by Nina Bruhns
I thought about the dream that had kept replaying in my head, the details all blurred together. “I remember blood. A lot of blood.”
“Head wounds are like that. You had to get staples.”
That explained the throbbing on that side of my head. “I remember sex in my office.”
He grinned wide. “You rode me like a rodeo queen. I’m going to need a repeat of that. I’m thinking chaps and a thong, maybe some tassels and spurs.”
“Okay,” I licked my dry lips. “But what am I gonna wear?”
He laughed, leaning down to kiss my nose. “What else do you remember, sweetheart?”
“Hitting my head.”
“You nearly cracked the bar with your thick skull when you fell. The lump blossomed into a pretty purple bruise.”
“How long have I been out?”
“Two days after the ambulance ride here. At first they kept you out in order to get you all patched up. Then you went in and out of consciousness thanks to the pain meds, but mostly out.”
“Where’s here?”
“The regional hospital in Cottontop Flats.”
“My dad?”
“He’s resting at a hotel nearby.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, something niggling at my memory of it all. “I remember you telling someone to freeze.”
“Your ex wasn’t alone. His girlfriend snuck in the back door. She took off when I drew on her. Rick tracked her down by morning, locked her up. She’s going to go away for a long time.”
I reached up and touched the left side of my head, grimacing as I brushed over the staples and shaved hair. “I tripped over that damned dog.”
“That ‘damned dog’ probably saved your life. You should have seen all of the bullet holes in the bar.”
“Buffalo will probably want to have a parade for his heroic mutt.”
Joel’s smile flat-lined. “You scared me on the ride here, Shooter. With all of that blood you lost, I was afraid you wouldn’t come back to me.”
Come back to me, Montana.
That explained why he kept saying that in my dreams. My throat tightened. Careful not to jar my shoulder, I scooted over, patting the bed next to me.
He glanced at the door then climbed in next to me, mindful of the needle in my arm. He brushed his beard stubble over my forehead as he held me close. “You missed Christmas.”
“You’ll have to make it up to me at New Year’s.”
“It’s a deal. Do you remember saying you’d marry me?” he asked.
It was my turn to laugh. “Good try, Andersen.”
“Laugh it up, Montana, but Santa left you a little package under the tree.”
“Isn’t that sweet,” I said, still smiling. “But Santa knows I like my packages big.” I reached down and squeezed him through his fly. “This will do me just fine.”
His surprised cough morphed into a raspy chuckle. “I can’t believe I’m in love with such a salty wench.” The tender brush of his lips over my temple smoothed away the last burrs of my resistance.
“Okay,” I said, staring up at the television as Clint Eastwood rode off into the horizon.
“Okay what?”
“I’ll wear your ring.”
He sat up, gaping down at me. “No shit?”
“No shit.” I reached up and ran my knuckles over his scruff. “But I’m keeping The Ugly Rooster.”
He grinned. “You’ll have to make moving back worth my while.” He bent down, his lips feathering over my face. His hand traced my contours through the cotton pig-covered gown. “Let’s start with those tassels and spurs.”
I caught his roving hand and held it over my heart. “Don’t forget the chaps and thong.”
“Trust me, Shooter, I won’t. I think I’ll include them in my wedding vow.”
The End… for now.*
*(Stay tuned for an all-new full-length novel about Montana and Joel—the first in the Goldwash, Nevada mystery series—slated for release in late 2013.)
Acknowledgements
Thank you to all of the wonderful readers who volunteered to be Beta Readers for me. I appreciate you giving your time and expertise more than I can say.
Dedication
This one is for Mimi. Thank you for all your help over the years!
More from Ann Charles
The Deadwood Mystery Series
“The first time I came to Deadwood, I got shot in the ass.”—Violet Parker
Little girls are vanishing from Deadwood, South Dakota, and Violet Parker's daughter could be next. She's desperate to find the monster behind the abductions. But if she's not careful, Violet just might end up as one of Deadwood's dearly departed.
The Jackrabbit Junction Mystery Series
Claire Morgan never should have quit smoking. When Claire's grandfather and his army buddies converge in the Arizona desert to find new wives, it's her thankless job to keep them out of trouble with the opposite sex. But when she finds a human leg bone and partners with a reluctant geotechnician to dig up secrets from the past, trouble finds her. If she doesn't stop digging, she could end up dead
You can find all of the books in both series on Ann’s Amazon Author Page at: http://www.amazon.com/Ann-Charles/e/B004JLYPFW
About Ann Charles
Ann Charles is an award-winning author who writes romantic mysteries that are splashed with humor. Her book NEARLY DEPARTED IN DEADWOOD won the 2010 Daphne du Maurier for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense Award and the 2011 Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award for Best Novel with Strong Romantic Elements. Ann has a B.A. in English with an emphasis on creative writing from the University of Washington. She is currently toiling away on her next book, wishing she was on a Mexican beach with an ice-cold Corona in one hand and her Kindle in the other. When she is not dabbling in fiction, she is arm wrestling with her two kids, attempting to seduce her husband, and arguing with her sassy cat. Most nights, you can find her hanging out over at www.anncharles.com, on Facebook as Ann Charles, or as DeadwoodViolet on Twitter—especially around midnight when her quirky fictional world comes to life.
