by Piper Rayne
She squeezed his hand and brought it to her mouth for a kiss. “I’m the luckiest woman in the world, because I get to kiss that face every night before I go to bed and wake up to it first thing in the morning.”
“All right, now you’re just sucking up. What do you want?” Dusk fell on the beach, casting gray and purple shadows from the dunes.
Her laughter hit him like the first sip of champagne, the jolt of carbonation and the hit of loose-limbed relaxation. “I don’t want anything. I’m having the best trip ever. Today, I got to sleep in, order a room service feast, and take a long soak in Hermes bathing salts.”
One of the many things he loved about her was that no matter his wealth, she never got jaded. Staying in a nice hotel, going out to a fancy restaurant, everything was received with awe and gratitude.
“Plus, while you were in meetings, I got to wander through all the stores I’d researched before coming in. I couldn’t be happier.”
“I could be.”
She stopped, gazing up at him with concern. “What’s wrong? Didn’t your meetings go well?”
“They went great. But I’m tired, and I want to kick back and relax tonight.”
“Well, then, let’s go back to the city.”
“It’s too far.”
“What do mean it’s too far? You can relax in the car.”
“Nah. It’s a two-hour drive.”
“Okay, so, do you want me to see if I can find a place in the Hamptons? Or Montauk?”
“Nope. Let’s just sit on that deck.”
She turned to see what he was talking about, and he got to watch her expression as she took in the beachfront home sparkling with little white lights. “That’s beautiful. But, babe, someone lives there.”
Grasping her hand firmly, he walked toward the house.
“Either you’re pulling a prank on me or your ego has grown from all those big-ass contracts you’ve been looking at this week. If you think they’re going to let you in just because you’re Matteo Candella, then you can go by yourself. I’ll be on the next train back to the city.”
Just as she tried to pull her hand free, he scooped her up and broke out into a jog.
“Oh, my God, Matty, put me down. You’re crazy.”
He leapt up the stairs to the patio and set her on her feet. Music played quietly from outdoor speakers and windchimes tinkled in the steady breeze.
“We have to get out of here.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m hungry. Look at that.” He pointed to the table set with fine china and gleaming silver. “That looks good.”
“I’m mortified. We have to go.” She tilted her head. “Hey, I have those same slippers.”
“I know.”
“Wait a minute. Those are my pajamas.”
“Mmhm.”
When she whipped around to face him, he was on his knee.
Her hands flew up to cover her sexy mouth.
He tugged on her wrist. “Let me see you.”
“What’re you doing?” she whispered, voice rich with joy.
“I love you, Quinn Ellison. I’ve loved you for seven years, and I’m going to love you forever. I want to spend my life with you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring he’d bought in the West Village yesterday. “Even if you’re not ready right now, I want you to know that you’re the love of my life. I want to marry you and make a family with you.”
“Wait, so, it’s not an engagement ring?”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“What if I want it to be?”
Her smile split him wide open, and nothing but sunshine and happiness spilled out. “You serious? You’re gonna marry me?”
“There’s nothing I want more in the whole wide world.” She gazed down on him with so much love, the beauty of it almost knocked him sideways. “You’re the best man I’ve ever known, and I love you with everything I am. Matteo…” She pressed a hand to his cheek. “This is forever.”
Joy had him reaching for her hand and lifting it in the air. “She said yes! I can’t believe I got the girl.” No one was around to hear him, but he didn’t care. He kissed her on the mouth. “I’ve waited seven damn years for this.”
“And it was worth every second since I get to spend the rest of my life with you.”
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About Erika Kelly
Award-winning author Erika Kelly writes sexy and emotional small town romance. Married to the love of her life and raising four children, she lives in the southwest, drinks a lot of tea, and is always waiting for her cats to get off her keyboard.
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COME AWAY WITH ME
WHOLE LOTTA LOVE
YOU’RE STILL THE ONE
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YOU REALLY GOT ME
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Stormy Hearts
Copyright © 2021 by Julia Gabriel
All rights reserved.
No part of this story may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
About Stormy Hearts
When rock star Ian Youngblood stops to do a good deed in a storm, he’s not expecting to find the woman with the angel’s voice who walked out on him in London ... a woman he hasn’t been able to forget.
Two years ago, Mai Tran narrowly missed becoming just another notch on a rock star’s bedpost. But when the lights go out tonight, can she resist their undeniable attraction one more time?
Chapter One
“So.” Mai peered out the large front window of her coffee shop. “It doesn’t look like the storm has changed its mind and decided to head back out to sea.”
“Nope. I think we’re in for one heck of a weekend.”
