by Anthology
“Well,” Jamie said, “that didn’t come out like I’d always imagin—I mean, I . . .”
“You’re getting married tomorrow!”
He flinched, his eyes blazing. “Is that what you want?”
“What? Why does it matter what I want?”
“It matters to me, so answer the question,” he said sharply. “Is that what you want? For me to get married tomorrow?”
There was nothing Claire Higgins wanted less in her life than to see Jamie MacAllister marry Phoebe Taylor Torrance tomorrow. And here was her moment to say something. But by saying something, she would create a mess—a huge mess. She’d be confessing her heretofore locked-down feelings for her boss, for her coworker, and—oh, God!—for someone who was engaged to another woman.
And yet.
And yet . . . how could she go on living if he married Phoebe tomorrow? Nothing on earth would matter once he was lost to her.
“No,” she breathed, her mouth bypassing her brain and saying only the words condoned by her heart. “It’s not.”
“Take her car back,” he said to the valet without looking away from her. He stepped around the front of the car and took her hand, pulling her to him.
4
CHAPTER FOUR
It was Fiona, of course, who hadn’t minced words with Jamie, who’d said her piece this evening as Phoebe, Mariah, and Mr. Mariah carried on about mutual friends in the Hamptons who were throwing a huge house party the week after next.
“Why’re ye marryin’ someone ye dinnae love, Jamie?”
He’d shrugged, refusing to look over at Claire standing beside Ted at the bar. Feckin’ Ted, who was eyeing her breasts like he’d never seen tits before. I’d like to smash his face in.
He kept his expression placid. “If you cannae have the one you love, love the one you’re with?”
“What a load o’ shite.”
“Fee, come on.”
She shook her head, her eyes hopping with anger. “Yer goin’ to marry her? Are ye certain she knows yer name? She barely looks yer way, and, Holy Mother, she’s callin’ herself Lady Phoebe. Does she know we’re not members of the peerage?”
“She’s just—”
“She’s not in love with ye!” Fiona said definitively. “And yer not in love with her.”
“Is that so?”
“Aye, ’tis.” She looked over at Claire pointedly, then back at Jamie. “Because yer in love with someone else.”
“Much good it’ll do me.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ve broached the topic before, but she’s always shot it down. We work together.”
“So what?”
“So she won’t date me.”
Fiona laughed mirthlessly. “Yer way past datin’, laddie. I’m talkin’ about love!”
“We’ve never even kissed.”
“And . . .?” she said, eyes wide and peeved, fists planted on her hips.
He clenched his jaw. “I’m just . . .”
“Jamie,” she said, her face looking sorry. “Look into my eyes and tell me true, now. Do ye love her, Claire, or not?”
He let the words roll around in his head for a moment. Sweet and simple, they were eight words that could change his entire fate if he answered them truthfully and decided to act on them before it was too late.
“Madly,” he whispered, taking a quick peek at his Clara before turning back to his sister.
“And of course you’ve shared this with her,” she said, giving him an exasperated look.
He took a deep breath and let it go slowly, his silence Fiona’s answer.
She had risen up on tiptoe then, whispering close to his ear. “Bloody well go and do somethin’ about it . . . before it’s too late!”
The snow was falling heavier now, swirling around them as he led Claire back into the hotel, quickly bypassing the party in the lobby gardens and down a palm tree–lined hallway. She followed behind him, saying nothing, her fingers threaded through his as he strode over to the pool, using a complimentary key card to open the door. He was relieved to find it dim and quiet inside.
“It’s so warm,” she said softly from behind him. “You could forget it’s January.”
He turned to look at her, holding her hand tightly in his. With his free hand, he reached for her cheek, cupping it gently.
“’Tis.” He searched her eyes, the blue eyes he’d come to love so well. “You don’t want me to marry Phoebe.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I meant what I said,” she whispered. “You deserve the best.”
“Then I deserve you.”
She flinched. “That’s not funny.”
“’Tisn’t meant to be funny.”
“I’m . . . I’m nothing like her. I’m fat and homely and—”
“Oh, Clara . . .” He pulled her closer, bending his head to touch his lips to hers. The softest touch. Almost nothing . . . but it meant everything.
With his mouth so close to hers, her breath baptized his skin, and he spoke reverently. “To me . . . you are beautiful.” He kissed her again, and she shuddered in his arms. “And sexy.” Another kiss. “And talented.”
He lifted his head to look into her eyes, unable to keep a hopeful smile at bay. “You are my peace and my help and my friend. You are my buyer of doughnuts, my favorite laugh, and the best defragger I know. You are excellent coffee and ’60s love songs and sweet-smelling woman. You are my home, Clara. Did you know that? Here, where I have no home, you are mine. Yours are the eyes I want to see first in the morning and the last I want to see at night. And honestly, my darlin’ Clara, if I can’t be with you, it doesn’t bloody well matter who I’m with.”
He held her close, waiting to hear her response to such a daring speech. “That’s my truth,” he said. “What’s yours?”
She searched his face, her wide eyes heartbreakingly blue. “You’re getting married tomorrow.”
