Behind Closed Doors

by Debbi Rawlins

  They heard a knock and turned toward the door.

  Liberty blushed and lowered her head.

  “Hey, Nathan,” Beth said casually, even though her pulse was stuck on overdrive. “We were just talking about you. Is Woody here, too?”

  “Nope.” He glanced cautiously at Lib, then back to Beth. “He’s at the ranch. Doesn’t school let out later?”

  Beth winked at Liberty, who didn’t seem so embarrassed anymore. “She got time off for good behavior.”

  She grinned at Liberty’s snort.

  “I gotta meet my friend for lunch,” Lib said, but she waited until she got Beth’s nod. Then she made a move for the door.

  “Wait,” Nathan said. “I wanted to ask you both something. Thanksgiving is next week and I’d like you to go with me to my folks’ house. Think it over. No pressure.”

  Beth couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d walked in without a shirt. Of course, her mind would have to go there. For God’s sake.

  Lib seemed even more stunned. She stared at Nathan, looking totally confused.

  “There’ll be plenty of pumpkin pie,” he said, his voice gentle. “And horses. Lots of horses.”

  The blush returned, but it must have been too much to expect her to respond. Liberty left. At least she didn’t slam the door.

  Beth took a deep breath before meeting Nathan’s eyes. He’d been studying her.

  “How’ve you been?” he asked.

  “Busy. You know, with Liberty, the renovation. You?”

  “Yep, I’ve been busy, too.”

  “I imagine the Arabians are taking up a lot of your time.”

  “Somewhat. Though Clint’s been working with me.”

  “Really?” She didn’t understand why that pleased her so much. “I’m glad.”

  “Look,” he said, motioning with his chin toward the door. “I didn’t expect Liberty to be here. But when she didn’t throw any daggers at me, I figured it was okay to bring up Thanksgiving.”

  Beth nodded. “Sure. As you saw, she’s okay. We’ve been doing a lot together and working through some stuff. She’s handling things better than I’d expected, to be honest.” She hated being so nervous. She wished she’d at least put on some makeup, but that was nothing. Feeling jumpy with him? To quote Lib, that sucked. “It’s gonna take some time, though.”

  “If the nonmoody days outnumber the I-hate-you-and-everybody-on-the-planet ones, you’re in good shape.”

  “What?” Beth smiled. “Since when are you an expert?”

  “I’ve been doing a lot of reading this past week. Mostly online, but I bought a few books, too. About teenagers, particularly ones who’ve suffered troubled childhoods.” His solemn expression told her he wasn’t joking. When he took her hand, she was too stunned to object. “I’ve learned a lot. You were right about sending wrong messages. Poor kid’s been getting those for years. But Liberty also needs to see what a healthy relationship looks like, what it means to be equal partners who love and respect each other. Take us, for instance.”

  “Um...” She stared into his unwavering gaze, her heart pounding wildly as he drew her closer.

  “I love you, Beth. I should’ve told you before now. Or maybe you’re wishing I’d kept my feelings to myself. Lord knows it wouldn’t be my first mistake.” His mouth curved in a crooked smile she’d never seen before. “I’d really appreciate it if you’d say something about now.”

  “Wait. Back up.” She swallowed. “Did you say you love me?”

  Nathan groaned, looking as nervous as she’d felt before she’d gone numb. “I swore to myself I wouldn’t bring this up now. Or make any assumptions, but I think you feel the same way. Tell me I’m not wrong, Beth. Tell me you love me, too.” He took a deep breath. “And if you can’t, I’ll wait.”

  She pulled him down into a kiss. Then she rocked back to look into his eyes, troubled to find fear and uncertainty.

  “I’m not fooling myself,” he said. “We’ll have plenty of bumps in the road with Liberty. She won’t lose her fears and resentment overnight, but together we can give her a good life. We just have to be firm and consistent, and she’ll come around.”

  “Shut up.”

