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Suck it up,
he told himself.
Taylor was very clear about what she thinks about you, and there are a lot of women out there who, unlike her, would be proud to be with you.

After several nights out, though, he still didn’t want any other woman. But, it had only been a week. He knew it would only be a matter of time before he found someone to catch his eye and his interest, before he forgot all about Taylor Flynn and the savage blow she’d dealt to both his heart and his pride. But so far, all the women he’d met were not quite attractive enough. Or they were too young, too immature, and too irresponsible. They giggled hysterically even though he knew they didn’t really get his jokes. Compared to Taylor, they were all boring, vapid. Shallow.

Sighing, he pulled on boxers and jeans and wondered—not for the first time—if he shouldn’t just stay home, regardless of what advice his friends offered. He was searching through his closet for a shirt when his doorbell rang, a full half hour before his buddy was supposed to pick him up.

But it wasn’t his buddy. His mouth dropped as he opened the door to Taylor, looking as gorgeous as an old Hollywood movie star, smiling uncertainly as he schooled his face into an expressionless mask. Her pale hair was pulled back in a sleek knot. Her creamy shoulders were bare above her strapless dress, her skin pearly against the dark blue fabric of her gown. A wide belt cinched in her narrow waist, and the slightly full skirt stopped just at her knees, giving him a mouth-watering view of her legs as she teetered on lethal-looking high heels.

Somehow he summoned the will not to heave her over his shoulder and carry her up to his bed. Instead he crossed his arms forbiddingly over his chest and leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb. Striving for the coolest I-don’t-give-a-fuck tone he could muster, he asked, “What do you want, Taylor?”

Her cool blue eyes raked covetously over his bare chest, and her tongue darted out to moisten her already glossy mouth. His cock thickened against his fly as he imagined her hands, her tongue tracing the same path. Blinking, she seemed to remember her purpose. She took a deep breath and said, “I owe you an apology.”

A tiny kernel of hope tried to take root in his belly, but he ruthlessly squashed it, reminding himself that she thought him beneath her. He raised a discouraging eyebrow.

“You were right about me. I’m a snob. A terrible, awful, shallow snob who worried what people would think if they found out I was dating a landscaper who was younger than me. You deserve better than that, Joe. You were amazing to me, and I wouldn’t give you a real chance.”

She continued, words pouring out of her as she revealed the truth about her background. Living in poverty, watching her mother hook up with an endless stream of losers. She shook her head absently and said, “I realize now how stupid it was, but when I first met you, I somehow convinced myself that you were like them.”

In that moment, all the layers of her perfectly constructed façade fell away. All of it—the desperation, the hopelessness, the driving need to escape and become a completely different person—was there in her eyes, in her voice.

His heart felt bruised as he fought the urge to take her in his arms, to tell her it was all okay, that he would love her no matter what.

But it pissed him off that she lumped him in with all the deadbeats from her past. Just because she was telling him the truth now didn’t mean she was giving up on the ridiculous idea that the only appropriate mate for her was some kind of super yuppie. And he’d be damned if he would wait around, sniffing up her skirts while she was on the lookout for someone “better.” “You thought I was like those unemployed slobs? Thanks a lot, Taylor.” He pushed himself back from the door, not sure he wanted to hear the rest of what she had to say.

Her hand closed around his forearm, and even as angry as he was, he couldn’t deny the jolt of heat that rushed through him at the first touch. “Wait,” she said, “that’s not what I meant.” Removing her hand, she pressed her hand against her eyes as though to hold back tears. “I don’t know what I meant. When I was growing up, I only saw one path to success, and I thought if I did everything right, if I followed all of the rules and married a man who did the same, I would never have to worry about going hungry or having people dismiss me as white trash.” She rolled her eyes, blinking back tears. “And then I started spending time with you, and it felt so
good.
Not just the sex,” she continued, almost as though to herself. “It was everything. For the first time in a long time I was excited to get home after work. I was excited to see you. But I was too caught up in my own bullshit to let myself think I could really have a relationship with you. I got so caught up in my idea of the right man, I didn’t realize that you were the right man. For me.”

He ignored the warmth that started to trickle from his heart like a slow bleed. “That’s all really nice, Taylor, but I’m not interested in hanging around until you get tired of slumming it with the hired help.”