“No, love,” he said, grinning at her. “I don’t believe I am.” He touched his lips to hers softly before drawing away to gaze down at her. “Now, tell me your truth, Clara.”
“My truth.” She stared up at him, her gaze so naked, he knew before she uttered the words. “I love you,” she said quickly. And then, out of nowhere, she smiled. Such a big smile on her sweet, small face, it made his heart soar, free of whatever cage had been containing it. “I love you terribly, Jamie MacAllister. That’s my truth. It’s the only truth I know.”
He smiled, bending down to kiss her again.
“It’s the only truth I want,” he whispered against her lips.
“What about Phoebe?”
He took a deep breath. “She’s not goin’ to be pleased.”
Claire winced. “She’s going to be pissed.”
“I suspect she’ll get over it fast with fiancé number four.”
“But we still work together,” she said.
“Not for long,” he said, holding her closer. “She’s their top client, my darlin’, which means I’ll be fired. I’ll be heading back to Scotland within the week, I’d wager.”
Her face changed instantly, her jaw tightening, her eyes wary. “Oh.”
“But I hope,” he said, risking it all, “that you’ll come with me. We’re such a good team, my Clara. My company in Edinburgh will hire you in a snap.”
He didn’t expect to hear her marvelously low, sexy laugh, but there it was, filling the space between them with joy. She nodded, swiping at tears as she said the words that made his dreams come true: “I’m finally going to Scotland.”
“Aye, Clara lass, you are.”
“But wait,” she said, and his heart stuttered until he saw the playfulness in her eyes. “Are there any rules about dating your coworker?”
“Aye. At my company there is a very specific rule just for you. It addresses datin’ your boss, and clearly reads that Claire Higgins must date Jamie MacAllister. It’s part of the job,” he said, chuck
ling softly, his heart full of now-unbridled love.
“Well, that’s good,” she said, a brilliant twinkle in her baby blues. “Because if I cannae be with you, m’darlin’ Jamie, it doesnae bloody well matter who I’m with.”
“Pure shite,” he said, nuzzling her nose with his. “That accent needs a lot of work, lass.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoe to press her lips to his. “Then we’d best get started.”
ABOUT KATY REGNERY
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Katy Regnery started her writing career by enrolling in a short story class in January 2012. One year later, she signed her first contract and Katy’s first novel was published in September 2013.
Twenty-five books later, Katy claims authorship of the multititled New York Times and USA Today bestselling Blueberry Lane Series, which follows the English, Winslow, Rousseau, Story, and Ambler families of Philadelphia; the six-book, bestselling ~a modern fairytale~ series; and several other standalone novels and novellas.
Katy’s first modern fairytale romance, The Vixen and the Vet, was nominated for a RITA® in 2015 and won the 2015 Kindle Book Award for romance. Katy’s boxed set, The English Brothers Boxed Set, Books #1–4, hit the USA Today bestseller list in 2015, and her Christmas story, Marrying Mr. English, appeared on the list a week later. In May 2016, Katy’s Blueberry Lane collection, The Winslow Brothers Boxed Set, Books #1–4, became a New York Times E-book bestseller.
In 2016, Katy signed a print-only agreement with Spencer Hill Press. As a result, her Blueberry Lane paperback books will now be distributed to brick-and-mortar bookstores all over the United States.
Katy lives in the relative wilds of northern Fairfield County, Connecticut, where her writing room looks out at the woods, and her husband, two young children, two dogs, and one Blue Tonkinese kitten create just enough cheerful chaos to remind her that the very best love stories begin at home.
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BEGINNER’S LUCK
Liv Morris
1
CHAPTER ONE
Brady
“Cali, can’t I have just one little kiss?” I blink my eyes and pout my lips as she shakes her gorgeous head. “I swear you’re trying to kill me.”
“Brady Luck. How many times do I have to tell you? Good things come to those who wait, literally,” she singsongs while giving me a smirk.
I narrow my eyes at her, but she only smiles wider and licks her lips. Doesn’t she know seeing the tip of her sweet pink tongue only serves to get my dick harder?
“Blue balls aren’t a good thing babe,” I complain while moving closer to her on the couch. She inches away from me, and I cross my arms over my chest in frustration. “Can’t you at least sleep in my bed tonight?”
She hasn’t let me kiss her all night. Not even a little peck on the check. And forget sex, we haven’t had anything remotely close to it in two damn weeks. She claims we need a fuck fast before the wedding to make our first night as a married couple special. Now it looks like I’ll be a two pump and done on the first go.
“All you have to do is last two more nights,” she answers and I exhale in defeat.
Do I still have any lube left in the nightstand drawer besides the awful strawberry scented one? I don’t need my Johnson smelling like a chick unless Cali has been involved of course.
“You’re killing me.” I reach out and pull her small body into my side. She nuzzles against me and I catch the sweet smell of her perfume. It makes me want to bury myself inside of her warm pussy and never leave. Which makes my dick as hard as stone. Good thing I chose sweatpants tonight or my cock would be bursting the seams of my jeans.
