That sounded like the real Evie. The confident, smart, determined one.
“You helped. You definitely helped,” he said. “Can I show this to my brothers?”
“Of course. I even have her address at school if one of you feels like taking a trip to Chicago.”
“It should probably be Raine,” he said. “I’m sure he’d relish the chance to talk to somebody at a private college rather than staking out every seedy strip club in LA.”
She glowered. “Is that where you were going to go with him last Monday night? To a strip club? Rowan Winchester, I’m shocked!”
“It’s part of the job, babe. Believe me, I wouldn’t have liked it.” He pulled her off her chair and onto his lap. “I don’t even want to look at any other woman but you.”
He kissed her hard, and she responded in kind. Their tongues came together in a hungry dance, and he felt her excitement rise. They’d made a lot of slow, sweet love in recent days. It was always good. Always. But he sensed her mood had changed.
This was the wild woman from that first day on the beach.
She turned to face him, straddling him on the chair, and he pushed up into her, letting her know how much she turned him on. She had since the night they’d met. He suspected she always would.
“So, how do you feel about being the feast on the kitchen table?” he asked as he lifted her from his lap and put her up onto the butcher block. He didn’t even want to take the time to go to the bedroom, and swiped a hand across the pages there, sending them spinning to the floor.
She reached for his shirt, pulling him to her. Twining her fingers in his hair, she licked her lips and gave him a coy little look. “That depends on how hungry you are.”
He laughed. “I’m starving, honey. Absolutely famished.”
Then there was no more laughing, only hot, wet kisses, steamy touches, and needy gasps. Their clothes were on the floor in seconds, and he pushed her onto her back so he could kiss her from top to toe, stopping at several particularly delicious places in between.
“Oh, God, Rowan,” she moaned as he pleasured her, bringing her to her first climax quickly. He knew her body so well, knew what she liked and how she responded. There were, of course, many more things to discover, and he looked forward to doing that. But right now, he just wanted to make her feel good. And judging by the way she cried out and arched toward his mouth, he succeeded.
“Aren’t you full yet?” she asked as he continued to kiss and sample her inner thighs and everything in between. “Because I want to be.”
Laughing softly, he straightened and look down at her. Her blue eyes were glazed with pleasure, her lips red and parted, her hair strewn about her on the table.
She was perfect. So beautiful she stole his breath. Just like she’d stolen his heart.
Wrapping her legs around him, she tugged him closer, arching toward him in welcome. Rowan pulled her to the very edge of the table. His hands tightly around her hips, he lifted her a little and then plunged into her body, hard, fast, and deep.
She let out a cry of pleasure, one he was becoming very well used to.
“Yes, yes, oh, God, nothing ever felt as good as this,” she whispered. She reached up and stroked his chest.
“No, nothing ever did, Evie,” he said as he pulled out and then drove in deep again.
She met him thrust for thrust, until she came again, hard, and this time he went with her.
A few hours later, after they’d napped, showered, had sex in the shower, and eaten something for dinner, they curled up together on the couch for a Netflix-and-Laugh marathon, as they’d once joked about doing.
Suddenly thinking of something, he said, “Wow, I just remembered. Do you know what this Thursday is?”
“No, what?”
“It’s Thanksgiving.”
Evie’s mouth rounded. “Oh goodness, I completely forgot about that too.”
His arm draped across her shoulders, and he squeezed her. “Have any mad turkey-making skills I don’t know about, Ms. Author?”
“No. Do you, Mr. Cop?”
“Uh-uh. And, uh, I kind of hate turkey,” he admitted.
“Yeah, not a big fan either.”
“So…pizza?”
“Pizza sounds perfect.”
She smiled at him.
That smile, that beautiful smile.
He could get lost in that smile forever, and he never wanted her to lose it again.
“Why are you looking at me?” she said, shifting out from under his arm to study his face.
“Because I love you.”
He hadn’t planned to say that, but it was only the truth. He wasn’t a game player; he wasn’t smooth and controlling like Reece or dark and dangerous like Raine. He was just himself. The normal one, if there was such a thing. He believed in being forthright and telling it like it was. So, he’d told it like it was.
And he didn’t regret it.
He expected her to be surprised, to question how he could know such a thing so soon. He half wondered if she would try to argue him out of it, pointing out the dark cloud she thought she walked under.
Instead, with a gentle kiss, she simply replied, “I love you too.”
Epilogue
Are you sure you’re okay with not having pizza?”
Getting out of the car in the driveway of Reece’s house, Rowan was thinking pizza with pepperoni and green peppers was sounding better and better.
But he’d agreed to this. When his dad had called and said the whole family was getting together for Thanksgiving dinner at Reece’s place, and they all looked forward to getting to know Evie, there really was no way to refuse.
“Just don’t leave me alone with your brothers, okay? They might want me to sign a blood oath not to write my book.”
Coming around to her side of the car, Rowan pulled her into his arms. “Don’t worry about my family. They’re going to love you.”
She nibbled her lip. “Even knowing what I do?”
“Are you kidding? Especially knowing what you do. The last time I talked to Reece, he warned me that Jess was probably going to pick your brain about writing a script based on some of your work.”
