Bestselling Authors Collection 2012

by Trish Morey; Day Leclaire; Natalie Anderson; Brenda Jackson; Ann Voss Peterson

  Society might give second chances, fathers didn’t. Fathers wanted only the best for their daughters; hell, Lorenzo understood that—he wanted only what was best for Sophy. And that wasn’t him.

  He bowed his head over the steering wheel and faced it: it was always going to be this way—as it had been before, it would be again. And it was why he should never have let her get so near to him. The past was inescapable. The perfect life he’d been imagining for just a few moments was a mirage—something that he just wasn’t meant to have. He’d managed his life fine without until now anyway—forging his career, working so hard. He had his hugely successful business, the charity, he had a couple of good friends. But any other intimacy? A woman, a life partner—there could be none.

  He would never be good enough for a woman as wonderful as Sophy and he wanted none but her. It didn’t matter how much money he made, how successful his business became, there was always that part of him—that fundamental truth that he always tried to hide even from himself.

  But her father knew that truth, and, knowing how much her parents’ approval mattered to Sophy, Lorenzo knew it was over.

  She deserved a perfect family, a perfect lover. But it would never be him. He had never been part of a family. Had never been wanted in a family. Damn well didn’t want one of his own. Being alone was what he was used to—secure, uncomplicated. And he had been a fool to think he could ever deal with anything more—or be dealt anything more.

  He had to stay away now. He’d let the end he’d engineered her to declare truly be the end. So there was only one thing left for him to do. He’d go to Vance’s bar. And he’d get really, really drunk.

  Sophy didn’t remember a thing about the movie that screened. Afterwards she went with her family for coffee and cake—Rosanna came too. But all she could think of was the necklace that had sold so quickly. She knew it was crazy, that she’d read too many romance novels and watched too many Hollywood movies, but she couldn’t help hoping that he’d bought it for her. Maybe he’d sent someone in to buy the necklace. Maybe he’d present it to her in a romantic gesture, an apology for not being there. It was going to be his way of making it up to her. Oh, how she’d love something like that—for someone to go over the top for her, someone going to lengths to do something wonderful for her.

  She was such a sad unit.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Rosanna curled her legs up on the café’s sofa after Sophy’s parents and siblings had called it a night.

  Sophy nodded and flopped back into the big armchair. ‘I’m just a bit tired.’

  Rosanna reached forward and put her glass on the table carefully. ‘Lorenzo wasn’t there.’

  ‘No. He said he wouldn’t be.’

  Rosanna’s eyes had narrowed. ‘But—’

  ‘My mother loved those earrings. Did you see her?’ Sophy interrupted. ‘I never thought she’d be into ones that are so dangly.’

  ‘I know.’ Rosanna went along with the change of topic. ‘So are we going out to party now?’

  Sophy laughed and shook her head. It was after one a.m. already. ‘I don’t think so.’

  Rosanna shrugged. ‘I can come home if you want.’

  ‘And eat chocolate ice cream? No, I’m going straight to bed.’

  ‘Okay. But if you wanted to do the ice cream, you know I’d ditch the plans.’ She paused. ‘I’m going to meet up with Vance.’

  ‘What about Emmet? And Jay?’

  ‘Oh, they’re going to the bar too.’

  It was the most genuine laugh to burst from Sophy in days.

  Rosanna’s face lit up. ‘I have a surprise for you—close your eyes.’

  Sophy obeyed, waited for what felt like ages. ‘Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes.’ Rosanna chuckled. ‘Okay, you can open them now.’

  Sophy did—and stared. Rosanna was wearing the necklace—her necklace.

  ‘I just loved it.’ Rosanna angled her shoulders one way and then the other, showing off the sparking necklace with its looping swirl.

  Sophy made herself swallow the disappointment and bring up a smile. ‘It suits you.’

  ‘Don’t worry about the display.’ Rosanna leaned forward. ‘I promised I’d bring it back in tomorrow and leave it for the duration of the festival, but I wanted to surprise you tonight.’

  And she had.

