When The Stars Align
Page 1
Copyright © 2015 Jeanette Grey
Extract from Seven Nights To Surrender copyright © 2015 Jeanette Grey
Author photograph © B. K. Phillips
Cover photograph © Ditty about summer/Shutterstock
The right of Jeanette Grey to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Published by arrangement with Forever Yours,
an imprint of Grand Central Publishing.
First published in this Ebook edition in 2015
by HEADLINE ETERNAL
An imprint of HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library
eISBN 978 1 4722 2848 2
HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
About the Author
Praise for Jeanette Grey
By Jeanette Grey
About the Book
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
An exhilarating extract from Seven Nights To Surrender
Find out more about Headline Eternal
About the Author
Jeanette Grey started out with degrees in physics and painting, which she dutifully applied to stunted careers in teaching, technical support and advertising. Almost all of her stories include hints of either science or art. When she isn’t writing, Jeanette enjoys making pottery, playing board games, and spending time with her husband and her pet frog. She lives, loves, and writes in upstate New York.
Find her online at www.jeanettegrey.com, on Twitter @jeanettelgrey and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/jeanettelgrey.
Fall head over heels for Jeanette Grey’s powerful love stories:
‘I couldn’t put it down! I loved every sentence! The writing is outstanding, the setting entrancing, and the characters stole my heart. Fresh, flawed and instantly lovable, you’ll root for Jo and Adam at every turn’ S. C. Stephens, No. 1 New York Times bestselling author
‘The heat of the island has nothing on the off-the-charts attraction that sizzles between its feisty and fiercely unique heroine and idyllic hero. The journey to being the best you is often equal parts beautiful and tragic, and Grey sets the scene perfectly. A sassy and sexy read full of heart and adventure. This romance is like a breath of fresh air’ Jay Crownover, New York Times bestselling author
‘Jeanette Grey has become a must-read voice in romance’ Christina Lauren, New York Times bestselling author
‘Jeanette Grey’s writing is so refreshingly honest . . . Intensely emotional and sexy as hell’ Tara Sue Me, New York Times bestselling author
‘With her unique flair, Jeanette Grey delivers a deliciously sexy and irresistible romance that keeps you turning the pages for more. You’ll savor every word so you don’t miss a single sizzling moment’ K. Bromberg, New York Times bestselling author
‘Sensual, sultry, and exquisite . . . Will sweep you away and seduce you on every page! Crackling with tension and steamy with sensuality, it’s a feast for the senses you don’t want to miss’ Katy Evans, New York Times bestselling author
‘Jeanette Grey is a gifted and exciting author’ Fresh Fiction
‘Will draw you in and not let you go’ Book Lovers, Inc
‘The sex is fiery hot!’ Romantic Times
‘Flat-out fabulous’ Dear Author
By Jeanette Grey
When The Stars Align
Seven Nights To Surrender
About the Book
Their passion burned hotter than the stars . . .
Nothing’s been easy for Jo Kramer. But when she earns a coveted spot on a prestigious science internship in Puerto Rico, she won’t let anything distract her. Not the past she’s trying to escape, not the difficult professors, and definitely not her hot, chiselled research partner.
For Adam McCay, physics is simple – it’s women who are complicated. Especially brilliant, beautiful ones like Jo. He can feel the heat smouldering beneath Jo’s icy exterior, and he’s determined to be the one to make her melt . . .
Jo and Adam indulge in every desire under the endless stars of a tropical sky. But their summer together is coming to an end. Will their passion survive beyond this island paradise?
Don’t miss Jeanette Grey’s spellbindingly sexy and addictive novel Seven Nights To Surrender, coming soon.
To all the summer students staring up at the stars wondering what they’re doing with their lives.
Acknowledgments
This story never would’ve been told without the help of a lot of incredible people:
My editor, Megha Parekh, who always knows exactly what to tweak.
My agent, Mandy Hubbard, who safeguards my sanity at every turn.
Brighton Walsh, for believing in this story in its infancy and keeping me from giving up on it.
Heather McGovern, whose feedback and inspirational photos helped it all come together.
My partners in crime at Bad Girlz Write and Capital Region Romance Writers of America, with their constant support and commiseration.
My incredibly patient husband and family, who put up with my crazy writer eyes even on Christmas Eve.
And Darik and Justino, for getting me out of a bind a very, very long time ago.
Chapter One
You don’t ask, you don’t get. It was one of the very first lessons Jo’s father had ever taught her—right after “stop existing” and “be a boy.”
She chuckled darkly to herself and wiped some of the sweat from her brow, leaning an elbow out the open window of the van and staring at the rows of palm trees lining the road.
