“He didn’t believe me when I told him I hadn’t leaked the details of his personal life to Elaine,” Becca replied with a shrug, even though his accusations still stung. “If he doesn’t trust me, then what hope do we have for a solid relationship?”
Her father and Claire held hands and looked at each other before her stepmother said, “We’re the ones who told Elaine about him, and if there’s anything we can do to help make amends—”
“Don’t bother.” The flavorful latkes turned to dry mush in her mouth, and she pushed her plate away. “What’s done is done.”
“Then I guess your feelings for him must have been lukewarm at best,” her father replied, “if you’re not willing to fight to get him back.”
She curled her fingers into her palms, her heart still aching for him. “What do you suggest I do, Daddy? He didn’t believe me. He thought the worst of me when it mattered the most, and….” She drew in a deep breath to regain her composure. “I won’t grovel and ask for forgiveness when I did nothing wrong.”
“Then maybe you should give your side of the story.”
“I’m not going to the news station and airing my dirty laundry for the entire world, Daddy. I’ve caused enough scandal as it is.”
“Understandable. The question is,” her father continued, “do you want us to interfere in your personal life?”
She chewed her bottom lip and considered his offer. The last three years, she’d done everything she could to break off ties to her family and be independent, but this might be the one time when she gracefully accepted their assistance. “What’s your plan?”
Her father gave her a shrewd smile. “Wait and see. In the meantime, you need your own platform for the stories you want to tell.” Her father turned to Jacob. “Maybe you can help your sister create one of those blog things to get her message across for the Shore Foundation.”
“I’d love to,” her brother said with a grin.
Chapter Eighteen
Ethan shivered at the end of Pier 84 and stared into the choppy waters of the Hudson. A storm was rolling in, and the usually busy park was deserted. During the ten minutes he’d been there, he hadn’t stumbled across a single soul. The last time he’d come here, Becca had saved him from falling back to his former muse. But since he’d left her in Barbados a week ago, he’d felt more lost than ever. The music had dried up, and his dreams at night were haunted by the hurt on her face when he’d walked out on her. And he didn’t want to think about the desire to fall back on his old addictions.
He’d picked up an issue of the magazine and found the details on the story it contained to be superficial at best. Definitely not the tell-all it promised to be, which made him wonder if Becca wasn’t the leak after all. There were enough photos of them together, but they all dated back to Thanksgiving. Nothing before then.
Then he’d heard the news that she’d been appointed to head up the Shore Foundation and read the first two articles she’d posted on the foundation’s blog. The first one was about reshaping the foundation’s direction, and the second one was a gritty, unapologetic piece about addiction and how it defied stereotypes. In footnotes, she mentioned that the article had originally been submitted to Moderne magazine, but it was rejected because it was deemed unsuitable for the magazine’s readership.
But it spoke to him and filled in the missing pieces of the puzzle. It was the article she’d turned in to take the place of the tell-all her editor wanted.
He pulled out his phone and found her number. Seconds ticked by as he stared at it, but he couldn’t bring himself to call her. His stomach churned like the river in front of him, and a different sort of craving filled him—one for her.
He called Adam instead. “Talk me off a ledge.”
“Why?” Worry laced his older brother’s voice. “Are you thinking of using again?”
“No. I’m thinking about calling her.”
“Becca Shore?”
“No, Marilyn Monroe. Of course I’m talking about Becca.”
“Why?”
He shuffled his feet and kicked the railing. “I miss her.”
“Even after the article?”
“Yeah.” He paused and added, “The funny thing is, I don’t think she was the one who sold me out. I mean, the things in that article could’ve come from anyone at the Thanksgiving table. She has a lot more dirt on me than that.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I think I made a huge mistake.”
He waited for Adam to tear into him like he did last week, but instead, his brother said, “I had a nice long conversation with her father today about a business proposition, and when the conversation turned to her, some very interesting information turned up and made me realize that maybe I misjudged her, too.”
“Whoa! Did I just hear you admit that you were wrong? Mr. ‘I Know It All and Never Make A Bad Decision’?”
Adam chuckled. “Yeah, being married has taught me some humility.”
“Any chance you could pass some of those lessons on to me?”
“Are you saying you want her back?”
“More than anything. She steadies me. She inspires me. She keeps me going when I feel like I can’t. She’s my muse, and without her, I feel like there’s a part of me missing.” Ethan held his breath and rubbed at the hollow feeling that lingered in the center of his chest. “I still love her.”
“Then maybe you should turn around and tell me that,” a woman said behind him.
He turned around to find Becca standing a few feet away. “I’ll call you back later,” he murmured before hanging up on Adam. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.” She stayed where she was, her hands in the pockets of her jacket. The wind whipped her dark hair around her face. “I was just outside your place, actually, when you rode off. Thankfully, the cab driver was willing to follow you.”
Hope flared within him. Maybe she’d been missing him as much as he missed her. “Why were you coming to my place?”
