by Various
“Sam, I hate to pull rank on you, but I’ve gone above and beyond in helping you out lately. I could have nixed your request to work from home after you returned from maternity leave. I’ve also been open to your suggestion to cover primarily feature articles, even though you’re my top sports reporter.”
Yes, he had been great about that, she agreed silently.
“I’d hate for you to return to work in a few weeks to find that situation will no longer work out. I’d really hate to see that.”
Sam was stunned. He was blackmailing her. If she didn’t do this stupid story, she’d lose her dream job of being able to work at home alongside Danielle. She blinked back tears. Oz knew exactly why she was reluctant to cover this story. Apparently he had a smaller heart than she’d thought.
“Fine. You’ll get your story.” And she’d start looking for a new job Monday.
She put it off as long as she could. From the sounds on the other side of the door, she could tell the show was getting underway. Quit being a baby and do your job.
Taking a gulp of courage in the form of a deep breath, she pushed through the double doors and entered the auditorium. She found a spot next to the other journalists in the back and pulled a narrow notebook from her purse. She jotted notes about the surroundings, the decorations, the general ambiance. Finally, she glanced at the stage. Same setup as last year. Potted palms at the corners, metal stools lined across the stage with their bachelor occupants perched atop, adoring female audience frothing at the mouth for a chance at those men. She still found it distasteful.
Her gaze scanned the bachelors, taking notes of their names, occupations and any other interesting information as Adele Bartholemew, same emcee as last year, introduced the men. Sam sighed. She could have done the story without coming here. Everything was the same, right down to—
She gasped.
Right down to John. Oh, God. He was Bachelor Number 8.
Her breathing shallowed. She was going to hyperventilate. He’d obviously gotten over her since he was putting himself “out there” again, charity be damned. How could he? How could he? She looked around for a hiding place or a big person to hide behind.
She barely paid attention as each bachelor was introduced and told a little about himself. Until the microphone was put in front of John. Adele told the audience about his health clubs, his work with the kids, then she asked him the big question: “What are you looking for in a woman?”
“I want to find someone to settle down with. Someone who likes to laugh and have a good time. Someone who likes old movies. But most important, someone who loves kids just as much as I do.”
“You want kids, John?” asked Adele, sticking the mike in his face.
He nodded. “Desperately.”
Sam was going to throw up. He’d told her he couldn’t stay with her because he didn’t want kids, but what he’d really meant, obviously, was that he didn’t want her and Danielle. She blinked back stinging tears. Needing to get out of here, to hell with her job, she scooted toward the doors, but Adele’s next words gave her pause.
“Okay, ladies. Just to be different this year, we’re going to start at this end with Bachelor Number 8.” She waited for the applause to die, then said, “John? Will you pick from the hat or directly from the audience?”
“I’m not interested in the hat, Adele.”
Cocky son-of-a-bitch. Sam closed her eyes and told herself to leave now. But she was apparently a glutton for punishment because she really wanted to see what kind of woman John was interested in, what kind of woman he wanted to have babies with.
He rose from his stool. “I see someone in the audience I’d like to meet.” The audience cheered in anticipation.
Sam scanned the crowd, trying to find someone there he might be interested in, all the while her heart broke into tinier and tinier pieces.
“In fact, Adele,” John continued in a confident voice, “I see someone in your audience I’d like to marry.” Giggles and oohs erupted from the crowd.
Oh, God. Oh, God. This was too much. He was a total creep. Marry. Marry? She was out of here. The exit, her escape and salvation, was only feet away, but the closer she got to it the farther away it seemed, like that crazy dream when you’re running down a long hallway toward the door that somehow stays just a step ahead of you.
“She’s not actually a ticket holder, but we didn’t let that stop us last year... did we, Samantha?”
What? Sam froze, afraid to turn around, afraid her heartbroken soul played tricks on her. Praying this wasn’t just a dream, she turned. John wove through the crowd of tables, toward her. His expression wasn’t as confident as his words had suggested.
Blinking a few times, she stepped toward him, uncertain this was really happening. Afraid to believe. When they were a couple of feet apart, they stopped.
“Am I dreaming?” she asked.
His answering smile was tender. “If you are, I’m having the same dream.”
Tears fell onto her cheeks, blurring him. “Was Oz in on this?”
He nodded. “And Adele.”
“You jerk. I really thought that you—” Her voice caught and she cleared her throat. “You— you really want to marry me? Me and Danielle?” She was oblivious to the crowd surrounding them.
“I’ll tell you what,” John said, moving closer until his body heat melded with hers. “Rock, scissors, paper. If you win, the dream ends how you want. If I win, the dream ends how I want.”
She sniffed. “But you always win that game.”
He smiled, and moisture rimmed his eyes. “Yes, I know.” He peered into Sam’s face. God, how he loved this woman. “How long before Danielle gets out of the hospital?”
“Our daughter is coming home tomorrow.” She touched his cheek.
Our daughter, she’d said. He didn’t even try to blink away the stinging in his eyes. “Then I’m coming home tomorrow, too,” he whispered, pulling her into his embrace.
