by JC Harroway
‘Okay.’ Her eyes are shuttered. She’s not going to make this easy on me, and for that I love her a little bit more.
‘You were right. I should have gone long ago. Because I miss him. Because I wanted to have a beer with him, like we used to. Because he was my friend and I’ll always love him.’
I drag in a shuddering lungful of air, more certain of why I’m here than of anything else in my life.
‘Well, good for you, Drake. I’m glad.’
She looks anything but glad. She looks like she’s about to kick me back out into the night.
I rush on. ‘I told him things I’ve always wanted to say—how lucky he was to have you, how I’d always secretly envied him, how I wish I’d done things differently the day we all met. Then I realised something.’ I reach into my pocket and retrieve Sam’s coin, holding it out to her on the flat of my hand. ‘His lucky coin is broken.’
She places her drink on the table and leans forward, peering at the coin with scepticism. ‘It looks okay to me.’ She picks it up, turning it over. The contact of her fingertips on my palm thrums my blood harder, but it’s over too quickly.
She looks up in confusion, then looks back to the coin. ‘Heads, tails. How is it broken?’
I nod, as if agreeing with her, and drop to my haunches at her feet, taking the coin from her and examining it as if it holds the secrets of the universe. It doesn’t. It doesn’t even hold the key to my future, my happiness, my dreams. I’ve always held that. I was just too fucking scared to take my chance after messing up the first time.
I turn it over and over, the constant changing face reassuring. It’s irrelevant. The outcome is always the same. And entirely in my hands.
Mine and hers.
I meet her stare, my fingers continuing to flip the coin. ‘I’ll show you.’ I place the coin with the queen’s head uppermost in the centre of my palm and wait for her beautiful eyes to settle back on mine.
‘Heads,’ I lift one eyebrow, pausing to gain her full attention, ‘I’ll love you for ever.’ I flip the coin over, my eyes never leaving hers. ‘Tails, I’ll love you for ever. See? No choice at all...’
My words settle into the thick silence, the crackle of logs burning the only sound.
Air is trapped under my ribs.
She looks away, her face blank.
My stomach drops to the floor.
But I did this. I made her doubt. I had everything I wanted and I dismissed it because of our convoluted history. Because of my guilt. Because I didn’t fight hard enough.
Swallowing down the boulder in my throat, I take her hand. ‘I want you to have it.’ I press the coin into her palm and fold her fist closed, cupping her hand with both of mine. Her fingers are cold. I never want to let go.
‘I don’t need it.’ My voice is scratchy now, but I push ahead, the words a torrent, stumbling over themselves. ‘I know how I feel—it’s how I’ve always felt. I want you. In my life. In my future. As mine. Always.’
Her eyes are shining now, but she’s still unconvinced. I know her. She battles alone, because that’s what life has taught her. And I added to that lesson.
‘I know I messed up. I let you down. I got in my own way. I punished myself needlessly.’ I press a kiss to the back of her hand, my lungs on fire. ‘I was careless with your astounding words, with your precious love. I’m sorry.’
She pulls her hand from mine, her eyes dipping to the coin. ‘It’s okay—’
‘No.’
She’s going to ask me to leave. Tell me it’s over.
‘It’s so far from okay.’ I grip the back of my neck so hard, it’s a wonder it doesn’t snap in two. ‘You’re brave and honest, and so strong. I was a scared idiot. Scared of your rejection, scared you could never forgive me and scared you could never love me like you’d loved Sam. I thought that staying loyal to Sam meant I couldn’t love you. But I share his luck, because from the day I met you I’ve had you in my life.’ I cover my heart with my hand. ‘I’ve carried you here—that’s why no other woman stood a chance. And I know you don’t need me, but I want whatever way I can continue to have you in my life. Please...don’t give up on me.’
The crackle of the fire sounds like a countdown.
I’m frozen. Waiting. Impotent.
‘I can’t, Drake. I’m not that strong.’ My heart aches at the resignation in her beautiful eyes.
