Bad Blood Collection

by Various Authors

  He laughed, the sound having a nervous edge to it. “That would have required me to admit that I was either needy or a romantic fool and my pride wouldn’t allow either. So I hung the pictures in my empty house and convinced myself that as long as I could look at your face, I wasn’t alone.”

  “Did it work?” she asked after a long tense pause.

  “No, for the longer I stayed here, the more I mourned what we’d lost as a couple,” he said. “What I’d lost and feared I’d never regain.”

  “You never lost me,” she said, moving into his arms, cupping his handsome face in her palms. Looking into his intense eyes and finally seeing the little boy who’d stood outside a window in London, looking at the family he’d been denied.

  All he’d wanted was a home. A family. Love.

  “I loved you from the moment I first met you. But after I lost our first baby, my heart broke knowing I was too afraid to give you want you wanted,” she admitted, voicing the truth, making it more painful to bear. “I longed for your child, Rafael, but I feared that if I couldn’t give you what you wanted I would lose you and myself.”

  He bit off an oath in Portuguese. “I am a fool. An idiot who doesn’t deserve your love.”

  “We both lost our way by putting our careers first,” she said, voicing the obvious and gaining a grimace from him. “While I don’t regret what I’ve achieved, I, too, have had an epiphany here.”

  “And what would that be?” he asked, sliding his arms around her, holding her loosely in the circle of his embrace so she could slip free if she wished.

  “That in my quiet times I desperately missed you,” she said. “That I’d lie awake and wonder if you were thinking of me. That I’d begun to worry that while I was off somewhere alone and exhausted, you’d found someone else to share your life with.”

  “Never!” he said with enough passion to convince her. “No woman has ever captured my interest but you. I love you, Leila. I’ve always loved you and always will. But I won’t force you to live here—”

  Her heart stuttered and she pressed her fingers over his seductive mouth. “Wait! Say that again.”

  She felt his lips pull into a sexy smile that made her breath catch and her body hum with a different need. “I won’t force you to live here because I—”

  “No, tell me what’s in your heart,” she protested, blinking back tears that threatened to fall.

  “Because I love you, meu amor. Today, tomorrow and forever.”

  His lips closed over hers, soft, seeking, so tender that the tears she tried to hold back broke free. He loved her, and that was all that mattered to her. It had been so long since she’d heard those words. Too long.

  “We can live wherever you wish,” he said.

  “I don’t care as long as you’re with me.”

  He gave a shaky nod, his eyes growing suspiciously moist. “As for your career, I promise I won’t stand in your way.”

  She skimmed her fingers over his devastatingly handsome face, over the broad shoulders that had carried the weight of far too much grief in his life.

  “I already told my agent that after this next shoot, I won’t do anymore until after the babies are born,” she said. “And then, I will be very selective about the shoots that I take because my family comes first in my life. I need to focus on these precious babies inside me, Rafael. Our babies. I still worry about relapsing, but I know if you are with me, beside me, I will be stronger. You make me strong, Rafael, and you make me feel beautiful and cherished.”

  “Good, because I have handed over the day-to-day issues of my business so I can spend more time with you. Together we can do anything, Leila, and I will always be there for you no matter what happens. But I fear I will need your help, too, in being the best father I can be. I need you to show me how to care for our precious babies,” he said, his hands sweeping down her back, pulling her closer, fitting her where she belonged—next to his heart.

  “Oh, Rafael, you will be an amazing father, and

  I will help. We will help each other, my love, forever.” And she kissed him, showing him by her actions how much she loved him.

  Ahh, in this they were always in sync. “So what do you suggest we do with all this free time we’ll have?”

  “I’ve an idea or two,” he said, his mouth returning to hers for a kiss that left no doubt of the pleasures he vowed to share with her.

  Today. Tomorrow. And for the rest of their lives.

