up at him, running her fingers along the side of his face. “No. So I can dance with you. And introduce you to my folks.”

  He straightened. “Lead me to them.”

  They walked slowly back toward the patio, his fingers interlaced with hers. The music sounded faintly from inside the restaurant. “Here,” he said, moving carefully across the lawn toward the edge of the terrace. “Dance with me.”

  Inside, the DJ flipped on “You Don’t Know Me”.

  Nando groaned. “I swear I didn’t request it.”

  Kit rested her forehead on his shoulder for a moment. “Doesn’t matter. It no longer applies to us. I think I do know you now. I know you know me.”

  He tightened his arms around her waist, pulling her closer until she looped her arms around him too.

  “Just dance, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Just dance.”

  About the Author

  Meg Benjamin is the author of the Konigsburg series for Samhain Publishing: Venus In Blue Jeans, Wedding Bell Blues, Be My Baby, Long Time Gone, Brand New Me, and now Don’t Forget Me. Meg lives in Colorado with her DH and two rather large Maine coon kitties (well, partly Maine coon anyway). Her Web site is www.MegBenjamin.com. You can follow her on Facebook (www.facebook.com/meg.benjamin1) and Twitter (@megbenj1). Meg loves to hear from readers—contact her at meg@megbenjamin.com.

  Look for these titles by Meg Benjamin

  Now Available:

  Konigsburg, Texas

  Venus in Blue Jeans

  Wedding Bell Blues

  Be My Baby

  Long Time Gone

  Brand New Me

  If any man wants more than a dance with her, they’ll have to get past him…

  Brand New Me

  © 2010 Meg Benjamin

  Konigsberg, Texas, Book 5

  Deirdre Brandenburg has an MBA and a dream to become the coffee supplier for Konigsburg’s growing restaurant industry. What she doesn’t have is money, courtesy of her billionaire father’s scheme to make her come home. All she needs is three months until her trust fund kicks in. Until then, she needs a job.

  Hiring the new girl next door is a no-brainer for ex-gambler Tom Ames. He’s already succeeded in making his bar, The Faro, a growing tourist draw. Deirdre’s beauty will pull in the locals—particularly every red-blooded male in the Hill Country. As he watches her transform from tentative business wonk to confident, sassy barmaid, he realizes he wants first crack at her heart.

  When Big John Brandenburg sends Deirdre’s ex-boyfriend to drag her home, the plan backfires, leaving Tom’s bar in shambles and Deirdre kidnapped by a band of loony Texas secessionists.

  Things are looking pretty bleak—except the good people of Konigsburg have no intention of giving Deirdre up, either. Even if it takes every Faro employee, every last Toleffson, and one cranky iguana to give the honky-tonk lovebirds a chance at forever.

  Warning: Contains dirty dancing, hot summer sex, a honky-tonk makeover, and one nippy iguana.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Brand New Me:

  A large part of the Saturday-night crowd stayed both inside and outside the Faro until the official closing time of two in the morning. Tom and Chico circulated among the remaining diehards, moving them relentlessly toward the door, while Deirdre and the other barmaids cleaned off tables and stacked glasses for Leon to run through the dishwasher. The empty bottles were tossed back into the cardboard cases, ready for recycling. All in all, it looked like a very successful night, at least as far as Deirdre could tell.

  Part of her wanted to slip out the door before Tom noticed and head back to her apartment. After that dance, she wasn’t sure what she could say to him. More seriously, she wasn’t sure she could casually walk down the street beside him as if nothing had happened.

  Apparently, from his point of view, nothing had. He was still acting the same way he always did, joking with Harry and Chico, listening to Sylvia’s complaints with a certain glazed patience, bagging up the most visible trash so that the restaurant could open at noon tomorrow, even though Leon didn’t come in until Sunday afternoon. For him, it seemed to have been a quick turn around the dance floor and then back to business. Nothing special.