She stands. I’m left staring at the throw, which has slipped from her shoulders and pooled on the chair. I look down, sucking in a deep breath laced with determination. ‘Kenzie—’
‘It hurts too much to go through it again. I can’t...’ She’s halfway across the room, heading towards the bedroom. If I let her go now I’ll never get another chance—I see the confirmation in the set of her shoulders.
‘Wait.’ In two strides I’m behind her. ‘I know I let you down—I took your amazing caring, your comfort, your love and I gave you nothing in return. But I see now I can love Sam, and I can love you.’ I inch closer, sucking in the scent of apples. ‘You are the strongest person I know, but if you’ll let me I’m going to take care of you and Tilly. For ever. I’m going to love you, for ever. Let me show you.’
She sways in the doorway, her back to me.
I step up closer, bend until my lips brush the silk of her hair. ‘You’re mine,’ I whisper.
She shivers, her shoulders twitching. And then she spins to face me, slowly.
I’m lost in the glow of her eyes, mesmerised. I raise my hands with care, cup her face like she’s made of blown glass. ‘You’re mine.’ I tilt her jaw and lower my mouth to hers, taking time for my words to sink in. For her to withdraw, if she wants to.
‘Yes.’ One tiny word. The smallest nod of her head.
Our mouths touch, our lips finding each other’s as if equipped with a homing instinct. Because this is right. We are right. Nothing else matters.
I lift her and carry her to the bedroom. She clings to me with arms and legs and lips and then we’re peeling away the layers of clothing that separate us, until we’re skin to skin.
‘Say you’re mine.’ I run my mouth over every inch of her I can reach as we head for the bed. I follow her down, covering her body with mine, blocking out any residual chill she might feel.
‘I’m yours, Drake.’
She claws at me, impatient. But I want her certain. I want her exhausted by the weight of my love. Filled to the brim so there’s no space for doubt. I kiss her, running my hands over her body, laying claim. She’s equally possessive, her nails digging into my skin, her hands twisting my hair, her mouth leaving kiss after kiss, like brands.
When I push inside her, I know I’m home. ‘Kenzie.’ I grip her face, direct her eyes to mine. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you, too.’
With our eyes locked, I rock us both over the edge, my cry the last thing I manage to speak against her arched throat. ‘You’re mine!’
EPILOGUE
Kenzie
I COVER MY mouth and hide my giggles as I look down at Drake’s denim-clad backside, which protrudes from underneath the bottom of the Christmas tree.
‘How about now?’ he huffs, and the tree shifts a fraction to the left.
It’s already perfectly straight, but I can’t help but string this out...get my money’s worth. Wind him up so I earn some delicious retribution.
‘A little to the right.’ I bite my lip and try not to drool at the way his butt clenches and his shirt rides up, exposing a strip of muscular back. How can I possibly want him again? We’ve only been up three hours. If Tilly wasn’t due in thirty minutes, I’m guessing we’d still be in bed.
‘Now?’ he asks, pushing the tree in the opposite direction.
‘Left a bit.’ I snigger.
There’s a curse. More huffing. And then he emerges, his face dusky with exertion and
some pine needles stuck in his hair. ‘Are you deliberately winding me up?’ Even while he admonishes me, sparks of heat in his eyes, he’s tugging me by the hips so he can press a kiss to my twitching mouth. He smells of Christmas. And Drake.
‘Mmm.’ I run my hands through his hair, scattering the pine needles to the floor as I press my hips forward, finding him hard. A pretty permanent state for my man—I’m not sure how he gets anything done...
He breaks from our kiss, even as he’s walking me back towards the sofa. ‘Let’s just get one delivered from Harrods, already decorated.’
I gasp, but he fills my mouth with his tongue as his hand slips under my jumper. I shove at his shoulders, my fingers curling into his shirt to stop him escaping too far.
