Lying in Your Arms

by Leslie Kelly

  “Can’t wait,” she said with a laugh. “I’ll be able to take you up on that pizza challenge.”

  “You’ll love my cousin Tony’s food. In fact, you’ll love the whole family. And they will love you. I swear it.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I know so.”

  “Even if this whole nightmare doesn’t die down? We can’t just tell everyone the whole story, you know. I’m sorry, that has to be Tommy’s decision.”

  “I understand. But I’m telling you, sweetheart, there’s only one thing my mom’ll need to hear—that she’s going to be a grandmother.”

  Remembering her own mother’s reaction, she believed that one.

  “As for the rest, we tell them it’s a bunch of sensationalistic lies. That you and Tommy were childhood friends who decided you just worked better as friends, and the tabloids made a bunch of nonsense out of it. Who doesn’t know that, anyway? I mean, really, how many martian spacemen have you seen flinging a Frisbee in Central Park?”

  Laughing out loud as she pictured some of the more outrageous tabloid headlines she’d seen, she nodded helplessly. “Okay.”

  Their laughter faded. Growing serious, as if knowing she needed the reassurance, he said, “They’re good judges of character, Madison.”

  “If they’re anything like you, I know I’ll love them all.” She nibbled her lip. “But Leo, sooner or later, the press is going to figure out who you are. Somebody will out us and the maniacs will descend on us, no matter where we are.”

  He smirked. “Oh, honey, there’s no place in Chicago that the Santoris can’t block the press in and stop them from getting anywhere near us.”

  “There are that many of you?”

  “I’ve got more relatives than a new lottery winner—cops, bodyguards, lawyers, construction workers, business owners, strippers, politicians...”

  “Strippers?” she said, gawking.

  “My cousin’s wife. You’ll love her. She also bakes—oh, madone, you haven’t lived until you’ve tried her cannoli.”

  “I’ll add it to my list.”

  “The point is, there’s a Santori on every corner, and every one of them will serve as a barricade to anybody who tries to mess with one of their own.”

  Swallowing, she asked, “And I’ll be one of their own?”

  He brushed his fingers against her cheek, reached for her left hand and laced their fingers together. He lifted it to his mouth, placing a tender kiss on her ring finger.

  She knew what he meant. Knew exactly what he meant.

  “You already are, Madison. You’re mine.”

  “Forever?”

  “Forever. Rings, vows, whatever you want.” He bent to brush his lips across hers, sealing the promise with a gentle kiss. “I’m never letting you get away again.”

  Epilogue

  LEO WAS AS GOOD as his word. The family loved her. And she loved them.

  Going from a small family with one sibling and only a few other relations into a clan like the Santoris was a bit of a culture shock. Madison was thrown into a whirlwind of aunts, uncles, cousins and in-laws.

  It was crazy. It was wonderful. And Leo was by her side through every bit of it.

  Although none of them ever made her feel at all unwelcome, or questioned the story she and Leo had told them, she had to admit she felt a lot better after Tommy’s press conference.

  The one where he’d shocked Hollywood.

  No, he hadn’t spilled everything, but he’d come pretty damned close. Telling the world that it was wrong for anyone to have to feign an engagement with one of his oldest friends, and then see that friend ripped to shreds in public over it, he asked the media to take a good, hard look at themselves.

  Of course, the tabloids wouldn’t...they thrived on gossip. But there had been plenty of supposedly “legitimate” news outlets that had ripped them apart, too. So maybe his words would do a little good there.

  Lots of people speculated that their fake engagement, and his demand for privacy, for the right to live the way he wanted to, meant he was gay. But so what? More fans stepped out in support of him than criticized, and a lot of other celebrities had backed him up with similar comments.

  His last film had opened at number one and stayed there for weeks. His career was thriving. He was happy—if discreet—with Simon.

  And she and Leo were, blessedly, being left in peace.

  “How are you feeling?” Leo asked, coming up behind her as she typed the last few words of her screenplay. She’d been doing revisions for a studio that had optioned it, wanting to get all the work behind her before their upcoming trip to California.

  “I’m fine,” she insisted, hearing the worried tone in his voice. He wouldn’t stop worrying until their daughter was safely in their arms and Madison had fully recovered from childbirth.

  If there had ever been a more overprotective father-to-be, she had yet to meet him. Absolutely the only time she could persuade him she wasn’t about to break, and was perfectly healthy, was when she seduced him into some seriously naughty sex. Seriously. Naughty.

  Yum.

  It turned out that being pregnant pumped up her libido to astronomical levels. She found herself ripping Leo’s clothes off every chance she got.

  He didn’t seem to mind.

  “You’re sure you’re going to be okay to fly? I’m sure Candace would understand...”

  “I’m six months pregnant, not on my deathbed,” she said, rolling her eyes as they went over this again.

  “Six months. Our lucky number, remember?” he said with a suggestive wag of his eyebrows.

  “I can’t wait to see what happens six months from now next October.” Then she got back to the subject at hand. “But as for now, I am not missing my sister’s wedding. We’re going to Napa. End of discussion.”

  “Bossy chick.”