  Deirdre, on the other hand, felt as if her world had tipped on its axis. She wasn’t sure how long it would take her to return to an even keel, but she knew she wasn’t there yet. And walking anywhere alone with Tom Ames wasn’t likely to make that equalizing any easier. Finally, she leaned behind the bar and retrieved her purse, hoping she could get to the door while he was stacking chairs.

  He was at her side in an instant. “Hang on a minute. I’m almost through.”

  She thought about telling him she could walk herself home, as she’d told him every night, hoping this time he’d take her at her word. But she figured it was probably a lost cause. At this point telling him not to bother was more a formality than anything else.

  Guts up, Deirdre. Time to put on your big girl panties.

  “I’m walking Deirdre home,” he called to Chico, then started toward the door.

  She caught a quick look at Sylvia’s face. Her eyes and mouth had narrowed as if she’d just tasted an unripe persimmon.

  “Why don’t you or Chico walk Sylvia home?” she asked.

  Tom blinked at her, then he shrugged. “She drives to work. I think she lives closer to Johnson City. Chico keeps an eye on the parking lot.”

  Deirdre’s face felt warm in the darkness. Geez, shouldn’t she be too old to blush now? “Oh.”

  Somewhere in the distance, the muffled roar of a motorcycle rumbled out of town, probably heading off toward one of the campgrounds back in the hills. Other than that, Main seemed more silent than usual, with everything closed down except a distant Stop and Go. Briefly, Deirdre pictured the streets outside her condo in Houston. She didn’t think she’d ever seen them empty, even at two a.m. Different world, Deirdre.

  Tom grinned lazily as they strolled up the street. “Another good night,” he mused, finally.

  “Did we have more people than usual, or is that what you expected?”

  “We’ve been building the audience for a while now, but this was the first weekend where we really had a sell-out, or close to it anyway. How’d you like the band?”

  “They were very…” She searched for the word. “Eclectic, I guess.”

  He chuckled. “They do a lot of different stuff. Classic bar band. Whatever the crowd’s looking for, they can deliver. At least they had the people up on the dance floor most of the night. Kept them thirsty.”

  She nodded, trying to think of something—anything—to say that didn’t involve “Volver”. “You’re a good dancer,” she blurted. Apparently, her brain and her mouth weren’t currently on speaking terms.

  He grinned down at her. “So are you.”

  “No I’m not.” She blew out a breath. “I don’t really dance much. I never had the time. Or I didn’t. Maybe now I will.” She was once again profoundly grateful for the darkness that hid the fact that her face was flaming. Clearly, this was her night for idiocy.

  “I hope so.”

  She knew he was still smiling. She could hear it in his voice. Fortunately for both her sanity and her dignity, the door to her apartment was just ahead. “Well,” she murmured as she dug in her purse for her key, “thanks again.”

  Tom took the key from her fingers and unlocked the door for her, then turned back. He stood between her and the open door, but she suddenly had no desire to ask him to move. She stared up at his face in the dim light. As he turned, the reflection from the streetlights caught tiny flecks of gold in his hair. He reached out slowly, smoothing an errant lock of her hair back behind her ear.

  Almost without thinking, Deirdre shifted up on her toes, leaning toward him and ignoring the frenzied alarm bells clanging in her brain. Maybe it was time she tried making the first move for a change. Just because she’d never do
ne it before didn’t mean she couldn’t do it now. She remembered the feel of his hand on her hip when they danced, the warmth that had spread across her body. Just a taste. Just a touch. Nothing serious.

  Her lips touched his, lightly, gently, almost as if she were afraid he might run.

  She leaned closer, into the heat of his body. Running didn’t seem to be on his mind at the moment. She moved the tip of her tongue along his lower lip, tasting salt and warmth. He reminded her faintly of potato chips, and she felt almost like giggling. Her bête noire. She’d never been able to resist potato chips.

  Her hands moved without her willing them, resting on his chest, her palms rubbing across the smooth fabric of his T-shirt, feeling the slight jut of his nipples underneath.

