“Just the shoes?” He was hard again. She moved restlessly, wondering if she could reach the last condom.
He left her long enough to do what needed to be done, and then lifted her onto the bed, moving over her and into her with intent. “We’ll start with the shoes, my dear lady lawyer. And I’ll negotiate the rest.”
“I don’t come cheap,” she warned. “You hired the best.”
“Worth every penny,” he said, groaning as he reached the end. “I’ll never want anyone the way I want you.”
Nikki closed her eyes, smiling. It was all she could ask for…and so much more….
Epilogue
Nikki unfastened the seat belt that had been digging into her rounded stomach and stepped out of the car with Pierce’s help. As she stretched and winced, Wolff Castle loomed in front of her, its stately facade now familiar and dear.
She leaned her head on her husband’s arm. “Seems awfully quiet. I thought everyone was coming for dinner.”
“They are,” Pierce said. “Maybe they’re all upstairs changing clothes.”
The baby girl in her womb gave a firm kick, stealing Nikki’s breath for a moment. “I can’t believe Annalise won the bet about the sex and the confirmed due date. Everyone else thought it was a boy for sure. Are you sorry?” she asked, looking up at him with faint anxiety. They’d had their ultrasound only that morning, and he had cried along with her when the doctor told them the news. Even still…the Wolffs were a masculine lot.
Pierce took her face in his hands and kissed her gently. “I am beyond thrilled,” he said. “Don’t be a goose. Nothing is more precious than a baby dressed all in pink. She’ll be as beautiful and smart as her mama.”
Hand in hand, they entered the house and headed for the formal salon, Pierce leading the way. In the alcove outside the door, Nikki held back. “Can we stop by the kitchen? Dinner is a long way off and I’m hungry.”
“Again?” The teasing glint in his eyes told her he wasn’t serious.
“Watch it, wise guy. It’s not smart to mess with a pregnant lady.”
“We’ll grab something in a minute,” he said. “Let’s see if any of the others are around.”
He opened the door, and as Nikki stepped forward, a huge unison roar greeted them. “Congratulations!”
Nikki blinked, tears welling in her eyes as they so often did now. The entire Wolff family filled the room, along with Pierce’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Avery. Pink bows, floral swags and balloons festooned the walls. A cherry drop-leaf table groaned beneath the weight of a mountain of baby gifts. A second table held a silver punch bowl and a small version of a wedding cake, this one topped with a pair of pink satin booties.
Nikki sniffed. “I don’t know what to say.”
Annalise stepped forward, her face beaming. “We wanted to be your first baby shower. Daddy insisted we buy everything in both pink and blue since we wouldn’t know until today, so upstairs is a pile of stuff we’ll be donating to charity.”
Everyone broke into laughter, and soon Nikki and Pierce were seated front and center so the unwrapping could begin. Car seats. A stroller. More beautiful clothes than a baby could possibly wear in a month. Practical items, whimsical stuffed toys, everything a new mom and dad could need.
When the last box was emptied, Vincent Wolff stepped forward, handing Nikki a long, slender box that looked as if it might contain a man’s necktie. Curious, she smiled at Pierce as she opened it.
Together, they lifted the sheaf of papers inside. Nikki’s lower lip wobbled. It was the deed to a plot of land on Wolff Mountain.
Vincent waved a hand, not able to meet their eyes as he walked back to his seat. “Build a vacation home, whatever you want.” Then he looked at the Averys solemnly. “And I’ve something for you as well, if you’ll step into my study afterward. To thank you for raising such a fine man, our son.”
Nikki felt Pierce’s tension and shivered when he stood. The whole room fell silent. Slowly, he approached his biological father, bent and hugged him. “Thank you, Father. This means a lot to us.”
Seconds later, chatter erupted, dissolving the moment of intense emotion. Pierce was pulled away to help his brothers assemble a tricycle that wouldn’t be needed for months and months. The women began serving food.
Nikki looked around the room, marveling at the changes in her life. For the first time, she had a family of her own. She, Pierce and their baby girl. But even as the thought crossed her mind, she realized it wasn’t entirely true. The amazing fact was, she had gone from having no family to having three. Because the Wolffs and the Averys had made her one of their own.
Her world had come full circle. Complete. As unending as the platinum wedding band she wore. And love had made it so….
* * * * *
If you loved Pierce’s story, don’t miss a single novel in
THE MEN OF WOLFF MOUNTAIN,
a series from USA TODAY bestselling author Janice Maynard:
INTO HIS PRIVATE DOMAIN
A TOUCH OF PERSUASION
IMPOSSIBLE TO RESIST
THE MAID’S DAUGHTER
ALL GROWN UP
TAMING THE LONE WOLFF
All available now from Harlequin Desire!
Keep reading for an excerpt from A COWBOY’S TEMPTATION by Barbara Dunlop.
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Desire story.
You want to leave behind the everyday! Harlequin Desire stories feature sexy, romantic heroes who have it all: wealth, status, incredible good looks…everything but the right woman. Add some secrets, maybe a scandal, and start turning pages!