  2008: Jacob meets Rafael …

  Jacob’s one brief encounter with his brother Sebastian might have left him intrigued by his other siblings, but Jacob knows he must leave the past where it is. A business trip to Brazil helps to clear his mind, and as Jacob sits and watches the successful young businessmen collecting their awards, his mind drifts elsewhere until he hears a familiar name being called to the podium, a familiar face from his past—and his heart simply stops in his chest …

  Jacob knows his brother Rafael has seen him. Terrified of speaking to him or facing him again, Jacob leaves hastily. But Rafael was never one to give in and he easily tracks Jacob down, requesting a meeting. Torn, Jacob isn’t sure he can meet with Rafael after all this time, the shame is too much, but he knows that the time has come to face his fears.

  Seeing Rafael again and talking to his beloved brother is actually easier than Jacob had ever expected it would be. As Jacob learns about his other brothers and sister he feels his heart begin to crack, pleased that they are all doing well … without him. However, Jacob also learns that the family is not as close as it once was and, for the first time since he left, Jacob begins to consider what might have been lost by shutting himself off so completely …

  BEHIND THE SCENES AT WOLFE MANOR …

  Share a secret about Rafael or Leila?

  Rafael was secretly afraid he would end up unloved, unwanted, without ever having a family of his own, without a real home and genuine love.

  Who is the biggest, baddest Wolfe?

  Lucas Wolfe. He was the loose cannon—the man who had nothing at all to lose, for William Wolfe had cruelly robbed him of the identity of his maternity because of his own deep shame.

  Which Wolfe brother did you most fancy?

  Oh, that’s a difficult choice to make. I love reckless playboys and fearless race car drivers, so I was drawn to both Lucas and Alex. Of course there is Jacob, who at such a tender age proved he was a hero. And it’s a given that I have a soft spot for the illegitimate son, I did so enjoy writing about Rafael! Can I say I thought they were all fascinating?

  Which is your hero’s favourite room in Wolfe Manor?

  The private parlour in Wolfe Manor. It looks out on the vast gardens and dilapidated fence, and that was where Rafael first sneaked onto Wolfe Manor property. To be inside the manor looking out is a major triumph for him, though it will never make up for all those lost years of his father denying, and disowning, him.

  How did your hero pop the big question?

  Totally spontaneously after a night with Leila in Rio. He felt a connection to her that he’d never felt with another soul and knew he couldn’t let her go.

  JANETTE’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?

  I loved the vast scope of a continuity, for it provided countless possibilities for each character to explore. It was also wonderful to share this sisterhood of writing with such a talented group of authors.

  What do you think makes a great hero/heroine?

  Their inner struggle. The thing that they refuse to acknowledge, but that they must vanquish in order to ever find true happiness.

  When you are writing, what is a typical day?

  Ah, my writing days are far from typical! I have a full-time job, so I write before I go to work, say from 5:30 to 7am, then after dinner and a tiny window of relaxation, I write again from 8pm to midnight. Weekends I juggle a personal life with writing. Often the writing wi
ns out because of deadlines.

  JENNIE LUCAS

  BAD BLOOD

  FORGOTTEN DAUGHTER

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  JENNIE LUCAS grew up dreaming about faraway lands. At fifteen, hungry for experience beyond the borders of her small Idaho city, she went to a Connecticut boarding school on a scholarship. She took her first solo trip to Europe at sixteen, then put off college and travelled around the US, supporting herself with jobs as diverse as gas station cashier and newspaper advertising assistant.

  At twenty-two she met the man who would be her husband. After their marriage she graduated from Kent State with a degree in English. Seven years after she started writing she got the magical call from London that turned her into a published author.

  Since then life has been hectic, with a new writing career, a sexy husband and two small children, but she’s having a wonderful (albeit sleepless) time. She loves immersing herself in dramatic, glamorous, passionate stories. Maybe she can’t physically travel to Morocco or Spain right now, but for a few hours a day, while her children are sleeping, she can be there in her books.

  Jennie loves to hear from her readers. You can visit her website at www.jennielucas.com, or drop her a note at jennie@jennielucas.com.