Mai stood shoulder to shoulder with Becca Wolfe as they watched the rain fall outside. It was still hot enough that the raindrops were sizzling and evaporating as soon as they hit the street. August in St. Caroline, Maryland, was normally rather sweltering, but the temperature was dropping—practically by the minute.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Main Street this deserted before.” August was also peak season in St. Caroline. Summer was when the east coast sailing enthusiasts descended on the town. Along with fishing enthusiasts, group bicycle tours, photography buffs, people headed to Ocean City taking an afternoon detour, the owners of the estates and mansions ringing the town’s perimeter, and weddings.
Good Lord, the weddings.
Mai’s Two Beans coffee shop caffeinated them all.
Becca leaned her forehead against the glass, looking toward her quilt gallery where her husband was busy sandbagging the front of the building. “Looks like Jack is almost done.” Up and down the street, business owners were stacking giant bags of sand against their storefronts. Several had nailed great sheets of plywood over their windows. Mai hoped that was an overabundance of caution on thei
r part.
Hurricane Ian had been downgraded to Tropical Storm Ian as it swept across the mid-Atlantic coast. Seventy mph winds could still do a lot of damage, though. Not to mention the flooding that was the town’s main concern. Living in a waterfront town was idyllic … as long as the water stayed in the bay where it belonged.
Becca patted Mai’s forearm. “It’ll be fine. What the insurance agent said to me was, ‘If the building is still standing after two hundred years, it’ll withstand any weather Mother Nature throws at it.’”
“Did you get that in writing?”
Becca laughed and turned around. Her eight-year-old daughter, Jackie, was sitting at a table, carefully coloring in one of the many coloring books Mai kept on hand for younger patrons. “Finish up your page, sweetie. Daddy will be here soon.” She grinned at Mai. “Those coloring books were a genius move, by the way.”
“Clearly. I’ve been going through half a dozen a week.”
“Well, the moms appreciate it.”
Mai nodded. At twenty-eight, she was beginning to wonder if she’d ever be a mother herself. A downside of living in a small town, to be sure. She’d already dated or passed on most of St. Caroline’s eligible bachelors. Still, she loved living here. Loved the history of the place. Most of the businesses on Main Street, hers included, were in buildings that dated back to the 1800s.
And of course, she loved that Two Beans was a popular hangout all year round. If only some new guy would decide to move here and fall in love with her, life would be grand!
Fortunately, the pity party that was about to launch in her mind was interrupted by Jack Wolfe coming in the front door.
“All done,” he said, bracing for impact as his daughter launched herself at him. “Mai, do you need any help?” He glanced back toward the street.
“No, I’m good. My brother sandbagged the back of the building and brought up the rest for the front.” She nodded at the bags stacked at the back of the shop.
“Why didn’t he do the front?” Jack peeled off his daughter.
“He had to get back to Annapolis.” She swallowed the bubble of irritation that rose in her throat, again. She came from a restaurant family, had grown up working in her parents’ mini empire of Vietnamese restaurants. Her brother now ran the newest addition to the empire—an upscale French-Vietnamese restaurant on the water in Annapolis. To her parents, Mai’s small coffee shop was not a “restaurant.” Thus, not important.
“I’m fine,” she said to Jack and Becca’s concerned expressions. “I checked last night. I can lift the bags. You guys should get home before the winds pick up.”
Hesitation flickered in Jack’s eyes, before he acquiesced.
“Alright. But get those bags out there. The storm’s going to hit soon.”
“I will. No worries.” She waved them off and then eyed the small mountain of sandbags waiting for her. I got this.
Ian Youngblood slowed the rental car. He was driving down Main Street on his way back to the house he was house sitting for a friend. Through the hyperactive thwap-thwap of the windshield wipers and the monsoon-like rain, he could just barely make out a small figure struggling to heave a sandbag up onto the pile of bags already in place. It was clearly a woman, and a drenched woman at that.
As much as he wanted to get to the house and hunker down for the storm, he couldn’t, in good conscience, simply drive by. He pulled over to the curb and parked. Two Beans. Simone had recommended the place before she and Douglas left on their honeymoon. The way she’d described it made it sound like Cheers, only with coffee.
He jumped out of the car. “Hey! Let me help you.” He ran over and pushed the sandbag easily onto the pile. “There.” He brushed wet, leaking sand from his hands.
The woman turned to look at him. “Thanks. I only have a dozen more to go.”
His breath caught in his throat, even as rain needled his scalp and dripped off his nose. It was the karaoke woman from London. He was sure of it.
“Where are the rest?”
Her expression was one of skepticism, not recognition. That disappointed him on both counts. Of course, he was going to help her with the rest. He wasn’t a dick. That was Alex’s role in the band.
But wait—she doesn’t remember me?