Enjoy six new stories from Harlequin Desire every month!
Visit Harlequin.com to find your next great read.
We like you—why not like us on Facebook: Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Follow us on Twitter: Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
Read our blog for all the latest news on our authors and books: HarlequinBlog.com
Subscribe to our newsletter for special offers, new releases, and more!
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Sexy, contemporary romance stories for today’s fun, fearless female.
On sale October 15, 2013
Everything You Need to Know by HelenKay Dimon
Naked Sushi by Jina Bacarr
On sale November 12, 2013
Aftershock by New York Times bestselling author Sylvia Day
Two Red-Hot Reads available in ebook format each month!
Visit www.harlequin.com/Cosmo today.
One
He didn’t look much like a mayor—especially in the lighted ranch yard, wearing blue jeans and a battered Stetson, his dark eyes, square chin and straight nose set in a deeply tanned face. From this distance, Seth Jacobs was all cowboy, all rugged and as powerful as they came in Lyndon Valley.
Sipping her vodka tonic out of a disposable plastic cup, Darby Carroll hovered in the wide-open doorway of the newly raised Davelyn barn. Thirty feet across the dirt construction site, Seth was standing with a group of cowboys, chatting over an open fire, passing around a bottle of Jack Daniel’s whiskey. He chuckled at something one of the cowboys said, white teeth flashing in the firelight.
It was nearing ten at night, and most of the young Lyndon Valley families had packed up their kids and headed for home. The holdouts were the singles, young married couples and a few fiftysomethings, whose child-rearing days were over, but who hadn’t yet traded after-parties for early bedtimes and cups of hot tea.
The September sky was awash with stars, muted dance music throbbing far behind her. The air was warm, fragrant with wheatgrass, and the Lyndon River roared softly at the base of the hill. Most of the west valley had shown up for the barn raising. Community was alive and well in Lyndon.
Family was everything. And that only added to Seth’s power
and prestige. While the Jacobses had arrived many generations ago, Darby was a newcomer, having taken over her estranged great-aunt’s property only three years previous. There were people who thought she wasn’t entitled to an opinion, many who thought the old guard should remain in charge forever. She took another sip of the tart, bracing drink, gaze still resting on the group of six cowboys.
She couldn’t help but wonder if an in-person appeal would help her cause. She had so much to say to him, so many points to make, arguments to mount, facts and figures to put forward. That is, if Seth Jacobs or anyone else was willing to listen.
He caught her gaze, trapping her in place as surely as if he’d wrapped his callous hands around her arms and held her steady. He cocked his head, spoke to the cowboy next to him, handed over the bottle then broke from the group, pacing toward her.
His shoulders were wide, hips slim, strides easy as he ate up the ground between them. She had no doubt whatsoever that he’d garnered nearly 100 percent of female voters in the mayoral election. Well, maybe 99.9, since Darby had voted for his opponent.
He slowed his pace, stopping in front of her in the doorway. “You look like a woman who has something to say.”
She brushed her auburn hair behind her shoulders. “Are you a man who’s willing to listen?”
“I took an oath that says I am,” he responded easily, shifting to lean one shoulder against the wide jamb of the barn doorway. “I take it doubly serious for pretty women.”
“I’m not here to flirt with you, Mayor.”
There was a teasing warmth in his dark, blue eyes. “Too bad.”
“I’m here to argue with you.”
He heaved a sigh. “Yeah, well, that’s my bad luck, too.”
“Did you know that a train whistle is one hundred thirty to one hundred fifty decibels?”
“Can’t say that I did,” he drawled.
“At one hundred twenty-five decibels, pain begins.” She tugged at her ear as she quoted the researched statistics. “At one hundred forty decibels, even short-term exposure can cause permanent damage.”
“You know, you have the most arresting eyes. What are they, turquoise? Green?”
Darby’s thoughts stumbled for a split second. But she reminded herself that it was the Jack Daniel’s and the cowboy talking. She had to focus on the mayor.
“Right now, we’re talking about my ears.”
He smiled at that, canting his head to one side. “Interesting ears, too.”
“And I’d like to keep them in working order. Mine and those of every other resident of Lyndon Valley, especially the children.”
“Well, unless you’re planning to stand on the tracks, I’m guessing your ears will be safe.”
She ignored his sarcasm. “Uncontrolled railway crossings account for eighty-nine percent of fatal train-vehicle collisions.”
“Again, my advice is to keep your pretty eyes, your pretty ears—” he drew slightly back to make a show of checking out the length of her body “—and your pretty little body off the railway tracks.”
“How drunk are you?” she asked, wondering if there was any reason to continue the conversation.
He grinned unrepentantly. “Why?”
“Because you’re not behaving much like a mayor.”
“My mistake.”
He removed his Stetson, raking his fingers through his hair to give it some semblance of order. He squared his shoulders and neutralized the cocky grin. “Better?”
“Your draft plan calls for twelve uncontrolled railway crossings in the greater Lyndon City area.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
“That’s twelve new chances for Lyndon City citizens to die.”
