by Gwen Hayes
Her breath got stuck like it sometimes used to when she thought about leaving the old apartment. Only this wasn’t a panic attack, this was optimism.
He’d better be sure.
“I still don’t want to leave Port Grable,” she warned him. “I especially don’t want to go to a city. I don’t think that will ever change, even if I went to counseling twice a day. I won’t go with you to L.A. or Vancouver or any other place you shoot your movies.”
“That’s not a problem. When you’re ready—if you’re ready—we can take vacations in small, remote places. And my mom can just spend Christmas in Port Grable from now on.”
“I can’t promise I’ll stop Googling you when you leave town.”
“I wish that were half as dirty as it sounds.”
Charlie frowned. “I’m serious, Jeeves.”
“I’ll tell you what…if this is still a problem, say, ten years from now, we can agree to revisit the issue, okay? I’m betting I’ll have convinced you of my love and devotion by then. And that you will probably be booking me on frequent trips to get me out of your hair.”
His finger left her hair and traced the line of her bodice, lightly touching her skin.
“Does this mean you forgive me and we can get naked?”
“Not yet,” he said, even as his hand dipped beneath the fabric.
“What do you mean not yet? Do not tell me you are going to put more restrictions on this. I thought you said…whoa.” She forgot what she was going to say when his hand went inside her bra cup. Charlie blinked several times. “I left town,” she squeaked, as much of a protest as she could manage.
“I know you left town. And that’s amazing, Cleaver, really it is.” Jeeves pulled his hands back into his lap and waited.
Right. There was one more thing he wanted.
Charlie took a deep breath. So, one of People’s Sexiest Men Alive was sitting on the couch next to her waiting for her to profess her love. He was charming and handsome. He wrote her letters and shared custody of his dog. He seemed to be quite taken with her body, despite it being lumpier than the steady diet of supermodels he was used to. It seemed silly now to be concerned about that if he didn’t seem to be.
But he was also slick—too slick. He wanted everyone to like him, and because of that, he tried too hard to fit in. She’d have to watch that.
Jeeves squinted at her. “I can practically see you ticking off your pros versus cons list in your head. Am I winning?”
“I love you,” she said in a rush, before her fear could swallow the words back up. “Even though I find you ridiculous most of the time.”
“Oh baby, you say the sweetest things,” he answered, pulling the hem of his shirt up and over his head.
Sweet heat flooded her skin with a rush of sensation. Jeeves might be a dork, but he was a very well put together dork. And any second now, she was going to touch him.
Any second.
Charlie bit her lip and held one tentative hand toward his chest.
Jeeves raised his eyebrow and grinned at her salaciously. Then, he shook his head. “Darlin’, if you think we’re going slow and sweet after six months of foreplay, you’re delusional.”
And then he was on her. Jeeves had more hands than anatomy allowed for. His mouth was hot, crushing her into kisses that scorched her from the inside out. He whispered words of love, interspersed with some pretty creative words of lust. Best of all, he shivered when she finally touched him.
And that was so not a roll of breath mints in his pocket.
Author’s Note
Sam, Myrtle’s husband, gardener, and handyman, won the betting pool at Mel’s Tavern. He figured the first day of spring was a pretty good bet—plus he knew how to break and repair his own water pipes. He gave his winnings to his wife to use for a spa day.
About the Author
Gwen Hayes lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, children, and the pets that own them. She writes fiction for teens and adults about love, angst, and saving the world. You can find more information about Gwen at www.gwenhayes.com.
Look for these titles by Gwen Hayes
Now Available:
The Fallen
Oh Goddess
Love may overcome dark family secrets…but a grieving ghost could fire the final shot.
Ain’t No Sunshine
© 2011 Selah March
A Come Rain or Come Shine Story
Boone Butler can shut out the memories that made him a war hero, but he’s compelled to follow the Sorrowful Angel’s mournful wails back to Harlan County, Kentucky. They can only mean one thing: Delia’s in trouble. Even if it’s been over between them for twelve long years, she can’t stop him from seeing her safe.
Delia Concannon isn’t sure if the cries she’s been hearing in Bogey Holler are echoes of the past, or portents of more heartache in her future. All she can do is keep running her diner and wait for the next in a long string of misfortunes that started when she fell for Boone. Their love began despite their families’ longstanding feud—and ended when Boone’s brother murdered her father.
Now Boone has come knocking on her door.
One look, and Boone remembers why loving her was worth defying his family. He still has nothing to offer a woman like her, but he can’t stand seeing her living in the shadow of rising danger. Delia’s not running, though. Even when the Angel’s cries grow louder…
Warning: Contains a snarky best friend, her cantankerous grandmother, a hard-headed hero with a soft heart, too many pick-up trucks to count, and one mention of fried okra.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Ain’t No Sunshine:
Delia was standing at her stove, applying a squeeze bottle of chocolate syrup to a pan of simmering milk, when Boone Butler walked back into her life.
She knew his shadow against the screen like she knew the shape of her own hand. That same loose, easy stance belied by the tense set of his shoulders, and the way he ducked his head at her approach, appearing almost shy till you caught the bright glint of danger in his eyes.