  “What?” A faint smile tugged at his mouth.

  “Do you want to hear me say it or not?” How could she not love this wonderful, caring man? He didn’t just want her, he was willing to take on Liberty, as well.

  Nathan smiled. “Say it.”

  “I love you, Nathan Landers. With all my heart.”

  He pulled her into his arms. “I took some wrong turns the first time around, but I’m very clear on what kind of man I want to be. I’ll work hard to never disappoint you.”

  Beth knew tears were close. “You won’t have to work hard at all.” She kissed him again. “I know exactly who you are. That’s the reason I love you.”

  No, she didn’t need a man to make her happy, but she did want Nathan. For the two months they’d been together, she’d felt content and safe, even when life continued to dish out challenges.

  “Bethany, will you marry me?” He touched her cheek. “Not for Liberty’s sake. For mine.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, and let the happy tears fall.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from CABIN FEVER by Jillian Burns

  Ten years ago one devastating night changed everything for Austin, Hunter and Alex. Now they must each play their part in the revenge against the one man who ruined it all.

  Austin Treffen has the plan… Hunter has the money… Alex has the power!

  Read each of their stories in the captivating Fifth Avenue trilogy, only from Harlequin Presents:

  Avenge Me by Maisey Yates

  Scandalize Me by Caitlin Crews

  Expose Me by Kate Hewitt

  And don’t miss the Fifth Avenue prequel that started it all, Take Me, by Maisey Yates!

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  1

  “YOU’RE LYING, TEDESCO.”

  Joe narrowed his eyes at his accuser, brought the can of root beer to his lips and took a long sip. “You’ll have to play to find out, Wakowski.”

  Wakowski snarled and studied his dwindling pile of chips on the table in the fire station’s kitchen.

  Joe tapped his fingers on his thigh. With his luck they’d get a call before he could lay down his cards.

  “Come on, Wakowski,” Everman urged. “In this century.” Everman had already folded, as had Miller and Stockton. Joe maintained his poker face.

  Wakowski narrowed his eyes. “You’re bluffing.” He shoved all his remaining chips into the center of the table.

  Joe grinned and revealed his Queen-high heart flush. “Read ’em and weep.”

  The guys whooped and hollered and thudded Joe on the back. Wakowski cursed and pitched his cards down. “You’re a real scootch, you know dat?”

  Joe grinned and began gathering up his winnings. His cell buzzed and he grabbed it off the table. At two on a Saturday afternoon it was probably his mother cal
ling to make sure he was coming to the family dinner tomorrow. He checked the caller ID, but he didn’t recognize the number. He hesitated answering. If one of his sisters had set him up with one of their friends again...

  Knowing he’d regret it, he punched the answer button. “Tedesco.”

  “Mr. Joe Tedesco, of Brooklyn, New York?”

  Great. Were telemarketers allowed to call cell phones now? “Uh...yeah?”

  “This is Carly’s Couture calling about your entry in The Sexiest Average Joe contest and I’m thrilled to tell you that you are our winner!”

  Joe blinked. Contest? Sexiest what? Wait a minute... He grinned at his fellow firemen sitting around the station house table. “Good one, guys.” He spoke into the phone. “So, I won, huh? What’d I win? A hot and heavy night with you, sweetheart?”

  “Excuse me?”

  Joe winced. The sleet falling outside was no match for the ice in this woman’s voice. If this was a prank, she was really good. “Uh, hold on a sec.” He held the phone to his chest. “Okay, you guys, you might as well fess up. I’m not falling for it.”

  All four of his buddies gave him a confused look. Not good. He put the phone back to his ear. “Who’d you say you were again?”

  “Carly Pendleton, with Carly’s Couture. I have a fashion blog for the average man and woman, and Modiste magazine cosponsored the national contest searching for the Sexiest Average Joe.”

