‘I’m already going back to LA’ Katie pulled away from him and looked at the boxes stacked by the door. ‘I spoke to Howard Kennington this week and he wants me to come out and work on his next movie. He really liked my work. I assumed it was because of you, but he was really cross that I’d flown back here without talking to him first. He sent me a flight ticket.’
‘You won’t be needing it because I’m going to fly you home. I knew your work was exceptional the moment I saw it.’ He stroked her hair away from her face. ‘I’m going to give up acting and concentrate on directing. We can work on films together.’
Together. Her heart twisted with emotion.
‘Katie Field, Costume Designer.’
‘Katie Wolfe, Costume Designer.’
She didn’t dare move for fear of breaking the spell. ‘Nathaniel—’
‘I want you to marry me. Say you’ll marry me.’
There was a buzzing in her ears. ‘You want to marry me? But … you—Oh, my God—you’d break a billion female hearts.’
‘There’s only one female heart I care about,’ he said softly, and cursed lightly as her eyes filled again. ‘Don’t do that. I can’t stand it when you cry—I never want to see you cry ever again.’
‘This time it’s happy crying.’ Katie leaned her head against his chest. ‘I can’t believe this ….’
‘Usually when I ask a woman to marry me I already know the answer because it’s in the script.’ Uncharacteristically unsure of himself, Nathaniel gave a horrified groan. ‘I forgot the ring.’ He swore under his breath and delved into his pocket. ‘I’m doing this all wrong. I had it all planned out, the whole on-the-knee thing, fairy tale, Katie-land style, and then I saw you and—sorry, I’m sorry, can we do another take?’ He dropped to his knees. ‘Katie Field, will you marry me? Will you love me and talk to me as long as we both shall live?’
Her laughter turned to a gasp as he slid a huge, glittering diamond onto her finger. ‘Oh, my—’
‘If you don’t like it we can choose a different one. Maybe I should have let you choose it. I’m sorry—as proposals go I totally messed that one up.’
‘No, you didn’t …’ She could hardly make her voice work. ‘It was perfect.’
‘I forgot the ring and I forgot to go down on one knee,’ he said dryly. ‘What was perfect about it?’
‘It was perfect because it was real. It came from the heart, not from a script. If you’d been fluent I would have thought you were acting.’
‘Really?’ His voice was raw and there was uncertainty in his eyes as he looked at her. ‘In that case is there any chance of an answer some time this century?’
‘Yes!’ The word flew from her heart to her lips. ‘Of course yes. I love you. You know I love you.’
Nathaniel rose to his feet and this time his kiss was hard and possessive. When he finally tore his mouth from hers, her head was spinning. ‘Now you’re wearing the ring and you can’t back out, I need to break the news about my family. If you’re hoping for conventional, then you might want to rethink. Jacob is determined to bring us all together so you’ll be meeting them all over the next few months and you’re going to wonder what you’ve got yourself involved in.’
‘So will you …’ Katie wrapped her arms around his neck, unable to contain the happiness that bubbled up inside her. ‘There’s something I haven’t told you about myself.’
‘You’ve been keeping secrets?’ He started to laugh. ‘You hypocrite—’
‘Paula Preston is my sister.’
‘Paula Preston?’ He frowned. ‘The super model?’
A horrible thought entered her head. ‘Have you—? Did you ever—?’
‘No. I definitely haven’t. She’s not my type. I assume she’s the reason you wear brown and are a late developer.’
Katie bit her lip. ‘It wasn’t easy having her as a sister.’
‘I can imagine. I met her once. Utter nightmare. But it’s good to know I’m not the only one with colourful relatives. I think our wedding is going to be interesting.’
‘You still want to marry me?’
‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I?’
‘Paula is the beautiful one. People always make comparisons.’