As she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him down for a kiss, as the audience thundered its approval and applause, John knew his future had arrived. It was everything he’d never thought it could be. And more.
***
OTHER BOOKS BY
REBECCA J. CLARK
Borrowed Stilettos
It’s a classic case of mistaken identity. But this time, it’s no mistake.
Her One-Night Prince
A Cinderella story about a woman's dream to be something she's not for just one night at her class reunion.
Deliver The Moon
Once upon a time, he promised the moon. It's time to deliver.
Shameful
Prequel to Shameless (the book you just read)
The Checklist Diet
Check off your way to a healthier diet.(non-fiction)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I’ve wanted to write romance novels since I read my first Harlequin Romance at age eleven. When I’m not writing, I work as a personal fitness trainer and group exercise instructor, where I teach Pilates, Zumba® and yoga. I feel very lucky to have not one, but two dream jobs: writing and fitness. Other jobs I’ve worked at over the years include portrait artist, marketing director, and graphic designer. But I most enjoy telling people I used to be a hoer (say it out loud, and you’ll know why I get a laugh out of this) in the beautiful tulip fields of Skagit County, Washington.
I live in the Pacific Northwest with my husband, two kids, a German Shepherd beast, two cats who plot to kill the dog, a rat that comes when he’s called (seriously), and a dead gecko (seriously, again). In my free time, I like to read, watch Criminal Minds reruns on TV, and do absolutely nothing.
Sign up for my newsletter with up-to-date book news.
You can find me online.
Facebook
Twitter
If you enjoyed this book, Rebecca would appreciate an honest review at the ebookstore where you purchased the book. Thanks so much!
Good Cop
Heroes o
f Henderson ~ Book 1
by
Liz Kelly
Prologue
Brooks Bennett ran a hand through his short copper curls and blew out a long breath as he studied his surroundings. Their favorite college haunt seemed smaller and dingier, though the same stale smells of cooking grease and spilled beer lingered. They’d celebrated their College World Series win right here almost seven years ago. Seven years. Fucking A.
“Hey, Third Base,” he said, his mouth pulling into a broad grin. He hadn’t called his buddy that in years. Vance Evans’ expression also showed a little oomph for the first time in days at hearing the nickname. He stopped picking at the label on his long-neck bottle and started looking around.
“We had a hell of a run. State champs in high school. World Series champs here.” He tilted the bottle to his lips.
“That we did,” Brooks agreed.
“Though, I gotta tell ya,” Vance said, shaking his head. “The team we’ve put on the field this year? They would have handed us our jocks.”
Brooks laughed. “It’s true. I know it’s true, but please don’t tell them that. We’ll lose complete control.”
“Are you kidding me?” He squinted his eyes and twisted his mouth. “No way would I ever admit that. I parade them by our State Championship trophy every damn day.” He smiled then and leaned forward, tapping his finger on the table between them. “But it is damn good fun being their coach.”
“That’s good, since you’re not much of a cop,” Brooks teased.
“Fuck you,” Vance said good-naturedly and then sat up straight and scowled when he heard their long-lost fraternity brother, Duncan James, hailing the bartender. “Show time.”
Brooks appreciated the irritation he saw in Vance’s eyes, though he wasn’t convinced driving an hour into Raleigh and staging an ambush was the smartest way to handle this. But since the college kids were spring-breaking their asses off in Florida or wherever they went these days, the bar was quiet. Maybe the three of them could calmly talk this out.
“Hey, y’all. Sorry I’m late,” Duncan said, sliding into the booth next to Brooks. He wore his big-deal-lawyer suit more comfortably than a pair of jeans. “The call I’d been waiting for all day came in just as I was about to leave. Had to take it.”
“Y’all? When the hell did you start sayin’ ‘y’all’?” Vance asked.
“Did I? Must be from hanging around you rednecks too long.” Duncan glanced at a menu before setting it aside. He took a deep breath and blew it out as he looked at his best friends. “God, it’s good to see you guys. How the hell are you?”
Brooks and Vance exchanged a look before casting their disgruntled expressions on Duncan.
“We’re bent,” Vance told him.
Raising an eyebrow, Duncan sat back and eyed his buddies again. “Never one to mince words,” he said, and nodded to Vance. “What’s going on?”
“Annabelle Devine is what’s going on.”
“Annabelle?”
“Christ, Dunc, it’s the end of March. The last time we saw you was New Year’s Day.”
Duncan’s mouth hung open for a moment, and then he snapped it shut. “You do recall that it was the two of you who introduced me to Miss Devine, right? On New Year’s Eve?”
“We didn’t introduce you. She was the target of our damn bet.”
“A bet where I came out on top, in more ways than one.”
“Clearly,” Vance scoffed. “And since you’ve hooked up with our infamous ‘Keeper of the Debutantes,’ you haven’t been back to Henderson for one poker night. We can’t get you on the phone unless we call your office. For God’s sake, we even had to beg you to fill out your NCAA bracket.”
Duncan turned wide eyes to Brooks. “Is this for real?”
Brooks clenched his jaw.
“Oh, you too, huh?” Duncan looked back at Vance. “I neglect you two for a few weeks and you drive into town to, what? Stage an intervention?”
