Finally, Shannon showed him the note she’d written to Alan. This time she read it out loud to him, and he loved the sound of it in her voice, especially the final words.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it. Madly,” he said. “You didn’t have to do that at all. But I’m thrilled you did.”
“You once made a video hoping I’d see it and know you were still thinking of me. It seemed only fitting that I should make this for you, and help you get what you wanted.”
“Babe,” he said, cupping her cheeks and moving in for a kiss. “I already have everything I’ve ever wanted.”
EPILOGUE
The delicious scent of barbecue wafted through the summer air. Shannon’s brothers manned the grill, flipping burgers and chicken breasts, and turning cobs of corn.
Music played from an outdoor speaker. A string of red pepper lights hung along the wooden posts of the fence. Her grandparents had insisted on a wedding celebration, and everyone was there—his parents; his brother and his wife, and their daughter; Mindy; Ally; Nate and his wife; James and his family; Shannon’s brothers; and her grandmother’s daughter and her kids.
Everyone who mattered deeply to the bride and groom.
The first three weeks of marriage had been bliss, and Brent was confident the next thirty, forty, fifty years and then some would be too.
As he took a long swallow from a bottle of beer, his eyes found his wife. She relaxed in an Adirondack chair on the deck, bouncing Carly on her knee and making cooing sounds to his niece while chatting with Julia. The sight of his Mrs. Nichols holding a baby tugged on all his heartstrings, reminding him both of the loss in the past but also of a bright, possible future. They’d need to get working on that soon.
Very soon.
He felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Mindy. “You checking out Shannon’s brothers?” he teased.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah. Totally. Just standing around, staring at the eye candy.”
He laughed, then lowered his voice. “Did you ever find out anything about that guy? The pics I showed you?”
“Brent,” she chided. “We’re at your wedding celebration.”
“This is important, though,” he said. He’d given Mindy the pictures he’d taken of the guy in the Buick a few weeks ago, and she’d agreed to show them to some of her friends on the force to see if the plates or the car or the tattoos revealed anything. He couldn’t dismiss the notion in the back of his mind that the ink meant something.
“Truth be told, I don’t have anything yet. They’re pretty swamped, and can’t really do license plate checks anymore for privacy reasons. But one of my guys said he’d take a close look and see if the ink looks familiar. I promise to let you know as soon as I hear.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Shannon handing the baby to Julia, then blowing him a kiss. He returned it, and watched as she headed inside the house, her brothers in tow. They’d told him they had a special gift for Shannon, and he suspected they were giving it to her now.
He lifted his beer and tapped it to Mindy’s. “Thank you.”
“Anytime. Now celebrate. Don’t worry about the pictures. Have a great time with everyone here.”
That sounded like a damn fine plan.
* * *
Her grandmother was in the kitchen refilling a pitcher of iced tea. Michael swooped in behind her and grabbed something from the counter.
“Told you we’d get you a wedding gift,” he said, holding up a small white box with a silver bow tied daintily on it.
“I wrapped it,” her grandma chimed in. “That’s why it looks nice.”
“Because you boys don’t know how to wrap gifts,” Shannon said as she reached for the box. “Yet another reason why you all require further domestication,” she said, taking her time to give each of her brothers a steely-eyed, yet playful stare.
“Good luck on that front. Pretty sure I’m not trainable at all,” Ryan said, tucking his thumbs into the belt loops of his shorts.
Shannon patted him on the cheek. “There, there. Every dog can learn.”
“All right, funny girl. Open your gift,” Michael said.
“You know I don’t need anything, right? I hope you didn’t get me a blender,” she said as she removed the silver bow from the box.
“The world’s smallest blender,” Colin joked.
Peering inside, she found soft tissue paper laid on top of something metallic. She folded back the tissue paper to uncover a gorgeous platinum bracelet that matched the rose gold and silver ones she already wore.
“Oh, it’s so pretty,” she said, admiring the simple and elegant design. When she spotted the date engraved in the center, she brought her hand to her heart. “My wedding date.”
“Look at the inside, too. It’s also inscribed,” Michael said, nudging her with his shoulder.
Turning the slender bracelet on its side, she read the engraved script. “To our incredible sister on her happily ever after. We love you, always. Michael, Ryan and Colin.”
A lump rose in her throat, fighting its way free. She clasped a hand over her mouth, as a tear slid down her cheek.
That tear was a declaration. An announcement of their love, their bond, their unbreakableness. Her boys—her men. She wrapped her arms around Michael and Colin, and Ryan jammed his way in, too, for a big group hug.
“I love you guys. So damn much,” she whispered in their huddle.
“We love you,” they all said in unison.
