Best of Temptation Bundle

by Tori Carrington

  “Poor boy.”

  Paris laughed. “Not at all. And you know it.”

  “Once, maybe. But now I’ve got wrinkles and gray hair and nothing quite works the way it once did. Oh, the ladies around here don’t complain much, but they’re not exactly fresh off the farm themselves.”

  “You’re extremely handsome. Sophisticated. Worldly. Sexy in a Paul Newman sort of way.” She paused to make sure he was paying attention. He was, and she smiled at him. “And you can quit fishing now, because that’s all the compliments you’re going to lure out of me, even though each one is perfectly true.”

  “Spunky little thing. Of course you’d have to be for my son to fall for you.”

  Her heart leaped. Could what Courtland was saying really be true? And, more important, if it was, could she still get him back? “What makes you think he’s fallen for me?”

  “Television. My dear, the box sees all. I’ve watched you two on some of those interview shows. He looks at you that way.”

  “What way?”

  “The same way you look at him.”

  “I’m in love with him.” It felt good to say it. The more she said it, the stronger she felt. If she said it enough, she could get him back.

  “I told him never to fall for a mark.”

  “I hired him. He’s not blackmailing me.” She grinned. “Well, he almost did. But he couldn’t go through with it.”

  “I’m glad.” Courtland looked out the window, but Paris didn’t think he was seeing the trees and the clouds and the passersby. Courtland O’Malley was seeing the past and a little boy who’d beaten the odds. “I was afraid my debt drove him to turn his back on his own mind.” He turned from the window to peer at her. “That’s never good, you know. Doing something that’s not true to your heart. Breaks the spirit.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I just learned that one myself.” She realized what else he had said. “Your debt?”

  “I have a fondness for the ponies. My son’s always managed to help me out. But this last time, I dealt with the wrong people. Should’ve known better. I’ve always been small-time. Got way in over my head, and they called in my marker.”

  “And Devin told them he’d cover it.”

  “I told him not to. After all, what can those fellows do to me in here?” he gestured around the cramped nursing home room. “My mind goes in and out. Half the time I don’t even remember I owe the money.”

  “Devin’s got his own code of honor. He couldn’t let them hold that money over your head.”

  Courtland nodded. “I’ve never told him how proud I am of him not following my example. Oh sure, I taught him what to do, but that was because I was scared not to. What if he had failed at success? At least my kind of skills kept us from going hungry.”

  “But he hasn’t failed,” Paris said. “He’s smart and funny and he must love you very much.”

  “Why isn’t he with you?”

  The question tore at her. “I made a mistake. I was following my head, and not my heart.” A tear slid down her face, and she wiped it away. “And now I’m afraid I’ve lost him.”

  The old man crooked a finger, and Paris bent down to get closer. “If you want him, if you want love, you need to fight for it.”

  Paris nodded. “That’s my plan.”

  “YOU’RE AN IDIOT, boss,” Jerry announced.

  “Thanks, Jer. Your moral support is truly overwhelming.” Devin lost his train of thought and had to start adding up the credit card receipts again. He’d been easily sidetracked for the past four days, and he knew the reason. Paris. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. About her laugh, the feel of her body, her quirky sense of humor.

  After overhearing her with her father, and then having one of Carmen’s thugs make a not-so-subtle threat in Paris’s own backyard, Devin had thought it was better for her if he left. But now? Now that every day was killing him, Devin was beginning to realize he was wrong.

  He could give up a lot of things, but not Paris. His resolve had grown even stronger when he’d received the special delivery envelope that morning. Inside he’d found a check, neatly filled out in her precise handwriting, for six thousand dollars.

  So she’d paid her debt, effectively severing her last tie to him. But that was an ending he just couldn’t stomach. He needed her, and somehow he was going to get her back, or die trying.

  “What’s that old saying, Jerry? If you love something—”

  “—hunt it down and kill it, boss.”

  Devin laughed. “Set it free. I think it’s set it free.”

  Jerry shrugged. “Whatever. So?”

  “The hell with that. If Larry, Curly and Moe want her that bad, they’ll have to go after her through me, because I’m going back to Texas and I’m not leaving until that woman admits she loves me.”

  Jerry cast him a sideways look. “Ya got it bad, boss.”

  “Yeah, Jerry. I know.”

  Only after Devin stepped out into the Manhattan night, did he remember that it was three o’clock in the morning, and he wasn’t going anywhere, much less hopping a plane to Texas. He considered going back in and helping Jerry, but the guy had been doing a fine job with the pub over the past three weeks, and Devin needed to get some rest if he was going to have the energy to wrestle Paris away from the three stooges.

  He trudged the five blocks to his building and climbed three flights of stairs to his apartment. He’d left every light in the place on, he realized, as soon as he pushed open the door. No wonder his electric bill was always outrageous.

  Then he saw her. Curled up on his battered sofa under an old quilt he’d rescued from a flea market.

