The Winner Takes It All

by Jennifer Dawson

  Gracie let out a loud, abandoned laugh, startling him from his thoughts in time to watch Evan pull a tipsy Gracie into his lap. She tried to pull away, but Evan held her tight. She laughed, pushing at his arms. James shot them a dark, thunderous look before he got up from the table and walked away, disappearing down the hallway.

  Shane shifted his attention back to Gracie, who smiled that dazzling smile at Evan, but her gaze lingered on where James had gone.

  Shane sighed. Something would need to be done about that soon.

  His mom, happy, her cheeks pink with pleasure, sat down next to him. She patted his hand, her eyes going bright. “You’re a good boy.”

  He smiled, his throat feeling a touch tight. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Did I thank you for sending me to Ireland?” she asked, her tone almost girlish from all the champagne she’d drunk.

  He grinned at her. “Only about a million times.”

  “Your daddy would be so proud of you.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “He always said you were the right combination of smart and brave. That once you set your mind to it, you could do anything. And he was right. Look at you. Look at what you’ve become.”

  His chest squeezed. “I didn’t know he said that. He always yelled at me for being a fuck-up.”

  His mom slapped his arm. “Language! Well, sure he yelled at you for not applying yourself, but in private . . .” A smile ghosted her lips as if she was remembering something fond and wistful. “But in private he used to say, ‘Shannon, I know I should worry about that boy, but I don’t. He’s gonna be just fine.’”

  Shane had never known that. Maybe Cecilia was right after all. Maybe he’d always had it in him. Maybe he didn’t need to feel guilty about only making something of himself on the back of his father’s death. “You don’t think I became like this because he died?”

  Her brow furrowed, her expression turning puzzled. “Now why would you think a silly thing like that?”

  He shrugged. “Because I was a fuck-up.”

  She narrowed her gaze as though contemplating correcting him again, but then she grinned, a loopy, buzzed grin that shaved fifteen years from her face. “You were always as stubborn as a mule. Maybe it would have taken awhile longer for you to find your way, but once you latched on to something, you never let it go. That’s just the way you were made.”

  He was going to have to let Cecilia go.

  More than anything he wanted to go at her like a bulldozer, knocking some sense into her until she had no more fight in her and she was forced to agree with him. But he couldn’t do that, not this time. He needed her to be the one thing he didn’t have to beat into submission.

  And that wasn’t going to happen.

  He gave his mom’s hand a quick squeeze. “Dad taught me everything I know.”

  She scoffed, waving a hand. “Except for money. Neither one of us was ever any good at that. I have no idea where you got your money sense.”

  “You gave us a strong family. That’s better than money.”

  “I guess we did that right.” She took a sip of whiskey, served in honor of the bride, and pointed at her daughter. “She won’t run this time.”

  “Nope, not a chance.”

  Shannon tilted her head, studying Mitch. “He’s a good man.”

  Shane looked at his brother-in-law. He was family now.

  It was odd. Maddie’s first fiancé had been around for years, but he never belonged the way Mitch did. “Yeah, he is.”

  She patted his hand again. “And if he ever hurts her, I know you’ll take care of it.”

  He laughed for the first time in what felt like a year. “I will, but he won’t.” The guy would move heaven and earth to make his sister happy.

  As if he heard Shane, Mitch put a palm at the base of Maddie’s spine and leaned in, whispering something in her ear. Her face turned up to him and she stood on tiptoes, sliding her hand around his neck and bringing him close for a kiss.

  Shane shook his head. They really were disgusting to watch.

  His mom waved her drink, toasting the couple in her own private way. “One down, three to go.”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

  She huffed. “A woman can dream. Here I am, all of my kids in their thirties and still no grandchildren. I’m the only one of all my friends without a little one.”

  In feigned sympathy, he clucked his tongue. “Poor thing, how can you go on?”

  She laughed.

  The door opened and Cecilia walked in, knocking all the air out of his lungs in one fell swoop.

  She looked un-fucking-believable.

  She wore a gray-blue sleeveless dress that matched her eyes, skimmed over her body, and ended at indecent length on her thighs. Her legs were endless, long and lean, and she wore sky-high sandals. Hair piled haphazardly on top her head, loose tendrils spilled out, framing her high cheekbones.

  She was glowing. Radiant.

  He wanted to storm over there and demand to know why the hell she looked so good when he felt like utter crap. He tightened his fingers around his glass.

  “I don’t remember Cecilia being so pretty,” his mom said next to him, but her voice was like a fog. “She’s very beautiful. Like a movie star.”

  His mom had no idea she twisted a knife in his gut. He managed to mumble, “Yeah, she is.”

  Cecilia’s gaze searched the room, finally coming to rest on him.

  He’d thought it was the blood rushing in his ears that silenced the room, but then he realized everyone had stilled, looking at them.

  Her expression flickered when she saw him and then she began walking toward him.

  He could do nothing but stare, eating her up with his gaze. It didn’t matter how much he told himself she wasn’t his, when he looked at her, in his heart, she was.

  He could barely pull air into his lungs by the time she stood in front of him. He had to curl his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her. To keep from running his hands up those smooth thighs. He knew just what they felt like under his fingers. How she shuddered when he touched her.

