One-Click Buy: September Harlequin Blaze

by Jo Leigh

  He’d found this little bungalow a week ago, after all the legal maneuverings had ended and he was once again a free man. After he’d said goodbye to Tate.

  Charlie was in prison, and Michael doubted he’d ever be released. It was hard justice, but there was nothing Michael could do to mitigate the circumstances. Charlie had made his bed. Michael supposed he’d feel guilty about it for the rest of his life-but then, that was his bed. His very lonely bed.

  His hand was healing and his bruises were all but gone, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Tate. She’d sounded completely convincing when she’d asked him to come back. To try and live a life with her. But he knew the score. Despite his thanks, he knew William blamed him. Hell, he still blamed himself. As for a life with Tate? She was just starting to live. She deserved the world, not him. God, not him.

  Sara had come in to double-team him. But at least she’d understood when Michael had explained. Tate still would have none of it.

  After many tears and a lot of heartache for both of them, she’d gotten on her father’s private plane and gone back to New York.

  So here he was, sitting on a beach, sipping coffee, unsure what he was going to do with the day, not to mention the rest of his life. Missing Tate Baxter more than he’d ever imagined. More than he could take.

  TATE STARED AT THE foolish trompe l’oeil window in her bedroom. It symbolized so much. Her pretense of a life. Her false dreams of adventure and romance. Every precious moment she’d wasted in her fear.

  She owed Dr. Bay an apology. In retrospect, the kidnapping had been a good idea-the fake kind, at least. Tate truly was a different woman now. Yes, she still suffered from nightmares and she wasn’t going to give up on therapy anytime soon, but she no longer wanted to hide herself away. Life beckoned in the most alluring ways. Unfortunately her new dreams all centered around a man who didn’t want her.

  It occurred to her that she might not be thinking in the most rational terms. The experiences on the boat had been traumatic and profound. Perhaps, as her father had suggested, she’d gone through some sort or variation of Stockholm syndrome, where her beliefs about Michael were totally out of proportion to actual events.

  But after a month back home of intensive journaling and visits to her new therapist, she didn’t think so.

  She missed him. So badly it ached, and not in a metaphorical sense. She yearned to be with him, to hear his voice, smell his scent. She couldn’t stand that he was alone, that his hand wouldn’t heal for a while yet, that he had to deal with the consequences of his brother’s sentence. All alone. He’d put his own life at risk so many times for her. But it wasn’t just gratitude or guilt that made her want him.

  She’d become someone new with him. She’d seen herself through his eyes, and for the first time in her life she’d liked what she’d seen.

  Michael believed in her. He’d convinced her of her own strength over and over again.

  And, she had to admit, she missed making love to him. There was no doubt in her mind that the two of them were meant to be together.

  Unfortunately there was a giant roadblock between them, and it wasn’t the fact that he blamed himself for the kidnapping. It was the money.

  “Knock-knock.”

  Tate turned to find Sara at the bedroom door. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Right back at ya,” Sara said. She was in her workout gear, looking radiant, and she sat on the bed with a plop. “Come with me?”

  “I will,” Tate said. “But not today.”

  “You said that yesterday. I know you’ll like my trainer. He’s got the best ass in the five boroughs. Seriously. It’s worth all the pain just to watch him bend over.”

  Tate grinned. “I missed you.”

  “I’m glad. It would have hurt my feelings if you hadn’t.”

  “You’re my sister, kiddo. So when I ask you something, I trust you’re going to be honest, right?”

  Sara crossed her heart.

  “I can’t let go of Michael. I miss him too much. I love him.”

  Sara’s smile faded as she nodded. “I figured.”

  “I want to go to him. Do whatever it takes to make him see that we can be together. Except…there’s the whole money problem.”

  Sara’s head went down for a long time. Tate thought of calling the kitchen for tea, but she didn’t want to disturb Sara’s thought process.

