Can't Let Go

by Gena Showalter

  At least he was given a clean bill of health. And so were she and Caroline.

  "You ready to go home, love?" Jude now crouched in front of her, his hands cupping her cheeks.

  "Yes, please."

  In his truck, she rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm so glad you and Daniel met and became friends. If you hadn't, we might not have ever hooked up."

  "I firmly believe we would have hooked up no matter the circumstances. Let's face it, love, you were meant to be mine. How else could two people less likely to fall for each other--a man who wished he were dead and a woman full of life--have come together?"

  *

  AFTER A HOT, steaming shower, Jude carried Ryanne to bed and held her close, making no move to seduce her. Right now, cuddling her--cherishing her--meant everything. He clung to the woman who had won his heart. The woman who'd taught him the death of his family hadn't heralded the end of his life.

  His love for Constance and the girls would always be with him. Love never died. Love endured. Now he had a second chance to love again, and he wouldn't waste a moment of it.

  "Are your fears trying to resurface?" Ryanne asked, her tone groggy.

  "Not even a little. I've got them locked down, and I doubt they'll ever be able to escape again. Today you broke your zip ties, hid from a mobster and distracted his goons, overcoming abysmal odds for survival. You're a fighter, you'll always be a fighter, and I'll always have your love, no matter what happens."

  She kissed his chest--and gasped. "Oh, my gosh! I finally realized what's different about you, you darling man. You tattooed my name in a circle around the heart and daggers."

  "More than that," he said with a grin.

  She studied his chest. "And a banner...?"

  "For our baby's name."

  A new batch of tears welled in her eyes. "Jude."

  "I wanted to surprise you."

  "Cowboy, I'm not just surprised, I'm honored and humbled. And turned on! You've never looked sexier."

  He smiled at her, tenderly smoothed a lock of hair from her face. "This future thing? We've got it in the bag, love. We're going to get our happily-ever-after, guaranteed."

  EPILOGUE

  UNABLE TO GO another minute more without being legally wed, Ryanne married her man in a small, informal ceremony held at the Strawberry Inn. She wore a skintight red dress--because why not?--and he wore a pin-striped suit and tie.

  Dorothea and Lyndie acted as her maids-of-honor, and her mother gave her away. Daniel and Brock stood with Jude, and so did Carrie and Russ.

  Ryanne would forever cherish the memory. They'd overcome so much to be together, she truly believed nothing would ever be able to tear them apart, and she drew a great measure of peace from that.

  After the ceremony, she and Jude decided to use the trip to Rome as the world's best honeymoon. At first, it was difficult for him, because the last time he'd traveled to Italy, he'd been with Constance and the twins. But as the days ticked by, he'd begun to share stories about the girls, who were here in spirit.

  Ryanne and Jude were now swinging on a hammock anchored to the terrace of their villa, bathed in moonlight and water. A cool breeze drifted scents of pine, clay and dewy grass.

  "We've been here two and a half weeks," she said. "I know you've been missing home."

  "I have you. I'm good."

  "Yes, but you're ready to return. Admit it."

  "Love, we can add another month to the trip, if you want."

  Argh! "You really churn my butter and butter my buns, cowboy. I didn't want to be the only one to feel this way, but oh, well. I'm ready to go home to our cats." Living her childhood dream was better than she'd envisioned, but also not always as fun as she'd hoped. Having to pee a thousand times during their flight had sucked balls. And throwing up all the pasta and gelato hadn't been a blast, either.

  Besides, the cats--their extended family--had to be missing them something fierce. She and Jude had decided to keep all seven kittens, plus momma Belle. Over the years, they'd suffered enough losses. No need to suffer any more. Since Ryanne had promised Dorothea and Lyndie two kittens each, she'd paid the adoption fees for her friends to find their new family members at a nearby shelter. Win-win.

  "Brock promised to take care of the cats, love. They're fine."

  "Yes, but what about your cat baby books?" Jude was making one for each of the kittens. "What if Paris climbs on the fridge for the first time and we miss it? What if Anya and Cameo tussle again and we aren't there to cheer them on?"

  "Brock is--"

  "Constantly distracted by other pussies. I know."

  Jude barked out a laugh. "I can't believe you said that."

  "What? It's true!"

  "What about your dream of traveling the world?" he asked.

  "It hasn't changed. Well, it has, but for the better. I once wanted to see the world on my own, because I didn't know I could trust a man and take him with me. I also didn't know how special a good home could be, but now I do, and I miss it. Don't get me wrong. I still want to visit every country and state, with my husband and our baby at my side. I want us to make wonderful memories together, but only a week or two at a time. We can see the sights, experience the atmosphere, eat all the food and return to the Scratching Post without feeling like I'm--we're--constantly plagued by homesickness."

