'Til the End of Time: A Loveswept Contemporary Romance

by Iris Johansen

  Too bad she couldn’t cut across the piers to get home—it would have been much faster. But she’d promised the Millers she’d look at the play structure and she always kept her promises. As she turned into the park, for the briefest of moments, she had the uneasy feeling of being watched.

  Brushing off the prickle of unease, Julie picked up her pace. Tall trees surrounding the entrance to the park loomed over her, causing the dusky gloom to close in. Soon, she reached the children’s playground in a small clearing. At the jungle gym, she saw a sharp piece of metal poking out the side about two feet off the ground. There was no obvious rust, but she’d call Dr. Walsham all the same to determine whether Billy should get a booster. Gingerly, she bent over and touched it with one hand. It moved slightly. Maybe she could break it off. Grasping it with both hands, she strained for a few moments against the metal, trying to work the piece free.

  “Ma’am, are you aware you’re defacing public property?”

  Julie was so surprised at the firm male voice behind her that she let go. She would have fallen back onto the wood chips, but instead she fell backwards into something much more solid.

  Strong hands grabbed her under her rib cage and lifted her as if she weighed nothing. Julie gasped as those same strong hands landed on her shoulders, spinning her around. She tried to see the man’s face, but the shadows hid his features. All of her senses immediately went on high alert, attuned to the danger of standing in a deserted, darkened park with an unknown man.

  “Are you aware you nearly scared me half to death?” she retorted, backing away from him. Maybe not the wisest thing to say when standing in the dark with a stranger, but it was either give him some smart-ass retort or scream her head off.

  “Julia, Julia, Julia,” the man said. His voice was like whisky, deep and smooth, with just a hint of mirth. “I’m sure you’re doing something Good Samaritan–like, so why don’t you tell me what’s going on and we can call it a night?”

  There was only one person she knew who could sound that authoritative and commanding without even trying. Her eyes narrowed. “Cole Grayson?”

  Slowly, the man moved out of the shadows, and when she saw his face, Julie’s breath caught in her throat. She’d been right.

  It was Cole, the boy who’d haunted her dreams since high school.

  Her track teammates had gushed over the Grayson boys—Seb mostly, due to his looks and charm. But Seb’s smooth, entitled attitude had always rubbed her the wrong way. She had been tempted to write all of the Graysons off, but as much as she hadn’t wanted to admit it, there was something about Cole that got to her.

  With his rakish grin, deep blue eyes, and tousled black hair, Cole had epitomized everything that was sexy about a boy on the verge of manhood. Back then, he’d been lean and sinewy, a stripling yet to have filled out, but oh so desirable. Since he’d returned to Star Harbor, the ante had been upped. He wasn’t just desirable anymore—he was smoking hot.

  Standing well over six feet tall, he looked like something out of a magazine. Beneath his black leather jacket and slim jeans it was obvious he was in impeccable shape. Time had fine-tuned the planes of his face from boyish sexiness to full-blown sensuality. His hair was still a glossy black and was slightly too long to be considered clean cut. A swath of it fell across his broad forehead, nearly dangling into his eyes. Those hooded blue eyes promised excitement—and danger—if one were stupid enough to get too close. He had a slight scar high on his right cheekbone that Julie didn’t remember him having back then.

  And his lips were luscious—ripe and full of promise. The first lips she’d ever tasted.

  Julie dragged her gaze away and glanced back to his eyes, just catching the tail end of the once-over he’d given her. Now, he gave her a long, deep stare. The change hadn’t all been physical. He had a hardness to him that hadn’t been there when he was younger. My God, the man was sizzling! And dangerous. Very, very dangerous.

  “Cole Grayson in the flesh,” he said, as if he knew exactly what was going through her mind.

  Like it always did when she was around Cole, a familiar warmth began to build, low and insistent, in her core. She nearly groaned aloud. Cole was the distraction she really didn’t need. Not now. Not when she could almost taste the sweetness of a successful year of practice. Unlike last year—a financial disaster due to startup costs and time-management issues—this year, she was in the black. And she wanted to keep it that way. She couldn’t let up. With the busy summer season coming up in a few short months, she should be financially solvent by the end of this calendar year. Besides, getting involved with a man like Cole Grayson would practically guarantee heartbreak.