  CHAPTER ONE

  SHE’D BEEN WARNED ABOUT Stefano Cortez.

  As Annabelle Wolfe climbed out of her vintage 4x4, she surveyed the sprawling white hacienda with a feeling of dread. She’d been warned constantly over the past few months: Stefano Cortez could not be trusted.

  Be careful, Miss Wolfe. You won’t be able to resist him. No woman can.

  Guard your heart, miss. The broken hearts he’s scattered are as infinite as stars.

  I have nothing to worry about, Annabelle told herself fiercely. Stefano Cortez might be the equestrian world’s most famous playboy, but he would have no effect on her. She wouldn’t let those stupid warnings make her lose her nerve!

  But her body still trembled, and she knew it wasn’t just from all the coffee she’d gulped down on the long, dusty drive from Portugal to northern Spain.

  Slamming her truck door with a bang, Annabelle stretched her stiff limbs, trying to shake off her nervous fear. It didn’t work. Warnings about Stefano Cortez’s charm had been repeated too often lately, repeated everywhere she’d visited for her photojournalism series on Europe’s top-ten horse ranches for Equestrian magazine.

  Stefano Cortez’s ranch, Santo Castillo, was the final one of her assignment. He sold the most expensive, exclusive horses in the world, and even then, only to customers he deemed worthy. Wealthy buyers fell over themselves to get the reclusive ranch owner’s approval. But that was nothing compared to what women did for his attention.

  The world’s number-one stud farm, the current joke went, is owned by the world’s number-one stud.

  Annabelle rolled her tight shoulders. If Stefano Cortez was even a fraction of the man he was reputed to be, he would definitely try to lure her into bed. Most men usually did, unfortunately. It was a long-standing joke to all her colleagues and assistants.

  But Stefano Cortez took seduction to a whole new level. According to rumor, no woman had ever turned Cortez down. Ever. And what if the rumors were true? What if by some horrible chance Annabelle fell into his bed like all the rest?

  No way, she told herself, biting down on her lip. Annabelle didn’t have a passionate bone in her body. She was cold and proud and rude—didn’t men always say so after she refused their advances? At thirty-three, she was a confirmed spinster, immune to any playboy’s charm. After everything she’d been through, she’d never let any man close to her.

  She would be on her guard with Stefano Cortez, and if he tried any smooth moves on her, she’d laugh in his face.

  Wouldn’t she …?

  Looking around her, Annabelle took a deep breath. So where was he? Where was the famous playboy who would apparently try to drag her into his bed the moment he saw her?

  She saw half-wild horses racing across wide gold-colored fields, beneath a blue sky that stretched forever. She heard the burble of a nearby stream and birdsong rising from the forested hills. June in northern Spain. It was so beautiful here that she turned to reach through the truck’s open window for her camera bag on the seat.

  A man’s deep voice spoke behind her.

  “So you have arrived at last.”

  Annabelle froze. Slinging her bag on her shoulder, she braced herself and slowly turned around.

  And nearly gasped.

  Stefano Cortez stood before her, his eyes dark and luminous as fire beneath the Spanish sun. At five-ten, Annabelle was far from petite, but she had to tilt her head back to look into his gorgeously chiseled face.

  He was even more devastating in person than in photographs. At thirty-five, he was breath-takingly handsome, dark-haired and strong with a lean, muscular physique. His worn jeans fit snugly against trim hips. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up, revealing tanned forearms laced with dark hair, showing he clearly was not afraid of physical labor. His chin-length dark hair was pulled back into a leather tie at the base of his neck.

  He held his powerful body absolutely still as his dark eyes raked slowly over her.

  Annabelle’s breath disappeared from her lungs. She felt vulnerable and exposed, like a hapless gazelle beneath a lion’s lazy gaze. She felt the restrained hunger of a well-fed predator who had absolute confidence in his power over her.

  “Welcome to my home, Miss Wolfe,” he said in softly accented English. His sensual lips curved into a half smile. “I have been waiting for you.”

