Taboo (A Classic Romance)

by Mallory Rush

  "I promise." Cammie kissed her quickly, then embraced Edward before he could hurry to his own car.

  "We love you, Cammie," Dorothy said. "Nothing could ever make us stop."

  "I know that now, Mom, Dad. I only wish I'd realized it sooner."

  "Hindsight's twenty-twenty vision," Edward said. "The main thing is that you make the most of the future."

  "I will," she vowed. "As soon as I find Grant."

  Chapter 14

  The phone rang the second she opened the door. Cammie ran to answer it, almost tripping over her own feet to get there.

  "Grant!" she said breathlessly, hoping against hope it was he.

  "Sorry, it's just me," Russ said, then coughed harshly. "Cammie, I'm really sick. I know I promised to sit in for you tonight but—" He hacked several more times, then sneezed. "Man, I feel awful. I'll never make it through the newscast."

  "But, Russ, I can't. I mean, there's an emergency, and I—No. Someone else will have to do it."

  "I already called the sta—" He stopped long enough to wheeze. "The sub's out of town till sometime tonight. She can make it for ten. But Jack's expecting you for the six o'clock—Ahh-choo! Ohh, crud. What's the emergency?"

  "I can't find Grant."

  "Oh. Hey, he'll show up. He's nuts about you."

  And emotionally unhinged after I bailed on him, she added silently. But she had to do the responsible thing, professionally at least since she had failed so miserably in the personal department.

  "Okay, Russ. But just for the six o'clock report."

  "I owe you, Cammie. Sorry I couldn't catch you before the last minute."

  And minutes were all she had to transform herself from what looked like a train wreck to a semi-put together anchor that arrived while Jack was in a tailspin.

  "Jeez, Cammie, are you trying to give me heart failure?" Jack exclaimed when she entered the studio. "Get in that chair. You've got one minute to countdown, and... man, do you look terrible. What's going on? Too much of a good thing last night?"

  "Hardly," she muttered. There'd been no sign of Grant all day. Dorothy and Edward had called the police while she'd phoned the hospitals. They were going to keep looking and phone her the second they found him. "Let's just get this show on the road so I can get out of here."

  "We've got weather and sports covered, but otherwise, you're it," he informed her, half-running to his position while she rushed to hers.

  "Ten... nine... eight... "

  Jack's cue was an ominous reminder of the midnight countdown. Frantically she tried to clear her head of everything but the news—the news she hadn't had time to give so much as a preliminary glance.

  "Three... two... one."

  "Good evening, and happy New Year," she said automatically, grateful that her years as a pro enabled her to wing it. Depending heavily on the Teleprompter, she made it through the headlines, fighting to keep her concentration.

  At the first commercial break Jack gave her a thumbs-up sign. "You're doing great, Cammie. Keep it up."

  "Thanks, Jack. Any phone calls for me while I was on the air?"

  "No, but we got a message that the Minicam's on its way with a cameraman to cover a bad accident. We'll have to squeeze the news flash in at the end, if he gets there in time."

  "Any details?" she asked anxiously.

  "Not yet. He'll call us on the car phone to give us the details and patch in with the visual while you announce. Sorry, but you already know we've got a shortage of reporters. Uh-oh, countdown. Hang in there, Cammie."

  A terrible sense of foreboding gripped her. Somehow she got through the second portion without any major foul-ups, then turned it over to the sports and weather announcers. A chill grew inside her as she waited for Jack to run to the control booth as the anticipated call came through.

  Haunting visions of her family seared her mind while she told herself it was nothing. She always tensed up whenever she reported on accidents. Yes, that was it. She was just upset because of that. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to be alarmed about—

  Jack interrupted her frantic attempts at rationalization. He pushed some notes into her clammy hands just before the final commercial break rolled to a close. He pointed out the crucial points to cover, then scooted away just before he signaled her that she was on.

  For a horrifying moment she stared woodenly at the camera.

  "This just in," she said faintly as Jack waved his hands in a frantic gesture for her to get going. Cammie gulped hard and forced the words out in a strained, high-pitched voice.

  "A tragic New Year's accident involving two Porsche sports cars has claimed the life of a local man, whose identity is being withheld pending notification of relatives. The fate of the driver of the second car is not known at the moment." Jack indicated that the Minicam was patched in, and she stared sightlessly at the screen. At Grant's mutilated automobile, at the macabre activity surrounding it.

  "One car is currently—" Her voice caught. "Is currently being attended by rescue workers, where the Jaws of Life are hard at work in an attempt to—to extricate the body of a man pinned inside the car's crushed remains. At this time, the state of his condition is unknown."

  Jack indicated that the camera was once again focused on her. She made herself face the lens, the thousands of invisible viewers, as her world crumbled around her.

  She was visibly shaking from head to toes, her voice toneless. "We'll bring you up-to-date with the situation on the ten o'clock report. This is Cammie Walker saying—good night."

  The cameras cut off immediately. Jack rushed over to her.

  "Good Lord, Cammie, what is going on?"

  "Grant," she whispered. "Grant." She stared at Jack in a state of shock. "I have to go to him."

