TrustMe

by Unknown

  And then he was looking straight at her, his mouth slowly curving up in a smile with nothing held back.

  To her shock, she saw that there was a tantalizing crease bracketing one side of his mouth that looked suspiciously like a dimple.

  Then she forgot everything else as he said, “Thank God. That’ll save me the job of having to chase you down again and chain you to a bed.” Dipping his head, he kissed her, hot and sweet and tender.

  And Genevieve kissed him back, knowing it was a preview and a promise of their future.

  Epilogue

  G enevieve sipped a glass of champagne as she stood in Gabriel Steele’s handsomely furnished living room.

  As much as she was enjoying her wedding reception, it was nice to have a moment to just catch her breath, reflect a little, take a look around.

  People—a lot of whom were tall, striking, dark-haired men—were either scattered around the room or standing out on the terrace that wrapped the lighted swimming pool. Two of the latter happened to be John and Seth, who were listening intently to something being said by a third man she thought was either Deke or Cooper. Or was that Jake?

  Candles scented the air with masculine fragrances of spice and sandalwood. Music played, a soft backdrop for the steady hum of conversation punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter.

  At the other end of the room, her best friend Kate caught her eye, made a show of panning the room and its phalanx of good-looking, eligible men, mimed the word wow and then fanned herself, making Genevieve smile.

  It was hard to believe she’d been a married woman for eight entire hours now.

  Just before noon that day, she and John, accompanied by Seth, Kate, Dominic’s stunning wife Lilah, and all of the Steele brothers except for the three deployed overseas, had walked out to the small, perfect meadow nestled like a jewel on the edge of the wilderness that stretched behind her house.

  There, beside the little pond sparkling like glass under the pale fall sun, in the place where she’d made a home for herself, wearing the loveliest cream and ivory antique lace dress she’d ever seen, surrounded by the people she loved most and a profusion of extravagantly colored chrysanthemums, she and John had stood before a minister and exchanged their vows.

  It had been beyond perfect, she reflected, glancing down at the simple emerald and diamond band that now graced her left hand.

  Just the blindingly beautiful fall day, with the wind whispering through the grass and the sun kissing her cheeks. And John. Tall and straight and solemn, pledging her his love for the rest of their lives.

  It had been everything she’d ever hoped for. Far more than she’d ever expected to have. And it was only the beginning.

  “Genevieve? Can I get you anything? Some more champagne?”

  She glanced up to find Gabriel standing before her. Handsome and charismatic, with beautiful manners—as long as he didn’t think you might have harmed someone he loved—John’s elegant, slightly enigmatic brother continued to knock himself out trying to make up for his rough treatment of her.

  He’d not only been instrumental in securing her freedom, enlisting the governor as well as one of the state’s senators to go to bat for her, but she’d had only to mention to him how she envisioned her wedding and he’d promptly taken care of all of the details, then insisted on throwing them this party.

  “I’m fine, Gabriel,” she said with a smile. “Or I will be, once you agree to forget about what happened between us at the cabin.” She touched her hand to his sleeve. “Believe me, I know what it feels like to do whatever seems necessary to safeguard a brother you love.”

  “Yes.” He considered her, and something in his face seemed to lighten even before he smiled. “I suppose you do.” Then to her astonishment, he leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek. “John’s lucky to have you,” he murmured, before he straightened, smiled again and strolled away.

  Bemused, she was trying to decide what she thought she’d heard in his voice—a touch of wistfulness, a hint of loneliness?—when a pair of strong arms settled around her waist.

  Everything else ceased to matter as she felt John’s solid warmth at her back. “You okay?” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the sensitive patch of skin behind her ear.

  “Perfect, now that you’re here.” Turning in the circle of his arms, she looked at him.

  In sharp contrast to Gabe, who’d been the picture of sartorial splendor, John had already shed his tie and jacket. The neck of his pristine white shirt was open, exposing his strong, bronzed throat, while his sleeves were rolled to just below his elbows.

  He looked big and tough and so gorgeously male that she couldn’t contain a sigh of pure pleasure. “How about you?” She reached up, ostensibly to smooth his hair while actually just wanting to touch him.

  “I’m doing all right. He caught her hand, cradled it against the curve of his face. “But I’d be even better if I could talk you into getting out of here with me.” He slid her palm to his mouth and pressed a kiss to it that made her flush.

  “I’m tired of sharing,” he said softly. “I want you all to myself.”

  “Then I’m your girl. You may not have heard—” she leaned in, went up on tiptoe and nibbled at his bottom lip “—but I’m extremely good at disappearing.”

  John felt his lips quirk up as he angled his head and claimed her mouth for a brief but heated kiss. With Genevieve, life was always going to be interesting, filled with light no matter what the weather.

  Tracking her down had been the best thing ever to happen to him. And if it took him the rest of his life, he meant to make sure she felt the same way.

  Starting right now, he vowed, as they both straightened, joined hands and made their escape.

  Tame Me

  By Caroline Cross

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  One

  O nce upon a time when she’d still had a life, Mallory Morgan would’ve described Gabriel Steele as tall, dark and delicious.