  He must have made a noise, or else she heard the Hallelujah Chorus playing in his head, because she stirred, then opened her eyes and squinted at him.

  “Hey there,” she said.

  “Hi.” Not poetry, but the best he could manage with his heart threatening to burst.

  She pushed herself up to a sitting position. One of his old, ripped T-shirts barely covered her, giving him an enticing view of her thigh. Her hair was a mess, with wild curls going every which direction. Most of her makeup had rubbed off, except for the touch of mascara that was smudged under each eye.

  She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  “Montgomery Alexander’s not retiring. I told my dad. I told him everything.” She smiled. “There wasn’t exactly gunfire. Maybe a few stray shots, but overall it went well.” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, and he couldn’t help but grin. “I always thought that I wanted a certain kind of man and that I wanted to write a certain type of book. I thought that if I got that man, that life, then I could be happy.”

  Devin tried not to anticipate where Paris was going. He was terrified of being wrong. Terrified she’d flown all the way here simply to say thanks for playing the role, have a nice life, and by the way, thanks for making the mob notice me and my little scheme.

  He swallowed. “What are you saying?”

  “That I never knew what I wanted. But I do now. The man I want can dance on the beach or in a ballroom. He can make love to me with a passion so intense it ignites my soul. He’s suave, yet funny. He works hard, but he knows how to play. He loves adventure, but a perfect Sunday morning is reading the paper in bed. And most of all, he loves me.” She stared at him with an intensity that cut to his core. “I love you, Devin. You. And I’m sorry I didn’t say it before.”

  Devin exhaled, relieved, but still wary. “I’m not Alexander.”

  “I don’t want Alexander. Alexander doesn’t even exist.” She stood up. “I don’t want an Alexander, or an accountant or a social climber.” She took a step closer. “I want you. I want the man who charmed me and teased me. I want the man who’s so fiercely loyal to his family that he’s willing to cover a gambling debt that’s not even his own.”

  “You tal
ked with my dad.”

  “He’s a sweetheart. He told me to fight for you.” She grinned. “And he gave me his key to your apartment.”

  He pulled her to him. “Remind me to thank him,” he whispered, bending down to claim her mouth, to claim her. This was the woman for him, and nothing could come between them.

  Except…

  He gently broke the kiss, pulling away to look down at her face. He saw confusion in her eyes.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “It’s not just about you and me. Alexander is part of this.”

  “No, he—”

  “They’ll never leave us alone,” he insisted.

  She shook her head. “We can pay off your dad’s debt.”

  He stepped back from her, gently stepping away from her outstretched hand urging him back to her. He ran his hands through his hair, dreading telling her. But she had to know.

  When he looked back at her, she was smiling.

  “What?”

  “I like your hair blond. It’s sexy.”

  “Paris, if we don’t pay them, they’re going to reveal that Alexander doesn’t exist.”

  He watched her brow furrow and her mouth curl into a small, adorable frown. “The men in Vegas?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “The press conference,” she said. “That guy was making a threat, and you were setting it up so that I could introduce me. It wasn’t the new character or the book deal or anything else you were thinking about.”

  “If you don’t go public that you’re the real author, then you’ll be under their thumb forever.” He fixed his gaze upon her. “I can’t live with knowing I brought that on you.”

  “Did you like being Alexander?”

  “That’s not the issue.”

  She nodded furiously. “Oh, yes. It’s exactly the issue. I’m without an Alexander. He can go back into seclusion, of course. But if you enjoyed it, he wouldn’t have to.”

  “I loved it,” he admitted, then laughed. “Maybe I am my father’s son.”

  She laughed. “And maybe you’re my soul mate. After all, I guess I’m Alexander, too.”

  “Soul mates. I like the sound of that.”

  “Can you do it? Even just part-time? Can you keep being Alexander and still manage your pub?”

  Of course he could, but that wasn’t the point. “Paris, these men—”

  “Can you?” she interrupted.

  “Jerry’s been managing the pub here, and doing a great job. We close next week on the Boston pub, and I’ve got a couple of people in line to run it. I’ll need to spend some time up there getting it off the ground, supervising the finish-out, but nothing too extensive. I’d actually like not to have to do the day-to-day stuff. I’m more interested in opening a few more.” He smiled at her. “I thought Texas might be a good venue.”

  “Well, see?”

  No, he didn’t see. “All I know is that if Alexander becomes a recluse again, maybe these thugs will forget about you. If I’m out there front and center, they’ll hound us for life.”

  “I’m not letting these men come between us. And I’m not letting them dictate what I do with my life or my books.” She turned to face him, her eyes defiant. “It took me a long time to realize that I can’t even do that for my dad. Not and be happy. I certainly won’t do it for some two-bit thugs who don’t have anything better to do than threaten invalid old men and helpless authors.”

  “You’re hardly helpless,” he said, feeling proud as he watched her stand straight and determined. She was one gutsy woman.

  “Well, I fudged a little on that part.”