  “Hey, what can I say?” She adopted a fake accent and made a hand gesture she’d seen her new father-in-law make many times. “I’m Italian, ya know?”

  He broke up over her awful imitation. “Brilliant,” he said.

  “Hey, I learned from the best. I guess that’s why your bossiness has rubbed off on me.”

  “Baby, you were trying to run the show from the day we met.”

  Oh, that wonderful day they’d met. How she loved to think about it, and most of the days that had followed, right up to and including their own special, intimate wedding ceremony here in Chicago a few weeks ago.

  Well, it had been private, but it certainly hadn’t been small. Her family had come, of course, along with Tommy.

  And then there had been the Santoris. All the Santoris.

  They’d filled the church without inviting a single outside guest. A few uninvited ones had tried to sneak in—they followed Tommy everywhere he went and were still looking for dish about Madison. But one of Leo’s cousins, Nick, was a former bouncer and ran a popular club. He’d bounced one photographer out on his ass and the others had scurried for cover.

  “So, you’re really feeling all right?”

  “Indeed I am.”

  “Then finish that sentence and come to bed.”

  She glanced out the window at the bright blue sky and raised a brow. She was only teasing him, of course. She and Leo had never felt the need to restrict themselves to the dark of night. Their baby had probably been conceived in broad daylight in a swimming pool for heaven’s sake.

  “What’s that look?” he asked as he took her hand and helped her out of her chair.

  “Thinking of our last vacation.”

  He closed his eyes, obviously picturing it, too. “Guess we won’t be able do that again until the kid’s twenty.”

  Hmm. Maybe not.

  They should certainly be able to afford it, anyway. Her screenplay had not only made a splash, it had made a tidal wave. Once Tommy had held his press conference, and she’d been the object of sympathy worldwide, the studios had swooped in and fought like dogs over her work.

&nbs
p; She supposed she could have felt a little offended, could have thought about it as a pity bidding war.

  But screw that. She cashed the check.

  “Maybe we can take her with us and go when she’s three or four,” she said. “I think she should learn how to swim naked.”

  He nodded, liking the idea. “As long as she’s potty trained.”

  “Good point.”

  They were laughing together as he bent down to pick her up. He often did that, sweeping her into their bedroom. She thought she might cry on the day she became too heavy for it and told him so.

  “Never gonna happen.”

  “I’ll be big as a house in three months.”

  “I’ll eat my Wheaties.” He pressed a kiss on her cheek, on her nose, then a long, lazy one on her lips. “Because I learned a long time ago...when I’m holding you in my arms, I can do absolutely anything.”

  * * * * *

  Want more Santoris? Watch for

  A SOLDIER’S CHRISTMAS,

  coming in December, from Harlequin Blaze.

  Rafe Santori is going to make it home to Chicago

  no matter what...he just isn’t prepared to run

  into a woman from his past who makes the trip

  a whole lot more exciting.

  And watch for Mike’s story next year!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from COMMAND PERFORMANCE by Sara Jane Stone.

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Blaze story.

  You like it hot! Harlequin Blaze stories sizzle with strong, sexy heroines and irresistible heroes playing the game of modern love and lust. They’re fun, flirty and always steamy.

  Enjoy four new stories from Harlequin Blaze every month!

  Visit Harlequin.com to find your next great read.

  We like you—why not like us on Facebook: Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Follow us on Twitter: Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  Read our blog for all the latest news on our authors and books: HarlequinBlog.com

  Subscribe to our newsletter for special offers, new releases, and more!

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Sexy, contemporary romance stories for today’s fun, fearless female.

  On sale October 15, 2013

  Everything You Need to Know by HelenKay Dimon

  Naked Sushi by Jina Bacarr

  On sale November 12, 2013

  Aftershock by New York Times bestselling author Sylvia Day

  Two Red-Hot Reads available in ebook format each month!

  Visit www.harlequin.com/Cosmo today.

  Prologue

  “WHERE IS THE CHOCOLATE?” Maggie Barlow stood on her front porch, the door to the three-story mansion that had been in her family for generations open behind her, allowing the cooled air to escape into the hot July night. She watched her best friend since the second grade march up the steps with a pair of four-inch stilettos in her hand. Not a bakery box in sight.

  “You need these more.” Olivia thrust the shoes at her.

  Maggie looked down at the shiny white stilts she held and frowned. Twenty-four hours earlier, she’d caught her supposedly stable and reliable fiancé with his pants down—literally—and his nineteen-year-old research assistant bent over his desk wearing nothing but a pair of pink, fuzzy handcuffs. She needed double-fudge brownies, not shoes.

  In a lime-green sundress and pink platform sandals, Olivia looked as if she’d wandered away from a tropical vacation, not the upscale art gallery she managed. She marched into the foyer. “Come with me. I need to look in your closet.”

  “I ended things with Derrick,” Maggie said, following Olivia to the second story. “You thought I was crazy to marry a man because we had similar careers and interests. You said I was making the safe choice and turning my back on love because it was too messy. You hated him. We’re supposed to be celebrating.”

  “Oh, we will, but not here. I have a plan.” Olivia led the way to Maggie’s bedroom and pointed to the neatly made bed. “Sit while I find something for you to wear.”