  Finally her friend looked up. “It’s a big problem, and I don’t know Michael well enough to predict if he can get past it. But something that might help is the reward.”

  “What reward?”

  “Your father offered a million dollars to anyone who was instrumental in finding you. Michael was instrumental, all right.”

  “He didn’t tell me.”

  “Yeah,” Sara said. “Go figure.”

  “Surely he’d have to agree that Michael deserves the reward.”

  Sara laughed. “Your father? Come on, Tate. He’s going to blame Michael for a long time.”

  “But Michael deserves-oh.”

  “Exactly.”

  Tate grinned. “Do you think I’m crazy?”

  “Only if you don’t try. Tate, you haven’t taken a risk in so long. I think taking this one will make up for it. The worst that’s going to happen is he’ll break your heart. And since your heart is already broken, it can’t be that much worse.”

  Tate felt her pulse race and her heart pound. Sara was right. It would be scary to go to him-but then, she had faced scary. And she’d kicked scary’s ass.

  ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER sunrise, and Michael wasn’t getting better. His hand was healing, but missing Tate continued to get worse.

  He didn’t understand. Yes, he was depressed. He got that. He’d made some big mistakes and there had been consequences. That wasn’t what was making him nuts.

  That had everything to do with Tate. Not Charlie, not the kidnapping, not the killings. Tate haunted his dreams, haunted his waking hours. He kept thinking about how she’d been so brave, how she’d fought so hard. He remembered, too vividly, the way her skin felt, the taste of her flesh, how he felt when he slipped inside her.

  He took a sip of coffee, wishing she were there, wishing he could find a way to justify calling her. If he couldn’t do that, he wanted a way to forget her. Perhaps now that Charlie was in jail he could go back to the Army. If his hand healed correctly. If they’d take him.

  It would all be a lot easier if he would stop thinking he saw her out of the corner of his eye. Every woman with reddish-brown hair made his pulse race. Until he saw that it was just a woman and not Tate. Then he’d hear a voice, and the cycle would start over again until he saw it was a stranger.

  The persistence of her memory had taken him over. Like a virus, she had spread throughout his system. Unfortunately there were no pills or shots to help him.

  He felt someone next to his chair, but he didn’t want any more coffee or a drink. He looked up, ready to send the boy away. But it wasn’t a boy. And it wasn’t a dream.

  “Tate?”

  She was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, with her hair down and wild, the way it had been on the boat. She wore no makeup and her eyes were puffy from crying. He’d never seen anyone more beautiful in his life.

  “I tried, Michael. I did. I tried to see it your way and I gave your argument all I could. But the only conclusion I could come to was that you couldn’t be more wrong if you tried.”

  He couldn’t help laughing at that, even though she looked damn serious.

  “Don’t laugh. I mean it. You’re an idiot.”

  “I never had any doubts about that.”

  “Good, so we’re agreed. And since you’re an idiot and I’m tough and smart, here’s what we’re gonna do.” She came around in front of him and pulled him up by his T-shirt. “We’re going to figure out who we are and what we want and we’re going to do it together. I have
no idea if it’s going to last a week or a lifetime, but I’ll be damned if I walk away and don’t find out.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Any questions?”

  “What about your-”

  She put her fingers over his mouth. “This isn’t about my father. So no questions about him. And it’s not about money, because there was a million-dollar reward for my safe return, which you completely and utterly deserve, so you have money, I have money-and, dammit, money isn’t the issue.”

  “Are you through?”

  “No. I also want you to know that just because you saved my life doesn’t mean I feel some kind of obligation toward you. I’m not going through a phase and I’m not here because you’re the first man in years to make my toes curl. I’m here because being with you is the best thing that’s happened to me. Ever. You’re an amazing man and I admire every single thing about you. Of course, when we actually live together, I reserve the right to get cranky. But still, I think you’re incredible and I don’t want to spend another day without you.”

  “Are you through now?”

  “For the moment.”

