by Rachel Cross
Tiana’s heart skipped a beat. What’s happening?
She turned to ask Mel, but she’d disappeared. A kid dressed as a hobbit tapped her shoulder and pulled up a chair, gesturing for her to be seated. Martha and Garret moved their chairs to sit beside Tiana. She rolled her eyes, but curiosity won out.
A clomp of hooves caught her attention. Seated astride a horse, Nathaniel wore a black leather cape on his shoulders. A sword—she suspected a fake one—was strapped along his back. A whisper of a five o’clock shadow covered his face. He didn’t smile or look at her. He’s in character.
Despite her reservations, a smile crept up her face. Nathan hated fantasy movies. But here he was, reenacting her favorite one in the middle of Central Park.
With new scenes that had nothing to do with the movie and made-up character names, Nathan had clearly given himself creative freedom over the script. Surprisingly, it wasn’t a bad rendition. So far she’d give it a B-minus. The actor playing Samwise Gamgee could use a bit more emotion.
But it didn’t matter; Nathan stole the show. In one scene, he actually looked at her as he stabbed an orc and yelled, “For Frodo!”
“My son is one talented man,” Garrett whispered in her ear.
She bit back a smile.
Finally, the friends reached the fires of Mordor, which was really a pile of sticks in the middle of the park. Instead of tossing the ring into the fire, Nathan turned around to face her.
“Fair Arwen.”
Tiana looked around. “Who, me?” She pointed to her chest.
“Aye, you, fair maiden,” he responded in a terrible Scottish accent.
Oh, Lord.
Garrett passed her prosthetic elf ears and a tiara. “Here, put these on, darlin.’
Her hands shook as she swung her attention from father to son.
A flash of nervousness robbed Nathan of his usual cockiness.
“Take a chance on Nate, darlin’.”
Swallowing a tangled lump of anxiety, she nodded. She returned her attention to Nathan, giving him a weak smile as she slid on the elf ears and placed the tiara on her head.
He winked and then raised his sword in the air. Mel entered the scene from stage right. She, too, was decked out in an elf costume with a smirk on her face. Tiana had no doubt that Damien was recording this somewhere in the park.
Tiana’s breath caught in her throat when she noticed her friend was carrying a pillow with a ring box in the middle.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” Tiana clutched her heart.
Melanie waved and smiled. Then she kneeled, in Dramatic Melanie fashion, and thrust the pillow in the air.
Nathan lowered his sword, dropped to his knees, and then dropped the terrible accent. “Peaches. Will you make me the happiest man in Middle-Earth and beyond and marry me?”
“Nathan . . . I . . . I don’t know,” she whispered back.
Hurt briefly flashed on his face. Quickly it was placed with determination. She’d seen this expression before when he was fighting his opponent in the ring. Nathan was digging in and ready to fight. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“I’ve heard your apologies too many times, Nathan. And when you hear the same thing over and over and nothing changes, you dilute the sincerity. You wield your words like a weapon, and I’m tired of being attacked. I’m sick of—”
“I love you, Peaches,” he interrupted her rant. “You haven’t heard that from me before, have you?” He sighed. “That was my first mistake.”
Her heart twisted and squeezed. It’s a lie. Don’t let him hurt you again. “No, I haven’t heard those three words from you, but I have from my mother . . . from Greg.”
Nathan shook his head and leaned closer. “I’m sorry for what they did. Just like you’re sorry about my mother. But we shouldn’t let what has happened in the past drive our future. We deserve to allow ourselves to be loved.”
Tiana stood and stepped behind Garrett, still seated in his chair.
He waved his hands in the air. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just here for the popcorn.”
She ignored the comment, using his father and the chair as a shield. “We aren’t compatible. We argue all the time.”
“So?” He stood his ground and stared.
“When people argue all the time, that generally indicates the relationship won’t last.”
“We don’t argue all the time. We challenge each other. I call you out when you’re wrong and vice versa. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here giving me shit, knowing full well that you love me, too.” Closing the distance between them, he pulled her close. His hypnotic scent held her in a trance.
“Tell me, Tiana. When we challenge each other, how do you feel?”
“Alive,” she answered before she could stop herself. “I feel alive.”
“I feel the same way. I didn’t realize it until you, but I was bored. I wasn’t challenged in my work, in my relationships, or in my life. And then you strutted in, a blast from the past, and turned my life around. You remember the list I had for the perfect woman?”
She gripped his shoulders and nodded. His dark brown eyes stared back, confident. A whisper of a smile jerked the corners of his full lips, turning her steel resolve into mush. “Yes, I remember.”
“I was talking about you. You’re everything. All the woman I’ll ever need. I want everything from you. All your joy, and all your pain. We live, and we fight together. You’re not a ghost. You’re alive. Be alive with me.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she silently considered his words.
Mel grabbed Tiana’s knee and smiled encouragingly at her. Tiana moved her gaze from her best friend to Garrett.
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, take the begging man out of his misery and get started on making me some grandbabies.”