‘We can’t do that. Decorating the tree together is a family tradition—Tilly and I did it with our parents and we still do this every year. We drink mulled wine, decorate the tree and then watch White Christmas followed by Love Actually. And now our family includes you, so suck it up, trouper.’ I flop onto the sofa, tugging him down on top of me. Right now I couldn’t give a toss if the tree is straight. Tills will sort it out when she gets here. She has an eye for detail.
‘How long do we have?’ mumbles Drake against my lips as he unbuttons my jeans and slips his hand inside my underwear.
I glance at the clock, wishing we had a time machine parked in the garage beside the collection of luxury European vehicles I’m always teasing him about. ‘Not long. She’s always punctual...twenty minutes, tops.’ My words pant out because his fingers are between my legs and his kisses are working their way up my naked abdomen towards my breasts.
He looks up, a grin of promise and eyes full of possession and heat, a look I’ve seen daily—no, hourly—in the last month. ‘I can work with that time frame.’ His hand starts sliding my jeans and underwear over my hips. There’s no way I could resist. I want him. Always. Insatiably.
He’s mine. And I’m his.
* * * * *
On Her Terms
Cathryn Fox
From New York Times bestselling author Cathryn Fox—a deliciously hot Harlequin DARE!
Once is always enough...or is it?
As someone who picks up the pieces of broken relationships every day, my dating rule is firm: no emotions. But Luca Marino isn’t the kind of guy who plays by the rules. He never was... In our Oxford days, he was gorgeous, gregarious...popular. Too popular to care that he humiliated a shy, overweight girl who worshipped the ground he walked on. Well, I’m a different person now—successful, with the expensive hair, makeup and clothes to match. But Luca...well, he seems exactly the same.
Now the man I hate is the best man for my cousin’s luxurious St. Moritz wedding...and it’s time for some red-hot payback.
The sex is definitely hot. The wild, sweaty, forget-your-evil-revenge kind that lasts all night. From the moment we touch, raw energy takes over, and I hand over all control. And, oh, I like it. But when I lie to my ailing grandfather and announce I am engaged—to Luca—all hell breaks loose.
Just this once, I’ll break my rule. But giving in to Luca once is dangerous enough. What happens if I give in to his terms for a second time...and risk falling hard for the guy I swore to hate?
To Heather Veinotte, friend, big sister, confidante.
Thanks for letting me bounce this one off you, for
helping me get the facts straight and for reading the
very first rough draft.
Love you!
CHAPTER ONE
Brianna
“COME ON, COME ON, come on,” I say under my breath as the cabbie slowly drives his car. We wind through the streets of St. Moritz, the gorgeous Alpine town where my cousin Tate is getting married—he’s no doubt wondering where I am.
I glance at my watch and groan inwardly. I hate being late. Absolutely hate it. I actually pride myself on my punctuality, but divorce court ran late, and that left me running to the airport to board Granddad’s private plane. By the time I took my seat, the Learjet had been waiting on the tarmac for hours. Granddad’s personal flight attendant gave me the once-over. Probably because I looked like I’d just come from the rinse cycle and had been hung upside down on the line to dry. Although I’m anything but dry, thanks to the turbulent flight and the humid summer air way up here in the Alps.
I pull my damp blouse away from my skin and steal a quick glance at my watch again. Dammit, the bridal party dinner started fifteen minutes ago, and Tate—considerate man that he is—would have held the meal for me. A double dose of guilt hits at having so many people waiting, because I got tied up, and now I’m in a cab with a whistling driver who is moving at a snail’s pace. The New Yorker in me wants to jump in the front seat and press down on the gas pedal. Hard.
“Relax, we’re almost there,” the cabdriver says, clearly picking up on my tension. He waves a hand. “Look around. Enjoy the view. No one can feel anything but peaceful when surrounded by such beauty,” he says in a heavy French accent that’s almost difficult to understand.
I exhale a slow breath and look out the window. My God, I’d forgotten just how magnificent the high Alpine town really is, how it’s unlike anywhere else I’ve ever been. I marvel at the sun-kissed mountains, their peaks white, even in summer. My gaze travels to the towering Palace Hotel positioned over Lake St. Moritz. I smile as old memories bombard me. As a teen, I spent a lot of time here with Granddad and Tate, especially after my dad left and my mom disengaged from life. But thinking of Granddad brings on another blast of guilt.
