"What did he do?" he shouted, watching her flinch. "At the very least, I— deserve an explanation." His chest felt as though a building had just collapsed on top of him. And everything hurt— breathing, thinking, feeling. "Dammit, Mari— how can you do this to us? To me?"
Marisol winced as his acid words spattered over her. Jeff should have cared— that he was hurting her. That she was in pain. But— damn it, she was killing him. Her face pale and drawn, her expression one of torture. The mesmerizing aqua eyes he adored held a sheen of misery. He would never see that color again without experiencing a gut punch of pain.
"What could he possibly have done to make you so . . . paralyzed with fear that you won't take a chance with me?"
"He . . . beat me."
Her whispered words convulsed into the chasm between them. And Jeff was too shaken by them, too electrified to speak. As they sunk in . . . as they reverberated through his stuttering brain, he staggered back against the wall.
An icy wash of shame drenched him as the blood drained from his head. "No, Marisol," he whispered. "Please . . . God, not you, too." Stumbling to the table, Jeff collapsed into a chair. And then dropped his head in his hands, as everything in his life crashed down around him.
Her brother keeping tabs.
Her family's caution. Her fierce protectiveness of Annie. Of all the women living in the shelter. Because . . . she was one of them. An agonized sound escaped his throat. God— how would he live with himself?
"It's okay," she whispered. "I s-should have— told you . . . a l-long t-time ago."
Mari's teeth were chattering, he realized, as though she'd caught a chill. She was in shock. He'd done this to her. Jeff heard her edge closer to the table, but was too ashamed to speak. He'd deliberately hurt her. So immersed in his own pain, he'd bullied her into explaining something he had no business demanding. Afraid of what he would see in her eyes, he was grateful for the tears blurring his. "Mari— I'm so sorry. God, can you ever forgive me?"
Warm fingers cupping his chin, she forced him to look at her. "There's nothing to forgive." Her eyes were puzzled. "Jefferson— you haven't done anything wrong. You've never done anything wrong. It's me— I'm not . . . right. I'm not ready-" Swallowing a sob, her voice cracked. "I might never be. I’ve been h-having flashbacks."
Her skittish behavior. The new wariness around him. He’d known something was wrong. "How can I help you?"
"I didn’t want you to know," she admitted. "But I knew . . . you sensed it."
Why would she hide from him? "Marisol—there’s nothing you could ever tell me that would make me love you less. When you hurt . . . I hurt."
"You deserve someone stronger. Normal-"
"Screw normal." At her startled chuckle, Jeff pushed back his chair, wanting desperately to hold her, but so afraid he might frighten her. When she slid into his arms, he crushed her against him, holding her as though his life depended on it. And damn it— he was pretty certain it did. When her arms crept around his neck, he drew in rasping breaths of relief.
"Mari— there's no one else for me. There never will be. I love you so much. I should have- I could have been more understanding-"
Her tremulous smile tickled against his neck. "How could you know w-when I wouldn't tell you?"
"Damn it, I should have been kind. I could have tried to discuss it with you. But all I heard was . . . you— didn't want me."
"I was afraid." Her voice was thick with unshed tears. "I'm still afraid."
His heart stopped. "Of me?"
She shook her head. "Never you, Jeff. I'm afraid of me."
Releasing a shuddering sigh, he felt the smallest amount of tension escape his chest. "Why?" Tears continued to slide from her beautiful ocean eyes and he patiently wiped them with his thumbs.
"I'm s-still angry with myself for what h-happened. And it sometimes makes me question my judgment."
Jeff digested her comment, acknowledging the swell of anger it caused. The bastard had injured her in more ways than just physically. But now wasn't the time for anger. It wasn't time for anything other than loving her. Reassuring her. Accepting that it would take her a while to feel comfortable with loving him. "You think . . . because he slipped under the radar— that you might misjudge me, too?"
She startled, her beautiful eyes widening in recognition. "I love you, Jeff. I know I love you. I just. . . I'm a little afraid of it." She sniffed back the tears that wanted to fall in earnest. "I want more than anything for us to be together. Yet— sometimes I feel terrified that if I let you in— you could hurt me. If you were to . . . change your mind."