  “You completely freaked me out!” she accused, happier to be on the offensive when it came to Cole.

  “Sorry. That definitely wasn’t my intent.” He crossed his arms over his wide chest and eyed her speculatively. “As long as we’re here now, maybe you’d like to tell me why you’ve been dodging me.”

  “I’ve been working,” she said.

  “So have I. But I still manage to have some fun.”

  “I get out.” Sometimes.

  “Sure. To the obligatory events. You came to Halloween on the Green, but left as soon as night fell.”

  “I needed a good night’s sleep.” She’d been exhausted from her full patient load.

  “And at Seb and Lexie’s wedding, you skipped out as soon as dinner was over.”

  She shrugged, thinking it was interesting that he’d noticed. “I had clinic the next day.”

  “I was saving a slow dance for you. Dancing is—you know—fun.” His lips curled up at the edges.

  Julie remembered how good he’d looked at that wedding, his broad shoulders filling out a well-cut suit, and all that warm heat intensified and began to course through her body. Cole was so not the fun she needed right now. “Look,” she said, trying to get the conversation back on track, “I just had to do an emergency procedure on a little boy who was hurt on this thing today.” She gestured toward the play structure.

  Cole immediately snapped into sheriff mode. “I see. I’ll send Luke Bedwin over in the morning. He’s got some tools that he can use to square off and solder this piece of metal. At least that way no other kids will get hurt until the Parks Department can take care of it.”

  Exactly what she was going to suggest. Great way to end the conversation. “Good. Then my work here is done.” Julie turned to walk away.

  Cole reached out casually to touch her upper arm, stopping her in her tracks. “Wait a sec. I’ll walk you home.”

  “Excuse me,” she said stiffly, trying to ignore the jolt of energy lancing through her. And then, to her chagrin, she shivered visibly.

  “Hey, you’re cold,” he said gently. “Here.” He pulled off his leather jacket and draped it around her shoulders before she could protest. Julie was enveloped in the warm smells of leather and musk. She realized that she was smelling him.

  Underneath the jacket he wore a snug, white long-sleeved T-shirt. Julie tried not to stare at his muscular chest, which looked even larger now that it was uncovered. “Th-thank you,” she managed to stammer. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so off-kilter, a weird combination of desire and resistance she couldn’t quite get a handle on.

  “It’s getting dark. Who knows who could be out here? Like I said, I’ll walk you home,” Cole stated firmly. He was still acting like a lawman, and his tone suggested that he was used to being followed without question.

  Oh, no, no, no. Cole walking her home was not a good idea. She was a busy woman. Too busy to mess around with a guy like Cole Grayson, with his sexy-as-sin smile. “No, thanks. I’ll get your jacket back to you tomorrow.” The sooner she got away from him, the better. Julie turned away and started walking through the park.

  “Mmmm … no,” Cole said as he fell into step beside her. “You’re just going to have to get used to me.”

  Not likely. He was gorgeous. Too gorgeous. And boy, did h
e know it!

  Julie stole a sideways glance at him, then slid her eyes quickly back. Her heart was beating too rapidly in her chest. She was breathless, dizzy—like seasickness, but without the sick. Whatever it was, it was bad news.

  Who was she kidding? This was why she’d done her best to ignore him ever since he’d moved back to Star Harbor. Because her body betrayed her whenever he was around, just like it had so long ago when he’d stolen that kiss. At least then, she’d been able to keep her reaction in check. If you called slapping his face “in check.” Now, they were both adults, and of course the stakes were higher. She had a job to do, and she had zero time to worry about getting involved with anyone, let alone a notorious womanizer.

  “Actually,” he said, his deep voice sounding slightly hollow in the thick of the woods, “I’m glad I ran into you. I need to ask you for a favor.”