  Maggie set the heels on the floor. They were beautiful shoes, but not for her. As a rule, she opted for sensible flats. She looked up as clothing flew out of her walk-in closet. Gray and black suits—boring, take-me-seriously work clothes perfect for a political science professor with a specialty in military studies—landed in a pile on the floor as Olivia searched for something she deemed appropriate for her “plan.”

  “You’re lucky there’s a car show at the Hudson Valley fairgrounds this weekend.” Olivia emerged from the closet holding the skinny jeans Maggie didn’t intend to wear outside the house until she gave up linguine Alfredo. Her friend tossed them on the bed and turned back to the closet. “Put these on while I find you a shirt.”

  Maggie went over to the growing pile of business suits. Piece by piece, she picked them up and carefully placed each one over the back of her armchair. “Why would we go to a car show?”

  Olivia reappeared with a backless green shirt. “The guys there will love your grandfather’s vintage Mercedes.”

  “The Mercedes is in the shop. I’m renting a Toyota for the weekend.” Her late grandfather’s car spent about as much time in the shop as it did out of it.

  “You could afford a new one,” Olivia pointed out.

  “But I love that car. It reminds me of happier times.” Before she’d lost her mother, before her grandfather passed away from a heart attack and before her father returned from war broken, unable to handle the fact that two bullets in the thigh had ended his career with the U.S. Army Rangers. “And why should anyone at a car show care what I’m driving?”

  Olivia picked up the clothes she’d selected and held them out to Maggie. “Because we’re going to find you a man. I did a Google search for the top ten places to meet men, and ‘car show’ was in the top five. It outranked baseball games. Now get dressed.”

  Maggie froze, the clothes in her arms. “I just ended my engagement. I don’t need to meet another man. I need to focus on work. I have to face a room full of generals at West Point on Monday morning. They’re in town for the president’s speech later this week, and the army’s demanding I speak with them before they’ll grant me access to the team of Rangers I need to interview for my book. This six-man team rode horses belonging to an Afghan warlord to rescue three female aid workers. They’re heroes. Modern-day cowboys. If I can secure these interviews, I’ll be able to share their accomplishments with the world.”

  Olivia put her hands on her hips. “You can prepare for your big meeting tomorrow. Tonight we’re going out.”

  Maggie shook her head and set the clothes back on the bed. “Liv, I can’t. I have four months to finish this book. My publisher wanted it yesterday. The war is essentially over and my editor is afraid the readers who bought the recent bestseller about the SEALs mission won’t care about what happened during the war once all the soldiers are home. If I don’t research and write it fast, they’ll find another author. They only picked me because I told them I could get access.”

  “You have a savings account and a home you own free and clear—you don’t need to work.”

  “Thanks to my grandfather,” Maggie interrupted. Her grandfather had been her rock, raising her after her mother passed away while her father was deployed overseas. Her grandfather had been born to wealth and had chosen to serve his country when he could have lived off his savings. In her mind, he’d always been a hero, even though he’d never been recognized for his accomplishments on the battlefield. Unlike her father, who’d received medals and accolades for a military career that had destroyed him.

  “But his fortune will run out eventually,” Maggie continued. “And it doesn’t provide the same stability as a career of my own. This could be my breakout book. Aside from my students and colleagues, no one bought my first one.”

  “I did,” Olivia said. “But you wrote about a bunch of marines sitting around and waiting. It was boring.”

  “It was an important reconnaissance
mission,” Maggie said defensively. “That mission, well, never mind about that. If I hit the bestseller lists with my sophomore publication, I’ll be a shoo-in for tenure at the college. Tenure is about as close as you can get to a lifetime of job security.”

  Even her best friend, who’d stood by her through the loss of her grandfather and her father’s drinking, couldn’t understand. Maggie needed to succeed. If she let her control slip, let one responsibility fall by the wayside, her life would collapse like a series of dominos. She’d watched her father’s world crumble when he’d started drinking after his injury, taking hers with it until she’d learned to keep food in the house and the bills paid. But now that her dad had passed away, and she was on her own, she was willing to do whatever it took to keep her own world from falling apart again.

  “One night, Maggie. You need to do something for yourself. Something wild. You’ve been taking care of others for too long. You need to let go. Let someone take care of you and your needs for once. You need a sexual adventure.”

  Maggie felt her eyes widen. “A sexual adventure? You’re suggesting I pick up a man? At a car show?” Common sense told her it was a ridiculous plan, but parts of her body that had no business making decisions tingled and begged her to say yes.

  “Exactly. Your greatest excitement shouldn’t be a calorie splurge at the bakery.” Olivia picked up the clothes and held them out. “Now get dressed. You can’t find a one-night stand wearing yoga pants. I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

  Maggie sank onto the bed, her hands clutching the ridiculous shoes. She’d never be able to walk in them, but it was tempting, oh, so tempting to kiss her carefully planned life goodbye for a few hours.

  But a one-night stand? When was the last time she’d done that? College. She was twenty-eight years old and the best sex she’d ever had was in college. But even then it hadn’t been adventurous or wild.