She might not have been able to fulfill all his wishes for her, but at least there were a few of good old Dad’s teachings she’d taken to heart. She was going to ask all right. She just had to get there already, before she lost her nerve.
Twisting around in her seat, she glanced at the clock and worried her lip ring with her teeth. “How much longer?”
The driver, Roberto, tapped his finger against the steering wheel. “Ten minutes?”
Ugh, that still sounded like forever. Aft
er eight odd hours in airports and planes—and getting on near forty minutes in an un-air-conditioned van—Jo was more than ready to be done with travel for the day. Nodding to herself, she turned to face the window again, staring out at the little clusters of tiny, pastel-colored houses set off from the road, with their clotheslines, satellite dishes, and what seemed like unending swaths of overgrown green.
She took a deep breath, trying to let the scenery zipping past calm her down. Obsessing over what she was going to do and say when she arrived wasn’t going to get them there any faster. It was only making her more anxious and pissed off.
How could she not be agitated, though? She’d been busting her ass at school for ages. Had snagged decent internships after her freshman and sophomore years, and now here she was: one of nine undergraduates getting to spend the summer working in Arecibo, Puerto Rico, doing research at the biggest radio telescope in the world. It was her dream job. The capstone for her CV—the thing that was going to propel her into a top-level graduate school. Make her dad stand up and finally take notice of everything she’d managed to achieve.
Anger and disappointment echoed in her chest. She’d thought it would be all of that and more. Right up until she’d found out she was being shunted off into a second-tier project. Again.
Curling her hands into fists, she shook her head, pent-up rage sending fire and ice down her spine. Whoever this P.J. Galloway person was who had divvied out the assignments had a lot of nerve. If the guy thought she was going to sit back and be sidelined and coddled just because she was a girl, trying to hack it in the sciences… well. He had another think coming.
Just as her simmering frustration threatened to boil over, a sign appeared over the crest of a hill, pointing the way to the observatory, and Roberto put the blinker on.
Okay. Go time.
He looked to her as he took the turn, gesturing to the left. “I take you to where you are staying.”
“Actually…” She swallowed hard and channeled all the lessons she’d learned over the years. Making her voice as authoritative as she could, she insisted, “I need to go to the main building first. I have an e-mail.” She patted the pocket of her cargo shorts, reassuring herself with the crinkle of the printout she’d stashed there. “From Dr. Galloway.”
He frowned, lines appearing between his eyes. “I think you meet Dr. Galloway tonight.”
“Everybody else will,” she agreed. “But we have things to discuss before that.”
He gave her a sidelong glance, and she held her breath. But after a long moment, he shrugged. “If you say so.”
She exhaled long and slow. She had said so. She’d asked, and she’d gotten what she wanted. Now she just had to do it one more time.
Without saying anything else, Roberto drove them straight up to the observatory gates, where he got waved through by the guard on duty. Jo blocked out the sights around her, concentrating on psyching herself up for this. Channeling all her righteous indignation and all the times people had tried to pass her over in the past.
Because it wasn’t going to happen. Not today. No way.
As soon as the van pulled to a stop, Jo unhooked her seat belt and shoved open the door. Behind her, Roberto protested, “You sure you don’t want me to take you to the house?”
“I’m good.” She waved him off, her focus intent on the closed door in front of her. On flinging it open.
The second she was inside, it was like she went blind, the humming fluorescent lighting overhead no match for the brilliance of the sun outside. She blinked to get her eyes to adjust, staring down a series of corridors, all painted cinder-block walls and propped-open doors. She had no idea where she was going, but she didn’t let that stop her. She knew the drill: walk around as if you own the place, and most people will assume you do.
“Miss? Miss!”
Sighing, Jo called over her shoulder, “Give me just a second.”
Roberto wasn’t letting her off that easily, though. He called after her again, and she swore beneath her breath as a couple of faces turned to give her curious stares. Yeah. Turned out the whole “walk around like you own the place” thing didn’t work quite so well when everyone knew you didn’t.
For the first time, a little prickle of doubt made her stomach twist. This entire plan of hers had the potential to be a disaster. She was tired and sweaty and disgusting, and it felt like her hair was plastered to her head. She was going off half-cocked, and in the kind of mood she was in, she was probably going to burn a bridge or two.
She hadn’t gotten as far as she had in life by being nice, though. In a man’s world, a girl never did. Not unless she had a hell of a lot bigger tits than Jo did.