  His hand settled over her belly. "The little miracle Laurent will enjoy seeing the world. I know Hailey and Bailey loved the places Constance and I took them. They always felt as though they were on a grand adventure."

  Nowadays he mentioned his first family with ease, and it thrilled her heart. Those girls would always be a part of him, and Ryanne would always be grateful for the love they'd given him, and the man they'd helped him become.

  She kissed the corner of his beautiful, scarred mouth. Even in the moonlight she could make out the fierceness of his features...the hungry gleam in his eyes. A hunger that was never sated. Always he wanted her, and always her body responded in kind, starved for this man who had won her trust and heart.

  "We're going to make so many wonderful memories together," she said.

  "This is a magnificent start."

  So many things had happened in the weeks since her abduction. Dushku had been charged with a wealth of crimes, and because he was broke, he couldn't afford to pay for fancy lawyers, or pay the judge to let him go. He would be serving a life sentence with men he'd betrayed and blackmailed. Glen Baker and Jim Rayburn had been arrested on multiple charges, as well. As Jude had promised, the security feed from Dushku's warehouse had proven Jim's guilt.

  Ryanne could breathe easier now, and so could Lyndie. Jim wouldn't be causing trouble anymore.

  Savannah and her son had officially moved to Strawberry Valley. She now worked as a maid at the inn. What she would do when Thomas's father was released from prison, no one knew.

  "Plus," Ryanne said, returning to their conversation about heading home early. "Don't you want to get started on your new duties at the Scratching Post? I hear your boss is a real dragon lady."

  "Good thing I know how to make that dragon lady purr. But what, exactly, are my new duties?"

  Last night, as they'd laid snuggled together in bed, they'd chatted about Jude's hopes and dreams. He wanted to remain in charge of the bar's security, making sure no drunk drivers got behind the wheel of a car. He also planned to have his vasectomy reversed, so they could one day add to their family. A fact that pleased her greatly. They had a lot of love to give.

  "Well," she said, "on top of running our new nightly security team, you're going to have to make sure I'm pleasured at least once a day, and to help facilitate that, you're going to have to work with your shirt off so I can admire your chest any time I want."

  "Your terms are acceptable. I'll change our flights," he said. "But we're not heading back tomorrow. I don't want you regretting leaving early, so you're going to give Rome two--no, three more days. There are still places you haven't seen."

  "You mea
n places we haven't made love."

  "Exactly. But in the future, we'll plan shorter trips."

  "Sounds fair, O wise one. Poor Selma, though. She's been in charge of the Scratching Post, and she's going to hate giving up the reins of control early. And poor Brock. He's not going to be happy, having to move out of our apartment sooner rather than later."

  "I wouldn't worry about him. I'm sure Lyndie will distract him some way or another. She always does."

  So true. Ryanne was rooting for those two crazy kids to work out their problems and start dating; they obviously wanted each other. "Why hasn't he asked her out?"

  "Other than the fact that she's terrified of him?"

  "Yes."

  "She's former Junior League, right?"

  "Mmm-hmm."

  "That's why. Or one of the reasons. She's almost everything his parents would love."

  "Almost?"

  "Her divorce. They'd give him shit for it. If he ever brought her home, that is. Which he would never do. They'd eat her alive, and his protective instincts would surge. He'd react violently, as he tends to do, and probably scare the piss out of her."

  "So what's wrong with his parents?"

  "Imagine living in a ten-thousand-square-foot house with two people who find fault with everything you do and say, and an older brother who never does anything wrong. You'd have plenty of places to hide from the people, but no place to hide from the sting of their disapproval."

  Ouch. "So Brock goes after different women to find the approval he didn't get as a child, if only for a night."

  "In part. Sex isn't something he and I have discussed, but I suspect the less time he spends with a woman, the less she learns about him, so the less she has to dislike, allowing him to leave her with the memory of having her world rocked, nothing more, nothing less. Besides, PTSD registers differently for different people, and I've noticed Brock's causes him to do whatever it takes to make the people around him fall in love with him, if only for a little while, since he can't love himself." Jude lazily toyed with the ends of her hair. "That's my opinion, at least. I could be wrong."

  Well, if Brock ever decided to go after Lyndie, he'd have his hands full, that was for sure. And vice versa!

  Maybe Ryanne would give one of them a push? Lyndie desperately needed to experience a relationship free of abuse, with a man strong enough to help her fight her panic attacks, at the same time soothing the scared little girl within. To know that she was worth more than her father and ex-husband let her believe. To understand that she was a treasure and--

  Nope. Bad Ryanne. No matchmaking. Brock wasn't one for commitment. If he were to break Lyndie's heart, Ryanne would have to break his face.

  But then, to help him overcome a past mired with rejection, he desperately needed to experience a relationship full of acceptance and adoration. Lyndie's fear of him might push him too far.

  Or force him to do better, helping him find what he was looking for.