  He met her gaze, direct on his. Her porn-star lips were glossy and pink and he tried not to think about how his cock looked between them and failed. He nodded. “Cecilia.”

  “Shane,” she said, then turned to his mother, smiling. “Mrs. Donovan. It’s lovely to see you.”

  “You too, dear,” Shannon said, glancing quizzically at Shane.

  “Did you have a nice trip?” Cecilia inquired, confusing him. What was she talking about?

  His mom nodded. “It was lovely.”

  Shane shook his head to get blood back in his brain. Was she making polite chitchat?

  “Wonderful,” Cecilia said before turning to Shane. “Did you get an e-mail today from the city planner?”

  Confounded by the direction of the conversation, he nodded. “Yes.”

  Her throat worked as she swallowed, as if she was nervous, even though her expression conveyed nothing but confidence. “And? Did he stop giving you a hard time?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “What the hell is going on, Cecilia?”

  She straightened. “Did he agree to the terms of the contract?”

  “Yes, but—”

  She cut him off. “Did the contract get sent to your legal department?”

  Why did he have a bad feeling about this? He glanced around and found everyone watching them with avid interest. He frowned.

  From across the room, Penelope called out, “He put a rush on it. The contract will be signed next week.”

  “Thank you,” Cecilia said, smiling at Penelope. Cecilia reached into her small purse and pulled out her cell phone, flipping through the screens before handing it to him.

  He read a text message from her father.

  It’s done. You’re free.

  A thousand questions pouring through his mind, he looked at her. “What have you done?”

  “Only what I promised.” She tr
ailed a finger down his cheek, her touch sending a shudder through him. “You asked me a question the other day and I lied. Will you ask me again?”

  He’d didn’t need any clarification. He knew the one. “Do you love me, Cecilia?”

  She smiled, leaned down, twining her hand around his neck. “Yes, I do.”

  Relief, swift and powerful, swept through him. The world spun crazy for a fraction of a second before righting itself. All the missing pieces clicked into place and finally she felt like his. He ran his hands up her thighs, not caring that everyone watched them or that his mother sat right next to him, staring with her mouth agape.

  “Tell me.” He needed to hear the words.

  Her hands tightened, as though afraid to let him go. “I love you, Shane Donovan.”

  “I love you too.” And then he kissed her.

  Forgetting everyone and everything except for this woman who completed him. She was his equal in every way. The one who would walk through fire for him, and, from what he pieced together, had.

  In the distance he heard clapping and whistles, and he pulled away to whisper against her lips. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Yes, we certainly do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Cecilia posed for another picture with her new sister-in-law as Shane watched her from a table, surrounded by his family. He laughed, but as always, his gaze sought her out anytime she was out of his reach.

  She beamed, winking at him.

  She’d done it. She’d saved him. Saved them. Not that he was thankful. When she’d told him the whole story, she’d thought he’d burst a blood vessel. He’d yelled and ranted for fifteen minutes until she’d gotten bored and finally calmed him down by, well, going down. She giggled. He’d been pretty sedate after that.

  Maddie elbowed her. “What are you laughing about?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Between smiles she said, “Are you sure you don’t mind the DJ changing the song?”

  “Nope.” Maddie forgot the pose and grinned at her. “Right now I’d do anything for you for making my brother so happy.”

  “The pleasure is all mine.” She shivered, remembering last night. They’d gone to a motel instead of back to the house. A seedy, roadside pit that was the crassest place she’d ever stepped foot in. But it had a bed. A big bed they’d put to good use, where they got to be as loud as they wanted.

  And they’d been loud. Like, embarrassingly loud.

  She’d loved it.

  The director came out of the reception hall and nodded to Maddie. She squeezed Cecilia’s elbow. “It’s time.”

  She grabbed the bouquet of flowers and walked over to Shane, smoothing down her pale green bridesmaid’s dress. “That’s our cue.”

  Over the speakers the DJ announced, “And now a dance with the lucky couple who caught the garter and bouquet.”

  Shane and Cecilia took a spot on the dance floor. He wrapped his arms around her.

  The song came on. “Ho Hey” by The Lumineers. He stepped in perfect time, taking the lead. She let him, because that’s how it was with them. Sometimes he took the lead, and sometimes she did. They balanced each other out.

  Lashes fluttering, she flirted up at him. “I picked this song for you.”

  “Did you now?” His hands skimmed over her skin, making her shiver.

  He smiled, leaning down to nuzzle her neck.

  “I think they planned this,” she whispered, melting into him.

  He laughed. “What was your first clue? When they threw it right to us? Or when they all stepped back?”

  She grinned. “They were very subtle.”

  The chorus came on and she sang along with it.

  He cupped her chin, running a thumb over her cheek. “Of course, she sings.”

  “Only for you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

  He brushed his mouth over hers. “You’re mine now.”

  “I always was.”

  “I’ve been thinking,” he said, his green eyes gleaming. “The other day when I was running with Jimmy I spotted a FOR SALE sign a couple houses down.”

  She pulled back to see if he was serious. “You want to buy a house here?”