Tears welled in her big blue eyes, and the uncertain tremble of her lips made him ache. He steeled himself, unwilling to give an inch, wary of opening himself up to her once again. She’d thought he was inferior, beneath her. Her less than ideal childhood was no excuse for the blow she’d dealt his pride. She’d have to go further than a simple apology to convince him to give her another chance.

“Do you want me to beg?” she said, her voice catching on a sob. “Because I will. I’ll get down on my knees.” She started to kneel down, then paused. “Okay, maybe not in this dress.” He rolled his eyes, laughing helplessly at her innate prissiness that she couldn’t suppress, even at a time like this. “Please, Joe. I know I don’t deserve it, but I want another chance to show you how much you mean to me, to tell the world how lucky and proud I am to have you at my side.”

He had never seen her look so vulnerable. Finally, she was letting him see the real, flawed woman underneath that perfect exterior. For the first time since he’d first laid eyes on her, she was hiding nothing, stripped bare, looking at him with her whole heart in her eyes. She reached out shaky hands and grabbed his. “Please, Joe,” she implored. “I love you so much. Give me the chance to show you how much. Give me a chance to show that I’m good enough for you.”

Taylor’s blood froze in her veins as for several moments, Joe said nothing. This was a horrible, ridiculous idea that she and Jenna had concocted. She should have known better than to try to salvage this relationship after so brutally pummeling Joe’s pride.

The frown never left his lips, but he cupped her face in his hands and closed his mouth over hers. The kiss was angry, punishing, but she could taste the mingled love and lust underneath the anger and hurt. His tongue thrust against hers, taking her, claiming her. His hands threaded through the hair at the nape of her neck, sending hairpins flying as he ruined her perfectly sleek chignon. “I love you, too, Taylor Flynn,” he whispered, not sounding very happy about it. “I’m probably the world’s biggest idiot, but I think I loved you from that first night when you came over. You tried so hard to keep it together, but I could see the flesh-and-blood woman trying to get out. It’s taken a while, but I think I finally know who she is. And now I love her even more.”

He kissed her, and in that one touch she felt all the love and lust that simmered inside. Her lips parted on a sigh, a sound of mingled joy and relief as, for the first time in a long time, Taylor felt completely at ease. Like she’d finally figured out who she was supposed to be.

The brief, discreet honk of a car horn startled her, reminding her of her excuse for showing up on Joe’s doorstep.

He looked over her shoulder at the stretch limo parked in front of her house. “Got someplace to be?”

“Actually, we do—that is, if you’re okay with that.”

His smile took on a bemused cast as she retrieved a garment bag from where she’d draped it over the porch railing. “Every year Apex hosts a table at the Cancer Foundation benefit in San Francisco,” she said.

He nodded. “My sister will be there.”

“Right. As will most of the partners and their wives. I was hoping that you’d go inside, put on this tuxedo”—she held up the garment bag for emphasis—“and be my date.”

“You’re sure I’ll be an acceptable companion?”

He was teasing, but shame speared through her as she realized that even a week ago, her answer might have been different. Clutching his hands, she said, “I will be the luckiest woman in the room.”

He tugged her inside his entryway and closed the door behind them. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she caught the sheen of tears in his beautiful green eyes before his lips closed over hers. It started sweet, but his kiss soon turned lusty after a week of being apart. She eagerly sucked his tongue into her mouth, and her hands swept greedily up and down the bare, silky skin of his back.

“I don’t suppose we can skip this thing,” he groaned. “I know how hypocritical this is going to sound after all the hell I gave you, but I really want you all to myself tonight.”

“We’ll leave right after dessert, I promise.”

He went upstairs while Taylor repaired her hairdo.

Five minutes later, he was holding her hand to help her into the limo she’d hired to take them to the city. Determined to stay on good behavior for now, she sat on the bench seat opposite him. At the benefit, he ignored his sister’s confused reaction as he arrived with Taylor. As she watched him confidently move from one conversation to the next, charming both men and women, Taylor again marveled at her own stupidity in thinking he would never fit into her world.

She watched him greet Jenna, who hugged him enthusiastically and gave Taylor a thumbs-up behind his back. Jenna leaned up and whispered something in his ear that made him laugh and nod vigorously in response.

“What did she say to you?” Taylor asked as they sat down to dinner.