“Well, look at you,” she said and pushed open the door, stepping barefoot onto the porch. A sudden wave of been-here-done-this washed over her, strong enough to make her eyes water. All at once she was seventeen again, face-to-face with the only boy who’d ever made her look twice.
He whispered her name as if that single word was all he could manage. The few feet of space between them seemed too far to bridge, like the distance between stars. When he reached out his hand to touch her cheek, she stepped into it, turning her face into the heat of his palm.
“Delia,” he said again, and then his mouth was against hers, quick and clumsy, as if he’d never kissed a woman before. Still, she felt the slow twist of desire in the pit of her stomach, and a flutter in her throat that stole her breath. He pulled away and grinned—that righteous, go-to-hell grin she still saw in her dreams—and in that instant she wanted nothing more than to let him chase her down the path of her own destruction.
“Hope I didn’t wake you,” he said and she laughed out loud. Sleeping Beauty she’d never be, but if she were cold and dead in her grave, Boone’s kiss would rouse her. She knew it for a fact.
From somewhere far away, she heard a splash and a hiss, and remembered where she was.
“My cocoa’s boiling over,” she told him. “Come on inside.”
She felt his eyes on her as he followed her into the house, and the sensation made her keenly aware of the shortness of her robe and the bareness of her legs. While she cleaned up the mess on the stove, he wandered around her kitchen, running his fingertips over the shape of every canister and examining the toaster as if he’d never seen one before. Finally, she tossed the dirty rag into the sink and turned to face him, her arms folded over her chest in a defensive gesture she already knew was completely useless.
Boone was staring at her like she was the last working source of light in a fifty-mile radius. “You look good, Delia.”
“Do I?�
�� Maybe he hadn’t noticed the faint lines at her eyes, or the extra pound or two at her hips, or how the difference between seventeen and twenty-nine might as well have been a lifetime. “Why are you here, Boone?”
He glanced away, and she knew the next words out of his mouth would be a lie.
“Just passing through,” he said, careless and offhand. “Thought I’d stop by and see how you’re getting along.”
“Passing through?” She sounded half-witted, parroting his words as if she didn’t have any of her own. But she couldn’t seem to absorb the fact of him standing in her kitchen, tall and solid—broader through the shoulders and thicker at the biceps than she remembered—and most definitely not a dream.
He shrugged. “I’ve got a job coming up in Atlanta next month organizing security for some politician and his family. I thought maybe…”
He stopped and pressed his lips together like he’d said more than he’d meant to. Her own lips tingled where he’d kissed her. She wanted to ask him a million things, but mostly she wanted to close the distance between them and run her fingers over the rough stubble on his jaw. A second kiss wasn’t out of the question, either. They’d do it right this time. She’d see to it.
He lifted his head and sniffed the air. “What’s that I smell? Not the cocoa—something else?”
“I fried up a mess of okra for yesterday’s supper.”
He squinted at her. “You make that with tomatoes?”
She nodded, undone by the bizarre turn in the conversation. “Balsamic vinegar, a little lemon juice, salt and pepper.”
“Sounds good. You’ll have to write that down for me.”
She couldn’t help laughing. “A tough guy like you does his own cooking?”
“A man’s gotta eat to live.” He reached out and swiped at a dribble of chocolate syrup she’d left on the counter. “And not by bread alone, or so they say.”
She watched him suck the syrup off the pad of his thumb and felt her body flush with heat from the bottom up. His eyes sparked against hers, flint to tinder, and she had to look away.
“Tell me why you’re here, Boone.”
He went still, leaning against the edge of the counter and staring at the floor. “I don’t know,” he said.
It sounded like the truth.
She took the pan off the stove, set it in the sink, and filled it with warm water to loosen the burnt milk. When she’d finished, she turned to him again.
“I waited for you.” She dried her hands on a dishtowel and hung it on its hook next to the stove. “You remember? You asked me to wait, and I did.”
It was the last thing he’d said to her before his cousin had dragged him away, muttering something about trouble in town with Boone’s brother, Gilley.
“Wait for me,” he’d said, and she had. Long after he’d enlisted in the army, long after Granny’s charm had left her hollow-eyed and spitting blood, she’d waited. Five years, to be exact—which, in the lifetime of a girl who’d never been past the state border in any direction, counted as almost forever.
The look he gave her now went straight to her heart, opening a fracture she’d believed was mended with solid concrete.
“You shouldn’t have waited,” he said. “I never should’ve asked you. It was never any good, you and me.”
It’s bad enough losing the wedding rings, let alone your heart…
Something Blue
© 2011 Serenity Woods
A Come Rain or Come Shine Story
Josh Hamnett is best man at his mate’s wedding, and he’s determined that nothing’s going to go wrong on the big day. That’s before ex-girlfriend Kate Summerton appears in the church, looking mouthwateringly good in her tight red satin dress. Her maid of honor’s dress.
