Yours for the Night

by Samantha Hunter

  She blinked as he took her hand, wrapping it in both of his. He was so warm and strong; she loved when he touched her.

  “Like what?” she asked, holding her breath.

  “Like getting your head on straight. When I left you earlier, I know things were…awkward.”

  She sighed. “I know the score, Garrett. I know that—”

  “You don’t know how crazy I was when I couldn’t get to you tonight, or how my heart almost stopped when I heard those gunshots,” he interrupted. The look in his eyes robbed her of any doubts.

  “I can guess. I know how hard it must be, given what you’ve been through, and reliving everything from before,” she started, her heart squeezing. She wasn’t sure she could bring herself to think about how much he still loved his late wife.

  “No, that wasn’t it. That might have been the case when I dropped you off. I was worried if I could do it again, if I could risk losing someone again…especially given your work. I told myself I couldn’t, that it would be a mistake to set myself up for that kind of pain again,” he admitted, breaking her heart a little more, but she was determined to do the right thing.

  “I know. I understand. I can only imagine how awful—”

  “But then I was pacing around my hotel room, alone. Lonely. I’ve been lonely a lot, and I thought I had gotten used to it, until I met you. You made me feel alive again,” he said, tightening his hold on her hand.

  She heard the past tense, and braced herself for what was coming next.

  “And I realized that while I could lose you, or you could lose me, it was a stupid reason to not be together right now. I was miserable thinking about being without you, and no matter what the future holds, I want to have every single moment with you that we can have.”

  She blinked, unsure she’d heard what she thought she heard. “You mean, for the rest of your vacation?”

  He shook his head. “No, for the rest of my life, if it works out that way. I don’t want to put that kind of pressure on you, but I’m so in love with you, Tiffany, it hurts,” he said roughly, and Tiffany stared, unbelieving.

  Had she come home, fallen into bed, now dreaming? Was she in a hospital somewhere, unconscious, imagining this?

  “You love me?”

  “Totally and utterly. I know it’s only been a week, but I know. I know what I feel, and I know I’d be miserable without you. And whatever time you need to make up your mind, that’s fine, I just needed to tell you—”

  “I love you, too,” she said on a gulp of breath. “Totally and utterly.”

  It was his turn to stare, clearly astounded, and she laughed out loud, pushing up onto her feet to fall forward, tackling him, bunny slippers and all.

  “I love you, Garrett. I want every exciting second together we can have. Family, crime-fighting, whatever… All of it. With you,” she said, making sure he understood.

  “Oh, honey, that and more. Much, much more,” he said, his tone a promise as he wrapped strong arms around her and took her mouth in a kiss so consuming her entire body felt on fire for the second time that evening, though this time was a lot better than before.

  “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to live in a place that has real winter,” she mused as he worked his strong hands under her shirt. “Maybe I’ll get to find out in time for Christmas.”

  He pulled back, looking at her closely. “Are you sure? You want to uproot away from here, come back east?”

  “Do you think Berringer Bodyguards might be able to hook me up with some cases? Have some connections you could ask for a few favors for a new P.I. in the area?” she angled with a smile, undoing his buttons as well.

  “Absolutely. But I can stay here for as long as you like, so you could be sure.”

  “I’m sure. Christmas in Philadelphia sounds wonderful,” she said, unsnapping his jeans with a naughty wink.

  “And this is the best Thanksgiving ever,” he said, sliding the shirt up over her head.

  As Tiffany explored him with her hands and her lips, thoughts of their future together swirling around in her mind, she was very, very grateful indeed.

  Epilogue

  ELY BERRINGER HELD his breath, slicing forward through the strong current of the Caribbean waters as he pushed through his twenty-fifth lap along the beach where he was staying. One of his buddies still enlisted in the U.S. Marines was on a long tour in Iraq, and had offered the small, remote beach house in Antigua to his friends whenever they needed it.

  Ely had needed it. Away from the touristy areas, the small house had few amenities, no close neighbors and challenging waters right outside the door. It was perfect.

  Completing ten more laps, he finally started to feel the loose-limbed, warm exhaustion in his muscles that he sought every morning. He’d run later, after he did some fishing. He liked to catch his own dinner.

  He’d followed that routine for the last ten days, without fail, and finally some of the restlessness that had sent him here in the first place was starting to ease. He’d slept through the night before, a rare luxury.

  Emerging from the water, he paused, surprised to find a few bikini-clad women standing on the beach—his beach—watching in admiration.

  “You ladies lost?” he asked as he grabbed a towel from a branch, wiping the salty water from his face.

  “We saw the truck and thought Adam might be here,” one said, stepping forward and holding out a hand. She was gorgeous—perfectly tanned, curvy in all the right places, and nearly spilling out of the scant bikini she wore. “We have an open invitation.”

  “Sorry, he’s lending me the place for a while. He won’t be back around for at least another six months.”

