Authors: Bethany Michaels,Cheryl Brooks,Elizabeth Raines,Mellanie Szereto,Niki Hayes,Morgan Annie
The Sextet - Entanglements [The Sextet Anthology, Volume 4] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) (18 page)
No. He wouldn’t think about that. Not now. Not ever again.
Marcus locked the cage and headed outside. It was still light outside, the sunlight glinting off all the glass and chrome of the settlement in the desert. He’d forgotten his sunglasses. Shit.
Marcus went back in the side door and went to his office to grab his sunglasses. When he came out, he noticed that the cage door was ajar. He frowned, freezing where he stood to listen.
There was a scuffling sound inside the cage, and Marcus wondered if he should see who it was or whether he should call security. No, he’d see who was there, he thought, with a set to his jaw. He’d had enough of the games, of the dodge and hide and wondering who the hell was trying to ruin his life—had ruined the trust between him and Hannah since he never would have agreed to the dangerous trick if he hadn’t thought someone was trying to sabotage his act.
Marcus pushed open the cage. “Who’s there?” he shouted. His voice echoed in the shadowy interior.
There was no answer, but he heard more scuffling.
“I hear you back there. Come on out. I’ve already called the cops.” Marcus braced himself to tackle whoever came running toward him. There was a board sitting against the cage, and Marcus grabbed it, ready to take out all his anger and frustration on the intruder.
A blur of white low to the ground came out of the darkness, and Marcus nearly jumped out of his skin when a cat darted past him and out the cage door, carrying a kitten in its mouth. Marcus went back to investigate. There was no one there, just the cat and what looked like a little nest where the momma cat had been keeping her babies amongst some boxes and an old pile of drapery in the corner.
Marcus went back to the cage door to examine it and found that the mechanism was broken. Sometimes it engaged, sometimes it didn’t. He shoved a hand through his hair, relieved and horrified. In his heart, he knew he had never really cleared Hannah, trusted her, even though she was the only one with a key and she’d told him she hadn’t given it to anyone else or left the cage open. He could trust her with his act, his career. Just as she’d trusted him with her life. Only he’d been the one to betray her trust, not the other way around.
A sudden pang of longing for her squeezed his chest. He wanted her in his life, if she would have him. If he hadn’t fucked it all to hell and back already. Maybe it was too late. It probably was, and he wouldn’t blame her a bit if she told him to go to hell. But he had to try.
He had to.
Chapter 7
Hannah had no idea if Marcus was serious when he said she was fired. She didn’t know where they stood with performing the trick. She didn’t know where they stood on a personal level either. Honestly, none of those areas seemed particularly promising, so Hannah did the only thing she could do. She got into her tiniest bikini and went to lie beside her apartment complex’s pool. Sure she was going to have an ugly farmer’s tan since the bandage covering her stitches took up a big hunk of her arm, but right then she really didn’t care.
All Hannah wanted to do was put Marcus out of her mind. She could find a new job. She could find a new boyfriend. She couldn’t find a new Marcus, and that was what sucked. Never had she had anything in her life that she couldn’t replace. Not things, not people, not boyfriends. But she’d tried her best and put everything on the line—her heart, her pride, her love. And still he’d walked away. Hannah was no masochist. It was time to move on.
A shadow blocked out the sun, and Hannah looked up, blinking.
“Marcus.”
He indicated a lounge chair next to her. “Can I sit?”
“Sure. I guess.”
He pulled the chair closer and sat down on it sideways, facing her.
“I’m an ass.”
“I already told you that.”
He smiled a little, but it wasn’t his usual ornery grin. He put his hands together in front of him and hung his head a little. Here it was. The official big breakup. The I-like-you-but-I-don’t-want-to-see-you-anymore speech. Hannah steeled herself and her expression so that he wouldn’t know that his words would hurt her worse than a thousand knives being flung at her head.
“I don’t know how to do this.”
“I’ll help you,” Hannah said, sitting up. “How about ‘thanks for the blow job, you’re fired.’”
He frowned. “No. That’ not what I—”
“What about ‘you’re really pretty and a great lay, but not the girl I should be with.’”
He cocked his head. “Is that how you think I feel about you?”
Hannah shrugged, trying not to care. “I did. Then I didn’t, but now…yeah. I do.”