“You don’t think they’ll notice the one-hundred-thirty-decibel whistle and get out of the way?”
Darby was not going to be deterred. “That adds up to twelve blasts, per train, of up to one hundred fifty decibels, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”
His grin crept back. “You did the math.”
“I did the math. And you need to take this seriously.”
“Mountain Railway is pouring tens of millions of dollars into the region. Believe me when I tell you I take that kind of money very seriously.”
She polished off the last of her drink. “Money’s not everything.”
“The railway benefits the ranchers and other businesses, such as DFB Brewery, and it brings new economic opportunities to the entire region,” he countered, not seeming remotely intoxicated now.
Darby did some other math inside her head. Perhaps three vodka tonics into the evening wasn’t the best time to get into this debate.
But Seth wasn’t finished. “Ranchers and trains have been coexisting in this country for well over two hundred years.”
“There are more than just ranchers living in Lyndon Valley.”
He smiled again, knowingly this time. “And there we have it. The crux of your opposition. You think the ambiance at your ladies’ retreat should take precedence over the economic well-being of the Lyndon City ranching community.”
“My ladies’ retreat?” Darby felt her cheeks heat with indignation on behalf of her clientele. “Do you think we’re up there quilting and swapping cookie recipes?”
“What are you doing up there?”
What they were doing up there was none of his business, and she had no intention of sharing it with him. It wasn’t exactly a state secret, but there were definitely elements of national security.
“Fair warning, Mayor Jacobs. I’m going to formally request you hold a referendum on whether or not to allow a railway line through Lyndon Valley,” she told him instead.
His smirk telegraphed to her he’d noted the evasion. “I don’t need a referendum. The new railway line was the centerpiece of my campaign.”
“That’s why I voted for Hal Jameson.”
Seth gave an unconcerned shrug. “Yet, I won.”
“That doesn’t mean you get to be a tyrant.”
“They voted with me on the issue, Darby. You’re in the minority. That’s how democracy works.”
She leaned a little closer to him. “Democracy also gives me the right to free speech.”
He searched her expression for a full minute. Was he impressed, annoyed, refocusing and coming at it from a new angle? She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d made her point.
“You really do have incredible eyes,” he said.
The unexpected statement caused a little lurch of attraction inside her chest, but she quickly shoved it to the far reaches of her being. “Behave yourself, Mayor Jacobs.”
“Free speech, Ms. Carroll. It works both ways.”
“Are you telling me your mayor’s code of conduct allows you to flirt with the citizens?”
“I’m not on the job right now. I’m attending a party.”
She had to concede that point to him. “Then we should stop talking business.”
She hated to admit it, but maybe this hadn’t been the greatest idea.
“You started it. I wanted to flirt all along.”
She held her ground. “I’ll never flirt back.”
“Too bad for me.”
“Mayor,” she warned, not liking his apparent knack for flirting, nor how susceptible she appeared to be to it. “I’m your opposition.”
“On a single issue.”
“It’s do or die for me.”
“It’s do or die for me, too.” He gave a regretful shake of his head. “But you still have astonishing eyes.”
She ignored his attempt at distraction and refused to be swayed. At the same time, she used a warning tone. “That’s not the only thing I have.”
* * *
Darby had a Ph.D. in psychology, a black belt
in karate and five years’ experience in the military. Normally, she was prepared for any challenge, but she’d never run up against politics before. And she’d never run up against anyone like Seth Jacobs.
Just by walking into a room, he seemed to garner respect in Lyndon City. People spoke about him with awe, and she’d yet to meet anyone willing to fight him head-on. He was a unique and formidable opponent, and he was standing between her and her dream.
Arriving at her home, Sierra Hotel, she left her SUV in the front driveway and made her way into the entry lounge. A new group of guests was expected late next week, but for now, she and her small staff had the lakefront retreat to themselves.
“How’d it go?” asked Marta Laurent. Marta had been her first friend in Lyndon Valley, and she was now assistant manager at Sierra Hotel. Marta muted a news story on the wide-screen television. “Did you get a chance to talk to him?”
Darby dropped her small backpack on the end of a sofa and plunked herself down. “I did. But I don’t think he’s taking me seriously. Hey, have you noticed anything weird about my eyes?”
“There’s nothing wrong with your eyes. What did he say?”
“He said the Lyndon City constituents put him into office knowing he was in favor of the railway, so he doesn’t need a referendum now.”
“He’s not wrong about that,” Marta conceded with her usual logic.
“I know,” Darby had to agree. “He’s wrong to support the railway. But he’s not wrong to say people knew about it when they elected him.”
“Did you check? Is there any way to force him to hold a referendum?”
“The only way to do it is to get six hundred signatures on a petition by next Monday.”
“That’s not impossible,” Marta mused, sitting up straighter. “I know a lot of people. We can canvass the city, mount a public-information campaign, put clipboards at sympathetic businesses.”
“Fight politics with politics?” Darby couldn’t help but let her optimism rise.
A Wolff at Heart Page 17
