Living Lies

by Dawn Brown

  “Sink or swim?” She chuckled again, brittle and a little lonely.

  Haley nodded. This had been so much easier when she’d rehearsed the scenario in her head. Of course, in her head her mother had barely been conscious.

  “I understand. I wonder if maybe you and your sister could do something for me before you get on with your lives. Two things, really.”

  Haley narrowed her eyes. Here it comes, she thought. “What’s that?”

  “Your brother is determined to have Christmas dinner tomorrow. Maybe you and Paige, and Dean if you like, will come for dinner and help me. Then the following day you could take me to this clinic.”

  Haley smiled. “I’d be happy to.” And strangely, she meant it.

  As Haley climbed out of her car, Paige came outside, a wide, goofy grin across her face.

  “How’d it go?” she asked, meeting Haley in the driveway.

  “Good.” Haley nodded. “She’s agreed to go to the clinic.”

  “All we can do is keep our fingers crossed. She’s actually on her best behavior because of Garret’s kids. I know she’s drinking, but I think she’s hiding in her room when she does.”

  “She wants us there for dinner tomorrow.”

  Paige screwed up her face. “Nothing says the holidays like family dysfunction.”

  “Dean inside?”

  “Yeah, he’s asleep. Those painkillers really knock him out. I left him on the couch.”

  “Thanks, Paige, for everything.” She didn’t just mean for keeping an eye on Dean, or smuggling fast food into the hospital for them so they wouldn’t have to eat the meals the hospital provided, or even coming after her when Nate had her. It was all of that and so much more. She was glad to have her sister again.

  “Think nothing of it.” Paige gave her a quick hug. “Go inside, it’s cold out here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Haley nodded and went in, but stopped short in the hall. A small, foot-tall, artificial Christmas tree turned on a plastic base in the center of the steam trunk. Thin white fiber optic needles and plastic snowflakes glowed brightly, while an electronic rendition of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” played on a loop from the speaker in the base. It was the tackiest thing she had ever seen. She smiled, strangely delighted.

  Dean whistled along tunelessly from the kitchen as he opened and dug through drawers, stopping to curse when he couldn’t find whatever it was he was looking for. She watched him from the living room with admiration and exasperation combined.

  “You’re supposed to be taking it easy,” she said at last.

  “I am,” he turned and grinned, holding out a glass of red wine.

  She came toward him and accepted the glass. “What are you looking for?”

  “The Chinese food menu from the other night. I know, not very Christmasy, but I’m sick of pizza. Not that I’m not grateful to Paige for feeding us while we were in the hospital, but Hareton really needs to expand their takeout selection.”

  “On the fridge.” She plucked the folded paper from the magnetic clip holding it in place. “How is Pizza Christmasy?”

  “I always had pizza on Christmas Eve.”

  “I’m surprised you managed to convince my sister to take you out and get the tree.” She lifted the glass to her lips and sipped the dry smooth wine.

  “It wasn’t all that hard, actually. Now finding the tree, that was a mission. Any idea how hard it was to get a tree so late on Christmas Eve?”

  She remembered Garret struggling to put together her family’s twenty-year-old artificial tree. “Some.”

  “I actually had to buy that one from a shop keeper’s display window. He probably charged me twice what he paid for it.”

  She grinned despite herself. “It’s a very nice tree.”

  “No, it’s not, but it’s festive, and I thought we could both do with a little festive.” He leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers. She tasted wine on his lips.

  She pulled back and turned to the counter, where his glass stood half-empty.

  “You can’t drink anything when you’re taking painkillers.”

  “I haven’t taken a painkiller since yesterday,” he said on a sigh.

  “I gave you one this morning.”

  “And.” He dug in his front jean pocket, producing a long fat pill. “Here it is.”

  “You’re palming your pain medication?”

  “If I really hurt, I’d take it. Now, I’ve kind of planned a romantic night for us. We have an ugly tree, we’ll order Chinese food, and then we’ll sit back and watch It’s A Wonderful Life or something.”