He hauled her against him. ‘There is no comparison. You’re sweet, she’s not. You care about people, she walks over people. And the biggest difference of all—’ his smile was slow and sexy ‘—is your bottom. She doesn’t have one and yours is every man’s erotic fantasy. Want me to prove it?’
Katie blushed. ‘If she comes to our wedding, she’ll probably try and seduce you. None of your relatives can possibly be as embarrassing as my sister.’
‘Don’t you believe it. My brother Lucas doesn’t think there’s any point in going to a wedding if he can’t try and have sex with the bride,’ Nathaniel drawled. ‘He will definitely try to seduce you at our wedding. Women love him, but I warn you that if you cast one look in his direction you’ll be spending the rest of your life on Wolfe Island with just me for company.’
Katie slid her arms around his neck, feeling as if she were floating. ‘An exotic island and the sexiest guy in the world? That sounds like a perfect ending to me.’
‘In that case—’ a smile touched the corners of his mouth and he lowered his head to kiss her ‘—it’s a wrap.’
1992: Jacob leaves Wolfe Manor …
After the devastating events that took place at Wolfe Manor, Jacob knew he had to get far away from everything—and everyone—he loved. Too overwhelmed to think more than a day or so ahead, he left England for France, and a succession of jobs to make ends meet. But, after just a few weeks, restless Jacob would always leave and travel onwards. And, as Jacob travelled, he wrote endless letters to his beloved siblings that he never quite found the courage to send …
Behind the scenes at Wolfe Manor …
Share a secret about Nathaniel or Katie?
Nathaniel Wolfe has a few big secrets tucked away but I wouldn’t be much of a friend to him (or you) if I gave them away without his permission, so I’ll share a small one—he’s not good with deep water.
Who is the biggest, baddest Wolfe?
That’s a difficult question because they’re all big and bad in different ways. For undiluted shocking behaviour and for seducing anything female, I suppose it has to be Lucas.
Which Wolfe brother did you most fancy?
Definitely Nathaniel. He’s the world’s hottest movie star, ferociously talented and the very best at what he does. Yes he’s damaged and has a very dark side, but he has real strength and I find that incredibly sexy. And he’s scorching hot!
Which is Nathaniel’s favourite room in Wolfe Manor?
Given all the things that happened to him during his childhood, Nathaniel isn’t a lover of Wolfe Manor. If I had to pick one room it would probably be the main hallway because it was the quickest route out of the house.
How did Nathaniel pop the big question?
Nathaniel has proposed to plenty of women in his movies but his words have always been taken from a script. He’s a talented actor, capable of making every word sound heartfelt without meaning anything he says. So when it came to proposing for the first time in real life, he had a challenge on his hands. He had to convince Katie that this time he meant what he was saying. I think it’s a very romantic scene because Nathaniel finally stops playing a part and reveals his true self to the woman he loves.
SARAH’S WRITING SECRETS …
What do you enjoy most about writing as part of a continuity series; how does it differ from writing a single title?
Writing is a solitary job. When you’re writing a single title, you’re on your own with your story and your characters all the way through. Being part of a continuity means having contact with other writers. Although you’re still writing the book on your own, you have the opportunity to share those ups and downs that come with every book and you couldn’t find a better bunch of people to share those moments with than the
Modern™ authors. We started an e-mail loop so that we could voice any thoughts and ideas and ensure that what we were creating individually also made sense as a whole. Working with them and having that extra contact was great fun.
What do you think makes a great hero/heroine?
For me, a great hero has to have strength and bravery and by that I mean the ability to face up to anything life throws at him. I want to know that if things get tough he’s going to be right by the heroine’s side fighting for what they share, not walking away.
I like a heroine who can take care of herself and doesn’t allow herself to be pushed around, but also someone who enjoys being a woman and isn’t afraid to show her feminine side.
When you are writing, what is a typical day?
I start by checking my e-mails and dealing with anything urgent that has popped into my inbox overnight. Then I look at my schedule and check whether I have any other commitments in terms of blogging, etc. I don’t have my own blog so I blog in other places, but that means remembering to keep track of where and when so that I can be around to comment and chat with people.
