Unforgettable

by Joan Johnston

  “I will,” Joe promised.

  He couldn’t help seeing the love in Oliver’s eyes as Lydia’s brother reached out to take both of her hands in his. Oliver leaned down to kiss Lydia’s cheek, then chucked her under the chin and said, “Be good. And if you can’t be good, for heaven’s sake, be careful!”

  Lydia laughed, pulled her hands free, and used them to shoo her brother away. “Go! Get out of here! I’m sure you’ve got something you’re looking for somewhere. And we’ve got a shipment of gold bullion to find.”

  Oliver left without looking back. Once the door closed behind him, Lydia turned and pressed her face against Joe’s chest. He used his free hand to circle her shoulders and pull her close, sliding his hand up beneath her hair to capture her nape. “Are you all right?”

  She leaned back to look up at him and let out a shuddering breath. “That could have turned out a lot differently. I feel so . . . hopeful.”

  Joe knew what she meant. He felt the same thing, a sort of optimism about the future that he hadn’t felt when he’d arrived in Rome such a brief time ago. He leaned down to kiss Lydia, nibbling on her lips, sliding his tongue along the seam until she opened wide for him. His need grew as she returned the favor.

  As he kissed his way down her throat toward her breasts, Lydia tugged the sheet free and let it fall to the floor. In a sultry voice she said, “Time for bed.”

  Joe laughed and said, “Roger that.”

  Epilogue

  Bella sat on the patio of her villa in Greece watching the sun set on an azure sea. She was patting herself on the back at how well everything had turned out. Lydia was in love. And it seemed that Joe Warren was equally smitten.

  Bella couldn’t have chosen a better man for her only daughter than Lydia had chosen for herself. Not only was Joe Warren a man with tremendous strength of character, he also had the patience to deal with Bella’s often-wayward daughter.

  Lydia had spent the past forty-five days in Joe’s company, the two of them diligently searching for sixty million dollars in stolen gold bullion. Just today, Bella had seen a picture on the Internet of Lydia and Joe smiling happily at each other, the bullion stacked on a table in front of them. Now that they’d found the gold, Bella was convinced it wouldn’t be long before Joe declared himself.

  Two down. Three to go.

  Bella was counting down the days and weeks and months she had left to find spouses for her remaining unwed sons. Time was running short. Her heart had been even less reliable since her encounter in Rome with Bull.

  Making love to her husband—and clearing up the ten-year-long misunderstanding between them—had been a joy and a blessing. However, she’d been putting off getting together with Bull ever since, because she was certain that, once he discovered how really bad her heart was, Bull would insist that she rest.

  Bella couldn’t rest yet. She certainly hadn’t been idle over the past forty-five days. She’d contacted Joe Warren’s sister, Samantha, and insisted that the young woman come to Greece, so Bella could evaluate whether she wanted to continue using the services of Warren & Warren Investigations. That was a ploy, of course. Bella wanted to vet the young woman as a possible match for her son Riley. At any rate, Bella had provided the first class ticket, and Samantha had accepted the Duchess’s invitation.

  Bella smiled. Samantha would be arriving about the same time as Riley would be showing up for a visit. With any luck, Bella could convince Riley to help Samantha look for her missing father. That would give the two young people a chance to get better acquainted with each other—and perhaps to fall in love.

  “Your Grace?”

  Bella turned to find Emily with a folded blanket clutched to her chest. “I suppose you think I’m going to get a chill once the sun goes down if I don’t cover up.”

  “Yes, Your Grace, I do,” Emily said soberly.

  “Come on, then. Bring it here.”

  Emily had been particularly humorless since their return from Rome. Bella couldn’t imagine what had happened to make her assistant so glum, unless her large family was badgering her again. “Is everything all right with your brothers and sisters and your parents?” the Duchess asked.

  Emily spread the blanket over Bella and tucked it in around her legs. “My family is fine, Your Grace,” Emily replied in a dull voice.

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  If it was possible, Emily’s pale face got even paler.

  Bella patted the lounge chair beside her and moved her legs to make a space for Emily to sit down. “Come here and join me.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “I insist.”

  Once Emily was seated, Bella took the young woman’s warm hands in her very cold ones and asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Emily eased her hands free. “No. Nothing.”

  As Bella watched, a single tear slid down Emily’s cheek. “Oh, my dear!” Bella said. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

  Emily swiped at the tear and managed a wobbly smile. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s certainly something,” the Duchess said, “if it’s brought someone as strong as you to tears. Come on. Out with it.”

  “It’s just a little heartbreak,” Emily said with a rueful twist of her lips.

  “Ah,” the Duchess said. “The young man doesn’t return your feelings?”

  Emily shook her head. “No. He doesn’t.”

  “Who is this young man?” Bella asked. “Tell me his name so I can have him drawn and quartered.”

  Emily chuckled, then pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose. “You would be quite dangerous if we were living in medieval times.”

  “I don’t like to see you hurt,” Bella said in a quiet voice. “Is there any hope that the young man will change his mind about you?”