"I can relate to that." Jeff smiled. "Loving you means I'm handing you the power to hurt me. And— while I really don't want you to hurt me. . . I can't stop loving you." He shrugged. "So— I'm just going with it. I love you. I love Hector. I want us to be together. And I want it as soon as you're sure about it, too."
Mari leaned in and kissed him. Lingered over it, enjoying the spark that ignited between them. Without qualm, Jeff took it deeper, reminding her of the crazy strong connection they shared. If there was even the slightest possibility he could utilize their house-on-fire chemistry to nudge aside any lingering doubt, he was prepared to burn the whole thing down.
Mari was the first to return to her senses, upon hearing one of the chefs in the hallway near the kitchen. Jeff pulled her closer, smiling when she sighed.
He hesitated several moments, uncertain whether he had the right to pose the question he wanted desperately to ask. Jeff knew he would have to accept her answer . . . knew he didn't have the right to push if she wasn't ready. But he wanted to know— everything. He wanted to be able to offer comfort. He wanted to understand what she'd been through.
God help him. He wasn't completely sure he could handle it. Hearing about someone hurting her- His body jerked in reaction.
She felt it, too. "Jeff? What is it?"
Sliding her fingers through his, Jeff needed to feel her warmth. "Could you please . . . when you're ready-" He swallowed around the concrete block in his throat. "Will you tell me what happened? I-I want to know . . . everything— but only if you want to tell me."
"I love you so much, Jeff." Clutching his hand, Mari's eyes were bright with tears. "Yes. I want you to know."
***
"Well, Jeffie . . . you should be proud." Linc Traynor sidled up to his son, a champagne glass in hand. The dedication of New Beginnings' new wing had been an enormous success. Donors, residents, volunteers, community members and a swarm of Ortegas and Traynors filled the new dining room. Big Pete stood guard, resplendent in the tuxedo Sharon had acquired for him. "This place has turned out amazing."
"Thanks, Dad— but I should be thanking you for pushing this project on me. Without you, I never would have met Marisol." Interrupted by a photographer, they paused to smile for his camera. "I’ve taken the new beginnings thing literally. And I think it's catchy." Jeff nodded to the spot in the corner where Hank Freeman wooed a radiant Annie.
They were joined by his mother, looking stunning and happy in her sparkling cocktail dress. She nodded approvingly. "I think happy and in love will do that to a person, Jeffie."
Jeff stared at his parents, acknowledging how comfortable they were together, arm in arm. Marisol's comments about their 'friendliness' flashed through his brain. She'd sensed something was up with them. "When are you going to tell everyone?"
Mona flashed a guilty look at his dad. "I knew it," he confirmed. "Mari was right. You two are back together, aren't you?"
"We didn't want to say anything— with you and Marisol announcing your engagement—and Harry and Kendall due any day— we didn't want to draw attention-"
"That's crazy. There’s always room for more good news." Jeff pulled them in for a hug. "I'm so happy for you both."
"Well— we'd like to be the first to congratulate you on your engagement." Linc beamed. "You'll never find a finer woman. Where is she, by the way?"
Jeff searched the
sea of people, his gaze not lingering to admire the new carpeting, tile, and artwork. He skipped over the double doors leading to the shiny stainless kitchen the chefs would now work in. Finally, they settled on Marisol. And his breath caught. She was especially beautiful tonight . . . her wild mane swept up, her shimmering gown revealing an expanse of honeyed skin he'd grown addicted to over the last seven months.
"She's heading this way." Surrounded by her sisters and the overprotective Manuel, Marisol was radiant. This was her night. Her dream. She’d worked so hard to achieve it. Pride swelled his chest. She was so important here— to so many people. Jeff’s gaze locked on her hand, on the sparkling band gleaming there. Smiling, he remembered the climb to the plateau. At his favorite spot in the world, he'd asked her to marry him, slipping the ring on her finger as the sun rose. With the light warm on their faces, he'd kissed her, sealing their promise.