Having organised my day, I switch off the main phone (my kids have a different number they can call me on in an emergency) and then settle down to write without disturbance. I try to resist the temptation to read over the beginning of the book every time and instead write fresh, pushing the story forward. I give myself a minimum daily word count so that I can be sure I’ll meet my deadline. I take a short break for lunch and sometimes I’ll go for a quick walk. Once a week I have lunch with friends—it’s a great way to unwind and I often find it easier to work out plot problems when I’m relaxed and with other people.
CAITLIN CREWS
BAD BLOOD
SHAMELESS PLAYBOY
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CAITLIN CREWS discovered her first romance novel at the age of twelve. It involved swashbuckling pirates, grand adventures, a heroine with rustling skirts and a mind of her own, and a seriously mouthwatering and masterful hero. The book (the title of which remains lost in the mists of time) made a serious impression. Caitlin was immediately smitten with romances and romance heroes, to the detriment of her middle-school social life. And so began her lifelong love affair with romance novels, many of which she insists on keeping near her at all times.
Caitlin has made her home in places as far-flung as York, England and Atlanta, Georgia. She was raised near New York City, and fell in love with London on her first visit when she was a teenager. She has backpacked in Zimbabwe, been on safari in Botswana, and visited tiny villages in Namibia. She has, while visiting the place in question, declared her intention to live in Prague, Dublin, Paris, Athens, Nice, the Greek islands, Rome, Venice, and/or any of the Hawaiian islands. Writing about exotic places seems like the next best thing to moving there.
She currently lives in California, with her animator/comic-book artist husband and their menagerie of ridiculous animals.
CHAPTER ONE
GRACE Carter glanced up from her computer, frowning at the figure that sauntered so confidently into her office high above the cold, wet February streets of central London, without so much as a knock on her door as warning.
And then she went very still in her chair. Something that felt like fire rolled through her, scorching everything in its path. She told herself it was indignation because he had failed to knock as any decent, polite person should—but she knew better.
It was him.
“Good morning,” he said in a low, richly amused and somehow knowing voice that seemed to echo inside of her. He seemed to smolder there in front of her, like a banked flame. She straightened in her seat in reaction.
“By all means,” she said, her voice cool, ironic. “Come right in.”
He was dressed in a sharp, sleek Italian suit that clung to the hard planes of his celebrated body and looked far too fashion-forward for the staid and storied halls of Hartington’s, one of Britain’s oldest luxury department stores, where conservative was the watchword in word, deed and staff apparel. His too-long dark chocolate hair was tousled and unkempt—rather deliberately so, Grace thought uncharitably—and fell toward his remarkable green eyes, one of which was ringed by a darkening bruise. It matched the split lip that failed, somehow, to dampen the impact of his shockingly carnal mouth. His cuts and bruises gave him a faintly roguish air and added to the man’s already outrageous appeal.
And well he knew it.
“Thank you,” he said, those famous green eyes bright with amusement, quite as if her invitation was sincere. His decadent mouth crooked to the side. “Is that an invitation into your office or, one can only hope, somewhere infinitely more exciting?”
Grace wished she did not recognize him, but she did—and this was not the first time she’d seen him in person. Not that anyone alive could fail to identify him on sight, with a face that was usually plastered across at least one or two tabloids weekly, in every country in the world. Showcasing exactly this kind of inappropriate behavior.
She was not impressed.
“Lucas Wolfe,” she said, as a gesture toward good manners, though her voice was flat.
He was Lucas Wolfe, second son of the late, notoriously flamboyant William Wolfe, darling of the paparazzi, famously faithless lover to hordes of equally rich and supernaturally beautiful women—and Grace could not think of a single reason why this creature of tabloids and lore should be standing in her office on a regular Thursday morning, gazing at her in a manner that could only be called expectant.
