by Candis Terry
Dedication
With much warm and squishy love, I’m dedicating this one to you my beautiful daughter Kristalle, because I don’t ever want you to wonder how I feel. The road we’ve traveled hasn’t always been easy, but along the way you’ve taught me so much about unconditional love. You gave me purpose. You make me laugh so hard sometimes I can’t breathe. And you’re an amazing mom. I’m so proud of you. Love you to the moon and back.
Acknowledgments
I will never tire of having the opportunity to thank my amazing editor, Amanda Bergeron. Please know how important your incredible insight is to my stories and characters. Thank you for making me a better storyteller. And thank you for being so patient when things don’t always come together smoothly.
Shout-out to the incredibly talented team at Avon Books for everything you do for me. And it’s a lot!
Enormous gratitude to my agent, Kevan Lyon. You truly have no idea how very thankful I am for your bright, savvy spirit, your knowledge, and ideas. I look forward to many years of digging our toes in the publishing sand together.
Delicious thanks to Linda Lee at Sugar Rush Cupcakery in Boise, Idaho, for showing me how it’s done and for making the most delicious cupcakes on the planet!
Research is always more fun when you get the goods from a guy who really knows his stuff. So I really want to thank fire captain Mark Lepore (and Diane, his lovely bride). My hot firemen heroes would be just standing there holding their hoses without your expertise. And that might be a little embarrassing. Any mistakes made within these pages are clearly all my own. Simply because . . . I don’t have a hose.
Thanks always to my family for their patience and understanding. Yeah. I know. I get cranky when I’m on a deadline. I’m sorry.
And to Isaiah Beal, thanks for keeping the coffee coming. Bet you thought I really wouldn’t put your name in here.
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Announcement page to Truly Sweet
About the Author
By Candis Terry
Copyright
About the Publisher
Prologue
Fiona Wilder did not like being the center of attention. The intense scrutiny never failed to make her feel like she had toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shoe, or that the back of her dress was caught up in her panty hose and her rearview assets were out there for everyone to observe.
And judge.
At the moment, however, while she might be near the focal point of every hungry pair of female eyes in the vicinity, she wasn’t necessarily the nucleus. That honor went to the man she happened to be dancing with at the wedding reception of Reno and Charlotte Wilder.
As just one of their numerous preceremony calamities, Reno and Charli’s postnuptial festivities had needed to be relocated from a flooded reception hall to Jesse Wilder’s backyard oasis. The picturesque landscape had been transformed into a wedding wonderland of twinkling fairy lights, floating lotus candles in a natural, stone-edged pool, and elegant tables set with fabulous centerpieces of curly willow branches and fragrant roses.
Not a surprise that Fiona found the romantic atmosphere far superior to anything a dusty old reception hall could offer. On the other hand, she couldn’t be more surprised to find herself in the arms of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Delicious.
AKA firefighter Mike Halsey.
Previously, he’d been one of the bachelors up for auction at the Black Ties and Levi’s charity event to raise funds for the expansion of the Sweet Emergency Center. On that particular night, she’d either been too chicken or not nearly schnockered enough to raise her paddle and bid on him even though just the sight of his extreme hotness in those fitted Levi’s, crisp white shirt, and black tux jacket practically had her bid paddle melting in her lap. In the end, her former mother-in-law, Jana, had plunked down a good amount of cash to win Mike. Though what the woman planned to do with him remained to be seen.
The truth behind the reason Fiona’s paddle had stayed put also came as no surprise.
At least not to her.
Since the dissolution of her and Jackson Wilder’s short but meaningful marriage, she’d pushed aside any type of personal involvement with the opposite sex. Not that she’d decided to play for the other team or anything, she’d just been too busy repenting for her failures and playing the role of single mom to their four-year-old, Isabella.
Plus there was the minor little detail of the whole trust issue thing she had going on with herself. Instead of graduating, as she had, with a business degree from Clemson, you would have thought she’d acquired a master’s degree in How to Screw Up Your Life.
There had never been any doubt that Jackson was an amazing dad to Izzy, and Fiona considered him one of the best men she’d ever known. He just hadn’t been the best man for her. Likewise, she hadn’t been the right woman for him. Fortunately, they loved and respected each other and totally rocked as best friends and unified parents.
Life sure had a funny way of working things out.
Since their divorce, Jackson had rediscovered Abby, the true love of his life. Abby also happened to be his very first love, which he foolishly let go. Now Jackson and Abby were next in line to walk down the aisle, and Fiona truly couldn’t be more delighted for them. To know the universe had somehow righted itself sent bubbles of happiness through her heart.
To that end, and because someday she’d like to find that same kind of relationship bliss for herself, she’d done everything in her power to banish Naughty Fiona—her inner wild child–an insatiable party girl who had a tendency to fall in lust, not love, with gorgeous firemen or men of that same dashing-daredevil breed. The kind of men who possessed sculpted calendar-boy faces, perfect pecs, rippled abs, and tight buns. The kind of men who appeared to be unattainable and whom she now considered off-limits.
