“Did he ever ask you to compete? He loves you, Dara. I know he’s never felt like this about anyone before. Maybe you have to trust that. Trust him to know what he wants.”
“The one I have to trust is myself.” She sighed. “I think I’ve dealt for so long with how unfair life is, that somewhere along the way I decided it was easier to make excuses than to take chances. That way I had more control.”
“Well then if you—”
“Where is he now?” Dara interrupted. “I suddenly realized I’m having this conversation with the wrong person.” She grinned, and her heart began to pound. “Nothing personal.”
Jarrett didn’t even blink. “Skiing. In Hawaii.”
“Hawaii? Skiing? It’s the end of July.”
“Yeah, they had some freak cold front that prolonged the season. Once in a lifetime kind of conditions. Helicopter in and ski the volcanoes or something. Zach had a couple of guys pay him double to take them.”
Dara flipped her folders shut. For Zach skiing in Hawaii made perfect sense. “Well, the wishes on my list are being granted at a pretty alarming rate, so I’m sure even Cavendish will agree that I can take a short leave.”
Jarrett smiled and stood.
Dara scooted out from her desk and stopped in front of him, then impulsively reached up and hugged him. He stilled for a moment, then hugged her back. “Thank you, Jarrett.”
“I didn’t do anything.” She shook her head and started to argue, but he cut her off. “Just invite us to the ceremony.”
She grinned and nodded. “You know, the last time I saw Zach, he told me the only person who could make my dreams come true was me. He was right.” She bussed Jarrett on the cheek and grabbed her purse. “He also told me to find the right man and marry him. That’s just what I intend to do.”
Dara was halfway down the hall to Cavendish’s office when Jarrett called out, “Give ’em hell, D’Artagnan!”
Skiing in Hawaii sucked. Zach leaned on his poles and looked down over the rim. Bradley and Schuster had just schussed over the edge and were hammering down the perfect pristine slope. He couldn’t work up even a shred of their enthusiasm. He didn’t feel like skiing.
Just like he hadn’t felt like diving off the coast of Peru or riding the rapids in Colorado.
“The hell with this,” he said. He was no good to his clients, his employees, and most of all not himself. He stamped his poles deeper into the snow. He wanted Dara.
And as soon as this trip was over, he vowed silently, he was heading back home to get her. He’d camp on her doorstep, kidnap her, take her away to the mountain, something, anything. Whatever it took to make her understand her worth—to him, to herself. But what he wasn’t going to do was leave her. Not ever.
The distant whup-whup sound of a helicopter penetrated his thoughts. He shaded his eyes with his hand and scanned the sky, locating the small private craft. It was heading right for him.
Several minutes later it had landed on the plateau about two hundred yards to his left. The hatch opened, and Zach knew then Beaudine was right. He had gone over the edge. Otherwise he’d have to believe that a pink gorilla had just climbed out of that chopper.
It got harder to justify the hallucination as it walked toward him. The beast poked one furry paw at the label on the package which said “Zach Brogan,” then pointed at Zach.
Zach nodded dumbly. “I’m Brogan.”
The monkey handed him the small loosely wrapped bundle with a bright red bow on top. Not knowing what else to do, Zach took it. The big neon ape simply bowed and headed back to the chopper.
“Thank you,” Zach called out belatedly. Only when the helicopter was a dot in the sky did Zach look back at the package in his hands. “What the hell.” He pulled off his gloves and opened it. A small carved dragon fell out. A smile started to curve his lips as his mind raced to come up with a list of reasons not to get his hopes up.
There was a small scroll tucked in the loop of the tail. He pulled it out and uncurled it. “If you’re in the mood,” he read out loud, “meet me on the beach in front of the Kontiki at midnight. I promise not to breathe fire … unless you want me to.”
There was no signature. But Zach’s pulse was already pounding and his adrenaline was pumping before he’d gotten halfway through it.
“No,” he told himself. “She’d never come all the way out here.” She’d have to fly for one thing. A very long flight. But even as he tried to tamp down the overwhelming rush, he was tucking the dragon and the bow into a zippered pocket.
