by Julie Kenner
She shook her head. “You can’t. You have to be who you are, and let me be who I am, and we just have to have faith it will be okay. Seeing what Jackie went through with Kenny, and realizing I could have helped sooner, I could have maybe avoided the entire thing—”
“Wait—how? You aren’t to blame here.”
“No, not to blame, exactly. I know it’s Kenny’s fault. But I was so wrapped up in my own issues, wanting to hide and pretend nothing had ever happened to me, that I couldn’t see what was happening to someone standing right in front of me. Maybe if I had…opened up, you know, gone to the counseling, allowed myself to heal sooner, Jackie would have told me what was happening to her.”
“That’s a lot of maybes. How is she doing?”
“She’s okay.”
Lacey looked down, taking a breath, her words coming out quickly, as if she had to muster the courage to say them.
“I’m going to go talk to someone later—an abuse counselor—to work through my own stuff, but also hoping it will encourage Jackie to do the same.”
Jarod felt his own throat tighten and swallowed hard. “You are the bravest woman I have ever known in my life, I swear,” he said huskily, bringing her fingers to his lips.
“You helped me get there. You made me believe again,” she said, and he knew no matter what the hardships, they couldn’t abandon what they had. They’d just find a way to make it work.
Pulling her up against him, he kissed her more lazily this time, his tongue touching hers in a slow, mating motion. His body reacted sharply with relief and desire as she pressed into him wearing nothing but the shirt.
“Let me call Tom and give him the rundown. I’ll go back as soon as I can get a flight out tomorrow but for now maybe we should go to bed for a few hours…get some rest or something,” he said, tasting the warm, soft skin of her neck.
“Or something,” she agreed, as his large hand massaged her breast.
THE FURTHEST THING from Lacey’s mind was sleep. It had taken hours for the adrenaline to wear off. As he touched her intimately, everything inside of her body seemed to melt. In spite of the stress and lack of sleep, she wanted him.
She’d been surprised, though overjoyed, to get his message that he was coming back. The news had kept her awake for hours as she waited to see him again, and to feel his hands on her. However, it didn’t look as though either one of them was going to leave the couch until they’d had their fill. She smiled as he unbuttoned the shirt.
It was, of course, the moment her cell phone rang.
“Mmm…might be about Jackie. I asked them to call me,” she said, breaking away.
“Answer it. Then meet me in the bedroom.”
The words were wickedly delicious coming from him, and she watched him walk away rather than looking at the caller ID on her phone.
Her warm mood and fuzzy feelings crystallized into something cold and sharp when she heard a familiar voice.
“Lacey, don’t hang up.”
Hang up? She was so stunned she couldn’t move. She tried to breathe normally, her heart hammering as she ran down the hall and grabbed Jarod by the arm, silently mouthing to him who was on the phone.
Like magic, his expression went from molten sexuality to granite. He made a hand motion for her to keep her caller talking and she nodded.
“I’m not hanging up, Scott. How did you find me? Are you in the city?”
Jarod gave her the thumbs-up as he grabbed his own phone.
“That’s why I’m calling, I, uh… Gena heard that you were having a bad time with someone, and they were looking for me, and it’s not me. I’m calling to say I’m, uh, sorry. But I haven’t been following you. I’ve changed, Lacey, or at least, I’m trying to.”
“I know it wasn’t you, Scott, but that doesn’t explain why you’re calling me. The restraining order is still—”
“Listen, I’m in love with Gena. I took off because I needed to get to her, not to come after you. We had a fight, and I was locked up in that house. She wouldn’t answer my calls, so I had to risk going to find her.”
Lacey’s blood ran cold. “Is Gena okay? Did you hurt her?”
“Hurt her? No! I would never hurt her. She’s here with me. She’s the one who told me to call you. I…wanted to say I’m sorry for what happened, for what I did to you. Part of it was the drugs, the booze, but my counselors said I can’t use that as an excuse, and they’re right.”