  She sighed and nodded. Maybe she was being a mood killer. “Okay. Should I just get the same thing as last time?” she asked and held out the menu.

  He nodded.

  As she ordered the food, he prowled the small living room as if suddenly restless. When she hung up the phone, he sat next to her, his expression inscrutable.

  “We need to talk,” he said and her stomach dropped. “I’ve wanted to for a while, but I feel like we haven’t had a second alone.”

  “Me too,” she croaked, her mouth suddenly dry.

  He said nothing for a moment, a long, aching moment. Her throat grew tight. Here it comes.

  “Everyone at the hospital thought we were engaged,” he said slowly as if choosing his words carefully.

  Her face heated. “That was Paige’s idea. They wouldn’t tell us anything about you at the hospital because we weren’t family. So she lied and said I was your fiancée.” She shrugged. “It worked.”

  He reached over her suddenly, opening the side table drawer and pulled a small package wrapped in silver paper. “Merry Christmas.”

  “What is this?” She asked as he thrust the tiny gift into her lap.

  “A present. Open it.”

  As she tore the pretty foil paper he stood and paced. Inside, she came to a dark blue velvet box. Her breath caught as she opened it and lay eyes on the glittering diamond inside.

  “It’s a ring.”

  Dean stopped and ran his hand through his hair. His insides quivered as he met her bewildered stare. “It’s an engagement ring.”

  She glanced down at the ring then at him, clearly baffled. This wasn’t going as he’d planned. What had he been thinking? Look how she had reacted when he gave her a cell phone for God’s sake.

  “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  Crap, he’d forgotten that part. He sat next to her on the couch and forced himself to pull it together. He reached for her hand, her skin was cold against his. Then he met her eyes, dark hot amber. “Will you?”

  She smiled. “Yes.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes.”

  Laughing like kids, he slid the ring on her finger then wrapped his arms around her. She tilted her head back and he kissed her, sealing the deal.

  “I hesitate to bring this up, but I think we’ll need a bigger place once I’m recovered, which, despite your best efforts to convince me otherwise, shouldn’t be very long. We should look for a house in January.”

  She frowned. “You want to move?”

  “This place is great, but if I’m going to be working from Hareton, I’m going to need a home office and something I can use for a workshop.”

  “No.”

  Damn, too much too fast. He shouldn’t have pushed. “Did you want to ask your landlord about adding to this place?”

  “No. I don’t want to stay in Hareton. I’m going to close the store, or sell it if any will actually buy it. My mother’s agreed to rehab. I’ll be taking her to a clinic right after Christmas. Then I’ll, well I don’t know what exactly I’ll do, but it’ll be for me. And maybe you.”

  Her face almost glowed with excitement, and she was beautiful. He kissed her again, but when she moved to pull away he held her in place, tracing her tongue with his. She moaned a little and leaned into him. He had her.

  He slid his hand under her sweater and trailed his fingers over the swell of her breast a
long the edge of her bra. He wanted her, hungered for her in a way he never knew possible.

  The doorbell shattered the moment.

  “If that is any member of your family…” His voice sounded ragged and hoarse even to his own ears.

  She giggled. “It’s the food.”

  With a curse he stood, willing his body into a slightly less embarrassing state before opening the door. “We’re picking up where we left off.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Then you’ll have to be gentle with me.”

  She tilted her head and grinned, cocking a single brow. “Maybe just this once.”

  About the Author

  To learn more about Dawn Brown, please visit www.dawnbrown.org or send an email to Dawn Brown at dawn@dawnbrown.org.

  Beneath the lies is truth—and temptation that neither of them can resist.

  Memories of Us

  © 2008 Linda Winfree

  Book Five of the Hearts of the South series.

  Investigator Celia St. John is hopelessly attracted to the one man she shouldn’t want, district attorney Tom McMillian. Arrogant and completely alpha, McMillian is the type of man she likes—a tough son of a bitch. The problem? He’s her boss, and he’s still hung up on his ex-wife.