He poled back to the edge, and scanned the perfect twin snakelike tracks cut into the slope below him, then stopped and pulled off his glove again. He yanked the note out and reread it. Twice.
He was in the mood all right. And if he had anything to do with it—and he planned to—he expected to be in the mood for the rest of his life.
With an avalanche-threatening rebel yell, he shoved off over the edge and shot straight down the mountain.
Zach found her in a private cove, standing ankle-deep in the midnight surf. A stunningly erotic sarong wrapped around her lithe body, a beautiful hibiscus blossom tucked into her shoulder-length brown hair. She couldn’t have possibly heard his bare feet on the sand, but she turned and looked straight at him when he was still twenty yards away.
He stopped and stared at her, unable to believe she was truly there. “You look like a pagan goddess,” he said. “My own Venus.”
Her gaze ran over him slowly, making his pulse race and his body harden. She walked toward him. His senses screamed, his muscles tightened, his mind focused with intense precision and total clarity on her. Only her.
He’d never, in his whole life, experienced a rush like this. He thought he might spontaneously combust if she came any closer; he thought he might go insane if she didn’t. And he knew he’d die if she ever left him again.
She stopped a foot away and looked up into his eyes. For all her outward boldness and confidence, the trace of vulnerability was still there. It undid him completely, and he reached for her, pulling her hard against him, wrapping her as tightly into his arms as he could.
“Are you really here,” he whispered into her hair, “or have I just conjured you up from desperation?”
“I’m really here,” she said softly.
His heart ached, and his eyes burned. “Don’t ever leave me again,” he said roughly.
“No. Never again.”
He pulled her head back and lowered his mouth to hers, wanting to keep his kiss gentle and thorough, but at the first taste he lost it. He took her mouth, begged her with his lips, his tongue, his moans, his every breath to take him also.
“You are like fire,” he murmured against her throat. He trailed kisses along her neck, drew his tongue over her pulse, nipped at her ear. “I won’t ever get enough of you. Believe that. We can work the rest out.”
Dara turned her head and nuzzled the crook of his neck, then tilted her head back and looked up into his eyes. All flickers of uncertainty were gone. Zach grinned broadly, his heart so full, he thought it would burst.
“I think I already have,” she said. “At least for me. I trust you to know what you want, to believe in your love. You were born to be wild, and I wouldn’t have you any other way. But I have to have you.” Her smile broadened. “And you know I’m serious if I flew in a plane for what seemed like six lifetimes to get to you.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, his tone hushed and fierce. “One call and I’d have been there.”
“I couldn’t wait. I just shut my eyes and focused on you the whole time.” She tipped up on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Then, framing his face with her hands, she focused everything she had on his gaze. “But most importantly, I trust in myself. If it’s possible to be what you need, then I’ll be it. Because more than anything else, Zach Brogan, I love you like hell on fire.”
His breath caught. “I didn’t think I was ever going to hear you say that.” Her
smile was lost under the pressure of his mouth on hers. “I love you,” he said against her mouth, then again against her cheek, all along her neck and whispered into her ear.
He ran his hands all over her, his lips following. She moaned and moved against him. Their hips quickly found a rhythm until Zach pulled away, breathing heavily.
“If I don’t get you somewhere a bit more private,” he ground out, “we’re going to make love right here on the beach.”
She laughed and rotated her hips against him again. “And here I thought you were the thrill-seeker in this relationship.”
Zach growled and caught her hips in his hands, holding her tight to him. “I’ll thrill you.”
“You already do,” she gasped. “And I’ve become addicted to it. To you.”
“If you let me, I’ll thrill you for a lifetime.”
She stilled. “Is that a proposal?”
He pulled her head to his. “That’s a promise.” His kiss was a physical avowal of his words.
When he let her up for air, she said, “Starting now?”
“Right now.”
Dara stepped away, and with a very wicked smile she tugged at the one and only knot holding up her sarong.