“All six resplendent feet and then some,” he drawled, his dark brows arching high above his wicked green eyes. “At your service.”
“You are Lucas Wolfe,” she said, ignoring the innuendo that seemed to infuse his voice, his expression, like some kind of molten chocolate. “And I’m afraid I am busy. Can I direct you to someone who can help you?”
“Too busy for my charm and beauty?” he asked, that wicked grin making his eyes gleam, his expression somewhere between suggestive and irrepressible—and surprisingly infectious. Grace had to fight to keep from smiling automatically in return. “Surely not. That would require hell to freeze over, for a start.”
She ignored him, rising to her feet to regain the appropriate balance of power.
“I would invite you make yourself comfortable,” she said with a tight smile, close enough to courteous, knowing her voice would make the words sound sweeter than they were, “except that seems rather redundant, doesn’t it?”
Every instinct she had screamed at her to let this man know exactly what she thought of his kind. Womanizing, useless, parasitic, just like all the men her poor mother had paraded in and out of their trailer when Grace was a child. Just like the father she’d never met, who from all accounts was yet one more pretty, irresponsible wastrel in a long line of the same. Just like every other idiot she’d had to slap down over the years.
But as a member of the Wolfe family Lucas was considered royalty at Hartington’s, given that his family had once owned the company. The Wolfes might not own Hartington’s any longer, but Hartington’s board of directors loved to play up the connection—and as the events manager who was in charge of Hartington’s centenary relaunch in a matter of weeks, Grace was expected to act in Hartington’s best interests at all times no matter the cost to herself.
“I am always comfortable,” he assured her, his voice a symphony of innuendo, his green eyes wicked and amused. “Making myself so at every opportunity is, I confess, very nearly my life’s work.”
She had a huge project to manage, which meant she had better things to do with her time than waste it on this useless, if shockingly attractive, man. Grace hated wasting time. That was the feeling that expanded within her, she told herself, threatening her ability to breathe.
“I’m sorry,” she began, the polite smile she was known for curving her lips, though she knew her gaze remained cool on his. “I’m afraid I’m quite busy today. May I help—?”
“Why do
I recognize you?” he interrupted her, languidly, because of course he had all the time in the world.
Grace was horrified to feel that rich voice of his wash through her, sending tendrils of flame licking all over her skin, coiling low in her belly. She felt it, and it panicked her. Surely she should be immune to this man’s brand of practiced, cynical charm—she, who prided herself on being absolutely unflappable!
“I can’t imagine,” she said, which was a lie, but it was not as if she and Lucas Wolfe would ever speak again, would they? She could not fathom why they were speaking now—and why the cynical boredom she’d sensed in him in a chic and crowded hotel bar the night before had changed to something else, something dangerous and edgy. As if a dark fury lurked within him, just out of sight, hidden beneath his well-known and deliberately polished exterior.
But surely not. She was being fanciful.
“I know I’ve seen you before,” he continued, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at her, then warming as he let his all-too-practiced gaze drop from her face to skate over the figure she’d dressed in Carolina Herrera and other exclusive labels no doubt down-market to a man of his tastes. His lips moved, sensual and inviting for all they were cut, seeming to … suggest things. “You have the most extraordinary mouth. But where?”
Heat danced through her, simmering in every place his green gaze touched her: her breasts, the indentation at her waist, her hips, her legs. Grace was forced to remind herself that a man like Lucas Wolfe more than likely looked at every single person he encountered in that very same way—that the promise of sex and intrigue that seemed to heat his expression meant about as much to him as a handshake meant to anyone else. Less.
She felt a strange sort of echo sound through her, a deep alarm, reminding her of that naive girl she’d been so long ago and had sworn she would never be again. Not with another man like this one, who would render her just as pathetic and deceived as her poor, trusting mother. Who would destroy her whole life if she let him.
Bad Blood Collection Page 18