  “Don’t apologize,” she said, smiling as she took him in. “We’re not at all disappointed.”

  Ely smiled faintly; the offer was clear in her tone.

  But he wasn’t interested. Burned by love, sex—or whatever else you wanted to call it—twice inside of one month, he needed time to think, to get his head straight.

  “Sorry, I have plans already. But I’ll tell him you came by,” he said with a nod, turning his back and heading to the house before they could say anything else.

  He was here to avoid distractions, and those ladies were born to distract. When he’d come home from Afghanistan a few years earlier, he thought he knew what he wanted. To be back with his family, and hopefully to find someone, get married and to start a family of his own. That was what he was supposed to want, right?

  Finding out that the woman he thought he could have that with was already engaged—after she slept with him—had been the first error. Ely had never cheated on anyone—anything—in his entire life, and nothing had made him feel lower than finding another man’s ring in the desk drawer after he climbed out of bed with the woman who was supposed to be wearing it.

  Falling into bed with the next woman who crossed his path had been the second error. A bigger one, since she was also the best friend of his new sister-in-law, Tessa. Lydia Hamilton was the goth, tattooed temptress who ran the business next door to Tessa’s. Ely had fallen into her bed within hours of meeting her and lost himself there in ways that he had never done before.

  Ways that included satin ropes, handcuffs and letting Lydia see a part of himself that he hadn’t even known existed. He had liked it, but he’d also been…exposed. Made vulnerable in ways that he hadn’t ever done before. And unable to get it out of his head, until he’d figured out why.

  He’d been thinking about things all wrong. Looking at relationships as long-term commitments, possibly getting married, settling down.

  Why was he so eager to tie himself down? Lydia was a free agent, living her life that way, and that’s what had really affected him. So, he was turning over a new leaf, leading his life the way he wanted. Just as soon as he could figure out what that was.

  But the one thing he knew was that he wasn’t getting involved in any long-term commitments anymore. Not until he was good and ready—ideally many
years down the road.

  Pulling on shorts and a shirt, he grabbed his fishing gear when his cell phone chimed—unusual, as he didn’t often have enough signal for calls here. It was Tessa. He clicked in, immediately concerned—Tessa would have no reason to call him unless Jonas wasn’t able to for some reason. Though his brother had gotten his sight back a few months ago, and was hale and hardy as far as they knew, they all worried about a relapse, though the doctors said it wasn’t likely. Still, brain injuries were unpredictable.

  “Tessa, what’s wrong?” he answered.

  The connection was scratchy. He could hear her speaking, somewhat, and roamed the house, stepping outside onto the patio hoping for more reception.

  “Tessa, I can’t make everything out.... Give me the key words,” he said, agitated that he couldn’t hear her. For the first time, his self-imposed isolation didn’t seem like such a great idea.

  “Something wrong…worried…your help.”

  Ely growled at the phone, the message so broken up that was all he could get, but he hoped Tessa could hear him even if he couldn’t make out all of her words. He had enough to know he was needed back home.

  “I’ll be on a plane tonight,” he said, and cut the connection.

  Putting his fishing gear back, he dressed, packed his bag and headed toward town to the airport. Vacation time was over.

  * * * * *

  Virtually Perfect

  Many thanks to Cara Summers, from whom I’ve learned so much. Your insight and good humor added so much joy to the writing of this book!

  For my husband, Mike: technical consultant, brainstorming partner and the love of my life. You’re everything to me.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Excerpt

  1

  NORMALLY, RAINE COVINGTON would’ve enjoyed a stroll on a snowy evening. Though Salem was renowned to tourists as “Witch City” for its gruesome persecution of women and men accused of witchcraft, the town had more than the history of its witch trials and occult legends to offer. It was a quaint New England coastal town, but in many ways it was also a developing metropolis.

  She’d always felt comforted by the homey, narrow streets and historic Federal-style homes huddled up against each other. Right now, however, she couldn’t enjoy any of it. She was too preoccupied figuring out some way to escape Jerry Donnelly who was by her side, nudging into her suggestively from time to time. She clenched her jaw, didn’t say a word and walked a little faster.

  Jerry was a freelance graphic artist she’d met at an office lunch given in appreciation of freelance workers. He’d seemed nice enough then. Yeah, nice—they were all “nice” until they were trying to slide their hand up your leg under the dinner table. He had beachboy-blond hair and soft, brown eyes that gave him an innocent look that she’d found attractive. It hadn’t taken much time alone with him to discover that he was anything but.

  When he’d suggested dessert-to-go so they could enjoy it in more interesting ways, she officially called time and asked to go home. Who the heck suggested something like that two hours after meeting someone on a first date? Well, apparently Jerry did. And she had the feeling he didn’t take rejection easily.