Zach choked on a laugh. “You keep doing stuff like that and we may not live long, but we’ll go out in a blaze of glory.” He reached for the waistband of his white beach pants, then groaned when she started to sway her hips. “Oh God, you’re going to kill me even before the honeymoon.”
She moved in a circle, beckoning him with graceful movements of her hands. “You took hula lessons?” he managed to ask, his voice hoarse.
She smiled and continued her seductive invitation. “It’s not cliff diving,” she said, “but it’s a start.”
Zach stepped out of his pants and yanked off his floral print shirt. He grinned when her fluid motions jerked to a halt with a sudden shiver. “Somehow I don’t think I’ll be diving off as many cliffs in the future,” he said, and stepped closer. “In fact, I doubt I’ll be leaving home much at all.”
“And here I was all ready to ask you to take me hot-air ballooning.”
“I love you just the way you are, Dara.” She moved closer to him, and he could barely breathe. “Don’t ever do anything you don’t really want to.” His voice was more a raspy whisper.
She put her hands on his chest and let them slide downward. “Oh, I want to,” she said, her voice dark and husky. She looked up at him. “Thrill me, Zach.”
And he did.
EPILOGUE
They were married one month later in the middle of their field under the bright summer sunshine.
The bride arrived by motorcycle and wore an all-white off-the-shoulder formfitting gown. A very short gown. The groom wore black tie and tails and a huge grin.
The maid of honor wore hot-pink.
The best men wore white tails with matching hot-pink ties and cummerbunds. The one in the wheelchair only had eyes for the maid of honor.
The traditional wedding march boomed from the speakers, and Zach turned to watch his bride walk down the flower-strewn, makeshift aisle.
The last notes faded as Dara joined Dane under the white linen awning. Dane handed his sister over to his best friend, shook his hand, then turned to the minister. “I give this woman.” His strong face was full of pride as he answered the minister’s next question. “I’m her brother.”
Shoulders squared, his love evident to all, Dane bent and gave her a brief hug, then stepped back to join the small throng of friends and family.
Dara took a deep breath and peered through her veil at the most handsome man in the world. The man who in a few short minutes would be her husband. Her knees trembled, her body tightened in anticipation.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” Zach said in an awe-struck whisper.
“So are you,” she whispered back, her eyes shining.
“I love you,” they said at the same time, then reluctantly dragged their gazes away from each other to answer the minister’s questions and repeat their vows.
A short time later, the minister said, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”
Amid raucous cheering Zach lifted her veil. He grinned and leaned down. “Hi, wife,” he said softly.
“Hi, husband.”
Her smile was sweet and shy and sexy, and in front of God and everybody he kissed his new wife with all of the love and passion she so easily inspired in him, bending her back over his arm in his fervor.
The crowd wholeheartedly approved, as Shocking Blue’s rendition of “I’m Your Venus” boomed out of the speakers.
When he pulled her up to an unsteady stand, she held on to her headpiece and smiled up at him. “I love you.”
“Yeah, it’s incredible, isn’t it?”
“It’s perfect.” She breathed deeply, wanting this moment to last forever. But impatient for all the moments to come, she faced the group. “Ready?” she called out.
Everyone crowded forward as she turned her back.
“One, two, three!”
The bouquet landed on Frank’s thighs. His hand darted out quicker than a snake, and an instant later his lap was occupied by a spluttering Beaudine. Amid whoops and much cheering, Frank laid one on her. When he lifted his head, a dazed Beaudine was clutching the bouquet.
And they dined on red velvet wedding cake, toasted each other with Dom Pérignon, danced to Mozart and the Moody Blues, and flew kites by the light of the moon.
This book is dedicated to Debra Dixon.
Because Swami Debbie is never wrong.
THE EDITOR’S CORNER
Welcome to Loveswept!