  Emily looked down at her hands, which clutched the handkerchief. “No chance at all.” She lifted her chin and added, “I’m in the mopes now, but I won’t allow it to last. I have a life to live, with or without him in it.”

  “Well said!”

  Emily rose, returned the hanky to her pocket, then smoothed her hands down the front of her dress. “Now I need to make sure your dinner is set on the table.” She turned and walked away without looking back.

  Bella eyed her assistant speculatively. It seemed she would have to live a little bit longer than she’d first thought. Not just three, but four to go. Her work would not be done until she’d found a man perceptive enough to realize that Emily Sheldon was a woman whose plain looks hid a generous, loving heart. Hmm. Now who could that man be?

  Acknowledgments

  I owe a great debt of gratitude to my sister, Joyce Mertens, for proofreading this manuscript. She did the soldier’s job of finding all my mistakes. I apologize for any that squeaked through our joint efforts to find and correct them.

  I especially want to thank Gail Nelson (www.e-book-design.com) for her willingness to work on a tight deadline to get Unforgettable formatted. You are the greatest, Gail!

  If you love the cover, thank Nancy November Sloane (nancy@zoomIQ2.com). I certainly do! I couldn’t have gotten this book written without Nancy’s capable assistance, along with the support of my amazing webmistress, Sally Schoeneweiss (sally@booktalk.com). They make it possible for me to write by keeping all the business elements of this business running smoothly.

  Finally, I want to thank you, the reader, for all your support over the twenty-eight years I’ve been writing romance novels. You’ve made me a top ten New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author, with more than fifteen million copies of my books in print.

  Most of all, your emails, which I personally read, provide the encouragement and support that keep me writing. You can always reach me through my website, www.joanjohnston.com or contact me at www.facebook.com/joanjohnstonauthor. I look forward to hearing from you!

  Dear Faithful Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed Unforgettable, the second book in my Benedict Brothers ser
ies of Bitter Creek novels. In case you missed it, the first book in that series, Invincible, is available wherever books are sold. Invincible features the Duchess of Blackthorne’s youngest son, Max Benedict, and FBI agent Kristin Lassiter.

  If you’d like to read about the British Benedicts’ American cousins, be sure to check out my paperback novel Outcast, also available wherever books are sold.

  My next novel, Sinful, the first in my King’s Brats series of Bitter Creek novels, will be available in stores as a paperback and online as an ebook in April 2015. Sinful will be followed later in the summer by the next book in the series, Shameless.

  I’m busy at work on the next Benedict Brothers novel, Irresistible, Riley Benedict and Samantha Warren’s story. Be sure to sign up for my mailing list at my website, www.joanjohnston.com to receive an e-newsletter announcing when new books will be available. You can also contact me personally through my website or at www.facebook.com/joanjohnstonauthor.

  Happy reading,

  Joan Johnston

  Excerpts

  Invincible

  Kristin was fighting tears by the time she got to her hotel room. She kicked off her shoes, threw herself onto the bed and hugged a pillow to her chest.

  I gave her a kiss for luck.

  Why hadn’t she asked Max to explain that kiss? How different things might have been! More to the point, why hadn’t she contacted Max when she found out she was pregnant? If he’d known they were going to have a child, would he have asked her to marry him? Would he have stepped up and done his share of the parenting?

  They’d been teenagers. Kids. Too young to marry. But still. They’d been good friends. He’d said he cared for her. She’d loved him. Maybe they could have made it. She would never know now. She’d never given him the chance.

  Max had been so angry with her tonight. She didn’t want to think what he might do if he found out she’d kept the existence of a daughter from him all these years. He wasn’t a boy anymore. If he ever found out about Flick, she didn’t think he would let her get away with running again.

  Was that what she was going to do? Run again?

  She’d worn the label invincible as a teen on the tennis court, but the truth was, she was a stronger person now than she’d been when those decisions were made. Of course, the self-confidence she’d gained raising a child on her own and pursuing a career that she loved had taken a battering over recent months. But she wasn’t anywhere near down and out. She still had plenty of fight left in her.

  Kristin swiped at her tears and headed into the bathroom to cleanse the makeup from her face with an inexpensive cold cream. After removing it with a tissue she rinsed with cold water. She looked at her face in the mirror, dripping with water, and didn’t like what she saw in her eyes.

  Defeat.

  The duchess had been wrong. She and Max had discussed what had gone awry between them in the past, but it hadn’t resolved anything. Except to make her feel like even more of a fool than she’d felt like ten years ago. Oh, how she wanted to pack her bags, collect her daughter and leave London!

  She patted her face dry instead.

  If she walked away, she would be leaving without the Blackthorne Rubies. She wanted–she needed–the financial security she would have if she stayed and played that stupid exhibition match.

  She resisted the urge to grab her suitcase. She brushed her teeth instead. Which left her staring at herself in the mirror again. And gave her far too much time to think.

  It had occurred to her, when she saw Max this morning and realized the powerful physical attraction between them was still there, and tonight, when she’d realized that she wasn’t the only one to be hurt by her childish behavior all those years ago, that she’d made a terrible mistake.