She looked down at the ground. “It’s Monday, and I was just coming over to make sure you’d be at the NA meeting tonight. I’m still here for you, Ethan. At least, until you decide on an official sponsor.”
“How long were you standing there?”
“Long enough.” He expected her to close the gap between them, but she remained as still as a statue.
The message was loud and clear. She wanted him to take the first step.
His tongue felt twice its normal size as he stumbled over the words he knew she needed to hear. “I’m sorry, Becca. I shouldn’t have accused you of selling me out.”
“But you did.”
“And I was an idiot to think that of you.” He took that first step, waiting to see if she’d bolt before taking another. “I should’ve listened to my heart. I should’ve believed in you.”
Her face remained unreadable as he closed the gap between them and cupped her icy, windblown cheeks in his hands, lifted her chin up so he could see into her blue-green eyes. They glittered with tears, and her bottom lip trembled, but still, she said nothing.
“Please, give me another chance, Bec.”
“If we don’t have trust…”
“I do trust you.” He covered her lips with his own in a pleading kiss that begged her to believe him. “You know my heart, my soul, better than anyone else, and there’s no one I would rather share my secrets with.” His voice broke as he added, “Without you, I’m lost.”
She pressed her forehead against his and released a heavy sigh. “Say it, Ethan. I need to hear you say it.”
“I love you, Becca.” He placed a kiss on her forehead and wrapped his arms around her. “You get me.”
She tucked her head under his chin and held on to him. “I love you, too.”
And in that moment, he’d found the one thing that
filled the void inside him.
Chapter Nineteen
Nothing had prepared Becca for Christmas Eve with the Kelly family. Ethan had warned her that he had six brothers, but when they arrived at his mother’s home in Chicago, she was ambushed by a massive white dog that knocked her into one of the snow drifts lining the driveway and started licking her face.
“That means he likes you,” a silver-haired woman shouted from the front door.
“No, Jasper’s just a menace.” Ethan shooed the dog away and helped her up, brushing the snow off her before leading her up the stairs. “Mom, this is Becca.”
His mother threw her arms around her in a hug. “So glad to finally meet you.”
The last of the jitters faded away. After all the hoopla last week, she’d expected his family to give her the cold shoulder, but as Ethan introduced her to each of his brothers, they all greeted her with the same warmth as their mother.
The crowded house was filled with boisterous conversations as each brother tried to talk over the others. The smells of fir trees and gingerbread permeated the rooms, so different from the scent of fried foods she was accustomed to at this time of the year. Before she knew what was happening, she’d been recruited to help out in the kitchen. Adam’s wife, Lia, assigned her to add the finishing touches to the mashed potatoes that would go with the massive prime rib she was carving.
By the time dinner was done, she’d felt like she was already part of the family. Ben and his wife teased for her being a Rangers fan while Frank heckled her for rooting for the Giants. She found out that Gideon’s next project would be a movie with Ari’s brother, and she warned him about Gabe’s habit of playing practical jokes on the set. She admired photos of the car Caleb and his wife, Alex, were restoring and sighed over the way Dan fawned over his pregnant girlfriend, Jenny.
The family retreated to the living room after dinner, but Ethan pulled her aside and pointed to the branch of mistletoe hanging above them.
“I don’t think that’s a Hanukkah tradition,” she teased.
“Humor me.” He tilted her face up and kissed her until she was breathless.
“Get a room, you two,” Frank teased, bumping into Ethan as he passed them.
Ethan gave the massive linebacker a playful shove, which evolved into playful roughhousing until their mother broke it up with a sharp “Boys!”
Mrs. Kelly then looped her arm through Becca’s, saying, “They never grow up.”
“We’ve got to keep you on your toes, Mom,” Ethan said, placing a kiss on his mother’s cheek before stealing Becca back. “We’ll join you in a moment.”
He led her back into the dining room and pulled out the distinctive little blue and white box that could only come from Tiffany’s. “I know Hanukkah ended today, but better late than never, right?”
Her pulse quickened as she untied the ribbon. The box was the perfect size for a ring, even though her mind told her it was still too early for that. After all, they’d just admitted they loved each other a little over a week ago.
She opened the lid to find a diamond and platinum key pendant instead and released the breath she’d been holding.
“Expecting something different?” he asked, his gray eyes filled with mirth.
“More like relieved.” She pulled the necklace out and admired the way it sparkled. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Just like you.” He took the necklace and fastened it around her neck. “I’m trusting you with the key to my heart.”
“And I promise not to break it.”
“I know.” He pressed lips to hers before whispering in her ear, “But if it had been a ring?”
“I might’ve said yes,” she teased. “After all, you get me.”
He laughed before giving her a passionate kiss that made her heart sing and promised her a future of many more in the days to come.
Other Books by Crista McHugh
The Kelly Brothers Series
The Sweetest Seduction, Book 1
Breakaway Hearts, Book 2
Falling for the Wingman, Book 3
The Heart’s Game, Book 4
A Seductive Melody, Book 5
In the Red Zone, Book 6, (February 2015)
Sign up for Crista’s Newsletter to be the first to know when In the Red Zone is available.