  Fashion blog? Wait. Modiste? Wasn’t that the fancy magazine his sisters were always reading, with all the makeover contests and quizzes on how to please a guy in bed? Alarm bells clanged and they weren’t coming from the firehouse. Joe stood and paced from the kitchen into the common area.

  “Mr. Tedesco? Are you there?”

  He barely heard her voice. Her previous words kept echoing in his mind. Contest. Modiste magazine. What had his sisters done now?

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m here.” Maybe he should think positive. Maybe he’d won a big-screen TV or a year’s supply of beer.

  “—and the cruise leaves on Monday. I’ll have your boarding pass and a car will pick you up at your residence at 7:00 a.m. The flight to Miami departs at ten. The ship sails at four. Now, your entry form said you already have a passport?”

  “Wait a minute. I won a cruise?” That could be fun.

  “Five days and four nights to the Caribbean. Of course, that’s where we’ll be doing the photo shoot.”

  “Photo shoot?”

  The woman mumbled a request to save her from idiots. “You did read all the details of the contest before entering, didn’t you, Mr. Tedesco?”

  He clenched his teeth. “It’s Joe. Mr. Tedesco is my father.”

  “Okay. In case you need reminding, Joe, the photo shoot is the reason for the cruise. My blog will feature the Sexiest Average Joe wearing Carly’s Couture clothing choices and posing with a beautiful supermodel in exotic locales. You could end up with a lucrative modeling career, Mr. Tedesco. Maybe even become famous.”

  Famous? If he’d wanted money and fame he would’ve signed the contract offer his sophomore year. He sure as hell wasn’t posing for some magazine like one of those pretty boys strutting around in their underwear. No, thanks. “Look, lady, I can’t just take off work at a moment’s notice.”

  “Mr. Te—Joe. I promise the shoot won’t take all your time. There’ll be excursions and nightlife and we even provide you fifty dollars’ worth of chips at the ship’s casino.”

  “You could offer me a thousand dollars in chips and I still wouldn’t be posing for some women’s magazine, especially not for some sexiest-man photos.”

  “Oh, ho! Sexiest man?” called Everman.

  Joe swiveled to find his fellow firemen gathered around him.

  “Whoa, Mr. Sexy, huh?” Miller mocked.

  Wakowski locked his hands behind his head and wiggled his hips. “Oooh, Sexy Joey.”

  Joe shut them down with a scowl and an obscene hand gesture.

  A split second of silence on the other end of the line suggested that the lady had heard the background commotion. “Look, Mr. Tedesco. When you signed the entry form you agreed to all the terms and conditions of the contest.”

  Joe balled his free hand into a fist. “I didn’t sign anything. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  “Really? Then, whoever did sign your name on the entry forms could be prosecuted for forgery.”

  “Now hold on a minute.” His sisters were going to pay for this. The entry had to be their doing. He couldn’t see any of the guys here at the station risking his wrath. Or ever reading Modiste magazine for that matter. But he couldn’t let Donna-Marie and Rosalie be brought up on charges. He sighed. The chief had been nagging him to take some of his vacation....

  “I’ll talk to my boss about the time off. If I’m able, I’ll be ready at 7:00 a.m. Monday.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful, Mr.—Joe. I promise you’re going to have a wonderful week in the Caribbean.”

  Joe clicked off, ignored his buddies’ questions and stalked toward the chief’s office. A wonderful week? He seriously doubted that.

  * * *

  CARLY STOOD FUMING in Miami’s cruise terminal, slapping her clipboard against her linen skirt-covered thigh. For five long years she’d slaved away as a seamstress in the garment district learning everything she could about the fashion industry. Her interactive blog had only allowed her to quit her day job just last year. It was doing well, but this was her shot to hit the big time.

  And the supermodel was late.

  Unfortunately, she’d sent the same limo this morning to pick up her Average Joe. She’d had to scramble at the last minute to book them the next flight to Miami and hope they made that one. Then arrange for the Florida limo to return for them once they reached Miami International Airport.