He shook his head as if in disbelief. “Hannah. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. Maybe ever. You bring something to my life that I never thought I’d find. Something I didn’t know I needed. A friend. A partner. Someone I can put faith in and not be disappointed.”
Hannah’s mouth hung open, she was sure of it.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I love you.” He took her hands in his. “I don’t know why you would ever think about giving me another chance to prove it to you after how I’ve treated you. But I’m hoping if I give you a raise and an insurance plan, you’ll come around.” A hint of that old smile played at his lips.
Hannah’s heart leapt into her chest. She allowed herself to hope, as scary as that was.
“Are you saying that you won’t run away every time I get nicked with one of your throwing knives?”
“Yes.” His jaw clenched, and she knew the memory of his hurting her was still painful. But they were partners in an act with an element of danger to it, and Hannah knew it wouldn’t be the first time or the last time she got hurt. She was okay with that.
“Are you going to talk to me about things that bother you instead of hiding them?”
“I’ll try.”
She looked at him, waiting.
“Yes,” he said finally. “I will.”
“Will you let me tie you up sometimes and have my wicked way with you?”
“God, yes.”
He was smiling now, and Hannah was, too.
“When do we go back to work?” Hannah leaned in close to wrap her arms around his neck.
“Not for at least two weeks,” he said against her lips. “I was intending to bribe you to come back to me with a trip to Turks and Caicos.”
Hannah pulled back in shock. “What about the show?” Marcus rarely took a day off, let alone weeks.
“Eh. They can do without us for a couple of weeks. I haven’t taken a vacation in years, and I really, really want you all to myself for a while. Maybe we’ll run away together and never come back.”
Now it was Hannah’s turn to be horrified. “We can’t do that. Think about your fans. Your competition.”
“I suppose I would miss it all,” he admitted. “But losing all that would be nothing compared to losing you.”
For a moment Hannah thought she’d turn into one of those silly, sobbing reality-TV girls who cry every time a guy says something sweet to her. She managed to hold it together, though, and kissed Marcus instead.
“When do we leave?”
“How quick can you pack?” He looked down at her teeny red bikini. “Actually, I don’t think you need to pack at all. My plane is at the airport. Let’s just go.”
“Like this?”
“Absolutely. We can get whatever we need when we land.”
Hannah looked at him, narrowing her eyes. “Like fuzzy handcuffs and silk ropes?”
He smiled right back. “Already packed and loaded on the plane. The only question is who gets to use them first.”
“Oh, that will be me.”
“We’ll see,” he said, tugging her to her feet.
Hannah tugged at the string of her bikini top and let it fall, exposing her breasts, then waited.
“You win,” Marcus said, staring.
And she did.
THE END
WWW.BETHANYMICHAELS.COM
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Bethany Michaels grew up in a small Indiana farm town, which gave her lots of time to indulge her love for reading and writing. She currently lives in Nashville, Tennessee with her husband and four small children.
Bethany is the author of over a dozen short stories, novellas, and novels in the erotic-romance genre. She writes hot historicals, hot paranormals, and hot contemporaries
,
and is a member of Romance Writers of America, Indiana Romance Writers, and Music City Romance Writers.
When not at work on her next book or catching up the laundry or dishes, Bethany enjoys watching movies, hiking, reading, travelling, and volunteering with her kids’ scout groups. She is trying to enjoy snacking on vegetables and using the treadmill rather than snacking on potato chips and using the television, but isn’t quite there yet.
Visit her online at www.bethanymichaels.com
LINES OF COMMUNICATION
Annie Morgan
DEDICATION
This one’s for you, Sadie J.
Chapter 1
“Bryce, do you realize what the hell you’re asking me to do?” Rebecca Graham popped up out of the chair and glared in disbelief at her mentor.
“To be a professional and work with another extremely qualified instructor.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” She strode toward the window, hands fisted at her sides. “Why him?” Rebecca forced herself to pull in a deep breath and then, to a slow count of ten, willed her fingers to unfold.
She stared out at the town she thought of as a second home. Spring had finally come to Jackson, Wyoming after one of the harshest winters on record. But even the cheery blossoms of the small flower garden couldn’t calm the bitter anger. “There are at least a dozen others just as competent.”