Next month, Loveswept is offering our first ever historical e-original title: Samantha Kane’s THE DEVIL’S THIEF. We’re incredibly excited about this sexy tale of wicked passion, where the clever wit and engaging banter shine through in the most captivating way. We believe Samantha Kane is an author to watch — and after reading THE DEVIL’S THIEF, I think you’ll agree. Look for the next book in her Saint’s Devil’s series, TEMPTING A DEVIL in 2013.
We also have a great selection of incredibly sensual and endlessly entertaining classic romances for you to enjoy.
PARADISE CAFÉ … Beloved author Adrienne Staff’s sensual story of reckless desire.
THE PERFECT CATCH … Linda Cajio’s playful book about the sexy game of love.
TEASE ME and BAYOU HEAT … two sizzling novels from Donna Kauffman.
And if you’re already anticipating the holidays, don’t miss Debra Dixon’s DOC HOLIDAY, a touching and humorous story about the magic of Christmas.
If you love romance … then you’re ready to be Loveswept!
Gina Wachtel
Associate Publisher
P.S. Watch for these terrific Loveswept titles coming soon: December brings these fantastic releases: Juliet Rosetti’s charming ESCAPE DIARIES, Juliana Garnett’s enchanting medieval THE MAGIC, and four more breathtaking stories from Donna Kauffman: BOUNTY HUNTER, TANGO IN PARADISE, ILLEGAL MOTION, and BLACK SATIN. We start 2013 with a fantastic new e-original from Wendy Vella, THE RELUCTANT COUNTESS, Donna Kauffman’s captivating WILD RAIN, Karen Leabo’s moving MILLICENT’S MEDICINE MAN, and three fantastic titles from Linda Cajio: SILK ON THE SKIN, HARD HABIT TO BREAK, and THE RELUCTANT PRINCE. Don’t miss any of these extraordinary reads. I promise that you’ll fall in love and treasure these stories for years to come.…
Read on for excerpts from more Loveswept titles …
Read on for an excerpt from Elisabeth Barrett’s
Blaze of Winter
CHAPTER 1
Of all the possible pranks a person could pull in the Star Harbor Library, putting a dead fish in the heating vent ranked high on the list of ones to try. And Theodore Grayson would know. He’d played that very trick twenty years ago, with his brothers Cole and Seb as his partners-in-crime. Still, the risk—considerable, given that every wall vent in the main room was visible from the circulation desk—had been worth the payout.
His large frame tucked into a carrel at the very scene of his youthful misconduct, Theo smiled at the memory.
They had done the deed in the middle of one of Star Harbor’s coldest winters, and with the heat on full blast, it had taken precisely thirty-seven hours for the smell to become overpowering. Even better, he and his brothers had all been present to witness the prank’s outcome—the unholy stench, a furious search for the source, and finally, a full evacuation of the library. And as any good trickster—Theo himself included—would acknowledge, a key component of every good prank was the payout.
The payout. The completion. The end. If only he could achieve the same with this damned book he should be writing. His smile faded fast.
“What the hell am I doing back in Star Harbor?” he groaned, shoving his chair back from the desk and abruptly standing up. An octogenarian seated on a nearby love seat flipped down Wednesday’s edition of the Boston Globe and gave him a disapproving look from beneath her tightly curled blue-tinted locks. In return, he gave her a dirty grin, and she let out a small gasp as her head disappeared in a rustle behind the Arts section.
Glancing around the library, he noted that nothing much had changed in twenty years. Same taupe walls, same signs over the reference desk, same green-shaded banker’s lamps on each long table. Only the posters displaying the covers of the latest bestselling books were different. Wryly, he noted that his own book wasn’t represented. Theodore Grayson, better known as T. R. Grayson—Star Harbor’s native son, bad boy made good.
But perhaps not good enough to warrant a place on the hallowed walls of the library.
No one met his eyes as he glanced around, so he sighed and slouched back down into his seat, pulling it forward until his fingers were once again aligned with the keyboard of his laptop. Then he took off his glasses—the stylish frames had been a gift from his publicist—and rubbed his eyes, willing the thoughts, phrases, and sentences to come.
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