  "That was your brother? Oh, Jeez, Cammie, I didn't know, I didn't—"

  "Not my brother. My lover. My fiancé."

  "Which one?" he said quickly. "Which—"

  "I don't know. I don't—"

  Could he have survived? Could he still be alive in that horrible-looking wreckage? Could he be the one survivor? Still in a state of shock, she grabbed her purse, then ran for the exit. Jack was fast on her heels.

  She stopped at the door just long enough to demand, "Where? Where is he? I don't know where to—"

  "You're in no condition to drive. I've got the location. C'mon, I'll get you there as fast as I can. It's close by."

  Was it for minutes or hours that she stared almost comatose out the window as Jack sped to the accident scene? She didn't cry. She was beyond tears. She didn't hear Jack's voice as he attempted to console her. She heard only Grant's voice calling her name, telling her to stop, to come back.

  And then they were there, amidst the frenzied activity surrounding a horribly damaged sports car. She saw an ambulance, police cars, rescue workers and paramedics, curious spectators... and blood. The smell of it, and of death, tainted the air. She almost expected to see the bodies of her family—but she was looking for Grant's body.

  She'd thought she was healed. She'd thought, with the help of Grant's love and care, she'd put all of her guilt behind her. But she hadn't, for here she was again—a fatal car accident... their fight... her fault...

  Trembling, wild with fear and rage at herself, she stumbled out of Jack's car and toward the Porsche that the rescue workers were frantically working on. Grant, she thought numbly. He had to be alive. He had to be....

  She glanced at the other Porsche, empty, strangely lethal looking, even when motionless and all but destroyed by the crash. The driver's door was horribly smashed, thrusting into the interior of the car.

  ...claimed the life of a local man...

  Suddenly the other Porsche burst into flames. The rescue workers and onlookers scurried to safety, but Cammie started running toward the blazing corpse of metal.

  "Grant!" she screamed over and over again.

  Unseen hands grabbed her, jerked her to a stop. She struggled against their hold.

  "I
see him, Cammie! I see him!" Jack shook her until she quit flailing against him, then pushed her toward the median strip.

  She took a few steps forward, then stopped, staring at the man sitting there.

  Grant. Blood covered his face and arms, dripped in dark rivers over his ragged clothing. His head was bowed, his arms dangling loose between his legs.

  "Grant," she whispered, then cried, "Grant!"

  She raced to him and, her entire body shaking, knelt beside him. He didn't look up, didn't move. Where were the medics? she wondered. Why weren't they taking care of him? She touched him gingerly, his arms, his legs, not wanting to hurt him more. He didn't seem to have broken bones, but the blood—

  Moving closer, she looked into his eyes—the eyes of a man in deep shock, who didn't know where he was or what had happened. The blood seemed to come from small cuts and a few gashes on his face and arms. But he was all right.

  She sobbed her heartache and joy while she carefully pressed hungry kisses over his battered face.

  "Grant, can you see me? Can you look at me?"

  Searching his face, desperate for any sign that he recognized her, she prayed... and watched with speechless gratitude to God as awareness dawned in the eyes of the man she loved so much.

  "Oh, God, thank you." She wept. She clasped one of his hands, which, strangely, was clenched into a fist. She kissed it over and over, then gently pried it open.

  The ring fell onto the ground, released from his convulsive grasp.

  She grabbed it, held it tight. "Grant. Look at me. Just look at me."

  His eyes opened farther. She held the ring up and saw him focus on it.

  "I told Mom and Dad, Grant. I told them how much I love you and that I was going to marry you."

  She lifted her left hand and slid the ring down her finger.

  "With this ring, I thee wed. For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, till—"

  Her voice caught. "Forgive me, Grant. Forgive me for running away. I promise I'll always be there from now on, no matter what. I love you. I love you." She sobbed, clasping his hand again.

  Slowly, faintly, he smiled. Then, as if with his last bit of strength, he spoke. "You... are... my light. My life."

  Epilogue

  When they entered the church foyer, Cammie smelled the perfume of orange blossoms and gardenias. The organist played sweetly in the background. The low murmur of whispers from the filled pews fell softly upon her ears.

  "God be with you," Dorothy whispered before an usher escorted the mother of the bride—and groom—down the aisle.

  "My sister," Trish murmured as she handed Cammie a white Bible and a spray of springtime flowers. She hugged her, and then, as the organist struck the first notes of the processional, started slowly down the aisle.

  Audrey, looking slightly confused despite the previous night's rehearsal, tugged at Cammie's hand and said too loudly for the occasion, "Gee, Aunt Cammie, you sure do look pretty today."

  "Thank you, Audrey. You're pretty as a bride yourself." Cammie smiled nervously while Audrey grinned and swung her basket of rose petals, then skipped down the aisle behind her mother.

  Edward hugged Cammie close and tucked her trembling hand into the crook of his arm. "Ready?" he asked, a twinkle in his eye. "They're playing our song... daughter."