  After arriving at the cruise terminal, Carly had successfully directed the photographer and his crew, the hair and makeup teams, the Modiste liaison and the clothing handlers from the major department stores on Fifth Avenue onto the ship. All of the top stores had agreed, thanks to the editor at Modiste, to lend couture for the shoots. But the clothes would do no good if the ship took off without her models.

  She pulled her cell out and called the limo service one more time. They’d already contacted the driver once and confirmed the limo was waiting for the plane to land. Piper—the supermodel with one name, had kept the limo waiting to take her to JFK airport for over three hours. She’d barely made the following flight out.

  And if they didn’t get to the cruise terminal in the next thirty minutes, the ship would sail without them.

  “Ms. Pendleton, the driver reported he’s five blocks from the pier.”

  “Thank you!” She touched End Call on her screen, stuck her phone back in her jacket pocket, and ran as fast as her Louboutins would carry her to the terminal entrance.

  Within a few minutes she saw the limo pull up and the driver get out and open the back door. Out stepped the most exotically beautiful woman Carly had ever seen. Straight black hair fell to her waist and her soft caramel complexion showed off luminous light green eyes that looked around her with distaste. The woman carried an enormous handbag and a tiny yappy dog.

  Beside her was a shorter woman holding a diamond-studded leash. Piper’s assistant. Carly had spoken with her on the phone. She had the same exotic features as Piper. Beautiful, even with the left side of her face marred by a long, jagged scar.

  When the assistant turned her left side away, Carly could’ve kicked herself for staring, and searched behind the two women for her Average Joe.

  Where was he?

  The driver was at the trunk unloading six, no, seven pieces of designer luggage. And helping him while they talked as if they’d been good friends for years was her contest winner.

  Her breath caught as Joe smiled at something the driver said. Carly usually detested the scruffy, unshaved look that was popular right now, wishing she could take a razor to their ja
w. But on her Average Joe, it worked, befitting his blue-collar status and accenting his white teeth.

  “Hello?” The supermodel snapped her fingers in front of Carly’s face.

  Annoyed at herself, Carly stepped forward and extended her right hand. “Piper, so nice to meet you.” The dog snapped at her fingers and Carly jerked her hand back just in time to prevent getting bit. The dog’s high-pitched yapping made her ears ring.

  “Oh, poor Pootsie! You’ve upset him.” Piper’s low, smoky voice still managed to sound whiny, even with the British accent.

  Carly bit the inside of her cheek and directed porters to rush the baggage to the ship and tipped them extra to make sure it got to the correct cabin.

  Piper was still comforting her dog in a pouty baby language.

  “I’m sorry. But if we don’t hurry, we won’t make it onto the ship.” Carly gestured toward the customs desk.

  “Oh, but I have to say goodbye to my little Pootsie darling.” She held the dog up and nuzzled her face into the dog’s neck. “Bye-bye, baby,” she crooned. “Mommy has to go now. These mean ol’ cruise people won’t let me bring you. I’m going to miss you, yes I am.” She smooched on the dog a couple more times, and hugged it to her breasts.

  “I’m sorry, Piper, but they still need to check your passport, and if we don’t hurry the ship will sail without us.”

  The tall, slim model gave a disgusted huff, gently handed the yapping dog to the assistant and stalked away.

  With a barely aborted eye roll, Carly turned to greet her Average Joe. She blinked at the impossibly sculpted chest and massive biceps outlined by a tight black T-shirt. Average? There was nothing average about this man. His entry photo should’ve prepared her. But a five-by-seven glossy was no match for the living, breathing man in front of her.

  In her stocking feet she was five-nine. With her heels, she reached six feet. And she still had to look up to meet his gaze. Warm brown eyes and shaggy black hair and that scruffy beard. She detested facial hair on a man. But standing this close to all that heat and muscle brought out something in her so raw, so primal that she had to catch her breath.