Lacey listened, and felt more or less as if she’d fallen down the rabbit hole.
“Scott, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you’d be better off to turn yourself in. At the very least, you’ve broken house arrest.”
“I know. I had to do it. When I told her I’d taken off, she met me here and told me to turn myself in. I guess I’ll have to do extra time, but maybe if I give myself up, they’ll let me finish at home in L.A.”
She grabbed a pen and wrote “Reno” on the pad. Jarod started to dial but she motioned for him to stop.
“If you’re lying, you should know I’m not alone, and they’re looking for you—you won’t get away with this.”
“I’m not playing games, not anymore. I—I had a lot of problems, and I didn’t know how to handle them. I’m learning now. I’m trying.”
“If what you’re saying is true, and I hope it is, for Gena’s sake, then I’ll wish you well,” she said, feeling something spring loose inside of her. “You can’t ever call me again, Scott. You hurt me badly, and I want you out of my life, completely, forever.”
“Thanks, Lacey. You’ll never hear from me again, I promise.”
He hung up, and that was that.
Jarod was on the phone and though she paced for twenty minutes while he checked, eventually he hung up, shaking his head incredulously.
“It’s true. He’s turned himself in to the Reno police. He says he’s in love with Gena. She’s there with him, confirming his story. He escaped, called her, and she left to find him, to try to get him to turn himself in.”
“He…apologized.” The idea hit her as so strange that she couldn’t quite get her mind around it yet.
“It gets weirder. They want to get married, so that they could legally see each other while he’s finishing his sentence. You okay?”
She nodded. “I just feel…strange. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I can’t really forgive him, but at the same time, I kind of hope he makes it. For her sake, anyway.”
“That’s a kind of forgiveness…it’s healthy, but confusing, I know. I’ve seen victims forgive their attackers, or those who killed loved ones. I’ve never been able to imagine doing the same, but they tend to say it sets them free in a way.”
Lacey nodded. “Yes…there is that feeling, I think. Like it’s finally, really over.”
Jarod extended his hand. “It is over, but we’re just beginning,” he murmured.
She smiled against his lips, laughing as he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, not letting anything get in their way.
Epilogue
Three months later
LACEY SLIPPED HER FOOT out of her sandal and slid the pads of her bare toes along the length of his calf, her subtle flirting hidden under the table. When Jarod coughed abruptly as her foot flirted higher up his thigh, sneaking inside the loose material of his shorts, she laughed and enjoyed the mix of playful censure and desire in his eyes.
“You’re bad, you know that?” he said. “I could have scalded myself on that slice of pizza, or dumped my beer down the front of my clothes, and then what would we have done?”
“I guess we’d have to go somewhere and get those clothes off, or I’d have to kiss it and make it better,” she said, not the least bit repentant. In fact, her making him dump that beer was sounding like a good idea. It was a perfectly sunny, seventy-degree December day in Texas, but suddenly she was feeling a bit overheated.
“Hey, you two, this is a public area. Stop before I have to make up some new version of the
fire code,” Ryan Murphy joked, holding out a chair for Jackie as they arrived.
“This is great. Wearing summer clothes in winter. I may have to move here,” Jackie commented, stretching bare arms above her head. Ryan caught one and kissed it, making her blush.
“And leave the best city in the world?” Ryan said in his heavy Brooklyn accent.
“Maybe. Maybe not,” Jackie flirted. Her friend seemed happier and more herself than Lacey had seen her be in a while. Ryan was a good man, and exactly what Jackie deserved.
Lacey smiled at them, happy to be here, basking in the sun, the company, and the free time she was enjoying at the end of a very busy several months. Jackie lifted the beer that the waitress delivered to their riverside table, as people walked by the restaurant’s patio.
“To the end of a successful project, and to our fearless leader for making it all come together in the end,” she said, focusing on Lacey, making it her turn to blush.