  They walked down the aisle, Cammie's heart swelling until she thought it might burst. Her misting gaze locked with Grant's as he watched her from the front of the church, his eyes reflecting complete devotion and the kind of desire a lifetime together could never quench. He wore charcoal-gray pants and a morning coat, a gray and white ascot over a pristine white shirt. She couldn't imagine him as a brother anymore; only as the heart-stoppingly handsome bridegroom he was.

  As she and Edward neared the altar, Grant stepped forward to meet them. It was a miracle he had survived the deadly car crash. He knew his mother gave credit to heavenly intervention, which he was certain had a lot to do with it. But looking at Cammie now—a vision in white, the diamond-and-aquamarine pins gleaming in her hair, matched by her locket and diamond earrings—he knew miracles began on earth.

  He didn't remember much about the accident itself, only his desolation, his sense of loss. But then she had come for him, just as he now came to her.

  His dad moved aside, allowing Grant to take his rightful place. Edward sat in the front pew and wrapped his arm around Dorothy's shoulders. Their faces beamed with joy and pride. Trish exchanged a flirtatious smile with Grant's best man. Audrey stepped on the hem of her gown and littered the floor with the few petals she hadn't already strewn.

  Grant kissed Cammie's hand, then held it tight. They moved as one to the altar, and bowed their heads in unison.

  Their vows began, the ones they had written together with great care. They recited their declaration of loyalty and commitment, and acknowledged how fragile life was, how precious a gift was love.

  The resonant voice of the good reverend concluded, "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Grant Kennedy."

  They faced the audience as husband and wife—but only briefly. With the gravitational pull of the sun and moon creating the tides on earth, Grant gathered her into both arms and she wrapped hers around his neck.

  "Grant," she whispered, "My husband."

  "My wife," he murmured, and they kissed like anything but a brother and sister.

  The End

  Page forward for an excerpt from Mallory Rush's

  Date with the Devil

  A Classic Romance

  and

  Love Slave

  available in eBook format

  Excerpt from

  Date with the Devil

  A Classic Romance

  by

  Mallory Rush

  writing as

  Olivia Rupprecht

  "This tastes wonderful," Deidre said, peeling another piece of meat off the spit.

  Remembering how Sterling had gone about feeding her the night before, she teased his lips with it while slowly tracing her tongue around her own. "My turn," she murmured as seductively as she could manage, hoping he wouldn't notice that her fingers were beginning to shake.

  He stared at her hard, in a most unnerving way. Then suddenly, in a swift flash of movement, she felt his grip on her wrist. She was too stunned to do more than stare back. His eyes turned an ominous shade of earth mixed with steel.

  Her hand was so close to his mouth she could feel his harsh, ragged breath. Her mind constricted to pinpoint focus, until she was aware of nothing but the scent, the feel, and the frightening power of this dangerous man.

  Commanding her wrist, he slowly moved it forward. The meat disappeared into his mouth at the moment she felt the touch of his lips. His mouth closed over her fingers, and she began to breathe again, too shallowly, too fast. She tried to stifle the moan in her throat but failed.

  "Careful, Diedre," he warned softly. "Be very careful before you tease me like that again. We're all alone..." He nipped the tips of her fingers. "And, darlin', I like to bite..."

  Date with the Devil

  A Classic Romance

  by

  Mallory Rush

  ~

  To purchase

  Date with the Devil

  from your favorite eBook Retailer,

  visit Mallory Rush's eBook Discovery Author Page

  www.ebookdiscovery.com/MalloryRush

  ~

  Discover more with

  eBookDiscovery.com

  Page forward for an exciting excerpt

  from Mallory Rush's

  Love Slave

  Excerpt from

  Love Slave

  by

  Mallory Rush

  "I want to buy you, Ms. Tinsdale."

  "Of course," Rachel said, wishing her gun was in her hand instead of in her purse. "Did you have a payment schedule in mind, Mr. Slick?"

  "You can name your price. And while you're at it, just call me Rand." Abruptly standing, palms fl
at on her desk, he leaned over the flimsy bit of safety the wood separating them offered. "I need a woman with guts and looks. You've got both. But they won't do me any good unless you're willing to stand on an auction block." His gaze raked a path from her head to her breasts, and she was shocked to feel an electric reaction. Instinctively she crossed her arms over her chest. "Good," he said. "The more innocent you appear, the better."

  "What are you talking about?"

  He came closer to her face. His breath was warm and she inhaled the subtle fragrances of bay and night spice. "Three words," he said in a low, uninflected voice. "White slave trade."

  Love Slave

  by

  Mallory Rush

  ~

  To purchase

  Love Slave

  from your favorite eBook Retailer,

  visit Mallory Rush's eBook Discovery Author Page

  www.ebookdiscovery.com/MalloryRush

  ~

  Discover more with

  eBookDiscovery.com

  Mallory Rush, aka Olivia Rupprecht, has had 17 novels published by Bantam, Doubleday, Harlequin Books, and Dorchester Publishing. Her titles have frequented fiction bestseller lists and are translated into many foreign languages. She is the series developer for True Vows, the first reality-based romance line from HCI Books. Visit the author at www.malloryrush.com.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  A note from Mallory Rush

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6