  Sophy gripped her cup closer to her chest. ‘You didn’t have to buy it. I’d have given it to you.’

  Rosanna flashed her huge smile. ‘I know, but I didn’t want you to. I wanted you to be a success tonight so I bought it straight away. But then so many others sold too—you’re a legend!’

  Sophy was so disappointed it was embarrassing. She’d really thought it had been him. That it was going to be some grand gesture, to have her unwrap it as part of an apology and declaration—of what? His love?

  As if.

  Hot tears prickled her eyes.

  ‘Sophy!’ Rosanna looked horrified. ‘I’ve made you cry.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ She tried to pull it together, but the salty water trickled down her cheeks. Yeah, she had wanted that. It had been the private fantasy that had got her through the last few hours. ‘Thanks so much for doing that. It means a lot.’

  It hadn’t been him, of course it hadn’t. She’d been an idiot to think it ever could have been. No, it was her best friend who’d done it for her. She’d been the one to turn up. Sophy knew she should stick to the sisterhood. Men were overrated. ‘You know what?’ She sniffed and reached for her handbag. ‘I am going to come out with you tonight.’

  She was not going to go home and wallow. She wasn’t going to waste one more minute of her life mooning over Lorenzo. She had too much to celebrate tonight. She was going to go dancing.

  The bar was pumping. Sophy followed Rosanna to the dance floor. Rosanna had sent a text ahead and Emmett and Jay were waiting with drinks for them.

  ‘Thank you, darlings.’ Rosanna kissed them both.

  Sophy managed a smile and downed half her glass’s contents in one shot.

  Jay’s brows lifted and he took her arm. ‘Come on, you look like you need a laugh.’

  Oh, she did. Jay was a great dancer—held her close, had slick moves and didn’t once make her feel as if she was his second choice partner—though she knew full well she was. She felt her body relaxing into the relentless beat—it blocked all thought from her head and dulled the pain. Yeah, this had been a great idea. She’d dance ‘til dawn and then maybe she’d be able to sleep. She stood on tiptoes so he had a chance of hearing her. ‘Thanks, Jay. I’ll put in a word for you.’

  He slid his hand round her waist and chuckled. ‘Every little bit helps. But it’s not Emmett I’m worried about. It’s the bar dude.’ He nodded over to the side.

  Sophy turned to look. From behind the bar Vance stood tall, positively glaring over at where the four of them were dancing. She couldn’t stop the little laugh. But then it died because someone else stepped up from the back of the bar. Even taller than Vance, Lorenzo was glaring even harder—right at her.

  She spun back to face Jay. ‘Shall we dance some more?’

  ‘Sure.’ He pulled her closer.

  But her heart was racing and she could hardly hear the music above the noise in her ears. Only one song later she pushed away. ‘I’m just going to freshen up.’

  She ran cold water over her hands and wrists, trying to cool down and slow her pulse. Then she got her lipstick out and took care repairing her slightly worn look. Then she simply stared at her reflection and wished she could teleport out of there. She really hadn’t liked the look in Lorenzo’s eyes.

  Finally she left the room. He was leaning against the wall in the corridor, his eyes fixed on the door. She paused—stood back to let another woman past before taking the step clear of the doorway. But she kept her distance from him. Knew getting past him was going to be difficult. He looked like a panther about to pounce.

  ‘You look like you’re having a good time,’ he drawl
ed.

  So did he—his hair was tousled, his eyes burning. He looked as if he’d been propping up the bar for hours.

  ‘I am.’ She made herself act perky.

  ‘With one of Rosanna’s cast offs,’ he muttered.

  ‘He’s charming. He’s good company. He doesn’t take himself too seriously.’

  Was that a snort?

  She glared at him. ‘Why are you so dressed up?’ Although the tie was gone it was definitely a tux he was wearing. And even though he wore it carelessly, he wore it too well for her comfort.

  He shrugged. ‘How did it go?’

  ‘I didn’t think you were interested.’ She couldn’t stop the bitchiness.

  He lifted away from the wall. ‘Sophy.’

