Those gorgeous grey eyes glistened and smiled into hers. ‘Say it again.’
As the waves gently lapped, she grazed her thumb over his bottom lip and confessed, ‘I love you … like I didn’t know existed.’
As he kissed her again, he waded in deeper and those old affirmations swirled back into her mind.
I can do this…. There’s nothing to be nervous about…. No need, Libby, to be scared. And then that pleasant tingling heat flooded her body in the same instant a perfect sense of serenity descended and her eyes drifted shut.
The past would always be there but as long as she and Alex were together—for the lifetime that they’d share and be in love—their lives, their future, would be an open road. An accepting sea.
Nothing and no one would ever stand in their way.
1997: Jacob begins to recover …
After leaving the sanctuary of the monastery and empowered by the monks’ calm approach to life, Jacob became eager to resume his new life. His path took him to South America and the building of a new hospital. But quickly he discovered that the release he had once found in physical labour was missing—Jacob needed more …
Frustrated with the uninspiring designs for the building, Jacob worked on plans of his own, convincing people with his passion and overseeing a new vision for the building, inspiring everyone. Soon Jacob was headhunted by a firm eager to see more visionary designs from this enigmatic man. Jacob took the job, desperately trying to grasp at a normal life.
But Jacob’s blood still thrummed with an unanswered restlessness and he soon tired of working for a huge faceless corporation. So Jacob did what he did best and left, setting up his own architecture business. Still unable to settle, he divided his time between his fledgling company and bland hotel rooms devoid of any soul, still believing he didn’t deserve to call any place home …
BEHIND THE SCENES AT WOLFE MANOR …
Share a secret about Alex or Libby?
Alex Wolfe has won racing titles and trophies all over the world! But his most prized possession is a home-made medal his mentor awarded him when he was only a volatile, directionless teenager starting out.
Who is the biggest, baddest Wolfe?
We certainly have an assortment to choose from! I wouldn’t classify Alex as the biggest and baddest … perhaps the most driven (and sexy!). I have a soft spot for Lucas. His way of coping with the past is both charming and self-destructive. He’s a lucky man to have found a woman like Gracie-Belle.
Which Wolfe brother did you most fancy?
Aside from Alex … I’d have to say Jacob. As the eldest, Jacob had so much weighing on his shoulders, before and particularly after his beast of a father died. I love the way he made a commitment to bring the Wolfe pack back together. So much soul-searching, and adventure of every kind, happens along the way!
Which is Alex’s favourite room in Wolfe Manor?
Trick question! Although Alex retains snippets of fond memories growing up with his brothers and twin sister, Annabelle, in Wolfe Manor, by his teens he was desperate to escape the house that had caused him and his family so much grief. Rather than his favourite room, perhaps the area that haunts Alex most is the staircase. One night at the bottom of those stairs, so many Wolfe lives, including his own, were torn apart and changed forever.
How did Alex pop the big question?
Although Australian Libby Henderson was once the female world surfing champion, due to a shocking accident that ripped her away from that profession forever, she avoids the sand and the sea. It’s through knowing Alex that Libby begins to overcome her fear and welcome again what had once been so much a part of her life. It’s when she’s walking along the beach, wondering what the future holds, that Alex surprises her with both revelations that leave her weak and never more wanting, as well as a proposal no woman could refuse.
ROBYN’S WRITING SECRETS …
What do you enjoy most about writing as part of a continuity series; how does it differ from writing a single title?
The Bad Blood series is my very first continuity! I was thrilled to be asked to join with authors I adore as a reader, and was blown away by everyone’s generosity of time and information as we worked together to make sure this set of stories developed into the amazing romances they have. I was sorry to say goodbye to my gorgeous brave hero and the woman who made the difference in his life. But I’m thankful to have had the opportunity to become friends with such a great bunch of writers. It was wonderful to have company while I was creating and tapping away!
What do you think makes a great hero/heroine?