“Hey, I could never have done it without you, Jackie, not to mention twelve sexy, barely clothed men,” she joked, though she was only interested in one of the dozen, and he knew it. Things were good.
“To barely clothed men, then,” Jackie repeated gustily, but only hers and Lacey’s bottles met. Ryan and Jarod both put their beers down, comically refusing to join that particular toast.
“This was a fabulous idea, though, Jarod. A minivacation for all of us,” Lacey added.
“I never spent much time in San Antonio…but we’ll be changing that,” he said, his foot finding its way over to nudge at Lacey’s. “My transfer went through,” he announced, and a hail of cheers went up.
Lacey was happiest of all. Three months of traveling back and forth from New York to El Paso were at an end. She could move to San Antonio, and she was sure she could find work in Texas, especially with the recommendations and exposure Bliss had offered her.
“Hey. Wait. I thought the only position open in San Antonio was the captain’s?”
“That’s right,” he said calmly, leaning back in his chair. He looked at her from underneath that hat, those gorgeous brown eyes telegraphing her all kinds of wicked messages.
“But you didn’t want to be captain. You wanted to be out in the field.”
“Um, honey,” Ryan spoke up, “why don’t we go take a look at the river for a moment, until the food gets here? When we go home, all there will be is snow and slush,” he said tactfully, taking Jackie’s hand as they left the table.
“Jarod, I don’t want you taking a job you’ll be miserable in just to be near me.”
As much as she wanted to be with him, he’d never asked her to give up her career, and she couldn’t ask the same of him.
“Happy means being near you, in case you haven’t noticed. Spending days on the road, tracking fugitives and drug-runners through the desert, has lost some of its charm, to say the least. I’ll be busy in the new job, it’ll be different, but I’ll be coming home every night to you.”
Convinced, she leaned in to kiss him. “I guess I can’t argue with that,” she said huskily. “No long-term assignments for me, either, at least, not in the near future.”
“Speaking of long-term, there was something else I wanted to ask you about,” he said, wrapping her hand in his.
“What’s that?”
Reaching into his pocket with his other hand, he pulled out a small blue box. Tiffany’s. Oh, my.
Oh, my, oh, my, oh, my, was all she could think, as he released her hand to open the box to reveal a glittering platinum-set diamond.
“I know it’s only been a few months, and there’s no rush, you can take your time, but—”
“Yes! Are you kidding me? Absolutely yes!” She jumped up, nearly overturning the table as she threw herself into his arms. She branded him with a long, scorching kiss that only broke when they drew applause. He looked deep into her eyes.
“I’ll always be there for you. Always.”
“I know. I’ll be there for you, too,” she promised, tears welling as he slipped the gorgeous ring on her left ring finger. “You really are a hero, Jarod.”
“As long as you see me that way, that’s all I care about, sweetheart.”
Jackie and Ryan returned to the table, hooting, and congratulating them.
“Leave the table for a minute and see what happens,” Ryan teased, slapping Jarod on the back and taking the seat he’d left earlier.
“Hmm, who knows who will be next?” Jarod quipped, watching Ryan’s face, but he simply smiled, revealing nothing. The women were bent over the ring, sighing and talking animatedly, and Ryan shook his head.
“They might be at it for a while.”
Jarod grinned, enjoying every second of it.
“Yeah, but that’s okay. We have time.”
New York Times Bestselling Author
BETINA KRAHN
Make Me Yours
Look what people are saying about Betina Krahn…
“Ms. Krahn is truly ingenious….
You have to read her books!”
—The Literary Times
“One of the genre’s most creative writers.
Her ingenious romances always entertain
and leave readers with a warm glow.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
“Wonderfully romantic…brilliantly written and
a joy to read…humorous, witty, and original…
Betina Krahn is talented and gifted. Her writing
is superb…perfectly charming.”
