Forever and a Day (38 page)

“I’m telling you, she wanted me!”

Hot Biker shook his head.

Smarmy Suit put a little distance between them then yelled, “Fuck you, then!” before stalking off into the night.

Maddie just stared, her heart pounding. She wasn’t sure if it was the volatile situation, ringing far too close to home, or if it was because any second now, he was going to notice her and what she’d done. With renewed panic, she struggled with his bike.

Then two big hands closed around her upper arms and pulled her back from it.

With an inward wince, she turned to face him. He was bigger than she’d realized, and she took a step backward, out of his reach.

His dark hair was finger-combed at best, a lock of it falling over his forehead. He had a strong jaw, and cheekbones to die for, and disbelief swimming in those melted caramel eyes. “Mind telling me why you have it in for my bike?”

“Okay, this looks bad,” she admitted. “But I swear I have nothing against you or your motorcycle.”

“Hmm. Prove it.”

Her gut clenched. “I—”

“With a drink.” He gestured with his head to the bar.

“With you?”

“Or by yourself, if you’d rather. But you look like you could use a little pick-me-up.”

He had no idea.

He righted his bike with annoying ease and held out a hand.

She stared at it but didn’t take it. “Look, nothing personal, but I’ve just seen how you deal with people who irritate you, so…”

He looked in the direction that Smarmy Suit had vanished. “Parker was hitting on a good friend of mine and making an ass of himself. Yeah, he irritated me. You haven’t. Yet.”

“Even though I’ve tried to kill your bike twice?”

“Even though.” His mouth quirked slightly, as if she were amusing him. Which was good, right? Amused at her klutziness was better than being pissed.

“And anyway, the bike’s going to live,” he said, directing her to the door, the one whose sign read
THE LOVE SHACK
.

“This is a bad idea.”

He flashed her a smile, and holy mother of God, it was wickedly sexy. It might even have been contagious if she hadn’t been so damn worried that any second now he was going to morph into an angry, uptight, aggressive LA attorney who didn’t know how to control his temper.

No, wait. That’d been her ex, Alex. “Honestly,” she said. “Bad idea.”

“Honestly?”

“What, don’t people tell the truth around here?”

“Oh, the locals tell the truth. It’s just that they tell
all
the truth, even when they shouldn’t. It’s called gossip. Lucky Harbor natives specialize in it. You can keep a pile of money in the backseat of your unlocked car and it’d be safe, but you can’t keep a secret.”

“Good thing I don’t have any.”

He smiled. “We all have secrets. Come on, I know the bartender. It’ll help you relax, trust me.”

Yes, but she was in the red on trust. Way overdrawn. In fact, the Bank of Trust had folded. “I don’t know.”

Except he’d nudged her inside already, and her feet were going willingly. The place snagged her interest immediately. It was like entering an old western saloon. The walls were a deep sinful bordello red and lined with old mining tools. The ceiling was all exposed beams. Lanterns hung over the scarred bench-style tables, and the bar itself was a series of old wood doors attached end to end. Someone had already decorated for Christmas and huge silvery balls hung from everything, as did endless streams of tinsel.

Hot Biker had her hand in his bigger, warmer one and was pulling her past the tables full with the dinner crowd. The air was filled with busy chattering, loud laughter, and music blaring out of the jukebox on the far wall. She didn’t recognize the song because it was country, and country music wasn’t on her radar, but some guy was singing about how Santa was doing his momma beneath the tree.

Shaking her head, Maddie let herself be led to the bar, where she noticed that nobody was here to drink their problems away.

Everyone seemed… happy.

Hoping it was contagious, she sat on the barstool that he patted for her, right next to a woman wearing sprayed-on jeans and a halter top that revealed she was either chilly or having a really, really good time. Her makeup was overdone, but somehow the look really worked for her. She was cheerfully flirting with a huge mountain of a guy on her other side, who was grinning from ear to ear and looking like maybe he’d just won the lottery.

Hot Biker greeted them both as if they were all close friends, then moved behind the bar, brushing that leanly muscled body alongside of Maddie’s as he did.

She shivered.

“Cold?” he asked.

When she shook her head, he smiled again, and the sexiness of it went straight through her, causing another shiver.

Yeah, he really needed to stop doing that.

Immediately, several people at the bar tossed out orders to him, but he just shook his head, eyes locked on Maddie. “I’m done helping out for the night, guys. I’m just getting the lady a drink.”

The other bartender, another big, good-looking guy—wow, they sure grew them damn fine up here in Lucky Harbor—asked, “What kind of wing man just takes off without proper clearance? Never mind.” He slapped an opened sudoku puzzle in front of Hot Biker. “Just do this puzzle in three minutes or less.”

“Why?”

“There’s a woman at the end of the bar, the one with the fuck-me heels—Jesus, don’t look! What, are you an amateur? She said she’d do things to me that are illegal in thirteen states if I did the puzzle in less than five minutes. So for all that is holy, hurry the fuck up. Just don’t let her see you doing it.”

Hot Biker looked at Maddie and smiled. “Trying to impress a woman here, Ford.”

Ford turned to Maddie speculatively. “I suppose you already know that this guy here has got some charm. But did he tell you that in our freshman year we nicknamed him Hugh because his stash of porn was legendary? Yeah, he had more back issues than eBay. And maybe he mentioned that he can’t pee his name in the snow anymore because the last time he did, he gave himself a hernia trying to cross the X at the end of his name?” Ford turned back to Hot Biker and slapped him on the back. “There. Now you have no hope of impressing her, so get cranking on that puzzle—you owe me.”

Hot Biker grimaced, and Maddie did something she hadn’t in weeks.

She laughed.

THE DISH

Where authors give you the inside scoop!