Strength coupled with a vulnerability that only one special person can truly identify with and have the ability to heal. Alex Wolfe is that quintessential blend of raw courage and tenderness. He so deserved a happy ending.
When you are writing, what is a typical day?
I write every day in some form or another! But a typical weekday means getting the kids off to school, answering e-mails, blogs, etc. Then reading over what was written the day before. Somewhere in between collecting the children, I work out with a personal trainer. (The body doesn’t get much exercise sitting behind a laptop!) After homework, dinner and catching up for an hour or so with my wonderful husband, I’m back into it—sometimes until 2 or 3 in the morning and, on occasion, all the way through! What can I say? I’m addicted!
LYNN RAYE HARRIS
BAD BLOOD
HEARTLESS REBEL
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LYNN RAYE HARRIS read her first Mills & Boon® romance when her grandmother carted home a box from a yard sale. She didn’t know she wanted to be a writer then, but she definitely knew she wanted to marry a sheikh or a prince and live the glamorous life she read about in the pages. Instead she married a military man, and moved around the world. These days she makes her home in North Alabama, with her handsome husband and two crazy cats. Writing for Harlequin is a dream come true. You can visit her at www.lynnrayeharris.com.
Many thanks to Sarah, Caitlin, Abby, Robyn, Janette, Jennie, and Kate for making this project so much fun to work on! The only thing that could have made it more fun was if we’d had a writers’ retreat somewhere tropical while we worked. Maybe next time …
CHAPTER ONE
CARA TAYLOR wiped sweaty hands against the tight satin of her skirt, hoping she didn’t leave an imprint. Tonight was the night. The biggest night of her career as a croupier thus far, and she’d just been dealt a blow she wasn’t sure she could recover from.
Bobby wanted her to throw the game. Cara took a deep breath to steady herself. She could do this. She had to do this. The men who would arrive at her table in just a few minutes were some of the wealthiest, most daring men in the world. In many ways, though they made her job possible, she loathed them. They were accustomed to waging millions of dollars on one turn of the cards, and just as accustomed to losing as they were winning. This was child’s play for them.
Did it matter if she was the instrument of their losses tonight? Not one of them would go home poor. Not one of them understood what it was like to lose everything they had, to fight and struggle for survival on a daily basis.
Cara knew. She’d been fighting to save her family since Hurricane Katrina blew through New Orleans over five years ago and devastated their home. And not only their home; Katrina had also blown away the diaphanous veil obscuring her father’s dark secrets. With her father’s betrayal and her mother’s subsequent breakdown, it had been Cara’s responsibility as the oldest to make sure her family was safe and well. It had taken a long time and a lot of work—not to mention putting her own dreams on hold—but she’d gotten them back on their feet.
Tonight, she finally had a chance to put financial worries behind them for good. She would set Mama up with enough money to make sure the house was paid for and the exorbitant insurance premiums covered. Since the hurricane, insurance companies had raised their rates through the roof. And Mama didn’t want to move farther inland.
; Though it often frustrated Cara, she also understood it in a perverse way: New Orleans was home. Mama had been born and raised there, and she couldn’t leave it. Nor, it seemed, could Cara’s sister, Evie. She chewed the inside of her lip. If not for Evie staying home to help Mama and their little brother, Remy, Cara wouldn’t be here. And since she was here, she owed it to them all to do everything she could to secure their future.
After tonight, Remy would continue to have the specialized care he needed, which was the most important consideration of all. The bonus Bobby had promised her when she’d agreed to come to Nice for the opening of his new casino would finally enable her to achieve all the goals she’d had when she’d left home.
But first she had to throw this game.
“You understand what you have to do,” an oily voice said from behind her.
Cara turned smoothly, hoping her distress didn’t show on her face. “Of course.”