She lifted a brow.
“Don’t worry. She’s really nice. If you say no, she’ll back off…for a half hour or so.”
She was actually laughing at that when the garage door opened and the stunning redhead herself appeared. “I told you I heard a car!” she shouted to someone inside.
Darting toward them, she grabbed Rowan and kissed him on the cheek, and then turned her back on him, giving all her focus to Evie.
“I’m Jess,” she said, looping her arm through Evie’s. “I’ve heard all about you, and am so excited to hear more.”
He could see Evie stiffen a little and knew she was worried Jess might immediately start asking questions about the flower killer case, or Angstrom—the dark shadow still hanging over her. But it seemed his future sister-in-law was talking about something else altogether.
“Tell me how you met. You were mugged? And he brought you here? Were you okay? Did he stay the night? When did you guys go out again?”
Evie was smiling, and then laughing as the other woman continued asking questions and poking fun of Rowan. He knew her well enough to know she was overdoing it, intentionally, of course. She was trying to put Evie at ease, not have her worrying that they were all going to treat her with kid gloves or ask her about her experiences with serial killers.
Not for the first time, he thought that his brother Reece was one hell of a lucky man. Jess was the lively, bright breath of fresh air his twin needed.
Evie, meanwhile, was the cool, smart, strong, and loving partner Rowan had always wanted.
Who’d have ever thought it? A year ago they’d been three happy bachelors. Now they were two down, and one to go.
Of course, Raine was still pretty young. He had just turned twenty-five and had time. Rowan only hoped that their kid brother was able to wear off s
ome of his hard edges, and maybe put down some of his baggage, by the time he met the right woman.
Inside the house, Evie was quickly surrounded with hugs and kisses on the cheek from his dad and Aunt Sharon. Raine nodded, Reece shook her hand. And with every minute that passed, Evie relaxed and grew more animated. Soon she was chopping vegetables in the kitchen while Jess set the table and Aunt Sharon brined the turkey. The house was filled with laughter.
It was the first Thanksgiving he could remember that had been genuinely warm and happy. Which made it more of a damn shame when he told his brothers that he’d like to talk to them on the patio right after their father and Aunt Sharon had left.
Evie met his eye. She knew he was about to tell his siblings what he’d learned about Chelsea Voss, the girl they should have been searching for. When they learned she was not who they thought she was, they would probably be as stunned as he had been.
But not for long.
That was the thing about the Winchesters. They bounced back. And once his brothers got over their surprise, the three of them would put their heads together and figure out what to do next. Because none of them was going to give up on this quest for answers.
Not Raine, who’d had his darkest, most tragic memories poured back into his mind by Harry Baker.
Not Reece and Rowan, who’d cleaned up the crime scene and thought for years that their baby brother was a killer.
They would find out the truth for themselves. For Steve. For their mother.
And for Rachel.
“So,” he said as they sat down in lounge chairs, Rowan closest to the house, as usual. “I think it’s time we talk about the girl.”
Dying for a sneak peek of the next book in the exciting Hollywood Heat series?
Keep reading for a preview of
Waiting for You
Available early 2019.
Former Child Star Assaults Reporter
Hollywood Tattletale Reporter R. Carlisle
February 5, 2019
LOS ANGELES—Former child actor Raine Winchester, of the famed Hollywood family dynasty, is in the news for assaulting reporter James Federer on the set of Locked and Curled, currently filming at Paramount.
The hulking owner of the protection company Hollywood Guardians was at the side of nine-year-old star Brittany Blake during a backstage press tour of the set. Federer, a reporter with this organization, insists he accidentally stumbled among the crowd and instinctively grabbed the girl for balance, inciting the professional bodyguard to action. Federer was bodily picked up and thrown aside by the former Army Ranger, incurring a broken rib and a dislocated shoulder.
Scandal and violence are no strangers to the Winchester family, and yesterday’s incident is sure to raise questions about family once again, especially since no charges were filed, or are expected, against Raine Winchester, despite the violence of his attack and the injuries to Federer.
Are the Winchester brothers just incredibly lucky?
Or has their fame and influence allow them to escape justice time and time again?
Chapter 1
Sadie Allen remained awake late into the night, tense and anxious, despite her state-of-the-art security system and safe neighborhood.
After four years of hell, the threats, the phone calls, the vandalism, and the stalking had finally come to an end. It had been eighteen months since any of them had made contact, and she had grown confident that that part of her life was in the past.
Oh please, don’t let this be starting again. “They wouldn’t. Not now.”
Her daughter couldn’t possibly be taken without the entire world hearing about it. Not when Charity was protected by professional bodyguards paid for by powerful studios, and was watched constantly, by a camera, a director, a film crew, a security team.
And by her mom.
Sadie was no longer a helpless, broke, desperate single mother running from a pack of fanatics. She had allies. She had help. Most of all, she had strength. Unlike six years ago when she’d escaped and fled to California from the wilds of Montana.
If they thought she was still that desperate, frightened girl, they had a lot to learn.