  “What kind of favor?” she responded warily.

  “I’m planning a safety demonstration at the Spring Fair. I was hoping that you’d join us, as Star Harbor’s doctor-in-residence, to give a run-down on some basic medical care. I’ve got the Kingsport EMTs already lined up as your demonstration team. It would mean a lot if you’d agree to participate.”

  The man seemed serious. “When is it?”

  “The third weekend in April, same as always.”

  “Okay. I’ll do it. For Star Harbor.”

  “For me,” Cole underscored, softly.

  “I’m happy to help out with your project,” Julie informed him. “In fact, I think it’s a great idea. But let me be clear: I am not doing this for you.” They had reached the front steps of her house. Julie gracefully vaulted up them and removed his jacket. “Here.” She turned around on the stoop, jacket in hand, with Cole right behind her, one step down. Even down five inches, he was still slightly taller, and she was staring right into his piercing eyes.

  She was about to tell him to get lost, but he curled one hand around her upper arm as his other hand covered her hand holding the jacket. His hands were hot where they touched her skin.

  “Why don’t you want to do this just for me?” She caught a whiff of his scent—all male and amazingly good. Like sea and spice and musk. Her pulse rate skyrocketed.

  “You know why,” she managed to get out.

  “Yeah.” His voice was husky. “Yeah, I know.” He slid his hand up her arm to her face and stroked her temple, pushing back a stray strand of hair, his eyes locked on hers. A low, dark shiver started in the base of her spine and jolted upward. “You’re not going to slap me again, are you?”

  He remembers. “I’m thinking about it,” she murmured, unable to tear her gaze away.

  Cole didn’t smile. “Then you’d better go inside before I give you a real reason to.”

  It took her only a fraction of a second to realize what he meant and when she got his drift, she swallowed. Hard.

  Cole stared at her for just a moment more. Then, smoothly, he released her, grabbed his jacket, and walked down the steps. There, he waited patiently while she reached into the tiny pocket of her leggings and took out her house key. It was only when she’d let herself into the welcome comfort of her childhood home and flicked on the hall light that he gave her a nod before turning and disappearing into the darkness.

  Read on for an excerpt from Sandra Chastain’s

  Scarlet Lady

  PROLOGUE

  The New Mexico mountain hideaway known as Shangri-la to its creator and Angel Central to its grateful clients, had been peaceful for weeks. Lincoln McAllister knew it was too good to last A need would arise and an angel would be asked to return the help given to him or her.

  This time the call came from Sterling, secretary and administrative assistant to Mac’s old friend Conner Preston. Because of Mac, Conner had been reunited with the only woman he’d ever loved. Now they were on their honeymoon, leaving the ever-faithful Sterling in charge of Conner’s firm. But this call wasn’t business, it was a personal request for Mac’s help.

  Sterling needed an angel.

  “It’s Katherine Carithers,” Sterling explained. “Her brother, Carson, came to see me. He’s made some bad business decisions and Katie has come up with a plan to rescue him. Seems Carson’s tried to recoup his losses by gambling. He lost. Then he put up his share of the family plantation as collateral for his gambling debts.”

  “Plantation?” Mac said with a laugh. “As in the Old South? What is this, some kind of antebellum melodrama?”

  “Almost. The Caritherses go back that far. Old Carson, one of the first planters along the Mississippi, gambled on cotton and indigo. He won big. He was smart, too, put his money in foreign banks before the War Between the States. The present Carson, his great-great-great-great-grandson, just gambled—not for himself, mind you, but in a foolish effort to save that business.”

  “What’s your connection, Sterling?” Mac asked. With every telephone call he received, Mac became more intrigued by the mysterious Sterling, who ran her boss’s business empire but was never seen by the public. Though he and Sterling went back a long way, Mac had never known her to ask for a personal favor—until now.

  “Katherine is the daughter of one of my mother’s oldest friends. She and her husband were killed in a plane crash two years ago. The family business has already gone under, but Katherine is determined to protect the plantation and her brother. Mother says she’s a certified genius when it comes to numbers.”