When they pulled apart, Shannon wiped the tears from her cheek, and shot them a wild grin. “Hmm. Now who gets to go next? Michael, Ryan, or Colin?” she said, counting off her brothers as her grandmother laughed. “I have a feeling the next one of us to fall in love will be—”
The doorbell rang, cutting off her prediction.
“I’ll grab that,” her grandmother said, heading to the front door, a few feet away. “Probably my neighbors. I invited them too.”
When she opened the door, there were two men on the front step. One wore a light blue button-down. The other sported a gray striped shirt. Both had ties, loosely knotted, and badges at their waists.
Her spine straightened and her smile erased itself. Shannon did a quick inventory of people, even though she already knew the answer—everyone she loved was safe and sound in the house. Still, her pulse doubled as she and her brothers moved closer to the door, flanking their grandmother.
The guy in the blue button-down spoke. “I’m looking for Victoria Paige. Is she here?”
Her grandmother nodded crisply and held out a hand. “I’m Victoria. What can I do for you?”
He shook her hand. “I’m Detective John Winston with Metro. This is my partner,” he said, but Shannon barely heard the other man’s name as blood pounded in her ears. “We wanted to let you know as the family of the murder victim, that due to new evidence in the homicide of Thomas Paige, the investigation is being reopened.”
THE END
Stay tuned for SINFUL DESIRE, book #2 in the Sinful Nights series, now available for preorder across all retailers! SINFUL DESIRE releases in September and tells the story of Ryan Sloan as he falls in love with the glamorous and brilliant Sophie Winston against the backdrop of the reopened investigation. If you'd like to receive an email when SINFUL DESIRE and other new titles are available, please sign up for my newsletter.
A brief excerpt of SINFUL DESIRE follows.
SINFUL DESIRE
Book 2 in the Sinful Nights series
Chapter One
The light was playing tricks on him.
The golden haze of the late afternoon sun, and its halo glow, was some kind of illusion. No way, no how—it was not possible for anyone to be so gorgeous that she practically shimmered.
Mirage was the more plausible answer to explain the platinum blonde stepping out of the Aston Martin at three o’clock in the afternoon on a Friday in July, looking like she belonged in a gangster movie. The woman they all fought over. The
woman who brought the men to their knees.
From the pinup dress, to the pouty lips, to the gleaming car that nearly stretched a city block—or so it seemed—she was…
Glamorous. Sultry. Voluptuous.
His fantasy woman.
No question about it.
This was lust at first sight. Pure, unadulterated lust knocking around in his chest and threatening to make matters in his charcoal gray slacks harder than he needed them to be right now.
But he was willing to deal with that problem because the woman could not be ignored. A groan rolled around in Ryan’s throat as he stared shamelessly over the top of his aviator shades. He walked along the palm-tree lined sidewalk that framed police headquarters, cycling through his best opening lines, even though he had a hunch a woman like that—a woman who wore a black dress with a cherry pattern and bright white sunglasses—had heard them all. Busty and bold enough to pull up to Vegas’ municipal building at midday looking like sin come to life, this woman wasn’t going to be wooed by lines.
With one hand on the car door, she glanced to the left, away from him. In her other hand, she held a phone, a notepad and a pen. She bumped her rear against the car door, shutting it with her ass.
What a lucky car door.
He half wished she’d drop a pen, just so he could swoop in and pick it up. Bend down, grab it before it rattled to the street, and gallantly present it.
Then get her number with that pen. She’d be the type to push up the cuff of his shirt-sleeve and write it on his arm.
He scoffed to himself. As if that would work. But something had to, because the clock was ticking, and he was ten feet from this heavenly vision. Checking his watch, he saw he had two minutes to spare before he met with the detective. He could do this. He could meet her in 120 seconds.
The sun pelted its hot desert July rays at him, radiating off the sidewalks, as he ran a hand along his green tie and cleared his throat. She looked up from her phone and instantly they locked eyes. Hers were blue like the sea. As she caught his gaze, she arched an eyebrow.
This was it. No time for lines. Just fucking talk to the gorgeous creature. “Seems I’ve been caught staring,” he said as he reached her and stopped walking, claiming a patch of concrete real estate a foot away.
“I’m afraid I’m guilty on that count, too,” she fired back, her voice laced with a torch singer sultriness, her words telling him to keep going.
She had a pen in her hand and twirled it once absently.
He tipped his forehead to the pen. “Incidentally, I’m astonishingly good at picking up pens that beautiful women drop outside our fine city’s government buildings.”
Her lips twitched. Red. Cherry red and full. He wanted to know what they tasted like. How they felt. What she liked to do with them.