A Note to Readers
Thank you for reading A Seductive Melody. I hope you enjoyed it!
· Would you like to know when my next book is available? You can sign up for my new release newsletter at www.cristamchugh.com, follow me on twitter at @crista_mchugh, or like my Facebook page at http://facebook.com/cristamchugh.
· Reviews help other readers find books. I appreciate all reviews, whether positive or negative.
· This book is lendable through Amazon’s lending program. Share it with a friend!
· You’ve just read the fifth full-length book in The Kelly Brothers series. The other books in the series are The Sweetest Seduction, Breakaway Hearts, Falling for the Wingman, The Heart’s Game, In the Red Zone (Feb. 2015), and Here All Along (May 2015). I hope you enjoy them all!
And, just for this series, I have a special website featuring more information on the Kelly Brothers, playlists, recipes, and other extras just for readers. Please check it out at www.thekellybrothers.cristamchugh.com.
--Crista
About the Author
Growing up in small town Alabama, Crista relied on story-telling as a natural way for her to pass the time and keep her two younger sisters entertained.
She currently lives in the Audi-filled suburbs of Seattle with her husband and two children, maintaining her alter ego of mild-mannered physician by day while she continues to pursue writing on nights and weekends.
Just for laughs, here are some of the jobs she’s had in the past to pay the bills: barista, bartender, sommelier, stagehand, actress, morgue attendant, and autopsy assistant.
And she’s also a recovering LARPer. (She blames it on her crazy college days)
For the latest updates, deleted scenes, and answers to any burning questions you have, please check out her webpage, www.CristaMcHugh.com.
Find Crista online at:
Twitter: www.twitter.com/crista_mchugh
Facebook: www.facebook.com/CristaMcHugh
Step
S&M Book 1
Roxie Rivera
Chapter One
STEPAN
Pussy.
One word. Five letters.
The sweet pink currency that fueled the backstage hookup market.
And right now I wanted some.
I wanted it bad. I wanted to be buried balls-deep in two or three of the hottest fucking groupies I could find. I wanted to get up to some real deviant shit tonight. Hot, filthy, sheet-ripping, bed-breaking fucking. I planned to ring in my birthday with a night I would never forget.
Slick with sweat from an extended set, I reached up to rake my fingers through my long hair but encountered the short bristles of my new haircut. It threw me off for a moment. The modified Mohawk with the sides buzzed short and top trimmed low had been a spur of the moment decision I had made in a fit of frustration a few mornings ago. My constantly cracking voice and aching throat were getting on my last damned nerve.
I scratched my fingernails along my scalp. I didn’t exactly regret the move to hack off a decade’s worth of hair growth, but I was still getting used to the strange, light feeling up top. At least my voice had performed well tonight. I had gotten through the entire set without a single wobble or crack. Hell, maybe that overpaid specialist of mine knew what the hell he was talking about after all.
Now, if I could just tackle that other embarrassing problem of mine, I would be fucking golden.
I headed down the steps leading away from the stage and down into the pit-like backst
age of The Slaughterhouse. I owned the notorious club that catered to the goth and metal heads of Houston. We had just played an exclusive show to give our fans a taste of the new album we would be launching with a worldwide tour at the beginning of next year. The crowd had gone fucking crazy for the new songs.
Throat sore and dry, I snatched a beer from a passing waitress and took a long pull of the cold, bitter brew. It soothed the ache in my raw throat. In the back of my head, I could hear my otolaryngologist screaming at me to put the fucking alcohol down and pick up a bottle of water. Being a hard-headed asshole, I took another even longer drink of the icy beer.
Glancing back, I found my bandmates hot on my heels. Dom Rivera, Sinister Mayhem’s bassist, grabbed a towel from a roadie and wiped the beading sweat from his shaved head. Tres, his younger brother and our band’s head of security, kept a well-trained eye on the throng of groupies and entertainment media reps pushing forward. With one stern look, the former Marine sent them all scuttling back.
After grinding on taut strings for nearly two hours, Leif Hansson stretched his cramping fingers before gathering his blond hair into a low ponytail at the back of his neck. His younger brother, Tor, stormed by him with drumsticks still clenched in his fists. Like a damned Viking on a rampage, he shoved his way through the crowd and disappeared into one of the private halls of the labyrinthine backstage area.
I wasn’t sure what the fuck was up with Tor lately, but he had been a serious bastard to everyone. I met Leif’s concerned gaze across the crowd and frowned at him. Leif shrugged his tattooed shoulders and then turned away from me and into the adoring arms of two female fans with some of the best damned ink I had ever seen. I stepped to the side for a better look at the artwork adorning their skin. In those tiny leather skirts and skimpy tops, they both flashed a great deal of beautifully decorated flesh. My approving gaze landed on our band’s logo stamped on their left shoulders.
Rockers After Dark: 6 Book Bundle of Sexy Musicians Page 110