“She wants to know if I have any friends I can hook her up with,” he said, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Says she’s tired of all these boring business types and wants a real man.”

Under the table, Taylor slid her hand up his hard, muscled thigh and settled her hand over the rapidly growing bulge at his crotch. “Can’t say I blame her.”

Deliberately casual, Joe slid his hand over her knee, up her skirt. Hot color crept over his collar as his fingers traced the lacy tops of her thigh-high stockings. He nearly choked on a bite of steak when he discovered she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“We just have to make it through dessert,” she whispered, as eager to escape as he.

She’d barely swallowed a mouthful of chocolate mousse cake before he all but carried her out of the ballroom. Taylor had no illusions that people didn’t know what they were up to, but for once in her life, she really didn’t care what anyone thought.

Once he’d loaded her into the limo, Joe wasted no time in raising the privacy partition. He pulled her into his lap and shoved her skirt up around her waist as she frantically unfastened his tuxedo pants. She was already drenched from wanting him. As soon as he rolled on the condom, she sank down on his cock, her moan mingling with his as he kissed her. Cupping his face in her hands, she sucked at his lips and tongue, tears rolling down her face at the exquisite perfection at having him inside her again. And to think she had come so close to never sharing this with him again. “I love you,” she whispered, rising and falling on his thick erection as she tried to convey everything she felt with every move, every caress.

Studs sprayed here and there as she pulled his shirt open, needing to feel his skin. His hands tangled in her hair, pulling it awry as he held her still for the probing thrust of his tongue. His hips thrust up as he ground himself deep inside her. “I missed you so much,” he murmured.

Even though it had only been a week, their bodies reacted as though coming out of a months-long sexual drought. A few more strokes, and Taylor was shuddering around him as Joe held her hips still to meet his final, frantic thrusts.

When they arrived home shortly after, Taylor gave the driver points for his seeming obliviousness to her now-Medusa-like hairdo and the red whisker burns that decorated her chin, throat, and upper chest. Joe walked her to her door, but before she could step inside, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her in.

“What are you doing?”

“Practicing.” At her confused frown he said, “Carrying you. Over the threshold.”

Bonnie Edwards

H
is cell phone rang and vibrated, burning a hole through his dream. Shit, it was a good one, too, all heat and womanly body parts. Jake MacKay slid his cell phone out from under his pillow and flipped it open.

“Wazza matter?” Anyone who called at four
A.M.
had to have an emergency. Dread clenched his gut.

“Jake MacKay?” A woman’s voice ghosted through the line, husky and feminine. Not his father. He sucked in a relieved breath, while his mind went muzzy.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Her voice, honey velvet and hollow, stroked through his chest and down to his cock, curling around his shaft with a heat he strained toward. His body woke while his mind headed back toward sleep.

Half dreaming, half wakeful, he stretched out on his back to let the voice play him.

Rock hard, he closed his eyes. Pulled up the pictures from the dream he’d been having. The kind of dream that made his balls ache. Images and sensations flashed back to life as the voice stroked and pumped his shaft.

He knew the voice, had heard it all night long as the dreams had come in waves, rushing and receding. Crashing into him and carrying him along on crests of release.

“Who is this?” He tried to pull his mind to wakefulness, but the dark of predawn stayed with him. The woman’s voice soothed in his ear, but the words didn’t make sense. Insistent energy gathered in his sac, rolled up to his belly, hovered, then dropped to his cock again.

The phone slipped from his hand, forgotten, while the voice murmured inside his head.

A whole night of dreams. He was seeing more action than he’d had in months.
Make that years.

“I need your help,” the woman said smoothly, clearly. “My house needs your expert care.”

“House?” He bit back a moan as his cock flexed once. Twice. He pulled his control back into place, tried to rouse, but his brain was addled and his cock was in charge. “Where are you calling from?”

“I’m in Fremont. It’s part of Seattle these days.”

“How did you get my name? I’m in Florida.” Every word pulled against the tide of dreams.

“You were recommended, Jake.” The way she said his name spiked his arousal, tweaked it, played it. So hot. The voice was heated honey, ravishing with sensuality. “Word is, you have the touch. And I need a man with just the right touch.” The word
touch
sent a shiver through to his spine. “And only the best will do. And you’re the best, Jake, the very best.”