“Pops.” Nathan groaned. “I’m trying to tell the woman of my dreams that I love her. In a leotard and chainmail armor. Can I have this?”
Giggling, she tilted her head up to him. “I suppose I can give you another chance on one condition.”
“Anything.”
“You have to promise that no sticks will ever get stuck up there again,” she whispered so no one could hear.
Nathan’s deep chuckle warmed her heart. “As long as you promise to knock some sense into me when I’m acting bull-headed.”
Lightly thumping his head, she smiled. “Look at me, being all proactive.”
Nathaniel cupped her neck, all smiles gone. “I love you, Peaches. Let me erase all your bad memories. I’m going to love you better—the way you’ve always deserved.”
She encircled her arms around his neck. “I love you, too.” She stood on her tiptoes and whispered, “Let’s get going on practicing for Garrett’s grandkids.”
He grabbed the ring from her bestie’s proffered hand. “First, the ring.” He stepped back and slid the ring on Tiana’s finger.
Mel jumped from the ground. “Huzzah for the newly engaged couple!”
“Huzzah!” the crowd, including passersby, cheered.
Tiana shook her head and giggled into his chest.
“Are you ready, Peaches?”
“Ready for what?”
“For us?” He gave her a quick peck on her head. “For me?”
She tilted her head up and grinned. “It’s been you. It’s always and will always be you.”
Acknowledgments
To my husband, Jason—thank you for cheering me on, keeping me sane and taking care of me. It’s a tough job, but somebody has to do it. I’m so happy that it’s you! Also, thank you for encouraging me to step away from the computer and have fun.
To my critique partners (I have a lot of them) Connie Gilliam, Ison Hill, Mary Marvella, and Pamela Varnado—thanks for making me a stronger writer. And I so cherish our Tuesday and Saturday meetups! Thank you Annie Oortman for encouraging me to dig deeper.
I’d also like to thank my Mastermind Group—Renne Simpson and Mike Gresham. Here’s to another great year for us!
To my best friends, Ashley Clark, Cedrick Hayward, Saba Long, and Charidee Wootson—thank you for inspiring the close friendship between Melanie and Tiana. Love you guys to the moon and back.
To all my family and friends who supported me through social media, word of mouth, or just checking in on me! I love and appreciate all of you.
And last, but certainly not least, thank you dear reader for taking the time to read my book.
About the Author
Rina Gray writes romance, paranormal romance, and women’s fiction. She is also digital marketing professional who explored her love of writing a few years ago. Writing has always been Rina’s passion, though initially, she tried to deny it. In college she served as the copy editor for the entertainment magazine and newspaper. During her tenure, she had the opportunity to interview various talented entertainers. Rina has always been an avid reader; sneaking to read her mother’s books she had no business reading, which sparked her love for horror. As a preteen, she received a load of romance novels from a family friend, and from that point on she devoured any book related to romance or horror.
Rina tweets about her writing journey and her unhealthy obsession with the NBA @rinagraywrites. Feel free to connect on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorRinaGray. Her website is www.blackromanceauthor.com.
Copyright © 2016 by Rina Gray.
All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.
Published by
Crimson Romance™
an imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
57 Littlefield Street
Avon, MA 02322
www.crimsonromance.com
ISBN 10: 1-5072-0217-2
ISBN 13: 978-1-5072-0217-3
eISBN 10: 1-5072-0218-0
eISBN 13: 978-1-5072-0218-0
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art © wavebreakmedia/Shutterstock.
Her Knight in Black Leather
JM Stewart
Avon, Massachusetts
Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
About the Author
Copyright
As always, this one goes to my agent, Dawn Dowdle. Every author needs someone like her in their corner. I’m very grateful for her support and for doing what she does best.
To Rachel Brimble. For her support and pushing me to see beyond my box and making my writing better for it. Thanks, lady.
And always to my husband. He isn’t a reader, but he supports my writing addiction, and cheers me on anyway, and I adore him for it.
Chapter One
“Baby, you must be exhausted.”
Cat Edwards stifled a groan as the drunken muscle-bound hulk—a man twice her size who looked as if he could bench press two of her—leaned heavily on the bar beside her. His eyes had long since glazed over and a goofy grin stretched across his beet-red face. He waggled his brows at her, as if somehow he expected her to be impressed. With what? The fact that even propped on the bar he could barely stand up?
Praying he’d take the hint and leave, she shook her head and turned back to her drink. That was by far the worst line she’d heard since she arrived an hour ago, and she’d heard plenty. Apparently, sitting alone at the bar and sipping a glass of wine made her fair game.
Cat darted a glance around, searching the dance floor for the familiar face of her roommate and best friend, Lisa Caldwell. She’d disappeared two songs ago with a guy very like the one currently hanging off the bar beside Cat and had yet to return. She couldn’t believe how packed the place was. Crest Point boasted all of two thousand residents, and she’d be willing to bet everyone between the ages of twenty-one and forty-five came to the pub tonight. Roadie’s advertised the best bar food on the Oregon coast. According to Lisa, the place was normally empty and quiet. Apparently, it had been a part of Crest Point since the town first began, more than a hundred years ago. With dark wooden walls and low lighting, the place had a cozy, almost intimate atmosphere, despite its size. The bar she sat at had been polished to a shine, the edges ornately carved. An old-style jukebox lined one wall, but toward the back stood a small stage almost everyone in the place gathered around.