“If this were a normal year, maybe. You’ve been up on the mountain already, Becca. The snowpack is still several feet deep in too many places. I need trainers up there I can trust. And with Dawson on a classroom-only restriction after that ACL repair…”
If it were anyone but Bryce asking her to do this, she’d be walking out right about now. But it was his signature on her own Alpine Certification. His recommendation helped get her this instructor slot. Hell, he’d even introduced her to—
“And you know damned well there’s not a better iceman around. You’re gonna need that skill up there with this full class.”
“But…but…” Her mind raced to come up with a legitimate argument. “Surely he couldn’t just drop everything and fly out here to Wyoming. Last I heard, the family’s resort in Stowe was doing a booming business in climbing and mountaineering.”
Bryce chuckled behind her. “Actually, that’s why he does have time. He was coming out anyway to interview a few of the newly certified guides. Seems they need more staff.”
Just ducky.
Rebecca turned away from the window. “What about Pete Linton? He’s living up in Vancouver. He could be here within hours.”
“No dice. His wife is pregnant with their first, due any day.”
She felt Bryce’s gaze follow her as she paced in front of his battered metal desk. As much as she hated to admit it, there
was
no one better qualified up on those icy gorges and crevasses.
“On one condition.”
“And that is?”
“You make it crystal clear that
I
am in charge up there. I make all the major decisions. There will be no surprises.”
Bryce shook his head, a look of utter confusion on his ruddy face. “That’s a given. You’re the regular instructor. He’ll be a guest, a fill-in.”
She had no choice but to agree. That or look like an unreasonable bitch.
“I’ll do it.”
After dragging in a deep sigh, Bryce asked, “What the hell is it with you two anyway? You got along well enough when you tested. I kinda thought you might, you know, get something started.”
So did I.
“It’s a long story, Bryce. The bottom line of which is, I’d trust Cameron Fitzgerald with my life up there on the mountain. But down here, I will never turn my back on him again.”
“Then you’d best be getting that sweet ass of yours up on the rock.”
* * * *
“You had no idea he was standin’ in the doorway?”
“Not a clue,” Rebecca answered.
The back beat and guitar twang of the house band filled the air as a handful of couples boot-scooted across the well-worn dance floor. Rebecca had worked long and hard to find this place. It was well off the tourist’s radar, but it had everything she required of a hangout, her favorite brew on draught, fiery hot wings, and a friendly staff.
“So, what exactly was it that the sidewinder did?” Trish Cramer, the bar’s head waitress and the best friend Rebecca had here in Jackson, said as she set down the frothy pint on the well-scarred table.
Rebecca took a satisfying sip of the locally brewed ale. “Remember that ad campaign I told you about for Wentworth climbing gear?”
“Sure do. You were countin’ on the money as starter for your own guiding business.”
After sprinkling a bit of salt on the pressed-paper coaster, Rebecca set the glass back down. “Yeah, well, that’s been moved farther out on the long range plans. Seems Mr. Fitzgerald is their new spokesperson instead of lil ol’ me.”
“The bastard.” Trish looked over to where a table full of customers tried to catch her attention. “Be right with you folks.” She turned back. “But you two were tight, I mean, doin’ the deed tight. I thought.”
“We were. Guess that didn’t mean as much to Cam as it did to me.”
“Rat bastard.” The waitress pulled out her order pad. “Your usual wing basket?”
Rebecca nodded. “Yeah, with some of Eddie’s coleslaw instead of the celery. And make it to go.”
“Will do.” Trish closed the black cover. “Unwind and enjoy the beer. I’ll tell Eddie to put a rush on your order.”
Once her friend headed over to take the next table’s order, Rebecca leaned back in her chair and took another long, slow drink. Usually, she’d stay and enjoy the music and the energy of the Friday dinner crowd. But tonight, she had to do the initial meeting with the testing candidates. Bryce normally did it, but she had a feeling he assigned it to her this time to reinforce her position.
It’s just ten days.
Anything should be bearable for that short of a time. Right?
She looked up from the glass, letting her gaze lazily trail over the crowd. Rebecca saw several faces she recognized from her last trip up here and returned a couple of friendly waves. Then her vision crossed over to where the entrance door swung open.