Bobby Gold winked as he tapped her on the ass. Cara did her best not to flinch. She’d never liked Bobby, but he was the king of the casinos in Vegas—and abroad, as this new multi-billion-dollar facility located in an old French palace in the center of Nice proved.
When she’d begun working as a croupier, it had been for one of Bobby’s rivals. It hadn’t taken long for Bobby to find her and offer her a job. She’d refused at first—but money, and her desperate need for it, had eventually won out. And, other than the occasional leering pass from the man, she’d had no reason to regret her decision.
Until now.
Bobby’s gold tooth caught the light as he smiled.
She’d never been sure if it was an affectation, or if the man really needed a gold tooth. Nevertheless, it disgusted her.
“Keep the players happy, Cara. Use those beautiful breasts of yours to distract them as much as possible. And keep an eye on the man I point out to you. When the stakes get high enough, he’ll give you the signal.”
Cara’s face burned, but whether from Bobby’s casual suggestion she use her breasts to distract the players or from the idea of cheating—of going against her entire moral compass—she wasn’t quite sure. She suspected it was a bit of both. Cheating wasn’t in her lexicon, especially after the devastation her father had caused. Adultery was a different kind of cheating, but the results were the same. It was simply wrong.
And she wasn’t a cheater, period.
Cara slid a nervous hand down her skirt once more. She wanted to pull her shirt closed a bit more, but she wouldn’t do so while Bobby leered at her. Usually, her uniform consisted of a long skirt and a high white-collared shirt with a bow tie.
Tonight, Bobby had given her a new uniform. Short, tight black satin mini, and deep-V crimson silk blouse. The bow tie was still a part of the uniform, only now it was around her bare throat.
Just get through tonight, Cara, and you can go back home and never see Bobby Gold again.
A pang of wistfulness shot through her at the thought of leaving Nice before she’d even gotten to explore it. She’d put her dreams of adventure on hold after Katrina’s devastation, and now that she’d finally gotten to go somewhere wonderful, she was about to leave again.
“I’ll do what I can, boss,” she said.
Bobby’s face grew hard, his gaze cold and cruel. She’d seen that look before. A shiver washed over her at the thought of all Bobby was capable of.
“Make sure that you do, Cara. I’d hate to have to punish you.”
Before she could answer, he turned away and strode toward the bar. Cara let out a long breath. She turned back to the table as the black velvet curtain to the private entrance parted. A tall blond man strode into the room and went straight for the bar. She could hear his accent as he ordered. German. Count von Hofstein, then.
As the minutes trickled by, several more men entered the luxurious room that Bobby had set aside for this very special game. A fat sheikh, who wore a headdress with his three-piece suit and sported a huge ruby ring on the index finger of his left hand. An African man, tall and handsome with luminous ebony skin, came in and took a seat at the table. One by one, the seats filled.
The men were quiet, contemplating the game perhaps.
When there was only one chair left, the curtain parted again and another man entered. Cara’s pulse kicked up. He was tall, lean and impeccably dressed in a bespoke tuxedo. His hair was dark—black or brown—and his eyes were the most piercing shade of silver she’d ever seen. His jaw was strong, handsome, his lips almost cruel in their sensuality. Everything about him screamed money.
And everything about his demeanor said he didn’t give a damn about anyone or anything.
Cara shivered as a chill prickled down her spine. She’d never had quite this reaction to the sight of a man before. She’d moved with her ex to Las Vegas, but she hadn’t done so because her heart had fluttered when James had entered a room.
This man’s expression, so cold and distant, grew even chillier as he looked at her. She quickly glanced away, cursing herself for staring.
Great. He probably thought she was one of those women working in a casino in order to snag a rich husband. She’d had more than one man assume she was looking for a good time, but she’d quickly set the record straight whenever any of them assumed she was up for sale along with the poker chips.
A touch on her arm startled her, and she jumped, her heart slamming into her ribs. Bobby pulled her away from the table. Cara folded her arms over her breasts, hating the way Bobby looked down her shirt, and hating that he knew it bothered her by the way he grinned at her.