Cali pushes a few inches away from me though I still have her tightly in my grasp. “I need to go to bed,” she whispers to me. I can tell our proximity is having an effect on her too. Her eyelids are hooded and she keeps glancing at my lips.
I wonder if one long kiss would get me to the promised land, but I decide to not push her. She’s worth the wait. Hell she’s worth everything. Instead I take a deep breath before I speak, trying to find a place where my urges aren’t in control of my every thought. I admit it’s hard, both literally and figuratively.
“Yeah, the next two days are going to be crazy.” I stroke her soft brown hair and move a stray strand from her cheek.
“You have no idea, but the wedding coordinator has everything under control. Thanks for letting me hire her team,” she says and looks up at me with eyes full of love.
Damn if this woman doesn’t own every piece of me. Even areas I never knew existed before. I thought baseball would forever be the center of my universe until I tripped over home plate and fell for a one hundred and ten pound penis handler with a sassy mouth and great tits.
“You’re stuck with me for life. It was the least I could do. I want your wedding day to be about you and me, not the caterer or guest list. Just focus on becoming my wife.” She beams at me and bites her lip.
I swear something’s brewing behind her eyes. She curves her lip in a smile and I wait for her to tell me what she’s thinking.
“Remember our first almost sex encounter?” she asks and I throw my head back with a laugh.
“Like I could forget our epic dry humping against the wall. Hell it was the first time I’ve come in my jeans since, well I don’t even remember when,” I confess as Cali crawls onto my lap with her legs next to mine.
She moves forward into my lap and my fucking erection presses against her clothed pussy. I want to press back hard. Over and over again, but I hold back. “Baby, I don’t think I can stand you sitting on me like this.”
“I think you can,” she whispers as she starts to rock her hips. I close my eyes and let the feel of her motions sink in. “It’s just a bit of rubbing. Our clothes are on and all. Besides, I need you, Brady.”
“Will you still respect me in the morning?” I don’t want her blaming me or regretting what I hope we will be doing after she answers me.
“I made the rules and can amend them too,” she says in a sexy tone.
“Well, I’d be happy to take off all your clothes and fuck you senseless.” I doubt she’ll go for my suggestion but it’s worth a try. “My dick made me say that by the way.”
“How long has your dick been talking to you?” she asks while squinting an eye at me.
“I don’t remember a day where he wasn’t bossing me around.”
“Well tell your dick I was thinking friction could be our friend.” She places her hands on the top of the couch and uses her pussy to stroke my aching cock from base to tip. I really hate clothes.
“Fuck, Cali. He thanks you,” I force out the words and place my hands on her narrow hips. I push her harder on my cock as she continues to rock over me.
I want to take her lips with mine. Possess her mouth and leave her breathless, but I don’t make a move. I’ll take what I can get and her current gyrations are more than I’ve dreamt of happening tonight.
We stare into each other’s eyes and my fingers dig into her hips. The closer I get to release, the tighter my grip becomes, but I need more friction.
I move my hands under her sweet ass and lift us both off the couch. Her legs circle my waist as I walk to the nearest wall and pin her against it. I thrust up into her pussy over and over again, closing my eyes at the sweet torture of being almost inside her, but not quite.
My phone’s ringtone starts going off and vibrates against the table I sat it on. I can’t stop dry humping Cali, and from her moans she doesn’t want me to either.
After a few more thrusts, I hold on to her tight and explode with the ringtone still blaring. I open my eyes to check on Cali but I’m met with the white of my ceiling and not her gorgeous face.
What the fuck?
Blinding light streams through my windows and it hit
s me in the eyes, rattling me from what I realize now was a fucking wet dream. I grab a few tissues from the nightstand and see the bottle of strawberry lube sitting next to the box. At least it’s my wedding day which also means it’s my wedding night.
Fuck I’m getting married today.
I jolt up in the bed as thoughts start flying through my head. I need to find the ring, make sure I have my tux, and the wedding license. I have a list somewhere that Cali made for me.
A weight has settled on my chest and ruined my dry hump dream high. Needing to calm the fuck down, I run my fingers through my hair and take a deep breath as my phone starts blaring. I throw the used and abused tissues to the floor. I’ll deal with them later, and pick up my phone from the nightstand.
My brother and best man, Bryce, is calling me. Shit, what time is it?
I look at the clock on the screen and panic hits me. The guys are meeting for breakfast at nine and I have exactly fifteen minutes to get showered, dressed, and driven to the restaurant. I run into my master suite’s bathroom, heading straight for the shower.
“Hey,” I say into the phone, waiting for Bryce’s where-the-hell-are-you lecture. I turn on the shower’s water to let it warm up.
“Tell me you’re on your way over here,” he says with the older brother tone I’ve grown to know since I was, well I don’t remember not knowing it.
“Yep on my way. Gotta go.” I end the call and place the phone on the sink counter.
I make a mental note to find the handwritten note Cali gave me last night at the rehearsal dinner. I can almost hear her warning in my ear.
“Put this in your wallet now. That way you won’t lose it, Brady.”
Did I? Shit I hope so. If not, I’m totally fucked.