Passionate Kisses

by Various

  He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Not until you listen to me.”

  His mom came hustling down the stairs and toward her car.

  She shouldn’t have been surprised to get this kind of treatment from his mother. Mary Case had never approved of her perfect son dating a Montgomery girl. It felt like she had been sucked back in time.

  “Tell your husband to move your car so I can leave,” she told Mary.

  “You don’t order me around, little girl. This is not your house.” Mary put her hands on her bony hips and walked over to Chelsea’s car. “I know you’re pissed off, Chelsea, but you brought this all on yourself. As if we would ever forgive you?” Her sequin-covered designer blouse glittered under the moonlight.

  “Get in this car right now, Mary,” Bruce, Jordan’s father, yelled from out of the Lexus window.

  “Mom!”

  Mary held her hand up. “Let me say my piece, Jordan.” She turned toward Chelsea again.

  “You’re no good for my son. You never have been and I’m glad he has seen the light about you. Chelsea, you come from trailer trash so that makes you nothing but trash as well.”

  She wanted to smack the woman but the idea of Elizabeth being in the house stopped her from doing it. She didn’t want her daughter to watch her being hauled away. At this point, she hoped Elizabeth would stay inside and not come out to see what all the commotion was. She went back inside to grab another suitcase. How had she accumulated all this stuff on such a short trip?

  A quick glance in the family room told her Elizabeth probably had gone to bed, but she needed to say goodbye. It would be wrong to take off without doing it.

  “Go home, Mother,” yelled Jordan as Chelsea came back out with her other suitcase. He still didn’t get off the hood of her car.

  Mary’s hundred-dollar hair-do stayed in place as she jerked her head to Jordan. “Excuse me?”

  “I told you to go home. Now!” Jordan pointed at his parents’ car.

  Mary stalked to her car. A moment later, the silver vehicle spun out of the driveway.

  He let out a nervous laugh. “I’ll get a call from her later.”

  “I don’t care. Get the hell off my car so I can leave too.” Glaring at Jordan, she stomped past him.

  “I said I’m not moving until you listen to me.”

  She opened the back door and threw the suitcase in. “I’m leaving as soon as I say goodbye to Elizabeth. Move, or do you want to ride on the hood all the way to Oregon? Or fall off? It’s your choice.” She slammed the door with all of her strength.

  “You’re not leaving until you listen to what I have to say. If it means lying behind your car, then I will. You love me too much to run me over.”

  Okay, so he might be right. “If I listen to you, will you get off my car?”

  “Yes,” he said and slid off.

  “And let me leave when you’re done talking?’

  “If that’s what you want to do.”

  She walked over and leaned against the car next to him. She couldn’t look at him, not with the betrayal she felt or the secret she was trying to hide.

  “You only heard part of it.”

  “I heard enough.” She crossed her arms over her chest. So it was her turn to be hurt. Jordan was finally getting his payback. So be it since it was time to leave anyway.

  “She came to tell me she wanted me to make you leave. I told her this will always be your home,” he said. She turned her face away so he wouldn’t see the tears running down her face. “I told her I love you and don’t ever want to lose you again. She said to just hear her out. You must not have heard that part of it.”

  “I must not have,” she mumbled.

  “Would we be going through this if you had heard the whole thing?” He kicked the gravel with his boot.

  She turned to him but couldn’t look at him. Not yet. “No.”

  “I’d marry you right now if you’d let me, Chelsea. My love for you has never gone away.”

  “Really?” She looked up at him. It was easier to go. She didn’t need to stay here. She’d done it on her own for so long. Leaving would be better than a broken heart, she tried convincing herself.

  “Yes, I would. You’re the only person for me. If I can’t have you, then I don’t want anyone else. No matter what, I can’t seem to convince you to stay here with us.” He pulled her by the jean

  loops until her breasts were resting against his chest. He circled his arms around her waist.

  “I don’t want to leave, Jordan. I wanted to talk about this.” She looked over at him. “I wanted us to stay here with you.” The us part was an accident but Jordan sure caught it like a fly ball.