  And then his arms locked around her waist, pulling her tighter against him. His mouth opened against hers and she answered him, sucking on his tongue as he pushed against her lips. Her head was spinning, and she wondered if she should take a breath. But she knew the spinning had nothing to do with breathing and everything to do with the heat that spread slowly from the point where their bodies met, the swell of his arousal and the throb of her own.

  He angled his head, taking the kiss deeper, and she followed him, winding her arms around his neck now, pressing herself against him, feeling the heat and pressure and excitement building deep inside as she moved closer still. As she moved her hands up the back of his neck, feeling the prickle of short hair against her palms. As she pressed her body against his, shoulder to knee, her breasts flat against his chest. As she…

  Oh my god. What am I doing?

  Some hearts only want what they can’t have…

  Headstrong

  © 2011 Meg Maguire

  Libby Prentiss is ready to simply be herself. After half a lifetime rebelling against her privileged family’s expectations, she hopes her biological research trip to New Zealand will cut the cord for good.

  It doesn’t take long to spot the hopelessly amateurish spy her overprotective father has hired to keep an eye on her. Fortunately, Reece Nolan’s desperation to save his family’s pub makes it all too easy to convince him to turn double-agent. Yet there’s something different about him. His icy reserve sets her on fire…and ignites a secret yearning to let him see the mass of insecurities she hides behind her provocative persona.

  Where Reece is a glacier of cool self-control, his brother Colin is a hot-blooded, unpredictable volcano. Libby’s instant friendship with Colin is more satisfying than anything she’s ever known—and traps her in completely foreign territory. She’s caught between one man determined to hold her at arm’s length, and another who offers her the intense connection she’s worked so hard to avoid.

  Something’s got to give or the fallout could tear them all apart…and put the Nolan family’s future in serious jeopardy.

  Warning: Contains an emotional love triangle guaranteed to launch your heart into your throat.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Headstrong:

  Colin set the knife down, turning to aim a warm, sad smile at her. “You fancy Reece, don’t you?”

  She bit back her own smile and nodded, hoping this wasn’t about to turn awkward. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Nah. I’m just good with that sort of stuff. Don’t worry. Reece is oblivious.”

  She looked down, then fixed Colin with a narrowed eye. “Do you think he’d ever like me back? You know, like me, like me?” She knew she sounded like a twelve-year-old, but Colin was easy to level with—Good Cop to Reece’s Bad Cop.

  “I dunno. You mean if you dropped your provocateur shtick and quit winding him up all the time?”

  “Maybe.”

  He sighed. “I hate to be the one to piss on your parade, but you’re not really his type. Historically speaking.”

  “Oh.”

  “Sorry.”

  She frowned at the insecurity squirming in her middle. “What’s his type?”

  “Quiet, for one. Smart but, like, book-smart. Not scary, evil-genius smart like you.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Unlike Reece, I googled you. This morning.”

  Her stomach flip-flopped. “Oh?”

  He nodded. “Don’t worry. He doesn’t want to know what you did to freak your dad out—he can be a bit of a basket case about ethics. Stalking you notwithstanding. I think he’s going with the ignorance-is-bliss approach, so that’s just between you and me and the internet.”

  “Good,” she said, not entirely relieved. “So you know, I’m not in New Zealand to start any trouble.” Her history was murky, riddled with police run-ins over various minor offenses. And some not-so-minor.

  Colin shrugged. “I like your kind of trouble. But I believe you—if you were out to cause that type of chaos, you came to the wrong country. I’m willing to believe you’re here for the glowworms.”

  She nodded.

  “And at any rate, Reece fancies boring girls. Sweet…curvy.”

  “Now that I am not.”

  “Nah. You’re a panther. Reece is into house cats. Girls who teach kindergarten or start their own catering companies. Wholesome stuff like that.”

  Libby pouted.

  “Hey, don’t give up or anything. You’re bloody hot the way you are. I’d wrap your legs around my ears in a heartbeat.”

  “Poetic. Thanks, Tiger.”