The thick soles of her boots thudded against the tile floor as she rounded the corner, turning to enter a hallway lined by open doors. She scanned the numbers beside each one until finally she spotted it. Office number 109. She screwed up her confidence and tugged the hem of her top down. Shoved her hair out of her face and rubbed the studs in the shell of her ear for luck.
She knocked once before stepping right in, keeping her voice strong as she said, “Dr. Galloway?”
And then she did a double take as the chair of one Dr. P.J. Galloway slowly rotated, spinning to face the door, revealing—
Not the pot-bellied, middle-aged man Jo had been expecting. But a sixty-something-year-old lady in a lilac dress.
Fuck. So, so many layers of fuck.
The woman who was apparently Dr. Galloway raised one silver-hued eyebrow, peering over her glasses at Jo, and Jo was not the type to demur, but she shrank just a little inside. “Yes?”
“I’m—” Jo snapped her mouth shut when her throat made a wobbling sound. She swallowed and tried again. “I’m Jo Kramer, and I’m—”
“One of the delightful members of our Research Experience for Undergraduates program, yes. Yes, I know.”
As long as she didn’t know who else Jo was.
Before she could say another word, Roberto caught up with her. Breathing hard, he skidded to a stop in the middle of the hallway, and Jo glanced to find him sending a pleading look at Dr. Galloway over Jo’s head.
Dr. Galloway made a withering sort of noise but smiled as she shook her head. She refocused her attention on Jo, who hadn’t felt this much like a butterfly pinned to a specimen tray in years. “Is this regarding the matter about which you e-mailed me earlier this week, Ms. Kramer?”
Fuck it. Jo wasn’t about to back down now. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, crossing her arms over her chest and planting her feet. “It is.”
“Did you not receive my reply?”
“I did, but—” But what? But she’d thought she might be able to get her way through sheer force of will and personality. Thought she’d butt her head against the problem at least a few more times, because people got tired of dealing with her. They always got tired of dealing with her, and being exhausting and tenacious was how she got things done whenever someone slammed a door in her face. Whenever someone tried to tell her no. “But I’m here to argue my case in person.”
“Well, then.” Dr. Galloway tugged her glasses off and folded them before setting them down on her desk. “Please. Be my guest.”
All the words she’d rehearsed on the plane and in Roberto’s van seemed to shrivel as she called them forth. “I am… I… You’ve assigned me to a female advisor.”
“That I have.”
“And I’d like to request that I be switched to a different one.”
“Do you find yourself uncomfortable working for women, Ms. Kramer?”
“No! No, of course not.” It was ridiculous to think about. Almost as ridiculous as the idea that she’d be trying to make this case to a woman. A woman named P.J.
Seriously. How was she supposed to have seen that one coming?
Dr. Galloway tapped one short-cropped nail against the arm of her chair. “Because our nondiscrimination policy is quite clear on this point.”
“Nondiscrimina
tion?” she croaked. As if Jo were the one trying to discriminate? It was laughable, and if this woman knew an iota of her history, she’d never dare suggest it. “I’m happy to work for a female advisor. Only…” She trailed off, uncertain how to say this.
How to explain the look that had been in her tenth-grade counselor’s eyes as she’d suggested that Jo should consider a field of study more suited to her sex. The way her physics teacher had never learned her name. The way the department chair at her university had scowled as he’d told her that maybe the lone female professor in their group might be able to find some work for her when he couldn’t be bothered to.
The way her father had always looked at her whenever she’d asked him for anything. Anything at all.
“Only…?” Dr. Galloway prompted.
Fuck it. There wasn’t really any way Jo could mess this up any worse than she had so far. “Only, I wasn’t sure if you were assigning me to a female advisor on account of my being female myself.”
It had happened before, and it burned, every time.
Dr. Galloway’s expression was one of very, very thinly veiled amusement as she arched her brows higher. “Ms. Kramer. You are one of six women enrolled in our undergraduate research assistant program this summer. Four of the nine resident scientists who were kind enough to take on students happen to be women. It would sadly be mathematically impossible for at least one of our female students not to be paired with an advisor of the same gender.”
The breath Jo sucked in made a whistling noise, a sound that echoed the one currently happening inside her head.
Six women. She was one of six women here this summer, and the very thought of it made something loosen in her chest.
Three years of undergraduate physics and astronomy and math and computing courses, and not once had there been six girls. Hell, in general, there had never been more than one. She’d only ever had one female professor in all that time, and now there were going to be at least four.
She wasn’t about to let her guard slip—it was entirely too tightly ingrained in her for that. But for the first time in a decade, the armor she surrounded herself with seemed to lighten. It made the junction of her shoulder and her neck pinch a little less hard, and her lungs filled in a way they rarely did as she let herself inhale.