Her heat around his shaft tightened, squeezed, released, pumped. He moaned with more flexes. Could a man dream this kind of sensation? It felt like a blow job without a mouth to go with it.

Reining himself in, fighting for control against the mind-numbing need she created, he ground out, “I don’t travel for work. Call someone closer to you.”

“No one here has the touch. Not the way you do, Jake,” she purred in a voice that conjured more stimulation. He groaned. “It’s you I need.” Pump, pump. Slide up, slide down.

Intense. A kaleidoscope of color rolled behind his eyes. He groaned and finally allowed a heated release with outrageous come to the end.

With the last of his spasms came a clearer head, but he still couldn’t rouse himself to full wakefulness. He tried, but something blanketed his thoughts, made them heavy and slow. “I can’t leave the jobs I already have. I’m not the kind of man to leave clients in a lurch.”
I can’t leave my father.
He
wouldn’t
leave his father. Not now. The old man wasn’t ready to be alone.

“I know,” she soothed, all warmth and understanding. He wasn’t sure if she agreed that he couldn’t leave his clients or if she meant he wouldn’t leave his father.

Either way, his mind eased, worry drifting away.

“You’re rock solid, Mr. MacKay. That’s one of the reasons I’m calling you.”

Even though he’d dropped the phone, he expected to say good luck and so long, but she went on. “I wish there was something more I could do to entice you.”

His cock filled again, insistent and throbbing.

“Your father will understand; he’ll want you to take this job.”
He’ll take care of the clients, see the jobs through while you’re gone.

The thought wasn’t his own. But it was certainly in his head. He struggled to get control of his mind, but she was still there. The voice in the predawn dark held him in thrall.

Entranced, all he could do was listen.

Something of the responsible man he was stirred in him. Rebelled and tried to rise. Jake never dumped his work on the old man. Especially not now. Jed MacKay needed his son at home, taking care of business. Jake never let anyone down.

“But your father always encouraged his sons to follow their hearts, did he not?” Her whisper came warm and cozy in his ear. The heat on his cock intensified.

“If you know my father, then you know he’s had a rough time. He needs me here more than I need a job in Seattle.” The sucking on his cock started again, and he thought he heard a sigh of satisfaction and arousal.

This time he even felt wet heat on his straining shaft. Wet heat and suction.

A tickle of air blew across his balls, and he shut his eyes, letting hot licks of desire settle in the small of his back. He arched into the seeking wet heat and fell back into the dream.

“You really need to come to Perdition, Mr. MacKay. And you will.”

For two more hours, Jake MacKay had the wildest dreams he’d ever had. Sex and seduction, push and pull, man to woman. He saw himself fall, grasping a woman he’d never seen before, his arms on fire as he held her, loved her. A burning touch seared every part of him connected to her. He broke into a sweat he barely acknowledged.

When he woke up at six
A.M.
, he was freezing cold while his blood boiled with a need to follow the voice.

Straight to perdition.

By six-fifteen he was on the phone booking a flight to Sea-Tac Airport.

By seven, he was showered, dressed, and had the coffee on. He reached for a mug off the rack he kept beside the machine and caught the time. Made a rapid calculation of the time difference between Miami and Seattle.

Who the hell called for a carpenter’s estimate at one
A.M
? No one he’d ever heard from. Until last night. Odd, though, he could barely remember what she sounded like. Although she had seemed acquainted with his father and, more importantly, how Jed MacKay had raised his sons.

He hit number one on his speed dial, and his father answered on the second ring.

“Got a call last night from Seattle. You know a woman named Grantham?” He thought that was the name she’d given him, but it was fuzzy now.

“No, got a first name?”

“I can’t recall. It’ll come to me later.”

“Grantham,” his father repeated. “No. Don’t know anyone by that name. Why?”

“She’s got a Victorian mansion in Seattle she wants me to take a look at. Calls it Perdition House.”

“That’s great, son. When you leaving?” No questions about why he’d go that far. No doubt that he’d want the job. That was Jed MacKay.

His father was so set on his sons’ happiness and success that he even refused to fault Jake’s brother, Jared, for his useless decision to drift aimlessly around the Caribbean on his charter boat, the
SandJack
. So now, it was nothing for Jed to encourage a cross-country trip just to do an estimate.