I Love Lucy
A Sequel to Sleepless in Savannah
by
Rita Herron
Prologue
7 days until Christmas
All Emmet Roach wanted for Christmas was to break out of jail.
Well, that and to be with the woman he loved.
Lucy Lane.
She was going to be so surprised when he showed up at her door. Maybe he’d wrap himself in a big red bow and drape tinsel all over his body!
Yep, that stupid restraining order hadn’t kept him away.
And prison wouldn’t either.
His plan was already set. He’d faked a suicide attempt by trying to strangle himself with the garland some idiot guard at the prison had hung in the dining hall to make the room look more festive. Now the doctors had checked him out, he was riding in a prison minivan on his way back to his cell.
His heart raced with excitement and anger as he envisioned Lucy the last time he’d seen her.
He’d tried to convince her that he loved her, that he couldn’t live without her, but she’d testified against him and claimed he was stalking her.
This time he would make sure she understood the difference. He wasn’t a stalker, he just felt love more intensely than others.
The sound of an engine revving up made him glance in the rearview mirror. His buddy was right on time.
Phase two of his plan was about to begin. The breakout.
He braced himself as his buddy’s car roared up, then rammed into the back of the mini-van. The driver cursed, swerved to the right to avoid an oncoming car and struggled to right the vehicle, but his friend rammed them harder and the van’s brakes squealed.
The driver lost control, the van skidded, then hit the guardrail and rolled.
Emmet gripped the seat edge to brace himself, but his shoulder jerked with the force of metal hitting asphalt. Then the van skidd
ed upside down into the ravine and careened to a stop against a boulder with a sickening crunch.
The driver’s head lolled forward, blood trickling down his forehead. A second later, the van door opened and his friend hauled him through the door.
“Get the damn handcuff key,” Emmet hissed.
The driver was trying to rouse, but his buddy whipped open the driver’s door, jerked the keys from the key ring on his hip, then unlocked Emmet’s handcuffs.
The sweet smell of freedom engulfed him as he tossed the cuffs to the ground and ran toward his buddy’s car.
They tore away from the scene, leaving the driver to fend for himself.
“Thanks,” he mumbled as a siren wailed past heading toward the wreckage.
A few minutes later, when they both finally stopped checking over their shoulders for the cops, his friend slid a scrap of paper toward him.
Emmet’s pulse pounded. “You found her?”
“Yep. She was doing Vegas shows but hooked up with some builder named Reid Summers. Guy and his brother own a construction business in Savannah, Georgia.”
Anger churned through his belly. His Lucy was shacking up with some creep after he’d waited for her for the past year?
“Are you sure you want to look her up?” his buddy asked. “You finally got your freedom.”
“I’m sure,” Emmet said with a sinister smile. “In fact, I can’t wait to see her.”
This time Lucy wouldn’t get away from him.
She loved him, he knew it.
He just had to remind her of that fact. Then she would forget the hammerhead and be with him where she belonged.
Maybe they’d even make a baby this Christmas.
And no one would ever tear them apart again.
Yes, it was beginning to look a lot like Christmas…
Chapter One
6 days until Christmas
Reid Summers counted the peppermint sticks in the Christmas countdown calendar Lucy had hung above her bed. Six peppermints left.
Only six days until Christmas.
And he still had no gift.
What in the hell was he going to get Lucy?
She made a cat-like purring sound in her sleep, then rolled over, and he turned on his side to look at her. He loved watching her sleep.
Hell, he loved watching her do anything.
Her fiery red hair lay in a sexy tangle around her face, her lips were swollen from his kisses, and her naked body with its soft curves… looked absolutely delicious.
Damn, he had it bad.
He had never been in love before, but Lucy had blindsided him, and he’d fallen hard and fast for her.
He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger, then pressed a kiss to her cheek. Lucy was surprisingly sweet, funny – and a sex siren whose shocking exotic Vegas showgirl dance act had tied his body in knots the first time he’d seen it. Then last night she’d brought out the sex toys she sold with her Sleepover Inc. business and man, oh, man.
He was sore in places that had never been sore before.
Of course he hadn’t known quite what to do with a couple of the contraptions, but hey, he was teachable.
Lucy had given up the show life though and was looking for acting jobs, but the image of her in feathers and boas gave him a hard-on every time he thought of it.
Lucy opened her beautiful eyes and smiled. “Morning, lover boy.”
Reid’s chest pumped up a notch. “Last night was spectacular.”
Lucy nodded, then laid a big lip-lock on his mouth. But her cell phone rang a moment later, interrupting them.
“Don’t answer it,” Reid whispered. “We’ll stay in bed all morning, then go to lunch at that shrimp place you like on River Street, then pick up a Christmas tree.”
For a brief moment, he considered shopping for an engagement ring to put in her stocking, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to go that far.
After all, sharing a Christmas tree was sort of a commitment.
Lucy threw the covers aside and reached for her phone on the nightstand. “Sounds wonderful, but this might be my agent.”