  “Us?” He raised his eyebrow.

  She slipped her hand into the pocket to pull out the pregnancy test. She waved the stick in the air. “Us.”

  “Oh my… How long have you known?” His eyes popped open as he snatched the stick from her hand. He stared down at it as if the lines would suddenly change.

  “Since yesterday.” Uncertainty swirled around the air. Would he want this baby too? Still want her to leave?

  “You weren’t planning to…” He let the words die in the air as if he couldn’t even say them.

  “Get rid of the baby?” she guessed.

  “Yes.” He frowned.

  “No, Jordan. I couldn’t do that again.” The dam burst open. Unable to hold back the emotion anymore, tears slid down her face.

  Jordan wiped a tear from her cheek. He smiled and brought her lips to his. Their lips parted and she tasted his sweetness. Everything about Jordan was sweet.

  “Stay here. Please,” he said between kisses. “Marry me?”

  Her arms went around his shoulders and she leaned in for a deeper kiss, then pulled away long enough to say, “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  “I love you, Jordan. Forever and ever.” It had been ten years since she’d said those words.

  Ten years too long.

  They went to kiss again when the front door opened. A wild-haired ten-year-old yawned as she walked down the front steps. “What are you guys doing out here?”

  “We’re just talking. Your grandma left and said goodnight,” lied Jordan.

  “I have big news, Elizabeth.” Her smile grew.

  “What?” Elizabeth looked from Jordan to Chelsea.

  “I decided to stay here with you and your daddy.”

  “You did? Really?” Elizabeth ran over to Chelsea and swung her arms around her.

  Elizabeth’s eyes lit up like the stars in the sky. “Really, Mom? Like stay here forever with us?”

  “Yep,” answered Jordan. “Guess what else?”

  “What?” Elizabeth hopped up and down. She clapped her hands with excitement.

  “Do you want to tell her or should I?” Jordan looked at Chelsea.

  “Whichever you prefer.” Chelsea couldn’t stop smiling.

  Elizabeth jumped up and down again. “Tell me. Please, please, please.”

  Jordan took Elizabeth’s hand and placed it on Chelsea stomach. “Feel that?” he asked.

  Elizabeth’s eyebrow rose. “What? Did you eat a lot of food at dinner or something?”

  “No, silly girl.” Jordan laughed. “In a few months, it won’t be so small.”

  “I hope you mean what I think you do,” squealed Elizabeth, her eyes wide.

  She laughed out loud at her daughter’s delight. “How would you like having a new brother or sister?” Her arm slid around Jordan’s waist. It felt so good.

  “A new brother or sister means you’re pregnant?” Elizabeth stopped jumping. Her mouth dropped open. “Really?”

  “Really.” Jordan beamed. The excitement in his eyes shone brighter than the moon.

  “I have always wanted one of those!” Elizabeth stretched her arms around Chelsea and

  Jordan. “This is so cool!”

  She was home. Finally!

  Midn
ight Secrets

  Desert Secrets Book 2

  Will Miguel’s whispered midnight promises ever see the light of day?

  Content with her job as small town waitress and role of single mom, Allison believes she's better off without a man. In her opinion, all they bring is chaos - and that includes the father of her child. So why has Miguel’s arrival shaken her so badly?

  It's not easy for Allison to keep Miguel a secret with someone poisoning the food in her bakery and the local sheriff believing she harbors a vendetta against the town because of her tormented past. And then there are the people waiting for her to screw up with the kids. The control Allison has always kept on her life is slipping out of her grasp.

  Allison is always upfront with Miguel. There isn't anything she hides from him. Miguel wishes he could say the same. The one thing that Miguel has hidden could be the very secret that drives Allison straight from his arms.

  Keeping their secrets and clearing Allison's name just might be harder than either of them have ever imagined.

  Available Now

  About The Author

  Wendy Ely is an award-winning, best-selling author who writes some romantic suspense, really hot stories, and the wonderful happily-ever-after. She lives in Phoenix, Arizona with her own real-life hero, three teenagers, and two crazy cats. When she isn't busy writing new stories, she enjoys time outdoors by taking trips to the hot desert or swimming at the lake.