She rolled onto her side and punched her pillow, aching for rest but unable to find it. “Damn reporters,” she whispered as she gave up on sleep, reached for her iPad, and tapped on the screen. Ever since the incident on the lot, when her little girl had been assaulted by a creepy reporter from a creepy tabloid, Sadie had been watching the story unfold in the press.
Her anger rose as she read the latest article from James Federer’s rag about it. Rather than casting blame where it belonged—on a sleazy, middle-aged man who had grabbed a nine-year-old girl’s arm to get her attention, his grip hard enough to leave bruises—they were blaming Raine Winchester.
Raine, who had been doing his job protecting Sadie’s daughter.
Raine, whose eagle-sharp eyes missed nothing, and whose threatening presence was usually enough to stop any fan from getting too close to his charge.
Raine, who was, without a doubt, the strongest, most protective man she’d ever known.
Not to mention the hottest.
Good Lord, the bodyguard was traffic-stopping. Tall, broad, with muscles other men’s muscles aspired to be. Always dressed in camo pants and form-fitting black T-shirts, his body was a textbook example of masculine. His dark hair was kept military short, which only emphasized the male beauty of his face. The deep-set eyes, the cut cheeks, the square jaw, all combined to set a woman’s heart pounding, heart fluttering, and legs trembling.
The guy was steamy sex on two feet.
Sadie didn’t know that firsthand, of course, despite the fact that she spent so much time around him. Not sexy time, definitely not. Everything between them was professional.
That didn’t mean she hadn’t thought about kissing him, touching him. More.
“Lots more,” she whispered, wishing fantasies weren’t all she had.
She had had sex with only two men, ever. Sadie had been a teenage virgin on her wedding night. God, who was that girl? And after running away from her sham of a marriage and her ex’s insane life, she’d been too gun-shy to allow anybody to get close.
She’d also had her daughter to take care of. Once Charity had become a superstar, now known to the whole world as Brittany Blake, Sadie’s protective mom duties had quadrupled. Hollywood wasn’t exactly a safe place for kids. It had taken a long time for Sadie to agree to go out with someone—an aspiring actor.
Big mistake. Because after the very first time they’d slept together, he’d had the nerve to ask her to use Char’s status to get him a job on “Brittany’s” new movie.
No more dating for Sadie. Definitely no more sex. Just fantasies about the strong, silent, devastatingly attractive bodyguard, who was never anything more than polite and professional.
After all, why would a man from a famous Hollywood family, who was drop-dead gorgeous, strong, and successful, have any interest in a boring single mom? Not only that, a single mom who was older than him by a couple of years?
He wouldn’t. The end.
She tossed the iPad onto the other side of the bed, still fuming at the article, wishing the movie business wasn’t so filled with sharks and barracudas and defined by who devoured whom.
Something scraped against her window, and Sadie flinched, forgetting all about sexy bodyguards. Although she knew it was just a branch from a tree right out front, the creaky scratch reminded her that, even though strong professionals watched over her little girl by day, Sadie alone was responsible for Charity’s well-being when they were in this house.
And even though the security system remained silent, she could no longer ignore the alarm in her brain.
Sadie threw back the covers, grabbed her robe, and left her room. She turned right, heading for the next door down, needing to see that Char was safe and sound.
She edged the door open a few inches, her gaze moving past the Brittany Blake movie posters t
oward the bed. Spying the dark curls and sweet face pressed against the pillow, a thumb resting close to the bow-shaped mouth—her daughter had been a thumb-sucker—Sadie let out the breath she’d been holding. She wanted to go into the room, draw the blue down comforter up over the child’s bare shoulders, and give her a soft kiss on the cheek.
But she didn’t, fearing she would wake Char up. She needed to go check the rest of the house. Right now.
Softly closing the door, she continued to prowl, looking in the rest of the upstairs bedrooms and bathrooms. Nothing. She walked carefully down the curved staircase. Her bare feet made no sound on the slick wood, and she listened for any noise from downstairs.
You’re being paranoid.
The creepy-crawly sensation wouldn’t go away, though, no matter how much she tried to tell herself all was well. Sadie had lived too much of her life knowing all was not well to fall for mental games, even if she was playing them all by herself.
Reaching the marble-tiled foyer, she shivered a little. It was drafty down here.
Something moved. She caught a glimpse of a shadow out of the corner of her right eye.
Her heart leapt, and so did she, spinning to race to the formal dining room, where she’d seen the movement. She immediately managed a tiny laugh at her own expense. The sheers over the windows were wafting as the heat kicked on, sending warmth from the vent above.
Just the curtains, nothing more.
Nothing more. Nevermore. Nothing more. Nevermore.
“No,” she groaned. The memory of that singsong voice made her instantly queasy.
She went to the alarm panel and double-checked that everything was in working order. “Fine,” she whispered. “Everything’s fi—” The word died in her mouth as the floodlight in the backyard came on.
It was triggered by movement. And there was movement.
“Oh my God,” she whispered once she could speak.
A quick glance through those softly billowing sheers revealed several dark shapes moving from the fence across the back lawn toward the house.
Wanting You Page 30