  Their eyes locked. Heat flashed through her, heat so sudden and unexpected that she nearly stumbled back. Annabelle had to force herself to keep her face impassive, even as her trembling hands tightened around the strap of her camera bag.

  “You—you have?” she said faintly.

  “Your reputation precedes you.” Stefano Cortez’s lips curved as his gaze traced slowly down her body. “The famous Annabelle Wolfe. The beautiful photographer who travels to every corner of the world on assignment.”

  Struggling to hide her flushed skin and pounding heart, Annabelle lifted her chin. “And you are Stefano Cortez—the greatest stud of Santo Castillo.”

  She’d meant to offend him, but he only gave a low laugh. The sound of that deep, masculine amusement caused another strange flutter through her body.

  He moved closer, and she licked her suddenly dry lips.

  “You are as charming as I’d hoped. Mucho gusto,” he whispered, looking down at her. “Encantado.”

  He didn’t touch her, but his words were like a caress, as if he’d kissed her hand. As if he’d pressed his warm lips against her skin. His masculine power pressed upon her consciousness from all sides. She felt the power emanating off his tanned skin, the virile strength of his lean, muscular body.

  She swallowed, gripping her camera bag with both hands as she muttered, “Nice to meet you.”

  His sensual mouth curved, as if he knew why she did not hold out her hand in greeting, much less her cheek.

  “I look forward to seven days of your company, señorita,” he said. “I can see this week will be pleasurable indeed.”

  His dark eyes gleamed with the promise of untold delights, and Annabelle’s breath quickened. He was so close she could feel the heat emanating from his skin. She felt vulnerable. Feminine. She felt a strange, deep longing to let herself go, to melt her tense body into his warmth and fire.

  Dear God, what madness had come over her? She had to get a grip! Even a legendary Spanish playboy couldn’t have this much power, this fast!

  She set her jaw. She would show both of them that she was no fool. Because she knew, however beautiful a playboy’s face might be, his soul was always selfish and cold. She’d learned that long ago.

  Annabelle drew back, glaring at him.

  “How flattering,” she said acidly. “But surely you don’t intend to spend the entire week with me, Mr. Cortez. I’v
e heard from multiple sources that your interest in a woman rarely lasts longer than a single night.”

  Annabelle waited for him to scowl at her rudeness, but to her chagrin he only looked amused.

  “In your case, Miss Wolfe,” he said softly, “I might make an exception.”

  Her heart leaped in her throat. She swallowed, trying to slow her quick, shallow breath.

  Do not trust his charm. Do not, she told herself fiercely.

  “I work best alone.” She raised her chin. “So thanks, but I won’t need your company. Or want it.”

  He blinked.

  Annabelle took a deep breath, remembered how hard Equestrian had fought to get this exclusive at Santo Castillo, and tried to modulate her tone. “Forgive me if that sounds harsh. I just don’t like to have anyone hovering over me as I work.” She tried to smile. “And I’m sure you have a great deal to do for your charity gala this weekend …”

  Abruptly, he lifted his hand toward her. She jumped back, wide-eyed and jittery as a colt. He frowned. “Allow me to carry your bag, Miss Wolfe.”

  Oh. So that was why he’d reached for her. A warm blush curled her cheeks. “That’s not necessary.”

  “You are my guest.”

  “Thank you, but I can manage my own equipment.”

  “Por supuesto. But it seems a great deal for one person.”

  “Usually I have an assistant …” Annabelle stopped, thinking of Marie who was now in Cornwall with her husband and newborn baby. She took a deep breath. “But I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. My photos of your ranch will be fine. The project will be fine. I work best alone,” she repeated.

  “So you said.” Stefano looked down at her, and she felt a bead of sweat break out between her breasts.

  “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you.” Her voice trailed off as she struggled to think of words that wouldn’t sound ridiculous. Like you want to rip off my clothes. Like you want to drink me for tea. Like you want to fling me over your shoulder, throw me