  He shrugged. “You know Reece. Or actually, you don’t. He’s…he’s like a monk, all calm and disciplined. He’s been that way since he was born. You’re like a tornado let loose in his monastery. Personally, I think you’d be good for him. But I don’t know if he’d agree… I hope he does. He could use a little chaos.”

  “Maybe.”

  “But if you’re driving him loopy,” Colin went on, “thinking it’s going to win him over, you’re wasting your time. Reece doesn’t go in for head games. You might want to try a little sincerity. He’s a sucker for the straight and narrow.”

  “I see.” Libby contemplated the option of sincerity for a moment. The thought of all that openhearted honesty made her feel naked.

  Colin straightened up. “If you don’t mind my asking, what do you see in Reece? Not that you shouldn’t see something. I’m just curious.” He tossed tomatoes into the pan, seeming uncomfortable with own jealousy.

  Libby raised her eyebrows, deciding recklessly to play with a little of Colin’s fire. “Do you think I’m barking up the wrong Nolan?”

  “I know it’s none of my business.”

  “You think you could teach me a thing or two, don’t you?”

  He smiled deeply and, if Libby wasn’t mistaken, blushed. “What makes you think I wouldn’t prefer to be the student, eh?”

  It was Libby’s turn to blush. Oh, if you only knew.

  “I can tell you’ve only got eyes for my brother. Although Christ knows why,” Colin said through a sigh, pretending to be insulted by her preference. “But if you’re looking for a Kiwi conquest, I’m delighted you’ve set your sights within our lucky little flat. Let me know if I can aid in the expedition at all. He could do with having his brains properly fucked out. Might loosen him up.” He didn’t notice Libby’s deepening flush. “Reece, though? You do like a challenge.”

  Libby looked at her feet. “Well, I mostly like that he’s never made a pass at me. Or even really looked at me, that way.”

  Colin laughed. “Oh, he has. He’s just too Zen master to show it.”

  She glanced up. “You think?”

  “You’re hard to ignore, Libby, even without the nonstop flirting. You make a trackie top look like a teddy. Reece has noticed you. He said he saw you dancing about in your togs on the beach.”

  “That he did.”

  “Poor bastard.” Colin handed her a fresh cup of coffee.

  “Thanks. Well, he’s never made me feel like he was checking me out. He’s…he’s not a creep.”

  “Nah, he’s a gentleman. He’ll make a good plod.”

  “A what?”


  “A copper,” Colin said. “He’s meant to start training for the police in a few months.”

  Libby gaped. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. He’ll be great at it.” Colin looked genuinely proud. He flipped the sausages with a sizzle.

  “Wow.” Libby Prentiss, policeman’s wife. How twisted would that be? “But wait—so they’ll have to do like a whole background check on Reece, presumably.”

  “Yeah, all that good stuff. I know what you’re thinking.” Colin cracked an egg into a second pan. “About what he agreed to do for your dad?”

  “Yeah.”

  He nodded. “Reece took a big chance on that. If you’d reported him when you caught him, for spying on you or whatever, he’d have been buggered. Or if he got caught, doing shady, under-the-table shit.” He cracked another egg. “Buggered.”

  “Why’d he do it, then? He doesn’t seem to want the job.”

  “We need the money.” Colin’s voice turned heavy. “Pretty bad. Our dad died in January, and we’re up to our necks in bills and unpaid accounts for the pub. It’s all a bit effed up. Our mum kept it all quiet until after he passed. He was a good guy but he took on some investments he shouldn’t have, this nasty spiral of IOUs. We owe money all over the place and business is not good. Pub’s on the brink, and that’s all we’ve really got.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Libby thought for a moment. “How much money?”

  “About eighty grand. On top of the usual accounts.”

  “Yikes.”

  “Yeah, it’s a whopping great mess. Every week some supplier or other cuts us off. Our mum’s probably going to have to give up her house, and even then we’ll still be in the red. This nest could get mighty cozy, soon.” Colin glanced around the flat, his apprehension plain. “Trust me, Reece would never have taken that job if we weren’t hard up for the cash.”