  “Good. Because I love you.”

  Her lips curved up in a wicked smile. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “All that other stuff?”

  He shrugged. “We’ll deal.”

  “I thought this would be harder.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t get you out of my head. You’ve been driving me insane.”

  She sighed and closed her eyes. “Thank God. Because I love you, too.”

  He smiled as his whole body relaxed. “Thank God,” he said. And then he kissed her.

  My Secret Life by Lori Wilde

  1

  KATIE WINFIELD plotted the seduction with military precision.

  Exactitude wasn’t her typical modus operandi. On the contrary, she was usually quite spontaneous and, in fact, had a reputation as something of a free spirit. But she and Richard had been flirting for weeks with no forward motion in their relationship. Tonight would thrust them toward a whole new level of intimacy.

  Embracing the advance planning she normally eschewed, Katie picked up a pencil and ticked off the items on her To Do list.

  Facial and pedicure. Check.

  Sexy French-maid costume. Check.

  Tantalizing new perfume. Check.

  Catch-me, do-me stilettos. Check.

  Auburn wig. Check.

  Black silk stockings. Check.

  Push-up bra. Check.

  Erotic face mask. Check.

  Lots and lots of condoms. Check.

  Just reading over the list made her feel all warm and tingly and soft inside. This evening-during the ultraposh Boston Ladies League charity costume ball thrown annually on the Friday before Labor Day weekend-she intended on bedazzling the pants off Richard Montgomery Hancock the III.

  Katie had spent her lunch hour shopping. She’d just returned to work fifteen minutes late and out of breath. Furtively, she kicked the loot farther underneath her desk, and then darted a glance over her shoulder to see if her boss had noticed her tardiness.

  “What didja buy?” asked her office mate, Tanisha Taylor, as she sauntered through the door, grande soy latte in hand.

  Katie shrugged. “Nothing much.”

  At five-nine, Tanisha towered over Katie’s own five feet three inches. They were both twenty-four and they’d started working as graphic artists at Sharper Designs on the very same day ten months earlier. It was the longest Katie had ever worked anywhere and she was starting to feel the strain of being in one place too long.

  With her radiant, caramel complexion and deep chocolate-brown eyes, Tanisha was drop-dead beautiful. She wore her hair in a tightly braided shoulder-length style that made her narrow face look even thinner. She possessed the lean muscular build of a dancer, quite the opposite of Katie’s well-rounded, non-athletic figure. They made for an unusual looking pair.

  Today her coworker was dressed in a lavender blouse made of pure silk that she wore tucked into a pair of straight-legged, black slacks and sensible black flats. But Katie knew from the wild nights they’d recently spent closing down bars that beneath the buttoned-down attire lurked the adventuresome soul of a Nubian goddess.

  Tanisha spied the red-and-black striped bag from Fetching Fantasies and dove for it before Katie could block her. Tanisha set down her latte, perched on the edge of Katie’s desk and peeked inside the bag.

  “Oo-la-la, what have we here? Parlez-vous français?” she teased.

  Katie snatched the bag away and clutched it to her chest. “Just a costume for the Ladies League masquerade party. No biggie.”

  Tanisha grinned. “You are going to be the hussy of the ball in that getup.”

  “That’s the general idea.”

  “Spill it. Who’ve you got lined up in your crosshairs?”

  Returning Tanisha’s sly grin, Katie slowly shook her head.

  “Don’t give me that. I know you’ve got something up your sleeve.”

  Katie tilted her head, lowered her eyelashes and slanted Tanisha a sideways glance. “Do you know Richard Hancock?”

  “Everyone in town knows Richard. What are you trying to do? Ruffle all the blue-blood feathers in Boston?”

  That comment pulled her up short. Why did she suddenly feel as if her conscience were the target and Tanisha’s accusation a straight flying arrow?