The pub hosted local bands on weekends and, being Friday night, the current group attracted quite a crowd. Bodies filled the dance floor and spilled out around the nearby tables, with barely enough room to move through the thick crowd. Music pounded throughout the place, the bodies all bumping and grinding to the throbbing beat.
Cat searched the dance floor again for any sign of Lisa among the sea of flesh. What happened to “girls’ night out,” anyway?
“Aren’t . . . aren’t you gonna ask me why?” His words slow and slurred, the guy beside her slipped across the countertop then jerked upright as he caught himself.
Cat sighed. “No.”
She already knew the punch line—Because you’ve been running around my mind all day. Twice already tonight she’d heard the same line, when she was naïve enough to ask why.
She couldn’t help shaking her head as she glanced over at him again. He stared at her chest and didn’t bother to hide it. Following his gaze, she glanced down at her salmon tank-top, wishing she hadn’t promised Lisa she’d stay another hour. She desperately wanted to go home and change. Never in her life had she gotten this much attention from the male population. At barely five-foot-four and a mousy brunette, most men overlooked her. For the most part, it was the way she preferred it.
The shirt was Lisa’s, and per her best friend’s style, it was clingy and a size too small. The dangerously low scoop neckline, combined with the stretchy cotton fabric, made her over-endowment stand out like a blinking neon sign. Lisa had convinced her she looked great and, at the time they left the house, Cat believed her. Now, one hour and five gawking men later, she felt all but naked.
“Lemme b-buy you a drink then.”
“Got one, thanks.” Without looking at him, she lifted her glass in his direction, praying he’d take the hint and go away. She didn’t want to be rude, but she’d discovered the hard way that any amount of interaction would be taken as encouragement.
Cat set her elbow on the edge of the bar and plunked her chin in her hand. What a way to forget a broken heart. Two months ago, she’d caught her now ex-fiancé, who was also her boss, shagging his little blond secretary. Normally, she wouldn’t have been surprised. Most of the men who crossed her life were all the same. She’d believed Nick, had allowed him to convince her the gossips were wrong. It’d been a depressing realization to discover she should have listened to her gut. So, Lisa insisted she come to the bar tonight.
“What you need,” Lisa said two hours ago, “is to get out and live a little. Show Nick you don’t need him.”
At that point, Cat agreed. Now? Well, now she felt in way over her head.
So far, she wasn’t living it up, not even a little. All she’d gotten for her effort was groped and ogled. Was she doing this wrong?
“Good, then you’re free to dance.” The guy beside her snatched her hand and tugged on her arm. A move meant to be suave and cool came across as anything but in his drunken state. Tugging too hard, he pulled himself off balance and stumbled backwards.
Hooking her heels on the lower rung of her bar stool, Cat planted her feet to
keep him from pulling her onto the floor.
“Look.” When she straightened, she yanked her hand back and turned to him, not even bothering to hide the frustration swelling within her. “I’m not interested, okay?”
“Easy now.” He let out a laugh and plunked onto the stool beside her. He narrowly missed the edge but managed to catch himself at the last second. When he steadied himself, he leaned forward and slid his hand over her thigh. “I’m just bein’ friendly.”
Lust and determination filled his eyes and made her skin crawl. She had the sudden, creepy feeling of being a worm dangling at the end of a hook about to be dinner. This was a familiar scenario, one she’d lived a time too many. The boys in high school thought their charm would change her mind. No matter how many times she shoved his hand off her leg, it returned, and each time it inched higher, his grin wider. As if, somehow, he thought with enough persistence she’d cave. To top it all off, his foul breath gagged her.
When he claimed another hold, this time about mid-thigh, and began to inch inwards, she decided it was time to stop playing nice. She gritted her teeth. “Get your hands . . . ”
The rest of her sentence died on her lips as a pair of smooth, warm hands slid onto her bare shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. When they continued to move, this time down her arms, her spine stiffened and her teeth clenched. Never again. She was never coming here again, and she was going to kill Lisa for deserting her.
“Follow my lead.” His voice flowed against her ear, rich and smooth and darkly sensual. The kind of voice she could well imagine whispering to her in the dark. It added to the stubble prickling her cheek and, for a moment, her mind twisted off in another direction, filling with naughty fantasies. Suddenly she was dying to see the face behind the voice.
Louder he said, “Miss me?”
Velvet soft lips brushed her earlobe as he spoke, combined with the deep, sensual quality of his voice and sent delicious shivers slipping down her spine. For a moment, Cat forgot to breathe, forgot what in the world she was supposed to be doing. Somewhere through the haze that took over her mind, his meaning finally occurred to her. Her body went limp with relief. She had the sudden urge to turn and hug the man. Chivalry hadn’t died with King Arthur after all.