Ceremony, reception, speeches, the first dance…he’s got to go through them all by the side of the woman who still haunts his dreams. And to top it off, she’s not wearing any underwear.
Their break-up three years ago was explosive, and Kate was sure she’d never forgive how he behaved. But now all the memories are coming back—the good as well as the bad. As their wedding duties keep throwing them into each other’s company, Kate can’t ignore the resurging chemistry between them—or the nagging thought that maybe, this could be the start of a second chance.
Warning: Contains sexual chemistry hot enough to turn sand to glass—best read while wearing oven gloves and dark shades.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Something Blue:
“Kate, promise me you won’t get drunk tonight and do something you’ll regret.”
Kate looked across at Becca. They were standing outside the reception hall, waiting for Alex to join them and start welcoming the guests. “I’m accident prone when I’m not drunk and in three-inch heels—do you really think I’m going to enhance my special abilities, especially on your wedding day?”
“I’m just saying…”
“Becca, you don’t have to. Honestly, nothing’s going to happen tonight. That relationship ended a long, long time ago. I have no intention of starting it up again, even if it was possible, which it’s not.”
The bride snorted. “I saw the way you looked at him—as if he was an ice lolly and you wanted to lick—”
“Becca!”
“Deny it. Tell me you weren’t thinking about him in bed.”
“I…can’t.” Kate pouted. “He’s hot and he was really, really good at it.”
She turned and took Becca’s hands, looking her in the eye. “But I’m not stupid. Well, not completely. We didn’t end well, Becs. I know I’ve told you before, but it wasn’t an amicable parting. I don’t want to dredge it all up again, and I don’t want a re-enactment. It was kind of nice to see him again, but you haven’t got anything to worry about.” She smiled. “Now come on, this is your big day and all we’re talking about is me. You’ve got to greet your guests and have a fantastic time—please don’t let me spoil it.”
“Oh, Kate, you’re not spoiling it at all.” Becca’s eyes went suspiciously glassy. “I just so want you to be happy and find what I have. You deserve it—you’re such a nice person. I’m so glad you’re my friend, and that you came all the way out here for me.”
“Of course I did. I couldn’t not come to the wedding of my best friend.” Kate’s own tears spilled over and the two women hugged.
“Oh yes,” said Josh as he and Alex walked over. He admired the two women, who were wrapped around each other. “Very nice. Don’t let us stop you.”
They broke apart, both glaring at him, and he grinned. “Guests are ready.” He bent to kiss Becca’s cheek. “You look ravishing, sweetheart.”
She hugged him and he shook hands with Alex before grabbing Kate’s hand. “Come on.” He strode off, pulling her into the reception hall with him.
“Will you let go?” She tugged on his hand, forcing him to stop.
He kept his fingers tight on hers, however, enjoying touching her. “We need to check the top table and make sure everything’s in order.”
“You can do that—I need to visit the Ladies’.” She yanked her hand out of his. “You can’t order me around just because we once went out together.”
He looked at her blankly. “I order everyone around. You’re not getting special treatment.”
She glared at him. “Where are we sitting? I swear, if I’m next to you, I’m going to take off my knickers and strangle myself with them.”
He stopped in his tracks and turned her to face him. “Seriously? You’re not going commando? Damn it. Talk about pop a guy’s bubble.” He looked at her butt and gave her a hard stare. “Wait a minute… There’s no way you’re wearing anything under that dress.”
He could tell by the way she blushed that he was right. He smirked.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” she said icily.
“Nope.”
He had meant the remark to be funny, but he saw the amusement fade from her eyes. He knew she was thinking how difficult it had been at the end of
their relationship. The accusations they’d thrown at each other. The cruel things they’d said. He would give his right arm to be able to wipe their memories clean. But it was too late, it was all said and done and that boat had long since sailed.
“No hard feelings.” He brushed her arm. “It’s nice to see you. You look good and I was just window shopping.”
She gave a small smile. “You look good too. That suit suits you. If you know what I mean.”
“I do. But every dude looks good in a tux.”
She shrugged. “But you more than most.”
He studied her face, noticing she had new smile lines at the corner of her mouth and more freckles across her nose. “That was never a problem, was it? Being attracted to each other, I mean.”
“No. That was the least of our worries.”
“Okay.” He sighed. “I’d better start showing people where to sit.”
She nodded. “We’re both at the top table, I guess.”
“You are next to me, you know.”
She started to walk away, then turned back. “Well, I can’t strangle myself. As you know, I’m not wearing any knickers.”
Born to protect women’s hearts, her own beats longingly for a mortal. Oops…
Oh Goddess
© 2009 Gwen Hayes
Ondina, one thousand years a goddess, doesn’t think much of mortal men. Probably because her sole purpose in life is to protect the hearts of women who don’t want to fall in love. And now one of those blasted men—Jack—has shattered her sacred chalice, trapping her in a mortal body.
Jackson Nichols, on the partner track at his law firm, is the first to admit he always follows his head. Never his heart. Dina is infuriating, messy, condescending, sexy, beautiful and…well, just about everything that doesn’t fit into his meticulously planned life.