  “Do you have any ideas?”

  She shook her head. “No. You?”

  Neither did he. He studied the floor for a while, looking for a brilliant plan buried in the polished wood. Nothing.

  But then…

  He looked up, and she was staring at him, her eyes bright.

  “I’ve got an idea,” they said together, then laughed.

  THE MAN CALLED Carmen gave Paris the creeps, but the one called Bull outright scared her. A jagged scar cut across his cheek, his dark eyes cold.

  For a moment, she wished she had a drink, but it was early in the morning and the pub was technically closed. She looked around the room at the empty tables. Just her and Devin and the creepazoid twins.

  She squeezed Devin’s hand under the table and he squeezed back. His touch reassured her. She took a breath. Show time.

  “You wanted me to bring her, and I did. But you’ll have to convince her,” Devin said. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the booth.

  “I really don’t understand. What is it you gentlemen need to speak to me about?” she asked, resisting the urge to spit in their faces.

  Carmen leered, revealing one gold tooth. “That’s a good question, Miss Sommers. You see we’re in the protection business. We know your little secret. And we can make certain that nobody else finds out.”

  “Well, that’s interesting,” she said, leaning across the table and coming even closer to the disgusting beasts. “But I don’t really understand how it works.”

  For the next fifteen minutes, Carmen proceeded to explain, in intricate detail, why his protection service was so effective, along with the amount of that pesky monthly charge that ensured the protection went on and on.

  “So, what do you think, Paris? Have you heard enough?” Devin asked.

  She replayed the conversation back in her mind. Not the cleanest evidence in the world, but it would do.

  Paris flashed her best smile at Carmen and Bull. “Yes. Yes, I think I’ve heard everything I need to.”

  Devin lifted his arm and rapped on the wall behind him. “Got that, guys?”

  “Loud and clear,” came the muffled response, and Paris couldn’t help but smile when she saw the expression on Carmen’s and Bull’s faces.

  When the two thugs were led away in cuffs amidst a flurry of activity Paris felt as though she was in one of her novels. She wanted to applaud, but quelled the urge. Instead, she kissed Devin.

  “Thank you.”

  Devin shook his head. “Don’t thank me. Your father’s the one who got Larry to come out here, and Larry’s the one who got the local cops involved.”

  “I’m not the one who thought of calling my father.”

  “There’s no guarantee that tape will stop them or even end anyone up in jail. The wheels of justice don’t exactly spin at a fast clip. You should know. But this way, harassing us is a lot less appealing.”

  “I know. And blackmailing us would be pointless after we run through Plan B, so I’d say we’re all set.”

  “Did you call Rachel?”

  Paris nodded. “Everything’s ready. Are you?”

  “Ready to spend the rest of my life with you? Oh, yeah. I’m ready.”

  Paris laughed. “Ready for a press conference?”

  Devin shrugged. “That, too.” He smiled at her, but made no move to walk to the door.

  “What is it?”

  “Have I told you today that I love you?”

  She smiled. “Yeah. But you can tell me again.”

  “I love you.”

  Paris stretched her arms around his neck and kissed him, this man of her dreams who had literally made her fantasies come true. “I love you, too.”

  Epilogue

  HOUSTON, TEXAS—Bestselling author Devin O’Malley married his manager and recent co-author Paris Sommers yesterday. O’Malley is better known as Montgomery Alexander, the reclusive author of a popular series of espionage thrillers. O’Malley surprised Alexander’s fans six months ago by announcing at a press conference that Alexander was O’Malley’s pseudonym.

  Even more surprising was the announcement that, for future books, Montgomery Alexander will be the pen name for the dual effort of Sommers and O’Malley. The couple revealed that the next Joshua Malloy book will team the superspy with a female partner, Vivian Jones, promising that the leather-clad, stilett
o-wielding heroine will keep Malloy, and his fans, wanting more.

  The ceremony was held in the bride’s family home in River Oaks. The bride’s father, Judge Patrick Sommers, performed the nuptials.

  Devin tossed the paper on the floor and pulled his naked bride next to him. He liked the sound of that. Bride.

  “You tired?”

  She didn’t answer, just eased on top of him, moving her body over his until he was just as aroused as he’d been less than an hour before. And an hour before that.

  She kissed the top of his ear. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Research,” he said.

  “More research?” she teased.

  “Hey, Malloy’s never had a female partner before. If you’re going to write these scenes, you need to make sure you’ve done all the prep work.”

  “Mmm, that’s very thoughtful.”

  “Well, since you’re doing all the writing and I’m just a pretty face, I thought it only fair to do my part.”

  She sat up, straddling his waist and arching her back as he reached up to stroke her breasts with one hand, teasing and tempting her. His Paris, his wife.

  “Eventually,” she said, her voice ragged, “I’m going to have to stop researching and start writing.”

  He chuckled, but didn’t stop. “All in good time, my dear. All in good time.”

  Night Whispers

  by Leslie Kelly

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11