“Don’t get any ideas of being noble, Cara,” he said. “That bonus I promised you will go a long way toward helping your sweet mama, so make sure you remember it.” He leaned in close, ran a fat hand down her arm. “The man with the red tie is Brubaker. When it’s time, pass the play to him. He’ll take care of the rest.”
“Yes, boss,” she said, hoping her revulsion didn’t show.
Cara returned to the table and took out her deck of cards. After announcing the rules of the game, she shuffled. Then she passed the deck to the player on her right, who also shuffled. After a series of shuffles and cutting the deck, Cara dealt the cards.
The man with the silver eyes was directly across from her. He picked up his cards. There was no flash of emotion, no indication whether he was pleased or irritated, before he set them back down. During her time in Vegas, she’d seen her share of card sharks and amateurs. She’d always been able to tell what a player thought of his hand by the telltale little signs she’d observed at countless tables.
But this man was unreadable.
Until he looked up and caught her gaze. His eyes bored into hers, and her pulse skittered wildly. For the first time tonight, she was glad she wasn’t wearing a high collar. Because she’d have been sweating beneath this man’s gaze if she had been.
His mind did not appear to be on the cards lying in front of him. Slowly, his gaze slipped over her, lingering on her breasts, before sliding back up. His regard didn’t repulse her the way Bobby’s had. No, if anything, her skin tingled with awareness and heat.
Cara dropped her eyes to the green baize of the table. She had to concentrate on this game, had to be prepared to perform her task when the time came. She didn’t have the leisure to gape at gorgeous men.
Gorgeous, useless men …
Jack Wolfe thumbed the cards he held and waited for someone to call. He hadn’t spent time at a card table lately, but when he’d heard Bobby Gold was opening a casino right here in Nice, where Jack had been spending a great deal of time for his business lately, he’d been unable to resist.
He and Bobby didn’t know each other well, but they went back a long way—and not a moment of it was pleasant. Bobby never missed an opportunity to spew his rhetoric about lazy, inbred British aristocrats and their inability to manage their money. Jack knew it was a dig at his long-dead father, and though he couldn’t care less what manner of disparaging things anyone said about that sorry excuse
for a human being, Jack couldn’t turn down the chance to beat Bobby at his own game.
Jack didn’t frequent casinos—the stock market was far more challenging—but tonight was a special case. He’d once gone head-to-head with Bobby in a game of chance. It hadn’t even been serious, just a random event set up by one of Jack’s friends who’d been telling Bobby that Jack was a whiz with cards. Bobby, as a new casino owner at the time, had been unable to resist. And when he’d repeatedly lost everything, he’d grown angry.
Yes, Bobby Gold was a mean brute of a man. Jack didn’t need the money, but he would certainly enjoy watching Gold’s fat face turn purple when he won the jackpot. He’d thought Gold might try to keep him out of the game, but the man merely nodded at him. It made Jack wonder what Gold had up his sleeve.
Cards weren’t a challenge at all, not any longer. It had been years since Jack had enjoyed a game, but he’d never lost the ability to read those around him. And he never would. Reading people was second nature to him. Growing up, he’d needed to be able to tell what someone—his father—was about to do based on the twitch of a muscle, the tick of an eyelid or the jerk of the lips. Then, it had been a survival skill. That it was also a skill which translated to the card table was something he’d found out much later.
These days he preferred the high stakes of stock trading, the rush when he made a killer deal and the satisfaction of doing it all again just a short while later. The sums were much greater, the thrill much more intense. And the need to read people, still very necessary, was relegated to determining the behavior of the pack.
Jack looked up at the croupier again and lifted an eyebrow when she glanced away nervously. The instant he’d walked behind the curtain and seen her standing there, in her little top and even littler skirt, he’d felt like the evening would be much more interesting than he’d originally anticipated.
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