  Since his marriage to a law enforcement agent failed after the death of his infant son, Tom has avoided emotional involvement with any woman. Despite his attraction to Celia, he refuses to get involved with another cop.

  Their no-strings affair quickly becomes a tangled web of intrigue as they investigate an illegal baby adoption ring and more than one murder, one of which points to Tom as a suspect. The more they dig under the lies, the higher the risk, not only to their relationship, but their lives.

  Warning: this title contains the following: explicit sex, language, violence.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Memories of Us:

  A grin flirted with her mouth. “You’re a tough son of a bitch, McMillian. I like that.”

  He swallowed the urge to ask her what else she liked, along with a bite of pizza. Savoring the spicy blend of cheese and pepperoni, he cast about for something to say. She left him tongue-tied in a way he couldn’t remember another woman ever had.

  All right, hot shot, you said you wanted to get to know her. Keep up your end of the conversation.

  A look around the room didn’t offer any clues to her life outside the job. He washed the pizza down with a swig of Corona. “So tell me about Celia St. John away from the office.”

  She lifted her bottle and sipped, her gaze shuttered. “There’s not much to tell.”

  He leaned back, spinning the bottle on the table. “No pleading the Fifth, Ms. St. John. What are you doing while I’m swimming, watching the Braves and collecting baseball cards?”

  “Don’t forget the golf.” She picked a piece of bacon off her slice. “Everyone knows you’re obsessed with improving your handicap.”

  “Celia. Stop evading.”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged, an uncomfortable roll of her shoulders. “I go to the range and work on my aim. Cicely and I do this movie-and-dinner thing every couple of weeks. I run several times a week. I used to play tennis, but my doubles partner moved to Macon, so it’s been awhile.”

  “I play, although my backhand’s not as strong as my handicap.” He let the bottle rest and reached to pick up her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. A grin tugged at his mouth. “We could play one Saturday. You can wipe up the court with me.”

  Her fingers tightened around his briefly, warming him. “Sounds like false modesty, McMillian.”

  They finished eating, washing down slices of pizza with sips of beer and small talk. Tom felt the tension gripping his neck and shoulders slip away. Afterward, he carried the empty pizza box out to her trashcan and returned to the kitchen to find her stowing empty bottles in a recycling container under the sink. He paused in the doorway, struck by the ordinariness of the evening. When was the last time he’d found such satisfaction in such simplicity?

  He honest to God couldn’t remember.

  She straightened, and catching his gaze on her, smiled. This time, the expression lit her eyes, turning them to shining crystal. Arms crossed over her midriff, she leaned against the counter, her gaze traveling over him like a touch.

  Under her scrutiny, he altered his stance. “What?”

  Still smiling, she lifted her chin and crossed the distance between them. Heat kicked off in his gut, arousal buzzing to life in his groin. She rubbed a finger down his tie. “I love this tie on you.”

  A surprised laugh tore from his throat. “Yeah?”

  She tilted her head back to meet his gaze, her hand wrapping around the blue silk. “Oh, yeah. But I think I might like it better off.”

  Fumbling with the knot, she pulled him into her. He dipped his head, taking her mouth, and she laughed against his lips, tugging him toward the dining room.

  “I thought this was all about dinner,” he said, rubbing his hands over her bare back. Even as he uttered the words, he knew they were a token protest. No way he would turn down the opportunity to make love to her again. He hardened, excitement sizzling through him.

  “You talk too much, McMillian.” Hands flat on his chest, she pushed him into a dining chair. She straddled him, resting on his thighs. He shifted, unbearably aroused, and she leaned in to stroke the tip of her tongue over his lips. “Maybe you should put that talented mouth to better use.”

  He gripped her waist and pulled her tighter against him. With a harsh chuckle, he nuzzled the curve of her jaw. “Like this?”