  “Okay. She’s a genius with numbers.”

  “Oh, Mac, I’m explaining this badly. According to Carson, Katie went to a casino tonight to gamble. She expects to win enough money to pay off her brother’s gambling debts and buy his marker back from the man who holds it and the plantation. I’d like to help her, but she’s so proud she isn’t likely to accept help, and I … can’t leave here.”

  “Sounds like foolishness runs in the family.”

  “Carson says she’s a poker whiz. But she’s never played with professionals. Mac, she’s convinced she can win.”

  “So was her brother.”

  Sterling gave a low, throaty laugh. “Mac, the man she’s taking on is a real pro.”

  “Oh? Who?”

  “He calls himself Montana now, but I managed to find out that his full name is—can you believe this?—Rhett Butler Montana. He owns a Mississippi riverboat casino called the Scarlet Lady.”

  Mac couldn’t hold back a chuckle of his own. He’d gotten Montana a job on that boat years ago when his family had disowned him. Now he owned the boat. And he’d dropped the famous name his starstruck mother had given him. Montana suited him very well.

  “Ah, Sterling. Not a world-shaking dilemma, but interesting. Is Katherine beautiful, smart, and conniving?”

  “I don’t know what she looks like, but she’s just as determined to keep her family together and save their land as the original Scarlett. And she thinks Montana is ready to take it Carson is worried. I said I’d see what I could do. If you can help, I’ll owe you.”

  “Of course,” Mac said. Finishing their conversation, he dropped the phone into its cradle and leaned back in his chair. “And I think we can keep the lady from knowing she’s being helped.”

  Mac had been surprised at the emotion in the normally unruffled Sterling’s voice. Gamblers who got themselves in trouble weren’t Mac’s idea of people with earth-shattering problems, but he couldn’t ignore her request to bail the girl out, and it was time he checked on the man calling himself Montana.

  Though if Katherine had already left for the riverboat casino, Mac was too late to stop her. Maybe losing would teach her the lesson her brother hadn’t learned. Of course, she could win. Katie, Rhett Butler, and the Scarlet Lady.

  Intriguing.

  If the players were anything like their namesakes, the South could rise again. It was time he called in his marker from Montana. He tried the gambler’s office. Montana was on the river. Mac left a message and sat back to wait.

  While he waited he thought ab
out the mysterious Sterling who was never more than a voice on the telephone.

  ONE

  A hush fell over the rowdy Saturday-night crowd of gamblers on the third deck of the Mississippi riverboat known as the Scarlet Lady.

  The dark-eyed man, Rhett Butler Montana—Montana to his customers—glanced up, searching for the reason. The third deck was reserved for the serious gamblers, but this kind of silence meant trouble. It took one look at the woman standing in the doorway to know he’d found the reason.

  Her hair was shiny black, pinned up with a swatch of red glitter and feathers. Her dress, held up by thin straps that challenged the law of gravity, had a short skirt barely covering long legs that ought to be illegal.

  She simply stood, studying the scene before her with mesmerized concentration—until she spotted Montana. Then, deliberately, it seemed, she parted and moistened her lips.

  “Whoa, boss,” Royal Lennox whispered from his customary position behind the cashier’s booth. “Who’s the lady?”

  But Montana didn’t answer. The connection between them was so potent he had no words. She didn’t move, and neither did he. Her gaze wasn’t just a question; it was a come-and-get-me dare. She was deifying him to respond.

  Lazily, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his signature cheroot, biting off the end and clamping it between his teeth. Then he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgment of her challenge.

  Two could play whatever game she had in mind. In fact, he was counting on it.

  The gamblers soon lost interest and the noise level rose once more. For another long heavy moment she continued staring, then gave a quick nod and started toward him in long graceful steps more like the slinky moves of a jungle cat than those of a woman wearing four-inch heels.

  “Look out, boss, she’s giving you the evil eye. A woman like that’ll take your soul before you even know it’s gone.”