He wasn’t accustomed to not being remembered. At the very least, his manager wouldn’t mind a viral tweet or two about some Good Samaritan behavior to counter all the recent bad publicity from Alex. Who was now in rehab for the fourth time after trashing one tour bus, two hotel rooms, and half of a backstage dressing room. Ian had gotten there just in time to save the other half.
He loved Alex like a brother—he really did—but the drinking was out of control. And Ian wasn’t the only person who was tired of it.
“In the back.”
She climbed over the stack of bags in front of the shop’s front door. He was momentarily mesmerized by the sight of her legs, shiny and sleek in the rain. He followed her over the bags and into the coffee shop.
“Sit down and rest. I can do it.”
“It’ll be faster if we both do it.”
Looking her over, “unlikely” was the word that came to mind. She was maybe a hundred and twenty pounds, soaking wet. Her long, dark hair was plastered to her head, cheeks, and neck. Her white button-down shirt was now nearly translucent, revealing a lacy yellow bra underneath. Yellow was an unusual color for lingerie, in his not-so-limited experience.
He was remembering the black lingerie she wore the first time he saw her, when a gust of wind slapped against the roof of the building. Oh right. His namesake storm was bearing down on them. There was no time to ponder lingerie or the fact that she apparently had no recall of him.
“Well then, let’s go.”
Chapter Two
They had just shoved the last bag of sand into place when a blast of wind nearly lifted Mai off her feet. Her Good Samaritan steadied her and helped her climb over the bags and through the front door. He closed it and turned the lock not a minute too soon. As they stood side by side and watched, all hell broke loose outside. It was raining hard before, but now the rain was blowing sideways. Great sheets of water hit the shop’s front window.
“Well, I hope that works,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “Sorry about your car out there.”
“It’s a rental. Hope you don’t mind if I wait this out a bit.”
“You might be here awhile. But you’re welcome to stay.” She looked at the puddles of water gathering around their feet. Their clothing was saturated and dripping onto the floor. “Umm, I’m going upstairs to change into something dry. I, uh, don’t have any men’s clothing …”
“A towel will work, if you have one.”
“Do have those.” She hurried up the back stairs to her second floor apartment, her leather sneakers squishing and squeaking the entire way. She yanked them off in her tiny kitchen. They were almost certainly ruined. She grabbed a stack of towels and took them back downstairs.
“Here.”
She returned to her apartment to peel off her shorts and blouse, which—she realized belatedly—was so wet it was see-through. Oh well. There was a pretty good chance the guy downstairs had already seen her half naked, not that he would remember it. Outside, she’d been too busy to take a really good look at the guy who’d offered to help her with the sandbags. She was just grateful for the unexpected help.
But now that she’d had a good look at him inside, she was ninety percent certain that her Good Samaritan was either A) Ian Youngblood, lead singer of Pulse; B) Ian Youngblood’s identical twin; or C) one of those random universe doppelgangers who was an exact replica of Ian Youngblood.
If he was A … well, she had nearly hooked up with him two years ago in London.
Nearly.
She had a good excuse. Or a reasonable excuse, at any rate.
She and Kyle had gone to London for a romantic Christmas vacation. After a year and a half of serious dating, she’d been expecting a proposal
on the trip. Along the Thames or atop the Eye. Something like that. Hell, Mai would have settled for the Tower of London.
Instead, Kyle had dumped her—leaving her to spend the rest of the trip by herself. One thing led to another and she had ended up in a hotel room with one Ian Youngblood. Fortunately, she came to her senses before becoming another notch on his bedpost. It was a story she hadn’t shared with anyone. Who would believe it?
She peeled off her bra and underwear, then wrung out her hair over the tub. She was soaked to the skin. After combing through the tangles in her wet hair, she pulled on clean clothes. Then she combed her hair again, fixing the part ever so slightly.
Yeah, she was stalling. There was a bonafide rock star downstairs! And, despite that near miss in London, Mai was not the type of person who knew bonafide rock stars. Sure, among St. Caroline’s summer and weekend residents there were some semi-famous people. But they were CEOs, tech gazillionaires, politicians. With the exception of the singer Simone Adkins, who had a personal childhood connection to the town, St. Caroline did not harbor celebrities on the order of Ian Youngblood.
She stalled a few more minutes, then resigned herself to going back downstairs. There was no chance he remembered her, anyway. Out of all the women he must meet every day? Mai was nothing more than a blip on the radar. She would pretend that she had no idea who he was.
She turned off the lights in the apartment and closed the door behind her. She heard him moving around as she descended the stairs. Still, nothing could prepare her for the sight of a mostly naked rock star sweeping up the trail of sand that had spilled from the bags. He was all smooth tan skin except for the white towel wrapped around his waist.
She could have sworn the towel looked bigger in her bathroom.