No, please, not here. This is MY place.
But her plea fell on deaf ears, for there he was, Cameron Fitzgerald. Oh yeah, and don’t forget the Junior. His father, the Big Fitz, had been the sports story of the decade back in the seventies when he’d been the only American to win a whopping five Olympic alpine gold medals. There’d been rumors of a feud when Cam hadn’t followed in his dad’s ski boots but had chosen climbing instead. But now, by all reports, father and son worked together to make the family-owned mountain resort in Stowe, Vermont a thriving, year-round, upscale retreat.
She knew she should look away. But that old pull was still there. His long, lean-muscled form moved as easily across the level floor of the bar as it did up craggy, vertical rock walls. As she watched, he headed over to the long row of stools lining the Old West–style bar.
The man did fill out a pair of jeans well. His rode low on the hips with just enough round to his ass. And in front, she knew exactly what was under the zipper. All that, paired with his black Irish coloring, spelled just one word.
Devastating.
Stop it, she chided herself. So the man’s hot. The climbing world had more than its share of attractive men, and she didn’t moon over them. No, it seemed that dubious honor belonged solely to Cam.
Damn him for being so fucking perfect for her. Hell, they even shared the same favorite sexual kink. She felt a tight knot of tension in her shoulders and forced herself to let it go. Yes, Cam could always work out her knots with a few of his own.
“Here ya go. Done up just the way you like.” Trish’s voice jolted Rebecca out of her growing sexual reverie. “Sauce on the side so the wings won’t get soggy.”
“Um, yeah, thanks.” Rebecca dug into her purse, searching for the black leather wallet. As she handed over enough cash for the dinner and tip she whispered, “Can I slip out the back? He’s sitting over at the bar.”
Trish turned her head. “Which one?”
“Jeans, khaki shirt. On the far end.”
Trish glanced over to where Rebecca had indicated. “Oh, yeah. That one’s a real heartbreaker, for sure.” She tucked away the money. “You scoot on out through the kitchen. Eddie won’t mind.”
“Thanks, I owe ya one.”
Rebecca wound between the tables, trying her best to stay out of Cam’s potential line of sight. As she reached the door separating the dining room from the kitchen area, she took one quick look back.
It was going to be a fucking long ten days.
* * * *
He’d known she was there from the moment he stepped inside and felt her warm chocolate gaze follow him to his seat. Deliberately choosing a place at the bar instead of a table, he decided that if she wanted to talk, then she’d have to make the first move.
Cam ordered a beer and a menu from the hurried bartender and then stole a glance at Rebecca in one of the mirrored signs. She still wore her blonde hair cropped short. Her full, B-cup breasts bralessly filled out the T-shirt tucked into her jeans, showing a hint of nipple underneath. Just the thought of how they had fit in his hands forced him to shift on the barstool.
When Bryce had told him who the other instructors were for this program, Cam knew he’d be in for a struggle. But he hadn’t expected the declaration of cold mistrust Rebecca had made earlier.
Six months ago, they had been enjoying what he’d hoped would turn into a long-term involvement, when she’d abruptly stopped answering his phone calls, e-mails, and text messages. No fight, no nothing, just a total withdrawal.
At first he’d been pissed. Then, the longer her silence, the more frustrated he became. A woman like Rebecca just doesn’t go from scorching to frosty without a damned good reason. All he had to do was find out what it was.
Like most sports fields, the world of mountaineering was a close-knit community. Cam made a few quiet inquiries, figuring he’d know the whole story within a week or two. A month tops. Now six months later, he was no closer to the answer.
Then Bryce had called. After hearing who he’d be working with, Cam jumped at the opportunity. If he couldn’t find out any other way, he’d go right to the source. Surely he could convince her to tell him what sin he had committed.
He glanced back into the mirror and watched as Rebecca paid for her carryout. She must’ve pointed him out, because the waitress looked right at him. For a moment, he thought he’d been found out, but the two women briefly went back to their conversation before he saw Rebecca head toward the kitchen door.
Cam chuckled to himself. So she was trying to sneak out without him noticing. He’d let her have the imagined ruse. For now. One way or another, though, he was going to find out what had happened to end their relationship.
But was ten days going to be long enough?