  “Like that.” She slid his tie free and tossed it aside. He slid his mouth to her ear, grazing the lobe with his teeth, and she shuddered. “Just like that.”

  She pulled his shirt open, hauled his undershirt free and ran her hands over his abdomen. At her urgent touch, his muscles contracted, a flush of excitement tingling into his belly and lower. She ground into him, an exquisite pressure. He groaned. “Damn, Cee.”

  Her head fell back and he trailed his mouth along her throat, pulling the tie of her halter loose at the same time. He slipped his hands up to cup the warmth of her breasts, his gaze tracing the line of her necklace. A silver uniform button rested against her cleavage. With his mouth, he caressed the spot just above the “V” of the chain. She made a tiny sound in her throat, a cross between a moan and a sigh.

  Opening her eyes, she caught his gaze, her eyes dark with need. She pushed up. “I want you inside me. Now.”

  She snapped open the button-fly on her jeans and skimmed them down, taking a scrap of white satin with them. His eyes on her, Tom lifted one hip to free his wallet. He laid the plastic-encased condom on one thigh and fumbled with his own fly. She gave him a wicked smile and brushed his hands away. “Let me.”

  In moments, she dispatched his button and lowered his zipper. She wrapped a hand around his erection and he closed his eyes, a smothered growl escaping him as she stroked him, up, down, up again.

  “Celia.” He forced her name out and opened his eyes, need burning. “Come here.”

  With a sultry laugh, she rolled the thin latex over his hard dick and sank onto him, thighs flexing against his, the silky wetness of her body enfolding him. He thrust upward, seeking, needing to be deeper inside her. Her husky laughter turned to a slow, guttural moan that punched him in the gut.

  Shaking back her tousled hair, she settled her hands on his shoulders, lifting and rising over him. Her teeth caught her lower lip, face flushed with passion. He stroked the sides of her breasts, cradling them, flicking at the hardened tips with his thumbs. He pushed harder inside her, lost to everything but her and the sensations sparking between them.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

  “McMillian.” His name left her lips on a torn murmur and jolted him with an urge to taste it. He cradled her head in one hand and pulled her mouth to his for a series of nipping kisses, matching the rhythm of his upward thr
usts.

  Damn, this felt right, being with her, losing himself in her.

  A terrorist plot puts their lives—and hearts—on the line.

  Under Fire

  © 2008 Beth Cornelison

  When Jackson McKay and his daughter are kidnapped, their captors demand his research files on a devastating chemical weapon—or they’ll kill his little girl. Jackson searches desperately for a way to save his daughter and also protect his country from the terrorists. No risk is too great. His daring escape sets in motion a deadly game of cat and mouse.

  Arriving at the scene of a wildfire, smokejumper Lauren Michaels and her crew are caught in the crosshairs of Jackson’s nightmare. Lauren is the only one who can lead Jackson off the burning mountain and to the police. In order to prevent a national crisis and save a child’s life, they embark on a treacherous journey—one step ahead of a sniper!

  But more than their lives are at risk, because an unexpected heat flares between them that may cost them their hearts…

  Warning: This title contains sex, strong language, some violence, smart men, courageous women, and heart-pounding action. Possible side effects of reading include racing pulse, missed sleep, and nail biting.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Under Fire:

  Jackson gaped. “You’re a woman!”

  Her no-shit-Sherlock glare rebuked him for wasting time with the obvious, but the pop of gunfire interrupted any verbal reply. Bark splintered from the tree beside him.

  Jackson dove for the ground. He landed next to the woman, pain streaking through his shoulder. The smokejumper gasped and crab-walked through the leaves, scuttling away from him. Another crack echoed through the trees.

  “Stay down!” He scrambled through leaves and thorny debris to tackle her, cover her with his body. Protect her.

  She grunted and squirmed. Despite the sharp ache wringing his shoulder, he held on tight. No way would he let a woman get hurt in this nightmare if he could help it.