She brought the pen to her lips, danced it between them, raised her eyebrows in an invitation, and then let it drop. It clattered to the sidewalk. “Is that so?”
The pen was like a promise. Of something more. Of flirting, and then flirting back. Of phone numbers to follow. And then some. Oh yeah, so much and then some.
“That is so,” he said in a firm voice, bending down to pick up the writing implement, just as Sinatra’s ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ crooned from her phone. He rose, and she was tapping her screen, sliding her thumb across it. “Must answer this. But thank you so much for the pen. By the way, I like your tie,” she said, reaching out to trail a finger down the silky fabric, her hand terribly close to his chest. Then she held up that finger asking him to wait.
Oh, he could wait for her. He could definitely wait for her.
“So good to hear from you,” she said into the phone, keeping her eyes on him the whole time. “I can’t wait to see you tonight at the gala at the Aria,” she said, arching an eyebrow at Ryan as she emphasized that last word. “It’s going to be a fabulous event and we’ll raise so much money. My only hope is there will be some gorgeous man there in a green tie who can afford a last-minute ticket.”
He shot her a grin, a lopsided smile that said yes, the man in the green tie could absolutely afford a ticket.
He nodded his RSVP to the gala. She waved goodbye, and walked down the street.
Suddenly, Ryan had plans that night.
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CONSUMED BY YOU PREVIEW
Did you enjoy meeting Travis, Brent’s firefighter friend in Sweet Sinful Nights? He is the hero of my next red-hot and sexy fireman romance Consumed by You, releasing in August. Consumed By You is available to preorder on all retailers! Here is a sneak peek at the first chapter!
Chapter One
The dress she wore was pure torture.
Red, tight, and snug against every luscious curve of her body, it whispered to him in some kind of smoky, come- hither voice.
Take me off.
Travis would love nothing more than to answer that call, as he watched Cara move like a sensual, catlike creature on the dance floor, in those mile-high heels that had him wishing she were the kind of woman he could take home for the night.
He leaned his hip against the high metal table parked at the edge of the dance floor, enjoying his front row seat to the best view in the house. Her.
Cara was temptation herself this evening, her long, silky mane of black hair spilling down her back as those hips swayed in time to the low, pulsing bass that vibrated through the night club. He didn’t have a clue how he was going to survive dog training lessons with her later that week, when it was hard enough being this near to her at their friends Smith and Jamie’s joint bachelor and bachelorette party.
But, he reasoned, she’d be back to the T-shirt-and-jeans Cara, the hair-in-a-ponytail Cara in a few days, when they started teaching his new Jack Russell mix to sit, stay, and fetch.
That Cara would be easier for him to manage than this temptress, right?
He took a long pull on his beer, finishing it off as he considered his own question. The answer came quickly as he set down the empty bottle. Nah, it wouldn’t be any easier. She was just as fucking hot during the day, walking dogs around their hometown of Hi
dden Oaks, as she was here tonight, dressed for sin in San Francisco.
“How long?”
A hand came down on his back. Travis turned to Smith, who thrust another beer at him. He’d been refilling drinks at the bar.
“How long what?”
Smith nodded to the crew of their friends on the dance floor.“How long before you actually make a move on Cara?”
“Why do you want to know?” Travis asked. No use pretending he hadn’t been caught staring.
“Because I’m thinking of getting a pool going at the firehouse. I’m even going to put up a big old poster with squares,” Smith said, spreading his arms out wide.
Travis arched an eyebrow, finally managing to pull his gaze away from Cara. “And what will these squares say?”
Smith mimed writing on a whiteboard. “One week from now,” he said, tapping an imaginary square on the betting pool. “One year from now.” Then another. “Never fucking ever,” he said, stabbing his finger into the air. “And that’s the one I’m putting my money on.”
Travis laughed, talking above the loud music. “Why do you even care if I make a move?”
Smith clutched his chest. “Because it pains me to see a man ogling a woman like that and doing nothing about it.”
“Who said I was going to do nothing about it? Maybe I just don’t feel like telling you about all the plans I have up here,” Travis said, tapping his skull, even though his friend was right—he hadn’t been planning on doing a damn thing about Cara. “Plans that would make your betting pool obsolete.”
He was bluffing, but he couldn’t deny that Smith was onto something. Hell, it pained him, too, not to do a damn thing about this rampant attraction that wound him up like a coiled spring. His focus briefly wandered to the bar where Cara had joined Jamie in a round of shots. Somewhere out on the dance floor, Travis’s sister, Megan, was snug up against the fire chief, Becker, while a bunch of their other buddies had grabbed a table in the back. They’d all rented a few limos for the night, riding from Hidden Oaks down to the city so they could fully enjoy the celebration.
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