  She felt wretched, wishing she didn’t have to face Max again tomorrow. Especially knowing herself to be in the wrong.

  There was something special between us a long time ago. I believe it’s still there, beneath all the pain. Maybe Max and I could work through our differences. Maybe we could fall in love again. He could be a father to Flick and we could get married and live happily ever after.

  She scoffed. Talk about fairy tales. She might still be attracted to Max, but he obviously didn’t feel the same way. She’d seen him kiss Elena tonight. He might be a spy, but he was also still a playboy who used women like tissues and threw them away. She’d better settle for playing the damned exhibition match and not worry about living happily ever after. That special something–the spark between them–had been extinguished.

  Liar, liar, pants on fire, a little voice said. Max might be furious with you. And you might have ruined the possibility of ever living happily ever after with the decision you made to force him out of your life. But the sexual spark isn’t gone. He wants you. And, admit it, you want him. So why not seduce him and see what happens?

  The Cowboy

  by Joan Johnston

  Copyright 2000 by Joan Mertens Johnston, Inc.

  “Do you remember the last time we danced, Callie?” Trace asked as he moved her around the sawdusted wooden floor to the seductive country tune.

  Callie felt her heart skip a beat. She wondered if there was any significance to his question. The last time they had danced was in college, on Valentine’s Day. They had left the dance floor that night and driven out into the hill country to a spot along the Colorado River where they could be alone, with only the stars overhead and the cool grass beneath them.

  She remembered how much they’d laughed that night, how boyishly Trace had smiled at her in the moonlight, before he pulled her sweater up over her head, leaving her wearing only a plain white bra. It was the only time she had truly regretted being poor. She’d wished she had on some expensive French lingerie, something made of delicate lace that would make her beautiful for him.

  Trace hadn’t minded. He’d grinned and told her how glad he was that the bra clasp was at her back, because he had an excuse to put his arms around her. He’d made her feel beautiful without the need for rich, expensive things.

  That long, lazy night they had spent together on the banks of the Colorado, they’d loved one another with reverence and abandon and delight. She had become a woman in his arms that night. And they had created their son.

  “I remember,” she murmured.

  “I found you enchanting, Callie.” He turned her in a circle that forced their bodies close.

  Callie barely had time to register the fact that he’d phrased his compliment in the past tense before he added, “You look tired.”

  “It’s been a long day,” she said, aggravated that she could feel hurt that he no longer found her enchanting. She kept her eyes determinedly focused over his shoulder. She considered staying silent, but decided it would be safer to direct the conversation herself. “Congratulations on winning the bid on the number twenty-three animal. Smart Little Doc was a steal at $76,000.”

  “That colt you got wasn’t bad, either,” he said.

  “You mean the one colt you let me have.” Callie bit her tongue to keep from saying more.

  “I didn’t expect you to return after you left the stands,” Trace said. “Why did you?”

  “My father called me a quitter.”

  He hesitated, then said, “And you’re not?”

  “You left me, Trace, not the other way around.”

  “And now I’m back,” he said quietly.

  “You’ve been back nearly four months,” she said, her eyes flashing. “Today is the first I’ve seen of you. Am I supposed to fall at your feet—or into your bed? I’m a widow now, the mother of two children.”

  His jaw flexed. “I’m not likely to forget either condition. That doesn’t change the fact that I still find you desirable.”

  “But not enchanting?” Callie flushed as she realized what she’d revealed.

  “I never said you weren’t enchanting, Callie,” he said as he met her gaze. “I merely observed that you look tired, which you do. You’ve obviously
been working too hard. I could make life easier for you, if you’d let me.”

  “More Blackthorne charity?” I don’t need it, and I don’t want it.”

  “You may not want it. But you need it,” Trace contradicted.

  Callie refused to argue the point.

  “Since Dusty’s bum leg put him out of business, I need someone to train my new stud for the Futurity,” he said. “I’ll pay you a premium wage for your time and half the purse, if Smart Little Doc finishes in the top ten.”

  “I will never, ever work for you.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Callie.” He pulled her close so her breasts grazed his chest.

  She pushed at his shoulder, caught a neighbor watching with raised brows, and muttered, “Let me go, Trace.

  “The dance isn’t over, Callie.”

  He might as well have said, I’m not done with you. She’d gotten the message loud and clear. “We don’t know each other anymore, Trace. We might as well be strangers.”

  “I know you in every way there is for a man to know a woman.”

  “I’ve changed,” she said. “I’m not the girl who fell foolishly in love with you.”

  His eyes focused intently on her. “So much the better.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “That should be obvious.”

  His hand pressed against the small of her back, drawing her close enough to feel his hardness against her softness. A frisson of awareness streaked through her. She gasped, tried to catch the sound, but was too late.

  “Look at me, Callie,” he commanded.

  Callie tried to jerk free, but Trace tightened his hold. She raised her chin and glared at him. “Whatever we had between us is over and done.”

  “Not quite,” he said.

  She eyed him warily, her heart thumping crazily. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I haven’t had my fill of you.”