  ‘No.’ She straightened, getting ready to move. ‘I’ve got someone waiting for me.’ She moved fast to get past. But he pounced—just as she’d known he would.

  Damn, his hands were fast and he was too strong. In seconds he’d pulled her into a room and locked the door. A toilet. Really classy.

  But before she could even start in on the fury she felt he’d pulled her close. His hand cupped her chin, tilting her head back for him to kiss.

  But he didn’t go for her mouth—no, it was her jaw, her neck, that spot beneath her ear that they both knew was so sensitive. She could smell the alcohol on him, could feel how thin his control was and then she felt his lips. That damn sweet tenderness that made her feel as if he was worshipping her with his mouth. She fell back, melting into the kisses; his furious passion rose in a flash, sweeping her away.

  It had been three days. Three long, lonely days in which she hadn’t felt his touch—and as soon as she did she flamed for him. Despite her hurt and disappointment she still wanted him—desperately.

  His kisses deepened as she softened. She panted as he kissed her with ravenous abandon, his hands cupping her butt and rhythmically pressing her against his hard erection as his mouth scalded her skin.

  But as his touch grew bolder, more intimate, her brain started screaming at her. He didn’t want to go out with her—be seen together by their friends or family. But he’d whisk her into the nearest, tackiest place he could so he could get his hands on her? He was the proverbial dog in the manger. Not wanting her but not wanting her to have fun with anyone else? Not fair. Not right.

  She grabbed his chin and forced it up, making him look into her face. Her nails curled into the vulnerable space just below his jawbone. If she were truly part animal she could kill him this way—pierce the skin and slice his throat. But that wouldn’t serve her purpose at all. She wouldn’t scratch him, couldn’t hurt him—not that way at least—despite the anger burning inside her, and the bottomless well of pain that was feeding it.

  For a long moment she looked into his eyes—saw her anger reflected. What bothered him so much? Surely not her dancing with Jay?

  No, this anger was too deep for that. And too old. It was the bitterness she’d seen in him before, only tonight it was burning out of control.

  She looked away, caught sight of their reflection in the mirror—her face pale, her lips that ridiculous bright red from her forties fashion look.

  She turned back to him, brushed her lips against his jaw and then looked at his skin. All praise to the modern cosmetics companies with their long-lasting lip colours—but they’d yet to make them smudge free.

  She kissed his jaw again, then down his neck, pressing her lips hard all the way down to the starched white collar of his shirt—and then across that. As she made her mark she let her hands tease him, inflame him, distract him.

  ‘Sophy.’

  She swore she’d heard that old thread of laughter then—yeah, he was so confident of her surrender. She let her hands slip lower—harder.

  She heard his hissing breath, felt the surge of energy and braced herself.

  But nothing could prepare her for what happened. His hands twisted in her hair as he held her firm and gazed at her. His burning black eyes bored into hers—but there was no laughter in them, not even a smile. He was all serious, so intense and, if she was right, so sad.

  It began as the softest kiss. Then his arms went tight around her, sealing their length, and she felt him straining against her, his touch scorching, his need overwhelming.

  Finally the kiss eased. It was then that she found it—the strength to push him away. To her surprise he let her, his head snapping back as she shoved him hard in the chest.

  She blinked away the tears—of bewilderment, resentment and plain old hurt.

  ‘Gosh, Lorenzo—’ her voice shook ‘—you have lipstick stains all over your face and all over your shirt.’ Her bitter laugh turned into a sob halfway through. ‘How are you going to hide your dirty little secret now?’

  The fury that flashed made her run.

  ‘Sophy!’

  How she got the door open she never knew. But she ran through the crowded bar, desperate for an escape.

  Jay materialised in front of her, eyes wide. ‘Sophy?’

  Yeah, her little paint job meant she had more than a make-up malfunction now, she probably looked like a reject from clown school with the slut red lipstick smudged all over her chin. ‘Walk me to a cab, would you?’ She had no idea where Rosanna was but would get Jay to pass the message on later.

  ‘Of course.’ He moved instantly.