She didn’t have time anyway. Her plate was full with building a happy and prosperous future for her and Izzy. She might have messed up a lot earlier in her life by being foolish and reckless, but she wouldn’t let that happen again.
Naughty Fiona was on lockdown in bad-girl solitary confinement.
As the reception band’s lively cover of “Beer Money” came to an end, and the two-steppin’ couples cleared the floor, Fiona gave sexy Fireman Mike a smile of thanks for the dance. He returned the gesture with a megawatt grin. But as the band rolled into Keith Urban’s sexy tune “Raining on Sunday,” Mike maintained a gentle grip on her hand.
She looked up into his dark-as-sin eyes, and a warm tingle traveled from her traitorous fingers down into areas that had been restrained so long they teetered on the point of a jailbreak.
“How about another dance?” Mike’s smile amped up to blinding. “We didn’t get a chance to talk much on that last one.”
Nervous energy rippled through her body. She knew that the envious scowls coming from the females in the crowd who were waiting eagerly for their chance at Mr. Hottie McFireman would soon turn to daggers. And since her naughty side had lusted after the man since that night at the bachelor auction, all the more reason to politely decline.
But then, that big f
irefighting, lifesaving hand reeled her back into his embrace—close enough to catch the manly scent of warm skin, citrusy aftershave, and palpable sexuality.
Heaven help her, it was like waving a red flag at a charging bull.
“I’d love to.”
Yeah. No way in all the Land of Oz would her naughty self give up a chance like this.
Sorry ladies-in-waiting, let the dagger glares commence.
And let the trouble begin.
After months of being unable to get his best friend’s ex-wife off his mind, Mike finally had his hands on her. Regrettably for him, a simple dance was about as far as he could ever allow himself to go.
Not that he didn’t want to dip his nose into the soft slope of Fiona’s delicate neck and inhale her sweet scent or explore her lithe, luscious body.
Hell no. He wanted a double order of that all night long.
But time and circumstance slammed the door on any of that being a possibility. So all he could do was enjoy the moment and the chaste touches, then go home and take a freezing-cold shower.
Again.
“Jackson tells me you made the delicious wedding cake,” he said, keeping things polite even as his imagination was peeling her pretty blue dress down over those sexy shoulders.
“Thank you.” She blushed prettily as her hand settled on his shoulder, and warmth nestled in his chest. “Charli originally ordered one from a bakery in Austin. But along with all the other disasters she had to deal with, the bakery burned down.”
“So I heard.” While others on the dance floor twirled in wide sweeps to the music, he and Fiona danced in place–thighs brushing together with perfect synchronization. Hearts beating in time. He couldn’t help but wonder if they’d have that same harmony between the sheets. “Guess their determination to go through with the wedding after all the mishaps is a testament to how the rest of their marriage will go.”
Her sexy chuckle rumbled against his chest.
“I’m not worried about that. Have you met Charli?” She looked up at him, and the impish curl of her lips sent a flutter through his stomach. “When there’s something she wants, she is like an unstoppable force. And she wanted Reno.”
“You have to admire a woman who won’t let anything stand in her way.” A lively couple bumped him from behind, and he took the opportunity to draw Fiona into his body a little closer. In a blink, he realized the move might have been a huge tactical error. And that was not an egotistical observation on the size of his dick. Although the body part in question was exactly the problem that had come up.
Aside from the sheer sexiness level, Fiona was the kind of woman a man wanted to adore and savor. To possess and protect. To make her his very own and never let her go. Crazy talk coming from a guy like him. But for whatever reason, he couldn’t stop himself.
“I also heard you’re planning to open a cupcake shop in Sweet,” he said without missing a beat. “That’s quite a bold venture.”
“It’s been a longtime dream for me. Seeing it become a reality is going to be amazing. Izzy and I are even moving to Sweet to make it happen.”
“So what inspired the dream?” he asked, hoping the band would play an extended version of the song so he could keep her talking. And moving against him.
The spark of enthusiasm in her deep blue eyes propelled a thousand questions through his mind.
More than a mild curiosity existed where she was concerned. He wanted to know more about her. What made her tick? What did she love and hold dear to her heart? And how, if she’d seen fit to divorce Jackson, they could remain as bonded as peanut butter and jelly?
A sentimental smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “My grandmother.”
As she spoke, Mike noted how animated her face became. It was like observing one of those Disney princesses he’d been forced to watch with his sisters over and over. Her eyes lit up, and she got this dreamy expression that sent his jaded heart into cartwheels.
Fiona Wilder fascinated him. And he doubted there’d ever been a man who wanted a woman more.
As the song ended, and she slipped from his arms, he suffered a sense of loss he’d be hard to compare.
“Thank you for the dance,” she said with the slightest tilt of her head. Her silky blond hair slipped across one slender shoulder, and he couldn’t help but reach out and smooth it back.