Over the last few years, his health has been failing, which is why Tate recently moved his law practice from Boston to Manhattan to be closer to him. I’ve been so damn busy at work, putting in sixteen-hour days to prove I’m partner material at the firm, I haven’t been around as much as I’d like to be. Then again when I am around, Granddad spends most of the time grilling me about when I’m getting married.
I’m not.
Ever.
A garbled sound crawls out of my throat, and I catch the cabbie’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Seriously though, I’m a divorce lawyer. I face couples squaring off against each other every day, and I’ve come to learn that what starts as love always turns to greed and hate. If that’s not enough to make me jaded, all I have to do is look in my own backyard. Most of the men in my family have a penchant for younger women and are never able to settle down for very long, hence the ironclad prenuptials they always have drawn up. On top of that, the last guy I dated seriously turned out to be a two-timing asshole. And of course I can’t forget the sting of rejection from that one notorious guy during my University of Oxford undergraduate years. A gorgeous Italian god every girl wanted. One incident was all it took for that arrogant stuffed shirt to shake my confidence for years afterward.
Cynical much? Oh yeah, like 100 percent. Now when I’m with a man, it’s on my terms. No love. No romance. Just physical one-night stands with no tomorrows. That’s how I like it, and whether Granddad approves or not, he has no choice but to accept it.
“We’re here,” the driver says as he slows his car down in front of Raydolins Hotel, one of the many opulent resorts my granddad owns here. I grab some bills from my purse and quickly hand them over. The cabbie slides from his seat and pulls my luggage from the trunk, and I slip from the back seat and check my reflection in the car window. When I take in the hot mess that is me—Brianna Carson—I cringe.
My hair is a big ball of frizz, and no amount of spray can fix that in this humidity. I swipe at the black smudges beneath my heavy-lidded eyes and only manage to make matters worse. Great, now I look like an angry raccoon jacked up on pain meds. Maybe a bit of lipstick will help brighten me up. Then again I’m not here to impress anyone. I wish I had time to shower and change, but I’m not about to keep Tate or his guests waiting a second longer.
“Relax. Enjoy it while you ca
n. You’ll be back in New York before you know it,” the cabdriver says. As he saunters back to his car, I can’t help but feel a tinge of envy. My life is fast-paced, hectic and mostly chaotic. I wish I could be so laid-back. Cripes, if I’m not careful, I’m going to end up having a heart attack before I hit twenty-eight next month, and for what, really? Am I really making this world a better place? Doing work that is meaningful?
I grab my bag and head inside. The bellboy opens the door as I approach and the cool air washes over me. I widen my arms and let loose a grateful moan. I hurry to the registration desk, sign in quickly and leave my bag for the concierge to take to my room.
My heels tap on the marble floor as I pick up the pace and head to the dining room where the private function is being held. Before I enter, I take a deep breath, let it out slowly and plaster on a smile. I step inside, work to present a well-put-together woman, and search the long table for Tate. When he sees me, he jumps up, comes over and picks me up in a crushing hug.
“I’m so sorry, Tate. I got tied up, and the cabbie—”
“Hey, stop. It’s okay,” he says, and when I take in his big smile, my heart beats a little faster. I’ve never seen him happier, and that warms me from the inside out. Summer Love, his beautiful fiancée, has been so good for him, and he deserves all the happiness life has to offer. Still, there is a small part of me that worries about their future. They’ve only been together for six months. Is that enough time for a strong bond to build? Lord knows love can become venomous pretty quickly. At least I know Summer isn’t marrying for money, and Tate is one of the good guys. That doesn’t stop me from throwing up a silent prayer for him, a request that he doesn’t end up like the other men in our family, with a long list of exes.
“Come on. Everyone will be so happy to see you,” he murmurs over the din of the crowd as he puts his arm around my waist to guide me across the floor.