  “Yeah, I do. A second home where we could relax and be with family. The house is a wreck, a total teardown, but I like the thought of building something for us from scratch. What do you think?”

  Her throat closed over. Between crying, laughing, and smiling, the muscles in her neck ached, but it was so worth it. He was worth it. “Do I get to help?”

  “I don’t know. Are you going to argue with me?”

  She slipped into that ice-queen mask for old times’ sake, and said in her haughtiest tone, “Of course.”

  “Brat.” He pinched her.

  “I love the idea.”

  “Good, because I definitely like summer Cecilia.”

  She laughed, kissing him. “Oh, she’s here to stay.”

  His teeth scraped the side of her neck. “Is it time to leave yet?”

  “No,” she said, her body heating.

  “Please,” he whispered, his breath hot in her ear. “I haven’t been inside you for a whole six hours. It’s been torture.”

  “I saw a supply closet where we could rectify that.”

  A rumble of appreciation.

  She bit his ear lobe. “I’m not wearing any panties.”

  He jerked up. “Song’s over, come on.”

  She laughed as he hustled her off the dance floor, the last notes of the song playing in the background.

  Like the song said, she finally belonged. To him. To her. To them.

  She stopped, tugged his arm, and when he turned around, she flung herself at him in a fierce kiss. Surrendering to him and falling open-armed into the future.

  When they broke apart she whispered, “I love you.”

  “I love you too, baby.” He walked backward, tugging her hand, smiling.

  With him, there was never a price. He came for free.

  And he was hers.

  Craving Something New?

  Keep reading for an excerpt from

  THE NAME OF THE GAME,

  the next novel in

  Jennifer Dawson’s fantastic series.

  Available in Fall, 2015.

  “How can you drink that stuff?” Gracie Roberts wrinkled her nose at the offending protein shake in James Donovan’s hand. Of course, his drink of choice wasn’t her business, but whenever she was around the stuffy professor for more than five seconds she couldn’t resist the urge to antagonize him. In her defense, as a baker, his obsession with health food went against her nature.

  How could you trust a man who didn’t eat sugar?

  One brown brow rose as he stared at her, not speaking. Behind black, wire-rimmed frames, his cool evergreen eyes studied her in a way that she could only describe as dismissive. A look he’d given her since the first day they’d met. At thirty-three, she’d rarely met a person she didn’t like. Since she’d been a little girl she loved people and people loved her right back.

  That was, until she’d met one Professor Donovan.

  Living hundreds of miles away meant she should be able to avoid him, but he came with her best friends and was therefore impossible to escape. And since Gracie loved her friends, she was stuck with James. Now she was spending one of her few weekends off helping Cecilia move and enduring the presence of her nemesis.

  She sighed. The things she suffered for friendship.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “What are you looking at?”

  A flickering glance. “Not a thing.”

  She tried her best not to engage in battle, but everything about him this morning irritated her, and she couldn’t help it. Normally, whenever she had the misfortune of being in his company, he wore some shade of tan slacks and a polo shirt that made him look like a customer service rep for Geico. The geekwear, as she dubbed it, minimized all those hard, lean muscles he worked so hard to hone.


  His boring apparel was one of the few things she appreciated about him.

  But today, he wore jeans and a vintage-inspired, faded blue, Empire Strikes Back T-shirt. In theory, the shirt should be classified as geekwear, but he wore it far too well. The color made his green eyes pop and called attention to his sharp, high cheekbones. The cotton stretched over his broad chest and flat abs. Abs she’d had the misfortune of seeing whenever he ran along the river in back of her house, and abs that certainly didn’t belong on a professor of forensic anthropology.

  To her annoyance he looked kind of hot. That was, for a complete nerd.

  Aggravated at the very thought, she planted her hands on her hips and glared at the offending drink. “Why don’t you drink chalk? I’m sure it tastes better.”

  “This drink contains the perfect blend of protein, carbohydrates, and vitamins.” James eyed the powdered-sugar doughnut resting on a paper plate at her fingertips. “Which is more than I can say for that fried, sugary monstrosity you’re calling a breakfast.”

  Ha! How dare he? Doughnuts were universally loved. Only sickos and crazies didn’t like them. Gracie opened her mouth to blast him, but before she could, his older brother came to his rescue.

  Shane held out his hands in the big, expansive kitchen like a referee breaking up a couple of prizefighters. “Let’s not start another round of the food wars. It never ends well and it’s going to be a long day.”

  Next to him, Cecilia nodded. “We appreciate the help this weekend, but it’s only been an hour and you’ve bickered nonstop.”

  Disgruntled, Gracie pointed at him. “He started it.”

  James gave her a disapproving scowl he reserved specifically for her. “You started it. I was standing here minding my own business.”

  “You insulted my doughnut!” A stray blond curl flopped into her eye and she pushed it back behind her ear even though it never stayed put.

  “After you turned your nose up at my shake.” He crossed his arms over his chest and his biceps rippled.

  For a second, the corded muscles running the length of his arms distracted her, but she quickly shook the image away and snorted. “Shake! That’s an insult to shakes. Real shakes are made with actual ice cream. And I’m not talking low fat frozen yogurt either. I’m talking—”