From the desk of Kendra Leigh Castle

Dear Reader,

I admit it: I love a bad boy. From the Sheriff of Nottingham to Severus Snape, Spike to Jack Sparrow, it’s always the men who seem beyond saving that throw my imagination into overdrive. So it’s no wonder that this sort of character arrived in my very first Dark Dynasties book and has stuck around since, despite the fact that most of the other characters either (a) wonder why he hasn’t been killed or (b) would like to kill him themselves. Or both, depending on the day. His name is Damien Tremaine. He’s a vampire, thief, assassin, and as deadly as they come. In fact, he spent much of
Dark Awakening
trying to kill the hero and heroine. He positively revels in the fact that he has few redeeming qualities. And I just. Couldn’t. Resist.

Writing SHADOW RISING, the third installment in the Dark Dynasties series, proved an interesting challenge. The true bad boy takes a special kind of woman to turn him around, and I knew it would take a lot to pierce the substantial (and very stylish) armor that Damien had built up over the centuries. Enter Ariane, a vampire who is formidable in her own right but really remarkable because of her innocence, despite being hundreds of years old. As a member of the reclusive and mysterious Grigori dynasty, Ariane remembers nothing of her life before being turned. All she knows is the hidden desert compound of her kind, a place she has never been allowed to leave. She’s long been restless…but when her closest friend goes missing and she’s forbidden to search for him, Ariane takes matters into her own untried but very capable hands. Little does she know that her dynasty’s leader has hired an outside vampire who specializes in finding those who don’t want to be found—and that once she crosses paths with him, he’ll make very sure that their paths keep crossing, whether she likes it or not.

All of the couples I write about have their differences, but Damien and Ariane are polar opposites. She’s sheltered, he’s jaded. She longs to feel everything, while Damien’s spent years burying every emotion. And she is, of course, exactly what he needs, which is the first thing to have actually frightened Damien in…well, ever. Damien’s slow and terrifying realization that he’s finally in over his head was both a lot of fun to write, and exactly what he deserved. After all, redemption is satisfying, but it’s not supposed to be
easy
.

Between Damien’s sharp tongue and sharper killer instincts, Ariane has her hands full from the get-go. Fortunately, she finds him just as irresistible as I do. Like so many dark and delicious bad boys, there’s more to Damien than meets the eye. If you’re interested in finding out whether this particular assassin has the heart of a hero, I hope you’ll check out SHADOW RISING. I’ll be honest: Damien never really turns into a traditional knight in shining armor. But if you’re anything like me…you won’t want him to anyway.

Enjoy!

Kendra Leigh Castle

From the desk of Jennifer Haymore

Dear Reader,

When Meg Donovan, the heroine of PLEASURES OF A TEMPTED LADY (on sale now), entered my office for the first time, I mistook her for her twin sister, Serena.

“Serena!” I exclaimed. “How are you? Please, take a seat.”

She slowly shook her head. “Not Serena,” she said quietly. “Meg.”

I stared at her. I couldn’t do anything else, because my throat had closed up tight. For, dear reader, Meg was dead! Lost at sea and long gone, and I’d written two complete novels and a novella under that assumption.

Finally, I found my scrambled wits and gathered them tight around me.

“Um,” I said hopefully, “Serena…that’s not a funny joke. My income relies on my journalistic credibility. You know that, right?

She just looked at me. Then she shrugged. “Sorry. I am Meg Donovan. And though the world might like to pretend that I am Serena, I know who I am.”

“But…but…you’re dead.” Now I sounded like a petulant child. A rather warped and quite possibly disturbed petulant child.

She finally took the seat I’d offered Serena, and, settling in, she leaned forward. “No, Mrs. Haymore. I’m not dead. I’m very much alive, and I’d like you to write my story.”

Oh, Lord.

I looked down to rub the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger, fighting off a sudden headache. If this really was Meg, I was in big, big trouble.

Finally I looked up at her. “All right,” I said slowly. “So you’re Meg. Back from the dead.”

“That’s correct,” she said.

I studied her closely. Her twin Serena and I have become good friends since I wrote her story for her, and now that I really looked at this woman, the subtle differences between her and her twin grew clearer. This woman was about ten pounds thinner than Serena. And though her eyes were the same shade of blue, something about them seemed harder and wary, as though she’d gone through a difficult time and come out of it barely intact.

“So who was it that rescued you, then? ” I asked. “Pirates? Slavers? ”

Her expression grew tight. Shuttered. “I’d like to skip that part, if you don’t mind.”

I raised a brow. This wasn’t going to work out between us if she demanded I skip all the good stuff. But I’d play along. For now. “All right, then. Where would you like to start?

“With my escape.”

“Ah, so it
was
pirates, then.”

She gave a firm shake of her head. “No. I meant my escape from England.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I said. “You’ll be wanting to stay in England. Your family is there.” I didn’t say it, but I was pretty sure the man who loved her was there, too.

“I can’t stay in England. You must help me.”

I clasped my hands on top of my desk. “Look, Meg. I really like your family, so I’m sitting here listening to what you have to say. But I’m a writer who writes happy, satisfying stories about finding true love and living happily ever after. Is that what you’re looking for? ”

“No!”

I sighed. I’d thought not.

She leaned forward again, her palms flat on the desk. “I need you to write me out of England, because I need to protect my family, and…”

“And…?” I prompted when she looked away, seemingly unwilling to continue.

“And…Captain Langley. You see, as long as I stay in

England, they’re all in danger.”

I fought the twitch that my lips wanted to make to form a smile. So she did know about Captain William Langley…and she obviously cared for him. Whatever danger she was worried about facing meant nothing in the face of the depth of love that might someday belong to William Langley and Meg Donovan.