Though he'd never stop chasing her— he'd finally caught her hand. The adoption completed, Hector was Mari's son. Soon, Jeff would officially become his dad. He'd already completed the background check and all the paperwork. All that remained to make it official was their rapidly approaching wedding.
Hector poked him. "I wanna be in here, too." Slipping under Jeff's arm, he entered the circle he'd created with his parents.
"I hear you'll be a Traynor one day soon." Linc lowered his gaze to Hector.
Hec’s earnest expression made Jeff smile. "Well, for now, I'm still an Ortega. But when Jeff marries us, I'm gonna be Ortega and Traynor. I want both names so I can remember."
"Remember what, Hec?" Hoisting the little boy to his shoulder, Jeff loved the feel of his sturdy little body cushioned against him.
"When Mari picked me."
"Picked you for what, sweet?" Mona gave his hand a squeeze.
"To be her kid." His grin was exuberant. "What if she'd wanted a girl instead?"
His mother's smile faltered. For a moment, Jeff thought she might cry. Hell— for a second, he thought he might, too.
"Are you sad, Miss Mona?" Hector's chocolate eyes were puzzled. "I think it's good she picked me cuz I'm really good at baseball and I 'member to make my bed every day. Almost."
His mother's smile was radiant. "I think she picked the best boy ever. With you and Alex, I'm going to have the two best grandsons ever."
"Three best grandsons," Hector corrected. "Remember? Aunt Kenny's baby is a boy, too."
Joining them, Marisol's dazzling smile was directed at him. Still slightly awed by how amazing his life had become over the last seven months, Jeff wondered whether the sense of belonging he experienced every time he looked at Mari would fade with time. Gazing at his parents, he had his answer.
"Where have you been?"
"I was just in the kitchen with our chefs— admiring my extravagant engagement present from Jefferson."
"What did Jake say when you told him you were donating all the kitchen equipment to the shelter?" His father’s smirk suggested Linc already knew the answer to that question.
"He understood— eventually." Jeff smiled. "After reminding me again about the four mouths to feed . . . four cars . . . four college educations . . ."
"Mama— you already have a stove at home."
"I know, carino. Jeff gave me this one for our new building."
"We need a toast," Linc announced as he signaled a passing waiter. The cluster of Traynors wiped out an entire tray of champagne glasses. Hector in one arm, Jeff sought Mari’s fingers. When she linked them with his, a sense of peace settled over him. Of exquisite rightness.
Linc raised his glass. "To New Beginnings. To all the souls who pass through these doors . . . may they find the help they seek. To all the hard-working volunteers who devote themselves to helping others."
Squeezing Mari’s fingers as they shared a glass, Jeff leaned in to brush his mouth against her ear, loving the delicate shiver that coursed through her. "To my beautiful, talented, dedicated fiancée."
Her eyes lit with happiness, she smiled. "Thank you for my beautiful kitchen."
"Thank you for finally agreeing to go out with me." Chasing Marisol had been the smartest thing he’d ever done. He gazed at the circle that was his family. A circle that would continue to grow over time. The one constant in his life he'd always known he needed. And for him, Marisol was at the center of it. Everything he would ever want was right there in his arms.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to all the beautiful, strong women who have ever struggled with domestic or partner violence. Don't ever doubt you are worth so much more. A portion of the proceeds of this book will be donated to Safe Harbor Shelter. Assist them at safeharborshelter.com
Look for Book 4 of the Blueprint to Love series, Hank Freeman's story, SHELTERING ANNIE.
Coming Summer, 2016.
Love Under Construction . . .
Solitary widower Henry Hank Freeman has relearned how to be alone. In a world gone colorless with grief, he views life in varying shades of gray. Until bumping into Annie McKenna, a mysterious woman walking her own lonely path. But when their paths cross, he can see only light. And a rainbow of opportunity.
Annie McKenna doesn't need any distractions. Perpetually on the run from her abusive ex- husband, she has two kids to hide and protect. No job. No money. No hope. Until she meets Hank Freeman at the shelter she's living in. For the first time in years, she's awakened to a sharp sense of longing. For a normal life. With a man she can trust. But Hank seems too good to be true.