“We’re just here to save you from yourself, bro.”
Duncan laughed at that, and Brooks watched Vance’s temper spike. Luckily they were interrupted by the waiter.
“Three more beers, three shots of tequila, three bacon cheeseburgers medium-rare, two with onion rings, one with fries, and bring some extra pickles, if you don’t mind,” Duncan ordered. He handed the menus to the waiter and folded his arms across his chest. When the waiter was out of earshot, Duncan cleared his throat and leaned forward.
“You two are closer to me than my own brother,” Duncan said in a low, no-nonsense growl. “But I am warning you one time and one time only. Tread lightly when it comes to Annabelle. If you have a problem with me, it’s on me. You do not now, nor will you ever, find fault with Annabelle Devine.”
Dead silence.
“We clear?”
“Clear,” Books mumbled along with Vance, each taking a sip of beer to dilute the tension at the table.
The beverages arrived before any of them could find another word. Together they upended the shots and chased them with their beers. Silence fell again while Duncan smoothed his hands over the rough table surface.
“I apologize. Not for blowing you two rednecks off while I spend time with Annabelle, but for not keeping you in the loop. I guess I just assumed….” His voice trailed off.
“That we would figure it out,” Brooks finished for him, starting to feel like a real idiot.
Vance slapped his hand on the table throwing Brooks a ‘come on, man’ look. “Really?” he said. “You’re going to let him off that easy?”
Duncan grabbed Vance’s arm and shoved it off the table. “Look, asshole. What the hell do you expect? The three of us are pushing thirty. For all your talk over the years about raising your families in your hometown, you had to expect there would come a time when women would actually be part of that equation. Well, I’ve found mine, and I’m ready to move forward. So if that means missing a few poker nights while I’m trying to seal the deal with Miss Devine, from Henderson, I might add, I expect the two of you to suck it up and act happy for me. I mean, Jesus H. Christ! Did you think the three of us were going to adopt kids and raise them together?”
Brooks shook his head, feeling every bit the self-important, spoiled child he was. But he almost laughed when he noticed the expression on Vance’s face. There was shock, yes. But also a dawning awareness, as if Vance hadn’t considered he’d eventually have to find a mate.
Brooks reached out and tapped the table in front of Vance. “Hey. Third Base. You okay?”
Vance shook his dark head like a wet dog and snapped out of his stupor. “Holy shit!” he said, looking between Brooks and Duncan, starting to laugh. “Are we really almost thirty?”
“’Fraid so,” Duncan assured him as heaping platters of burgers, fries, and onion rings were set in front of them.
Vance picked up his beer and saluted Brooks. “Then it’s time.”
“Time?”
“Time to do what he’s doing.” Vance pointed his beer at Duncan. “Because we have plans. Big plans.”
Brooks looked up from his plate and into Vance’s eyes. “We’re not thirty yet.”
“What plans?” Duncan asked.
“You know! Our plans. Get Brooks elected mayor,” Vance said, setting down his beer and ticking off his fingers one by one. “Institute our economic plan to bring new businesses and services to Henderson.”
“Which will hopefully stop the mass exodus of young people leaving town,” Brooks interjected. “Like our buddy Lewis who has taken his big brain and multi-million dollar App-designing business right up to fucking New York City.”
“And like your Annabelle,” Vance said. “There is no reason she can’t travel from Henderson to do her job taking care of sorority girls up and down the East Coast.”
“Except that I live in Raleigh,” Duncan protested. “I want her to live in Raleigh.”
“You don’t know what you want!” Vance insisted. “What you want is to move your own R
ichmond-raised ass out of Raleigh and into Henderson because once Brooks and I start these plans, the town is going to need a good business attorney, fast. You’ll have more business than you can handle. What you want is to open your own damn firm in Henderson and be your own damn boss.”
Duncan turned his head toward Brooks. “Well, thank God somebody knows what I want.”
“Then,” Vance continued as if Duncan hadn’t just made a joke, “as Henderson begins to develop, you join Brooks and me in our campaign to get it listed as one of ‘America’s Best Places to Live.’ All this while settling down and having enough kids between us to field a baseball team.”
“Those are some big plans,” Duncan chuckled.
“That’s how we roll,” Vance said as he reached for the ketchup. Then he nodded toward Brooks. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
Brooks nodded, having already taken a bite of his two-fisted burger.
“We need to find ourselves a woman,” Vance said, right before he bit off far more than he could chew.
Chapter One
Lolly DuVal had not been back inside Henderson High School since the day she graduated five years ago, and she certainly hadn’t ever set foot in the boys’ locker room. But it was a Saturday in late May, classes had been dismissed for the summer, and she had an appointment with the boys’ varsity baseball coach. So here she was, hobbling around on her sore feet, nervously entering forbidden territory, searching for a door labeled ‘Training Room.’
Ordering herself not to be tentative, she gave a good rap on the door and was relieved to hear a voice from inside calling for her to enter. Coach Evans, his back to her stood up from a desk shoved against the wall between the training tables and weight machines and turned in greeting, smiling enthusiastically as his eyes registered her appearance.