  Stop! Just stop. The fallout could be devastating.

  "Me and my boys... I'm not sure why we fight our happiness so hard," Jude said, his voice fierce. "I'm sorry for every moment I gave in to fear, love."

  If she were honest, part of her had expected that fear to return at some point and stomp all over his new zest for life. Oh, how wrong she'd been. He'd learned that fear left unchallenged could control him. And, as a soldier dedicated to achieving victory, ceding the minutest bit of control had rankled, so he'd taken the reins and held on with an intractable grip.

  He hadn't broken a sweat when she'd wandered off in the Vatican, and he hadn't panicked when he'd woken in bed alone after she'd gone in search of a chocolate chip cookie.

  Life was pretty much perfect.

  "Do you still feel like you're broken?" she asked, petting his chest.

  "After you picked up my pieces and put me back together again? Not even a little."

  Darling, romantic man. She held up her hand, a gorgeous pearl-and-diamond cat paw ring glinting on her finger. The best engagement and wedding ring ever. "Are you happy?"

  "Ecstatically so. And you?"

  "Magnificently so." She wasn't just happy, she was gloriously satisfied. Amazingly content. "I never thought I could feel this way." A feeling she was certain her mother had searched for all these years, as she'd moved from man to man.

  Gonna be nicer to that woman from now on.

  "I'll do anything for you. Anything." Jude cupped the globes of her bottom. "You know that, don't you?"

  "I kind of figured it out when you jeopardized your life to save mine." And she loved him all the more for it. He'd put her and the baby first--something she would forever do for him. "You won me, body and soul."

  "As you've won me. You shattered my resistance, frayed my control and flooded light into my darkness. You are the key to my shackles. You set me free." As he spoke, he traced a finger over the lock on her wrist.

  Right then, she made a decision to get another tattoo. A key on her other wrist. A constant reminder of this moment and the beautiful words her husband had just uttered.

  No matter how many days, months, years they had ahead of them, Ryanne would forever rest in the knowledge that she had been--was--well loved. This shortcake-crazy cat lady had experienced the best of life, the thrill of adventure and the all-consuming power of a great man's adoration. Her cowboy, her honey buns. Her praised one. Her precioso.

  She so looked forward to whatever came next.

  *

  If you liked Jude and Ryanne's story, don't miss the next book in THE ORIGINAL HEARTBREAKERS series, Brock and Lyndie's sizzling tale, CAN'T GET ENOUGH. The playboy meets his match. Coming soon...

  If you're a fan of hot contemporary romance, look for Lori Foster's next sizzling book, CLOSE CONTACT, from HQN Books.

  For the men of the Body Armor security agency, the only thing more dangerous than the job they do is the risk of losing their hearts.

  Read on for an exclusive sneak peek...

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  Close Contact

  by Lori Foster

  MILES RODE THE private elevator in the Body Armor agency to his boss's very upscale office. The early-morning summons left him confused and he didn't like it. He'd been in the shower when she'd called at 7:00 a.m. Her message had said only that he was to get there as quickly as possible. She had a surprise for him.

  Of course he'd called her back, but she'd told him she'd explain everything once he made it to the office.

  He'd finished his extensive training only a few weeks ago, learning enhanced computer skills and practicing his shot with a variety of guns. He'd settled on the Glock as his preferred weapon, but carried a few other toys, as well.

  So far he'd had two cases, both of them pretty routine. He'd helped to control pushy fans at a sporting event for a baseball player during a PR stint, and then escorted a big-time author with a new movie deal to some local signings around the area.

  Easy peasy.

  He missed competing, damn it. Missed the cage and the physical exertion. If fate hadn't played him a dirty hand, he'd be at it still, fighting his way to a championship belt.

  The loss of his fight career was only one of many regrets he suffered lately, and as usual, he shoved it from his mind, determined to live in the here and now.

  The elevator opened and he stepped out, going straight to Sahara Silver's posh office. As he passed Enoch Walker, Sahara's personal assistant, he said, "She's expecting me."

  "Indeed she is," Enoch said without looking up from his PC screen. "Go right on in."

  Did he detect an unusual note in Enoch's voice? Hard to tell when Enoch stayed focused on his task.

  Miles liked Enoch a lot. He was a little dude with a will of iron and mad organizational skills. Always friendly, incredibly smart and damned reliable.

  Because the door was closed, Miles knocked, and a mere second later it opened, almost as if Sahara had been waiting for him.

  Oozing satisfaction, she smiled. "Miles."

  He paused, suddenly on guard. So far, his boss had been something of an enigma. On the outside, she was a real looker, a shapely five foot eight inches of sass with glossy mink-brown hair, direct blue eyes and the demeanor of an Amazon. On the inside, she probably wrestled alligators and won. Always polished, always in killer heels and always sporting attitude.