“My pleasure. I hope we’ll have the chance to meet again,” he said, refraining from a princely bow or a kiss on her hand that would only serve to make him look like an infatuated ass.
“Me too.” She smiled again, something she did often and with incredible ease.
“In the meantime, if you ever need anything . . .” He winked. “Just dial 911.”
Chapter 1
Lightning never strikes twice.
Bullpucky.
On a stormy, sleet-driven afternoon, Fiona Wilder sat pinned between the steering wheel and the driver’s seat of her once-pretty-cool little Ford Focus.
If anything had to happen to her more than once, she’d prefer something fabulous like winning the lottery, trips to Hawaii, or even free groceries at the Touch and Go Market. At the very least, she’d appreciate a double-dip victory from the Bubble Buster Car Wash.
But nooooooo.
Thanks to someone else’s road rage, she got to be the unlucky recipient of a car accident on San Antonio’s busiest highway.
For the second time.
From the moment she’d merged from the on-ramp, she’d watched the van and pickup truck play a dangerous, aggressive game. She’d even changed lanes to get out of their way. Instead, she’d lucked out. Judging by the van attached to the hood of her car and the SUV tucked into her rear bumper, she’d become the cheese in a three-car collision road-rage sandwich.
Last time she’d escaped with minor bruises. This time, the pain charging through her head and left leg signaled the fate factor had flipped her a fully extended middle finger.
Though her current situation had her packed in like a sardine, she thanked God Izzy hadn’t been in the car. Nothing in the world meant more to her than her little girl. And that little girl would start to worry when her mommy didn’t show up on time.
Fiona sighed. With her car currently jam-packed between two heavyweights, the likelihood of going anywhere for a while seemed slim.
A wave of dizziness spun her head while she blindly reached for her purse to grab her cell phone. When her searching fingers came up empty she realized the impact must have flung her bag to the floor. Anxiety twisted through her stomach. Someone else could dial 911; she needed to get a call to her babysitter.
Through the sleeting mist, she heard the oh-too-familiar wail of emergency vehicles and tried to remember if Jackson was on duty. Ironically, her first accident was what had brought them together. He’d been the hunky fireman to rescue her. And she’d found love.
Sort of.
Now, as the sirens grew closer and louder, and the familiar flash of red lights cut through the storm-filled sky, Fiona tried to take a deep breath to stifle the pain. Just more of her good fortune that her lungs weren’t willing to cooperate without making it feel like her chest was caving in. She shoved panic aside and settled for the quick shallow breathing pattern she’d used giving birth to Izzy. In the meantime she waited for San Antonio’s finest to show up and pry her out.
“Ma’am?” A big fist rapped on the driver side window. “Are you okay?”
With another hee-hee-who, Fiona lifted her groggy gaze up past the big khaki coat with yellow and reflective stripes, to the handsome face and intense dark eyes staring back at her from behind the rain-streaked glass.
Her heart played a quick game of hopscotch.
Apparently, even pressed in the car like a ravioli, she could appreciate a handsome face.
A wicked bolt of lightning struck not far beyond the massive fire engine. From beneath the yellow helmet, the most perfect masculine mouth she’d ever seen lifted in a reassuring smile, even as the slash of brows
over those dark eyes pulled together. The fireman said something she couldn’t hear over the drumming of rain, the shriek of sirens, and the ringing in her ears.
Squinting, she tried to identify him, but the aftermath of the collision had other ideas and sent another wave of vertigo tilting through her head. This time, everything went black.
“She’s pinned, hyperventilating, and . . .” Shit. “Unconscious.” Mike Halsey peered through the window at his best friend’s ex-wife while panic dropped like a boulder on his chest. Blood dripped from her forehead down into her silky blond hair. And as her head slumped to the side, her coloring registered somewhere between marshmallow and Casper the Friendly Ghost white.
Not good.
Not good at all.
The air bag had deployed, but that hadn’t stopped the front end of her little car from folding like an accordion and crushing her between the seat and steering wheel. A mountain of boxes stuffed in the backseat added a wall of weight that kept her trapped. In a funny-if-it-wasn’t-so-serious contrast to the accident scene, the passenger seat held a smiling white teddy bear, strapped in and unharmed. No doubt the stuffed animal belonged to Fiona and Jackson’s adorable daughter, Isabella.
Mike did another quick visual of the backseat to make sure the little girl wasn’t trapped beneath the boxes, but there was no child seat. Fiona wasn’t the type of mother to put her precious cargo in a car without one, so that meant Fiona was the only one in the car.
Heavy raindrops beat a cadence on Mike’s helmet while he made an assessment of the overall situation. During his time as a firefighter, he’d responded to thousands of emergency calls, but he’d never come across anyone he personally knew. Especially not one he’d danced with just a few months ago. And especially not one he was wildly attracted to. Though unless held at gunpoint, he’d never admit that little morsel of misfortune to anyone.