Reid frowned. He didn’t want to lose Lucy to L.A., but he couldn’t very well balk at her career choice. He had to be loving and supportive or he’d lose her.
And losing Lucy made him itchy, like he was going to break out in hives.
A small frown puckered Lucy’s brow as she studied the number on the caller ID screen. Then she slid from bed and headed to the bathroom. “Be right back.”
Reid watched her sashay into the bathroom, already missing her sexy little tush.
Being in a relationship was completely foreign territory to him. His sister Maddie had given him pointers, basically her ten rules to please a woman, so he wouldn’t screw up. But he’d frozen up around rule two when she suggested he forget about Sunday afternoon football and give Lucy full reign over his remote.
After all, he was still a bachelor.
In fact, he and his brother Lance and their best friend Chase made a bachelor pact a few years ago, and Lance and Chase had broken the pact when they’d gotten drunk enough on lust and love to get hitched.
His body shuddered as he pictured himself in a monkey suit walking down some aisle and saying words like forever. Could he really do it?
Make a commitment to Lucy?
Shoot, what was wrong with him? He had made a commitment to her. They were exclusive.
Committing didn’t have to mean marriage, did it?
* * *
Lucy shivered as she closed the bathroom door and answered the call. The man on the other end of the line was the last person she wanted to hear from.
It couldn’t be good news.
“Lucy?”
She leaned against the bathroom sink and sighed. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry to have to phone.”
“What is it, Wallace?”
The two words she’d dreaded hearing the past two years echoed back. “He escaped.”
Oh, God. “How?”
“A van crash. Looks like a set up.” Wallace sighed in disgust. “Apparently he faked a suicide attempt, was sent to the hospital and was being transported back to jail when it happened.”
Lucy chewed her thumbnail. Emmet Roach had made her life a living hell before she’d finally convinced the police that he’d been stalking her. First, he’d befriended her at a Vegas show and she thought he was harmless.
An autograph here. A chance meeting at a coffee shop.
Then it had gotten weird. He’d started following her, sneaking into her apartment and dressing room, stealing her wigs and boas and underwear.
Wearing her wigs and boas and underwear.
The whole situation had gotten downright creepy.
He’d taken it a step farther by trying to kidnap her from a spa when she was getting a bikini wax.
Not only had it been embarrassing, but he’d walked in and told the salon worker exactly how he wanted her landscaped.
She shivered again. He liked his women bald like a baby.
Not that that bothered her, but no man told her what to do.
“Lucy,” Wallace said. “I know this is not good, but we will find him.”
Tears burned the backs of Lucy’s eyes. If Emmet had gone to such drastic lengths to escape, he would find her.
“But, Lucy, I think you should go in hiding until we do.”
Lucy looked out the window at the Christmas tree lot across the way. Reid was naked and in her warm bed where she wanted to stay. She thought they might shop for a tree together later like a real couple.
Sophie had worked hard to build a new life with Reid’s brother Lance.
None of them knew about her situation. About Emmet.
What if he came after one of them to get to her?
“All right,” she said. “I’ll do it. But not for me. I don’t want to endanger anyone I love.”
“I understand,” Wallace said. “We can put you in a safe house.”
Lucy’s claustrophobia set in. “I can’t be locked up twiddling my thumbs. I’ll go crazy.” Especially during the holidays when she wanted to be with Reid and her family. And she still had presents to buy!
Besides, since her mother Deseree had quit stripping, attended cosmetology school and started styling wigs for the drag queen show in Savannah, she and Sophie had tried to get together with her at least once a month.
She’d also hoped for a special gift from Santa this year.
“All right. We’ll work something else out.” Wallace wheezed a breath. “I’ll meet you in the Savannah Square in an hour.”
Lucy grimaced. A half hour ago, she’d been in blissful heaven with Reid. She wanted to run into his arms now.
But she couldn’t tell him what was going on.
Knowing him and his macho overprotective brother, they’d play Tarzan, beat their chests and hunt down Emmet themselves.
She’d have to come up with an excuse to leave town. She couldn’t tell Reid the truth or it might put him in danger.
And lordy, lordy, she didn’t want him to think she’d encouraged the creep or attracted trouble.
* * *
The shower water kicked on, stirring wicked thoughts in Reid’s mind, and he slipped from bed, anxious to join Lucy.
But the bathroom door was locked.
Frowning, he paced to the window and looked out. Last night they’d shared a romantic picnic on the riverbank, then raced back in the rain and made love for hours.
He didn’t want the night to end. And today was Sunday…
Sunday usually meant a lazy day reading the paper. He jerked on his jeans and went to retrieve it. Maybe he could talk Lucy back into bed and they could read it together.
The delivery boy had tossed it into the bushes, so he grabbed it and headed back into the kitchen to make coffee. Before he could brew a pot though, the bathroom door opened, and Lucy flitted out in her silky robe. He spied her from the kitchen and rushed to tell her his plan. They’d read the paper together, then he’d serve her breakfast in bed, those croissants she liked with apple butter, and yogurt. And maybe he’d spread a little strawberry jam on her and lick it off…