Falling for Annie and her boys was the easy part. But convincing her to build a new dream with him might take longer than the addition he's constructing for the shelter. And protecting them from her ex is a full-time job. Believing Henry's beautiful blueprint will take all the faith Ann can summon. She can't afford another mistake. Because where she's escaped from . . . mistakes can kill.
SHELTERING ANNIE
Available Summer, 2016
I hope you will enjoy an excerpt from
OUT OF THE MIST,
the first book in my new series, Can't Help Falling.
Coming April, 2016.
Out of Time . . .
Beaten and left for dead, Juliet awakens in the rain with no memory of how she ended up alone on an isolated road. After another attempt on her life, she'll have to pour her faith into the one man who's made it clear he doesn't trust her.
Injured drug agent Matt Barnes has seen just about everything in a decade battling the worst humanity has to offer. But he's never seen anything like Julie. The beautiful blonde reminds him more of sorority Barbie than a ruthless drug kingpin. But looks can be deceiving. He's got the bullet hole to prove it.
Juliet— and her memory are all he has in a case going nowhere. To erase the worst mistake of his career, his team will utilize her to lure the most dangerous drug lord he's ever battled. But will the woman he's fallen in love with ever forgive him for making her the bait?
***
An Excerpt from:
OUT OF THE MIST
Available April, 2016.
Julie jolted awake to a cold raindrop sliding down her neck. Followed by another. Thunder vibrated, shaking the ground beneath her. Head swimming, she sat up, the earthy bloom of decaying leaves clinging to her sweater. She was alone in a ditch. With no memory of how she’d arrived there.
Wrestling a freight train of panic threatening to knock her flat, she released a calming breath. Great news— her lungs were working. "Even better." Her spine seemed intact. She wiggled her toes. Super duper. Her face however, held the drunken sensation of an injury she might be afraid to acknowledge in a mirror.
In the smothering darkness, pain slithered over her like crawling insects. "Oh, God-" Terror rose in her throat. Was it really bugs? Bolting to her feet, her wobbly stilettos sank in wet moss. If she’d known she was going to be kidnapped, she never would’ve worn new pumps.
"Ow. Ow. Ow." A sharp torque in her ankle toppled her back to the ground. Shoes should’ve been the
last thing on her mind, but contemplating her shiny, never worn, sort-of-pinched-her-toes-but-she’d-bought-them-on-clearance Jimmy Choos was easier than wondering why someone wanted her dead.
"Try not to panic." Except fear had already taken over, tremoring her hands as she grasped handfuls of weeds to claw her way up the embankment— where she prayed she’d discover a road. "Piece a’ cake." Yeah— dropped on the floor, frosting side down. Her desperate chuckle hinted at approaching tears. Who was she kidding? It was the perfect time to panic. She wanted to run— to the nearest source of light . . . safety . . . warmth. Cower under a blanket with her eyes scrunched shut.
When tires crunched on the gravel above, instinct had her shrinking back against the slope as she prayed. Please, please don’t see me. Unable to rationalize her fear, the throbbing sense of dread hovered like the storm clouds overhead. Twin headlights loomed closer, casting exaggerated shadows on her hiding place.
A warehouse. A body. A lion's paw? Images flashed before her as she flattened into the shadows, remaining motionless for what seemed an eternity. Was he back? The thought did little to steady her catapulting heart. Once the vehicle passed, she lurched to her feet, a wave of dizziness threatening to drop her again. Finally reaching pavement, she released a sob of frustration at the glimpse of fading taillights. Wanting the car to return. Wanting it to disappear. Wanting to run in the opposite direction. With a renewed sense of urgency, she stumbled down the road.
***
"Pete. . . I just saw somethin'."
"Half the county’s searchin' for that girl. You really think we’re gonna find her?"
"Dammit, turn around. I saw a flash a color in my mirror."
"We ain’t seen the car, Billy. Don’t you think we’d find the car first? Or did she let herself outta that trunk?"
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