  That was before he’d cost her everything. Now, as she opened her flimsy apartment door and found him parked in the dingy hallway outside, the words that came to mind were hard, heartless and not-to-be-trusted.

  “Mallory.” As always his voice was quiet but commanding, the perfect match to his lean, powerful body and reserved green eyes.

  “What do you want, Gabriel?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Do we?” To her relief she sounded calm and in control, something that had eluded her earlier that day when a chance meeting between them at Annabelle’s, one of Denver’s trendier restaurants, had resulted in her behaving badly—and paying a price she could ill afford. “Gosh, let me think.” Tipping her head to one side, she pretended to consider for all of two seconds, then straightened. “No.”

  With a flick of her wrist, she sent the door swinging shut. It would just be too bad if it smacked him in his autocratic chin.

  He didn’t so much as blink. Probably because the cheap panel moved barely an inch before bumping against his big booted foot. “Look, I get that you’re angry—”

  Her free hand tightened on the scarlet satin of the robe that she’d thrown on over her bra and jeans at his unexpected knock, bunching the thin, slippery fabric at her throat. “What was your first clue? When I crossed out your reservation and refused to seat you even though the dining room was half-empty? Or when I quit my job rather than apologize?”

  “Don’t be insulting. I caught on with your pig at the trough comment.”

  “Then I believe we’re done. Because I’ve certainly got nothing more to say.”

  A grim smile touched his lips. “You don’t want to talk? Fine. You can listen then.�
� Like the poster boy for overbearing men, he slapped his palm against the wood and pushed.

  Instinctively she started to push back, only to check herself as she realized he was already widening the gap between jamb and door as if she didn’t exist. Deciding she’d be a fool to engage in another battle she was sure to lose, she abruptly changed tactics.

  “Well, since you insist…” Letting go of the doorknob, she gave a nonchalant shrug and took a giant step back. “By all means, come in.”

  To his credit, he didn’t gloat. But it wasn’t much consolation when the instant he crossed the threshold and the door shut behind him, she realized she’d miscalculated once again. No matter how big a hit her dignity had taken, she should have kicked, cried, screamed—done whatever she could to keep him out.

  Because with Gabriel in it, her already minuscule studio apartment seemed to shrink. He not only took up all the available space, but also all of the air, making her feel small, breathless and far too…aware. Of his height, his power, his body heat. Of the jolt she felt when he looked at her.

  It was hard to believe she’d once thought nothing of flirting shamelessly with this man. Not that it had meant anything—and not just because she’d had a carefully crafted reputation as a frivolous party girl to maintain. But because, her own shortcomings aside, she’d known early on that he was far too formidable for any involvement beyond a little lighthearted fun.

  Still, whenever they’d bumped into each other at one or another of the Denver A-list’s glittering soirees, she’d delighted in the subtle sizzle of mutual awareness that would envelop them, the way the air seemed to heat just a little with their proximity.

  Inevitably, they’d wind up dancing, and she’d delight in leaning in close, in whispering outrageous suggestions in his ear, in watching the dangerous smile that would tug at his mouth when she trailed a fingertip along his jaw. The only thing better had been the proprietary way his hand would tighten on her waist when she rubbed her thigh against his as they circled the floor. That, and the amused glint of warning that would spark in his eyes, igniting a sharp little thrill she’d feel down to her toes.

  All part of that other life, she reminded herself sharply. The one before Gabriel and his bedamned Steele Security had gone after her father and she’d lost her home, her friends, the last of her illusions and most of her self-respect.

  Not to mention a fortune so large that up until it disappeared, her most pressing concerns had been along the lines of whether she should spend the weekend shopping in Paris or skiing in Gstaad.

  It already seemed like a hundred years ago. And a distinct contrast to now, when she was already sick with worry about whether she’d be able to find another job that would allow her to both eat and keep a roof over her head.

  That, however, was nobody’s business but her own. Sure, Gabriel could barge in here, looking like a fallen Armani angel with his inky, razor-cut hair, beautifully tailored clothes and calf-length black leather coat, displaying the style she’d once jokingly dubbed “elegant badass.” He could disturb her peace and stir up memories of a life she’d spent the past months trying to put behind her.

  But he couldn’t touch the core of her. She’d had years to perfect her defenses, to learn how to keep people in general at arm’s length—and males in particular off balance.

  The realization calmed her, allowed her to steady her bottom lip, which, infuriatingly, was threatening to quiver. Quietly blowing out a breath, she released her grip on her robe, knowing full well the effectiveness of a little insouciant sexuality as she reached up with both hands, gathered the long, unruly mass of her hair and tossed it behind her back.

  “So?” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, doing her best to look bored. “Are you just going to stand there? I thought there was something you simply had to say to me.”

  “Yeah. So did I.” His expression gave nothing away as his gaze flicked from her eyes to her throat to the creamy V of her exposed cleavage before settling squarely back on her face. “I was wrong.”

  “You? Wrong?” She waited a beat, then smiled insincerely. “Surely not.”

