Sam's Promise: Blackwater, Book 1

by Anne Rainey

  Con scrubbed his hands over his face. He was frustrated with Devon and pissed at himself for being a complete ass. The hell of it was, Devon had it right. “I don’t know what to tell you, Dev.”

  “Don’t give me the same bullshit you fed Tory this morning. I know you. You were jealous when you saw the two of us together on the bed. What I want to know is, why?”

  Con stared back at his friend, his best friend. They’d been through some serious shit together. They’d both grown up on the wrong side of the tracks, but they’d worked their asses off and it’d paid off. They were successful and in love. What could be better? To have Tory all for myself. No, that wasn’t right. What Devon and Con had with Tory was good. It was whole. Wasn’t it?

  Shoving that nagging question aside, Con said, “You’re right. I was jealous. I’ll deal with it.”

  Devon frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Will you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks as if you’d be as happy as a fucking clam if I were out of the picture.” Devon planted his hands on the desk and leaned close. “I love Tory as much as you. I’m not letting her go.”

  For a moment, Con was too shocked to speak. He could count on one hand the amount of times Devon had gotten up in his face about something. Hell, the man was always so friggin’ calm it bordered on annoying. “Christ, relax, will you? I never asked you to do anything. It was just a momentary lapse. I’m over it.”

  Devon pushed away from the desk and took two steps backward. “You’re over it, huh? Then you won’t mind if I surprise Tory with a trip to Aruba for Valentine’s Day?”

  Every muscle in Con’s body tensed. “What did you say?”

  “The three of us in Aruba. I’m thinking of booking the trip today. In fact, maybe you should go ahead and cancel the trip to Cancun. Or go alone. Take your pick.”

  Con shot to his feet and moved around the desk, a red haze of anger flooding his brain. “I already told you and Tory this morning. The flight is booked. The room is reserved. We’re going to Cancun.”

  “And I told you it wasn’t your call alone to make. Tory isn’t yours. She’s ours. Get that through your thick skull.”

  “So, what, now we’re going to make her choose between your trip and mine? That’s juvenile, damn it!”

  “All I know is that I’m damn tired of seeing that look on your face when it comes to her.”

  Con threw up his hands and shouted, “What look?”

  “You want her for yourself. It’s so obvious it’s not even funny.”

  Jesus, he really was transparent. “I never said that,” he hedged.

  Devon pointed a finger at him. “You want me away from her,” he ground out. “Admit it, God damn you!”

  Fury had Con speaking without thinking. “Fine! I want her for myself! I see you with her and my blood boils. I see her touching you and it makes me want to hit something. Are you happy? Is that what you want to hear?”

  Devon shook his head. “No, Con, I’m not happy.”

  Con cursed. He’d seen that look on his friend’s face only once before. They’d been nineteen, working dead-end jobs and trying to make ends meet. Con had come home to their shit apartment in a bad mood one night. Hell, he couldn’t even remember what had set it off. He’d taken it out on Devon, though. The final straw had been when Con had punched him in the face. He’d broken Devon’s nose. Devon had looked hurt—and not just physically.

  “Look, man, I’m sorry,” Con muttered. “I’ll get my shit together, I promise.”

  Devon didn’t look convinced. “You know this can’t work if we’re not both in it one hundred percent, right?”

  Con shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling like the biggest jerk in the world. He was wrecking everything. Con Walker, always the screw-up. “I know, I know.”

  “So, maybe we should do like we did at Christmas.”

  Con stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  “We leave the decision to Tory.”

  “You really want her to choose between us? That’s not fair to Tory, and you know it.”

  Devon shook his head and looked down at the floor. Con found himself holding his breath. When Devon’s gaze came back up to meet his, he could swear his eyes were a little too bright, a little too watery. “I’m not trying to get all sappy here.”

  “But?”

  “I care about you. Like a brother. That will never change.”

  “Same here, Dev.” Con stepped forward, a sense of foreboding skating down his spine. Devon put up a hand in warning, effectively stopping Con in his tracks.

  “I know you, Con. You aren’t going to get over this.” Con started to argue, but Devon rode right over him. “You want Tory and you want me gone. I can’t walk away. I can’t give her up—not unless it’s what she wants.”

  How had things gone from great to shit so damn fast? This was a new record for him. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

  “Then we need to figure out a way to make this work. For all of us.”

  Con had racked his brain trying to think of some way to get over his growing possessiveness toward Tory—and he’d come up blank. “Got any suggestions? Because I’m fresh out of ideas here.”

  Devon quirked a brow. “Actually, I do have a suggestion.”

  For the first time in weeks, Con felt a spark of hope. “I’m all ears. Spill.”

  “Not yet.”

  “What the hell do you mean, not yet?” Con cursed under his breath. “My life is spinning out of control and you want to play twenty questions?”

  “I’ll tell you and Tory at the same time. She should be kept in the loop here. We can’t make decisions like this without her.”

  “Christ. Just give me a clue here. I’m drowning.”

  “No, you can wait and hear my idea when Tory gets home. But, I can tell you that I’m not going to book the trip to Aruba.”