  They were finally here. On the sidewalk in front of her house. The porch light warmed the step, and she gazed at the brick-red door wistfully—escape was so close at hand. Jerry moved closer, going in for the kill, and Raine, trying to avoid a confrontation, did the only thing she could think of.

  “Oh, God!” She doubled at the waist and held her stomach hard, contorting her face in what she hoped looked like a very painful expression. Startled, Jerry stepped back.

  “Um…uh…what? What’s the matter?”

  She threw a little heavy breathing into the mix, and winced up at him, backing away slowly. He started to follow, but she held a hand out, motioning him to stay away as she inched toward the porch.

  “Oh, Jerry, I’m so sorry, but I have to get inside quick. Something bad… Stomach cramps… Night!”

  “But you seemed fine a moment ago....”

  His voice trailed off behind her. Without a glance back, Raine closed the door behind her with a blustery sigh of relief, leaning back against it as if the devil himself were on the other side. It wasn’t her most elegant escape, but at least it had worked.

  Resting her head against the door, she let the emotions roll over her. Annoyance, relief—and, ah, there it was—disappointment. Her familiar friend. All she wanted was some good company, a little romance, and, if she was lucky, halfway-decent sex. When it came to men, those things were getting increasingly hard to find.

  There was only one man whom she missed when she didn’t get to see him after so much as a single day. Only one who popped up in her thoughts and made her smile, and who didn’t disappoint.

  Rider.

  Not even bothering to change, she grabbed her laptop and plopped down on the sofa, a soft shiver of anticipation taking the edge off an otherwise miserable night. The screen glowed, and she tapped at the keyboard, hoping she hadn’t missed him.

  She hadn’t! He was there! He saw her log on immediately. She smiled wider, watching his words appear across the screen. He had been waiting. For her.

  “Hey, beautiful, I thought you might not be by tonight. Working late?”

  “No, was just out for a while.”

  “Hot date?”

  “No. Boring, boring night.”

  She lied, not knowing exactly why she didn’t want to tell him she had been out with someone.

  “Nilla, maybe it’s time to spice it up a little.”

  “I think we have been quite spicy enough lately.”

  Nilla—her pseudonym. She hadn’t been able to think of anything else when she had registered on the site, and had been eating vanilla cookies at the time. So much for her creativity.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Depends on your taste. I like things a little on the hot side.”

  She grinned, her fingers racing over the keyboard.

  “Hold on, tiger. Let me get a glass of wine and change into something more…comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

  Jumping up off the sofa, she headed into the bedroom to change. She had been talking with Rider—not his real name, of course—online for a little more than a month. They had met online at RomanceMUD, an interactive virtual world. She’d been researching internet romances for her most recent column in Real Woman magazine, which was just hitting its stride as one of the leading women’s magazines in the U.S.

  Over the last decade, she had literally grown with the magazine, which had recently relocated to a bigger and more prestigious building overlooking Salem Harbor to house its ever-expanding staff, now topping two hundred. She’d started as a freelance writer right out of college. The job had really just fallen into her lap and she took it for some income while figuring out what to do next. Then as more and more magazine pieces came her way, she discovered a knack for writing; she loved the work. Eventually she was hired for a permanent position.

  She was the head writer for the Lifestyles beat, which covered everything from raising children to fashion. She provided editorial input and was deeply involved in planning each issue’s content. She hired freelancers for most of the articles, but the core element of the section was her relationships column. It had begun as an advice-type column and had blossomed into longer pieces of social commentary. She wrote about all kinds of relationship issues, including friends, siblings, marriage, sex, same-sex families and working parents.

  Pouring herself a glass of merlot, she thought about how some things never changed: je
alously, passion, misunderstanding, loneliness.

  Since more and more readers were writing in with questions about internet romance, she’d pitched a series of columns exploring love and sex on the internet—and here she was right smack in the middle of it herself.

  She had started off the series by writing about internet dating services that had emerged over the past two or three years. Plenty of people used the formal services, but since the majority of her readers had “just met” someone online, she’d been wandering through chat rooms and virtual erotic playgrounds to see what she found “out there.”

  Raine had joined the RomanceMUD site on impulse, and there she’d met Rider. They’d clicked immediately. With him, she felt that little hint of something special she had been missing with the men she’d dated.

  Padding back to the sofa, she sat, lugged her laptop up close to her and stared at the screen. What was he doing right now? What was he thinking?

  She was coming to understand more and more about what attracted women to men on the Net. She and Rider talked about everything. They shared intimate fantasies without the disappointments and expectations that often plagued relationships. He could be intense and romantic, and he was always amazingly sexy. It was a compelling combination.

  She was sure that in real life, Rider, like all men, probably left the toilet seat up and his beard shavings in the sink. He would make promises he didn’t keep and would glaze over when you talked about things that mattered to you. Online, she didn’t have to worry about any of that. If she wanted to, she could just hit the off button and he would be gone. The perfect man.