  He didn’t smile back. “I’d rather hear you talk. Why don’t you tell me what the hell you’re playing at, Mallory?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I realize the past months must’ve been tough, but—”

  “Tough?” Her voice started to climb; she wrestled it back down. “Please.” She flicked her fingers dismissively. “I was a debutante, and everyone knows that once you’ve learned how to waltz in high heels and make a perfect curtsy, you can handle anything. Having my home foreclosed on, my belongings auctioned off, my car repossessed, the family name dragged through the dirt by the press? No sweat. Learning the city bus routes, now, that’s been a real challenge—”

  “Don’t,” he said flatly. “I’m not trying to downplay the seriousness of the situation, and you know it. There’s no excuse for what Cal did, ripping off the Morgan Creek investors, then bolting the way he did. But that doesn’t explain what you’re doing working at Annabelle’s—”

  “Formerly working at Annabelle’s, thanks to you,” she murmured, ignoring his reference to her father.

  “—or living here, like this.” He made a dismissive gesture that encompassed the kitchen with its single scarred counter and old hot plate as well as her living room-bedroom, where the nicest thing in the space was the pair of mismatched TV trays she’d lugged home from the Goodwill nine blocks away.

  “I know, isn’t it ridiculous? Just because I have limited funds, no job experience and a woeful lack of references, employers and landlords seem reluctant to take me on. Who would’ve figured?”

  This time the jab hit home and that sensual mouth tightened, if only for an instant. “The last time I checked,” he said evenly, “you had a trust fund that the courts and the banks couldn’t touch.”

  “Ah, yes, my trust fund.” Knowing she was on dangerous ground, she made a moue of regret—and shrugged, making no effort to stop the robe as it slid dangerously low on her shoulders. “The sad truth is, between travel and partying and my inordinate fondness for Jimmy Choos, Dom Pérignon and silk lingerie…it’s gone.”

  “Are you serious?” He stared hard at her, clearly not certain whether to believe her or not.

  She looked steadily back. “As a heart attack.”

  “And…this?” With a twirl of one long forefinger he indicated the shabby little room with its Texas-shaped water stain on the wall between the two narrow windows.

  Before she could stop herself, she raised her chin a notch. “The best I can do.”

  He went utterly still, his impossibly green eyes seeming to spear right through her as he appeared to weigh her words. Then he uttered a single searing expletive and turned away, his coat billowing out as he paced three strides into her living room before running out of space.

  “Get your things together,” he commanded, his back still to her. “Whatever you’ll need for tonight. I’ll send someone for the rest tomorrow.”

  He couldn’t have surprised her more if he’d fallen to the floor and declared he couldn’t live without her. “What?”

  He pivoted. “I said, pack a bag. You’re not spending another night here.”

  Okay. This had to be a dream. She might feel wide-awake, but the truth was she’d fallen asleep on the lumpy little pullout sofa and everything that seemed so real—the chill of the worn linoleum against her bare feet, the faint, heady scent of Gabriel’s aftershave, the jump of nerves in her stomach that his presence always provoked—was just a product of her imagination.

  She cocked her head, wondering what would happen next. “And where, exactly, am I supposed to go?”

  “My place.”

  Wrong again—definitely not a dream. Because no matter how wild and crazy her subconscious got, no matter how alone or desperate or frightened she felt, she would never consider moving in with him a solution to her problems.

  It would be like agreei
ng to share a cage with a tiger.

  Fascinating for maybe half a second. Totally terrifying after that.

  So why, just for a moment, did she want more than anything in the world to take him up on his offer? Why did she want to close her eyes and step into the hard circle of his arms and say, yes, Gabriel, please take care of me?

  Habit, she told herself angrily. Twenty-eight years of careless living, of always taking the easy path, of giving away her power and allowing others to dictate her fate.

  Something she’d sworn on the day she’d been evicted from the estate that had been in her family for ninety years she’d never let happen again. A vow she refused to forsake, no matter how many jobs she lost or how many meals she had to skip to make ends meet or how long she had to live in a place like this.

  If that meant thwarting Gabriel, who was, after all, responsible for lighting the fuse that had resulted in her life being blown up, it was simply an added bonus.

  “Thanks so much,” she said with patent insincerity, “but I’ll pass.”

  She’d always considered him astute—on several occasions more than she might’ve wished—and he didn’t disappoint her now. “You don’t want to come home with me? Fine. Pick a hotel. You can stay there until I arrange something else.”

  She thought about her last experience at a hotel and shuddered. Still, she couldn’t deny she was curious. “You’d do that? Put me up somewhere at your expense? Even if I tell you I’m not about to forget your part in everything that’s happened?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even though no matter how nice you pretend to be, I’m not going to sleep with you?”

  “Yes, again—and I don’t recall asking you to.”

  “Then why? What’s in it for you?”

  He shrugged, broad shoulders moving easily beneath the supple leather of his coat. “Peace of mind. It doesn’t take an expert to know this place isn’t safe. The building entrances aren’t secure, there’s no dead bolt on your door and I’d bet a year’s profit an anemic five-year-old with a toothpick could jimmy your windows. Factor in that this is one tough neighborhood, which you’re about as equipped to handle as a kitten dropped into a kennel of pit bulls, and there’s no way I’m letting you stay here.”