  When Devon turned to leave, Con had the sinking feeling he’d lost something. Something he might never get back. “Devon,” Con called out.

  Without turning around, Devon asked, “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” Devon mumbled. Without another word, he left.

  Con wasn’t sure how long he stood in the middle of the room, staring at the empty doorway. When he heard the front door open and close, it pulled him out of his misery. He crossed the room and sat in the brown leather couch adjacent to the desk. Was he really going to have to choose between the woman he loved and his best friend? No. Devon had figured something out. Whatever it was it would be a solution that would benefit all three of them. Devon was good at fixing things. Con was good at fucking up.

  When they’d hatched their little plan to finally make Tory their own, it’d seemed so perfect. They’d both wanted her. Both knew, even then, that they were in love with her. At first it’d been bliss. Making love to her, sharing their nights wrapped around her. Waking up with her nestled between them. Even her snoring made him smile. There had been a few bumps in the road, but nothing big, nothing life-altering.

  He wasn’t even sure when the first spark of jealousy had appeared. Not that it mattered, because it was a full-on blaze now. The only question left unanswered: Could he really choose between the love of his life and his best friend?

  One spark could burn her world down.

  Keeping Pace

  © 2011 Dee Carney

  Six years after her husband’s death, Regina Pace is still just going through the motions, her only pleasure a nightly glass (or three) of wine to dull the ache. Tonight is no exception—until a sensual outdoor encounter with her neighbor’s son, freshly home from college. He’s older, wiser, more devastatingly handsome than she remembered. He’s also fifteen years her junior.

  Despite her misgivings, it isn’t long before her nightly ritual includes a long, deep drink of Josh Smith. Ogling leads to touching, then the sparks flare into an erotic encounter that feels wickedly right—and deliciously forbidden.

  Yet the intense heat
can’t burn away the doubt pestering the back of her mind. That the gap between their ages is too large, even for the most determined leap of faith…

  Warning: Features a boy-next-door who won’t take no for an answer, more than one sexual fantasy (including some outdoor self-loving!), and a burning romance that proves age is just a number.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Keeping Pace:

  Josh took the corkscrew from me gently. “There is definitely an art in handling this task.” Fascinated, I watched him slice the foil around the cork and then dig the metal screw into the spongy plug. After a few quick twists, he pulled upward with ease, dislodging the cork.

  The amazement must have shown on my face. Wine sommeliers and connoisseurs tended to be the only people I knew of who moved with such deft confidence. “I waited tables as an undergrad,” he said with a wink. “If a table ordered wine, they tended to tip bigger. I learned how to pour a bottle properly in a hurry.”

  “I take it you’re no longer in school?” His confirmation would help me feel a little better. Despite the casual atmosphere we’d generated between us, his youth still taunted me.

  “Grad school. Almost done.”

  “That’s amazing.” And I meant it. My education didn’t go further than undergraduate schooling, despite my constantly telling myself I should return for a higher degree.

  “Oh. I’m sorry… I should have asked…”

  His sudden change of topic and subsequent confusion baffled me until I followed his line of sight. In my excitement, I’d forgotten the glass of wine sitting next to the telephone. Not far beyond it, the open bottle of wine I’d set there earlier told a story of its own. Now there were two bottles open. “Don’t worry. Good wine never goes to waste.”

  “It looks like you were going to order dinner too, though.” Joshua looked chagrined. “I can’t seem to do any of this right.”

  “Any of what?”

  “It’s just me over there, and I was kind of wondering if maybe you’d care for some company.” He dropped his gaze, something on the parquet flooring suddenly needing his immediate scrutiny. “I mean, if you weren’t busy.”

  My pulse began to race. I tried to put him at ease because I was touched by his boyish charm. “I’d love to, and since you brought the wine, dinner is on me. Take your pick from the menu, and we’ll place an order.”

  Conversation flowed easily as we waited, which seemed odd to me. I thought there would be lots of stops and starts, all awkward.

  By the time the food came, the bottle Joshua brought was empty. I can’t say who had most of it, but I couldn’t recall my glass ever being empty. Making my way to the door to pay the deliveryman took a slight bit of concentration on my part. I didn’t want to appear buzzed in front of Joshua, despite the very same being true. His gaze rarely left me, to the point I felt its heated caress as I walked away from him.

  He made himself at home, opening the containers and sorting through my kitchen drawers after I placed the bags on the table. My mouth watered as we were assaulted by the scents of meat swimming in rich sauces and smoky char-grilled vegetables.

  “So wait, you did all the work and they gave your project to someone else? What a slap in the face,” he said, continuing the conversation we’d had before we’d been interrupted by the doorbell.

  “Exactly!” I don’t recall when I’d started telling him about Beth. Maybe sometime around when he’d asked what I did for a living. Tongue loosened with alcohol, I’d easily dished every bit of the office rivalry with him. I don’t know if I would have been so bold under other circumstances, but his attention made talking to him about it too easy.

  “So what are you going to do about it?” He dished out the food onto plates, and settled into his chair.