  Wendy loves to hear from readers: authorwendyely@gmail.com

  You can also find Wendy on Amazon: http://amzn.com/e/B008SA6TJK

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorwendyely

  Twitter: @wendyelyauthor

  Blog: http://www.wendyely.blogspot.com/

  Reckless

  by

  Jessi Gage

  Chapter 1

  Cami rang Mr. Johansen’s doorbell for the third time. Through the screen door, she heard him turn up the TV. For the third time.

  Stifling a chuckle, she squinted through the dusty screen. The angle of the August sun made it impossible to see much of anything in the shag-carpeted living room beyond.

  “Mr. Johansen, it’s me, Cami.”

  “Bunch of greedy trespassers you lot are,” he shouted from the direction of the recliner he’d positioned two feet in front of his state-of-the-art-in-1990 entertainment center. “Pushing your cookies on an old diabetic like me. Leave me be. I can’t have sugar.”

  “I’m not a Girl Scout, Mr. Johansen. And you’re not diabetic. It’s time for your chemo.”

  “What’s that, now? Someone’s going to Reno?”

  “Turn down your TV.” When he complied, she tried again. “It’s Cami. With Helping Hand Transport? I’m here to take you for your chemo.”

  “Jesus H. Christ,” he muttered. The squeak-thump of the recliner closing preceded the sound of him shuffling to the door in his slippers. He appeared behind the screen. “My appointment’s not for an hour.”

  “It’s in forty-five minutes.”

  “So, go sit in your little car, and I’ll be out in twenty. Only takes fifteen to get there.”

  “You know I only drive back roads,” she said with the patience that served her well in counseling high-school kids during the school year and volunteering during the summers to drive shut-ins to their medical appointments. “And it never hurts to be ten minutes early. Just bring a book to read or a crossword puzzle to do.”

  “Do enough of those during the chemo.” Despite his grumbling, he lifted his flat cap off the peg and grabbed his keys and wallet off the cluttered divider between the living room and kitchen.

  “Slippers,” she said as he opened the screen door.

  “Oh, for the love of...”

  She bit back a laugh as he shuffled back inside to put on a pair of white patent-leather loafers that took his plaid-shorts and gauzy, short-sleeved shirt from trailer-park casual to old-man chic.

  “Don’t ever get old,” he said as he locked up. “It sucks.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  The drive from Mr. Johansen’s trailer park to downtown Redding would have taken about fifteen minutes if she could have stomached driving on the interstate. But she’d been wending her way through back roads and rural routes all her adult life, and scheduling accordingly had become second nature. Most of her clients understood, especially since many of them shunned the too-fast world of freeway driving as well.

  Mr. Johansen was an exception. “Pass this yay-hoo.” He gestured at the white car in front of them.

  “And why should I do that?” she asked in her best counselor’s tone.

  “Because they don’t know how to drive.” He crossed his arms over his chest as if his judgment settled the matter.

  “The driver seems to be doing just fine to me. They’re not speeding, they brake around the corners, they stop for yellow lights, and they don’t tailgate. In fact, they seem to drive safe as can be.”

  He grunted with distaste. “Probably a woman driver.”

  “The nerve.” She winked and got a snort out of Mr. Johansen.

  Twenty minutes later, she pulled smoothly into the half-circle drive of Solace Cancer Care.

  Mr. Johansen hoisted himself out of the bucket seat and waved as he shuffled into the building. She’d be back to get him in three hours. In the meantime, the stack of home-décor magazines in her backseat was calling to her. Read me! Read me! Dream of the day you can afford a house of your own.

  She angled her car to pull across Hartnell into the strip mall where her favorite coffee shop was. While she waited for the light, her cell phone rang. Since no one was behind her, she carefully reversed into an empty space and answered the call.

  “Oh, good. I’m so glad I caught you.” It was Ellen, the dispatcher from Helping Hand. “Ben called in. He sprained his ankle at ultimate Frisbee this morning and can’t get Mrs. Emory to Sacred Heart. Can you do it?”