  ‘I’ll do that.’ Lorenzo was on the other side of her.

  ‘No, you won’t.’ She pushed past him.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Jay muttered, putting his arm around her, glaring over her head at Lorenzo, who silently stalked next to them.

  ‘Never better. Will you tell Rosanna I’ve gone home?’

  ‘Sure.’

  They got outside. Jay kept a protective arm looped around her shoulders as he stepped to the kerb and waved his spare arm at the taxi rank not far down the road. The first one peeled off and came towards them. Jay stayed with her, holding the door—blocking it from Lorenzo while she got in.

  ‘Sophy.’ Deadly quiet but she heard him anyway.

  Just before she slammed the door she answered. ‘Not now, Lorenzo. I’m too angry, and you’re too drunk.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SOPHY hadn’t been home fifteen minutes when the thudding on her door started.

  She opened the door and glared at him. ‘I said not now.’

  ‘I’m not drunk.’

  ‘Oh, please.’ She looked at the way he was breathing, at the flush in his cheeks. ‘Did you run here?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘You shouldn’t run in those shoes. It’ll be bad for your feet.’

  ‘Says the woman wearing stupidly high heels.’

  She whirled away and walked down the hall. ‘What is it you want, Lorenzo?’

  She heard him close the door and walk after her. ‘I just wanted you to know it’s not you. It’s me.’

  She stopped and turned back to stare at him. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ She laughed. ‘That’s the line you’re giving me?’

  ‘I was jealous as hell watching you dance with him. Even though I knew there was nothing in it, I was wild. I can’t even blame the booze. I’m sorry.’

  ‘You could have danced with me.’

  He shook his head. ‘You’re too good for me.’

  ‘Oh.’ She clasped her hand to her chest. ‘Another great line. Whatever will be next? Let me guess, “I just don’t do relationships, darling,”‘ she said, dropping her voice a ridiculous octave. ‘“I was born to be alone.” Am I on the right path?’

  He’d gone pale. Stopped halfway down the hall. ‘Why did you want me to meet your family?’

  ‘I didn’t. It wasn’t like I was going to introduce you to them as my boyfriend or anything, Lorenzo. Heaven forbid.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I just wanted you to be there. I wanted your support.’

  ‘No.’ Lorenzo took a deep breath in and reminded himself that he was not going to lose it. Not again. Now was the time for some honesty. He owed her
that, at least. ‘I’ve met your father before.’

  ‘You have?’

  ‘He was the presiding judge when I was up in court.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Youth court. I was thirteen.’

  ‘What had you done?’

  He shrugged. ‘Graffiti, theft, destruction of property. It wasn’t the first time.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘Ordered some community service. Made the order to send me to that school.’

  ‘Dad did that?’

  ‘Yes. I had “potential.” They thought it might bring it out.’ And it had—to a degree.

  She lifted her brows. ‘And you think what? That your past would put him off you now?’

  Of course it would.

  ‘Doesn’t all you’ve done in the last eighteen years count for anything? Or are you stuck in some kind of time warp? You don’t think what you’ve done with your life since matters?’

  He shook his head. She just didn’t get it.

  ‘So tell me the truth, then.’ She squared up to him. ‘The wine label—it’s a front for money laundering, isn’t it?’

  ‘What? No.’

  ‘Is it drugs, then? You’re secretly growing pot in the vineyards?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Oh.’ She sounded disappointed. ‘No illegal activities. You’re not much of a crim then are you?’

  ‘Sophy.’ He so didn’t need the sarcasm right now.

  She didn’t stop. ‘Have you ever been back in court?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘So what’s the problem?’ She folded her arms and eyeballed him. ‘My father believes in justice, Lorenzo. You had a problem. Did some things you shouldn’t have. You did your hours of community service or whatever. Put the wrong right. And he got you into a place that would actually help you. It’s finished. Behind you.’

  ‘He wouldn’t see it like that.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I just do, all right?’ She was so naïve. ‘Do you really think he’d be okay with what I’m doing with you?’