  I bit into an asparagus spear. “That’s the problem, I don’t really know. The PC thing to do would be congratulate her and take a back seat.”

  We ate in silence for a few minutes, taking sips of wine between bites. Finally he said, “But you’ve worked hard on a project you’re passionate about.”

  “And that’s why I’m tempted to assist.” I gave an exaggerated shudder as I said the last word.

  Joshua laughed, then turned serious. “It wouldn’t make you less of a person to help the project succeed. It’s about the kids. Not about what’s going on between you and Beth.”

  Of course he was right, but to hear him say it made something inside me melt. At once he didn’t seem as young as I’d thought only yesterday, but on par with any of my peers. Sure, some wrinkles around the eyes or a few strands of gray hair would have helped, but my uneasiness seemed to have vanished. “You think and act very much like an old soul. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Not at all,” I murmured.

  My lids were heavy from our libation, and I chalked up Joshua’s even more vibrant appeal to having consumed more wine than I should have. I saw from the corner of my eye three empty bottles, which tattled on just how heavily we’d been drinking tonight. All of it caught up to me, and my head swam with luxuriant intensity. Unfortunately, that was also my signal. Once I started feeling this way, my inhabitations would soon fall by the wayside.

  With both our plates cleared of food and the wineglasses truly empty, I pulled the uneaten containers closer. “It’s getting late, Joshua—”

  “Josh. Please.”

  “Josh.” I smiled. It felt lopsided. “I need to put these things away and get ready to face Beth in the morning.”

  “Sure, I understand.” He put his knife and fork on the plate next to him. “But I hope we can do this again. You’re great company.”

  “I’d like that.” And I meant it. It dawned on me that we’d spent most of the night talking about me, and I knew very little about him still.

  I rose on unsteady legs, unprepared for when they refused to support me. Josh jumped to his feet, obviously in a much better state than I, and wrapped his arm around my waist. Without his support, I would have hit the floor hard. “Whoa. Steady there.”

  My breasts pressed against his chest, our faces only inches apart. I smelled the remnants of the gourmet delivery surrounded by subtle hints of alcohol. Desire swelled within me, and I weakly fought it into submission, though it would not die without a struggle. I saw a hint of lust reflecting in his eyes and prayed I didn’t imagine it.

  Josh’s gaze dropped to my lips before travelling to meet my eyes again.

  No. Not imagined at all.

  “You’re so young,” I said softly.

  “Twenty-six. Not that young.”

  Fifteen years my junior. A full generation between us. The realization didn’t stop me from wanting him to lower his face to mine and devour my mouth in a kiss.

  He brought his mouth to mine, brushing it with the gentlest caress that sent a shiver rippling through me instead. I ached for more and released a soft whimper of protest when he didn’t give in to my wants. Intense green eyes searched mine before he said, “Not like this, Regina.”

  The use of my first name brought the reality of this evening crashing into me. He didn’t understand. This was exactly how I needed it. How I wanted it. With this lonely life, I’d earned the right to throw responsibility out the window and let my id run rampant. I’d promised Patrick I would live. And I wanted to do so now.

  I threaded my fingers into Josh’s short brown hair and brought his lips to mine. I opened my mouth against his, the urgency of connecting to him on a physical level driving me until I knew nothing else. It crossed my mind only seconds after our tongues connected that he might reject me. When he breathed into me, tasted me, that thought shattered.

  Finding his unoccupied hand, I brought it to my breast, offering more than just a kiss to him.

  “You’re tempting,” Josh muttered after breaking away. “So very tempting…but you’ve also been drinking.”

  I licked his bottom lip. “I’m fully aware of what I’m doing.”

  “I n
eed you to be able to say that in the morning.” He kissed me again. “I won’t be satisfied with just one night.”

  Guiding his hand beneath my shirt, I let him touch my bare skin. “But what an amazing one night it could be.”

  Sam’s Promise

  Blackwater, Book 1

  Anne Rainey

  This Thanksgiving comes with all the fixings…and something extra hot.

  Blackwater, Book 1

  Sam Jennings promised his father he’d always take care of the woman who yanked him and his four brothers out of foster care. When his adoptive mom has a near-fatal heart attack, Sam knows it’s past time to live up to his word.

  As he sets out to put the Blackwater Diner back on its feet, he runs into his first snag. Waitress Julie Rose’s sweet curves and long legs are driving Sam to distraction. Even his brothers aren’t immune to her kind heart. But Sam is determined to be the only man in her bed.

  Julie doesn’t regret the years she lost caring for her grandmom, but now, between business classes and her job, she’s left with very little time and energy for dating. Then there’s her policy about never getting mixed up with the boss’s son. But Sam’s hard body and wicked ideas have Julie forgetting all about annoying things like rules, and she accepts his invitation to show her all she’s been missing.

  Sam is more than willing to take things slow as he teaches her all about the pleasures of the flesh. Luckily for him, Julie is a darned good student…

  Warning: Contains explicit language, a sexy carpenter, and extra helpings of naughty fun under the stars. Heat and increased heart rate may help burn off extra holiday calories.

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