  She cast a longing glance at the colorful magazine cover on top of her stack. “What time is Mrs. Emory’s appointment?”

  “Um, three thirty.”

  “What! That’s in fifteen minutes!”

  “I know. Please tell me you’re running early as usual. Do you have Mr. J dropped off?”

  “Yes, but I can’t possibly make it all the way up to Mountain Lakes and back down to Sacred Heart in fifteen minutes.”

  “Not fifteen, I know. But if you leave now, get to Mrs. E’s in ten then down to Sacred in ten, she won’t have to reschedule. I’ll call the clinic and let them know she’ll be running a few minutes late.”

  Cami released a tense breath. Helping Hand’s motto was, We’ll get you there on time and with a smile. It killed her to fail Helping Hand and Mrs. E, but even worse, she hated to disappoint Ellen. She pictured the dispatcher at her desk, headset askew over her gray curls, a frazzled expression on her normally cheerful face. She didn’t want to make things difficult for Ellen, but to do what she asked would mean the unthinkable.

  “Ellen, you know I don’t take the freeway. Ever. Can’t you call her a cab?”

  “It’s the end of the month. Our stipend is bottomed out. Please? Just this once? It’s not like it’s rush hour or anything.”

  Every hour was rush hour on that death-trap stretch of concrete. “Are you sure there’s no one else who can do it?” Please, please, please let there be someone else.

  “You and Ben were the only ones available today. I know you don’t like the interstate, but hon, lots of people use it without any problem. Look at me. I’m no spring chicken and I do just fine.”

  At her silence, Ellen sighed. “Look, I don’t want to stress you out. I’ll call the clinic and let them know we’ll do our best but Mrs. E will likely be quite late. You take whatever route you need to and get her there when you can. Okay?”

  Ellen had pulled out Cami’s Kryptonite. Guilt. By being sweet and understanding, she guaranteed Cami would respond with her absolute best. “Tell Mrs. E I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
>
  I-5 ran north to south through Redding, California and was the best way to cross town, if a person didn’t have a crippling fear of merging at high speeds. But Ellen made a good point.

  Lots of people used the interstate without thinking twice about it. Didn’t Cami always counsel her kids that facing their fears was healthier than running from them? Maybe she should take her own advice.

  Gripping the wheel, she steeled herself to do something she hadn’t done since she was eighteen. She pulled her Civic out of Solace Cancer Care and headed for I-5’s entrance ramp.

  “Hang on, Mrs. E. Here I come.”

  * * * *

  “Yo, Summers!” The shout stopped Derek from pulling the door to his pickup truck shut.

  Leaning a forearm on the ledge of the open window, he looked at the trailer to see his construction engineer jogging toward him. Fred had one hand braced on his hardhat, keeping the thing from bouncing off his head-full of graying hair, and the other snagged on his tool belt to keep it from sliding down around his knees. The CE had skin the color and texture of leather left out in the sun, and the personality of a contemplative sea captain. Whenever Fred said anything, Derek had a hard time not imagining him with a corncob pipe and a colorful bird on his shoulder.

  Fred put a dusty boot on the runner of the truck and puffed a few wheezed breaths. “Glad I caught you, boss.” Fred always had a twinkle in his eyes when he called him that. They both knew Derek had only been promoted to site manager three years ago because Fred had turned down the position, claiming he’d miss being outdoors. Sometimes Derek missed the fresh air, but not today. The temperature had soared to triple digits. He wouldn’t have traded his air-conditioned office for anything.

  “Make it quick, old man,” he said. “Got a Little League game to get to.”

  “Rather be old than getting soft at a desk job.” Fred’s grin flashed a lot of sun-baked wrinkles and a gold tooth.

  “Soft, my ass.” He worked out every night to make sure he didn’t get soft.

  “That’s the first place to get soft, sitting in a chair all day.” Fred winked, then slapped the window ledge, getting down to business. “I know this ain’t a good time, boss, but phone for you.” He stabbed his thumb toward the trailer. “It’s the Trane rep. Something about a delay on the chillers.”