  Bull’s-eye.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Why else would you want to hook up with Richard ‘The Dick’ Hancock? He’s sooo not your type.” Tanisha hopped off Katie’s desk and plopped down in front of her drafting board.

  “What do you mean? Richard is a very handsome guy.”

  “I’m not talking about his looks.”

  “What’s wrong with Richard?”

  “Nothing is wrong with Richard. What’s wrong is that you’re plotting to seduce him at the Ladies League ball.” Tanisha clicked her tongue.

  “What’s so bad about that?”

  “Face it, Katie. You’ve got a knack for causing a stir.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You do.”

  “How so?”

  “Who got caught kissing the CEO’s son under the mistletoe at the office Christmas party, hmm?”

  “Hey,” Katie said defensively. “How was I supposed to know he’d just gotten engaged?”

  “That’s my point, K. You don’t always take the time to ask the right questions and it often lands you in hot water. Subconsciously, I think you enjoy causing a scandal.”

  “I do not.” Did she?

  “Either that or you’re into self-sabotage. Which is it?”

  “Neither.”

  “If you say so.” Tanisha sounded skeptical.

  “I say so.”

  “And the Nile is just a river in Egypt.” Tanisha snorted.

  Was she sabotaging herself? As the youngest of three sisters growing up in a household run by their loving mother and strict naval-officer father, Katie had done a little acting out for attention, but so what?

  She’d played hooky a few times in high school. Once or twice, she’d gotten caught sneaking out her bedroom window to meet a boyfriend. She enjoyed making Great-Aunt Josephine’s upper-crust nose wrinkle in disapproval by listening to hip-hop, using street slang and wearing jeans to family gatherings. Honestly, she’d never done anything too radical. Katie just liked having fun. Her motives were no more complicated than a Cyndi Lauper song.

  Well, okay, maybe sometimes it got stifling with her two older, oh-so-perfect sisters. Brooke was the beautiful caregiver, Joey the smart go-getter and they were both as good as gold. By default, that left Katie with the title of wild child. But everyone had a family label, right? And she chose to wear hers proudly.

  To be honest, even after their father had pas
sed away five years ago, she and her sisters had still lived a fairy-tale life. They’d been lucky, blessed, until this past year when their world had totally collapsed.

  Katie didn’t want to think about it, but the rush of memories overwhelmed her and she felt herself caught in a tornado of emotion that squeezed the breath from her lungs. She forced a smile, determined not to let Tanisha know about the sorrow knotting up inside her.

  But a smile couldn’t stop the sad feelings.

  In January, Katie and her sisters had received the horrible news that their beloved mother, Daisy, had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Katie denied it for as long as she could. She’d pretended it was all a big mistake, that their mother was fine. But each day Daisy Winfield grew weaker and sicker until Katie could deny it no longer.

  After that, she’d gotten angry. When Brooke had told her that she was stuck in the second stage of grief, the comment had pissed her off. Sainted Brooke, who never did anything wrong apparently leapfrogged right over the five stages of grief. She’d quickly skimmed from denial to anger to depression and bargaining straight on through to acceptance.

  Katie, according to Brooke, had never gotten past anger.

  Maybe she hadn’t. But how was she supposed to get past it? Her mother had only been fifty-three when she passed away in July, only four months after she’d been diagnosed. There hadn’t been nearly enough time to say goodbye.

  It wasn’t fair.

  Katie closed her eyes and inhaled sharply at the pain of remembering that awful night when their mother had died.

  She’d been restless, feverish and babbling about a lost baby. Daisy had clutched her daughters’ hands and begged them to find the baby girl. They had no idea what baby she was talking about. The hospice nurse had assured them it was just the effects of the heavy pain medication she was on, but it had been upsetting to see her mother so distressed during her last minutes on Earth.

  Involuntarily, Katie laid a hand across her heart and felt a solid ache for the loss of her mother.

  “Katie?” Tanisha’s voice snapped her out of the past and back into the present.

  She opened her eyes.