—The Literary Times
“Merry, heart-charming… Betina Krahn
is a treasure among historical writers, and
The Husband Test is a story to savor.”
—BookPage
“Witty, rollicking romance… Krahn’s amusing
follow-up to The Husband Test quickly blossoms
into a bright, exciting adventure.”
—Publishers Weekly on The Wife Test
“With The Marriage Test, Krahn has perfected
her unique recipe for highly amusing historical
romances as she deftly brings together two perfectly
matched protagonists to create a delectable
romance most readers will find impossible to resist.”
—Booklist (starred review)
Dear Reader,
Welcome to my Harlequin Blaze debut! The minute I heard about Blaze Historicals, I was intrigued. Now, after writing my first book, Harlequin’s vision for “big, sexy books in a smaller format” has me totally hooked. Some friends joked that I usually take 60,000 words to say hello! Well, eat those words, my friends; after writing 120,000-word books forever, I found this shorter format for a historical a dream come true!
Writing Make Me Yours was the most fun I’d had at the keyboard in years. The characters were so compelling, the story came so naturally and the tighter focus on “pure romance” was so freeing! My favorite heroines have always been gals with the gumption to go after what they want and a plan to get it. My favorite heroes are strong, stubborn men who think they know best, but get “taken to school” by a smart, sexy woman. I think I’ve been writing a Harlequin Blaze heroine for years without knowing it!
I’m hoping you enjoy Jack and Mariah and the Prince and Mercy. Come by my Web site afterward (BetinaKrahn.com) and let me know how you liked the way we’re setting history a-BLAZE!
Happy reading!
Betina Krahn
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
New York Times bestselling author Betina Krahn, mother of two and owner of two (humans and canines, respectively), shares the Florida sunshine with her fiancé and a fun and crazy sister. Her historical romances have received reviewer’s choice and lifetime achievement awards and appear regularly on bestseller lists…including the coveted USA TODAY and New York Times lists.
Her books have been called “sexy,” “warm,” “witty” and even “wise.” But the description that pleases her most is “funny” —because she believes th
e only thing the world needs as much as it needs love is laughter.
You can learn more about her books and contact her through her Web site, BetinaKrahn.com.
For Rex,
who always believes in me.
1
England’s Lake Country, 1887
“ALL I WANT is to be left alone to run my own life and tend my business in peace. Is that too bloody much to ask?” Mariah Eller muttered as she pulled her cloak tighter against the wind-whipped rain and squinted, trying to make out the lights from the Eller-Stapleton Inn. There were at least a dozen things she’d rather be doing at nine o’clock on a rainy October evening…most involving a glowing fire and toasty slippers.
“Hurry, miz!” The boy with the lantern looked back anxiously and halted for her to catch up. “Pa said they wus about to blow the winders out.”
“They’d better not touch my blessed windows,” she declared, wishing the threat didn’t sound so thin in her own ears. She motioned the boy forward on the darkened gravel path that led from her house to her inn. “That glazing cost me a fortune. I’m in hock up to my—” She pulled her icy hands inside her cloak. “If they lay one finger on that glass—”
She’d do what? Scold them? Send them to bed without supper? What could she possibly do to a group of men who were drinking, out of control and bent on destruction?
The sprawling Eller-Stapleton Inn, a coaching stop for travelers on the way north, was miles from the nearest town and constable. Ordinarily she and her staff took care of their own problems. Her capable innkeeper, Mr. Carson, maintained order with his razor-like glare, beefy arms and re-doubtable old musket.
But something about this situation exceeded his unflappable grasp.
It must be bad indeed.
Taking a deep breath, she dashed the last few yards through the puddles in the backyard and through the open kitchen door. She stood for a moment taking her bearings, her long cloak dripping water on the worn flagstone floor. The inn’s staff was collected around the glowing stone hearth at the far end of the kitchen. They greeted her with “Thank the Lord, yer here”…all but Carson, who seemed little relieved by her presence.