Jake frowned because this was exactly the way the woman had said the conversation would go.

“I’ve booked the first flight out. Remember, we’ve got the Jameson place to start today, the Mitchell’s renovation to finish, and three quotes to do this weekend alone.” He couldn’t offend Jed by asking if he was up to handling all of it, because in spite of everything his father had been through, he was one helluva contractor.

“I’ll take care of everything,” Jed assured him. “At least go look at it. Talk to the woman,” he said with a ring of impatience in his tone.

His father was so damn proud of Jake and his reputation that he’d do anything to promote more business. The impatience cut him, though. Jed had been chafing at Jake’s hovering presence lately, and his father’s next words proved it.

“Go. And, Jake? Cut loose a bit while you’re there.”

The idea of cutting loose held more than a little sway. Maybe if he hadn’t been living like a monk for the past three years, he wouldn’t have succumbed to the woman’s voice and influence so easily.

Shoving aside guilt that was deep as a new foundation, he caved. “I’ll see you Tuesday at the latest. Hold down the fort.”

“No problem, son. Have a nice flight and a good time.”

His father hung up before Jake could protest.

Free.

He was free for the first time in three years.

He called the number for Perdition House he’d already memorized and spoke to a Faye Grantham to arrange a time for a meeting.

“Mr. MacKay? You’re calling about restoring Perdition?” She seemed surprised to hear from him so quickly.

“Yes, we spoke earlier?” She didn’t sound anything like the voice he remembered.

“Earlier than this? Oh, hold on, please.” Her tone was brisk, kind of pissed off, even. But then, it was still only four-thirty her time.

He heard her muffle the phone.

After a moment, she came back on the line. “You were talking with my aunt Belle; she’s a night owl.” He heard exasperation, and a lick of doubt crawled up his back.

“I’ve already booked my flight.” He wasn’t normally impulsive, but today was proving to be a day full of change.

“Of course you have, Mr. MacKay,” she said, sounding amused. The exasperation must’ve been for her aunt. “I’ll see you when you arrive. You don’t have to worry about a hotel. There’s plenty of room here. It might be helpful to get a feel for the place by sleeping in it.”

“Great.”

Next, he called Jared on the
SandJack
. “Hey, bro, I’ve got to be out of town for a few days. Can you fly in?”

“Where you off to?”

He explained about Perdition House and the way their father jumped in to cover for him. But he didn’t say a thing about the odd voice and the odder dreams.

“Does Dad need my help?” Jared asked. “I’ll be there if he does, but to tell you the truth, Jake, I’ve got a business started. I was planning on letting you know next time you and Dad decided to fly in.”

They managed to get together for some deep-sea fishing whenever business allowed. Jake and Jed flew in to hang out with Jared three or four times a year.

Finally! A business. No more drifting aimlessly. He’d been worried about Jared. Damned inconvenient to have a change of heart just when Jake needed him here, though. “What kind of business?”

“Honeymoon charters. Business has taken off. I’m booked solid.”

Jake blew out a breath. “Glad to hear it.” At least he hadn’t turned pirate, although he looked like one these days.

The line went silent for a long moment.

“It’s been three years, Jake.” Jared’s voice roughened. “I think it’s time we let him be alone.”

He bit back a retort. Bristling at Jared was always useless.

Their father may not fault Jared for drifting for three years, but Jake did. He didn’t know how Jared could be so irresponsible when their father needed them both. “If you won’t be here for him, then at least check in.”

The voice from the night drifted through his mind, clouding his thoughts.
Your brother needs this time alone and apart, just as much as you need to spend time with your father. Jared has the touch, too, and he’ll learn to accept it just as you will.

“Dad’ll be pissed, but I’ll check.” Jared chuckled. “And, Jake, see if you can get laid while you’re out there. You need to lighten up.”

Lexa Creighton surveyed her appointment schedule with satisfaction. This spring was way better than last. Business had picked up considerably since she’d done the Proctor’s garden. Mrs. Proctor was giving her great word of mouth.

Still, as good as things were, she was thrilled to get a call from Faye Grantham at Perdition House. The mansion’s grounds were the perfect setting for the heritage gardens she loved to create.

Working with heritage plants like hollyhock and American Pillar roses gave her a sense of continuity. What was once long gone was revived in the cottage gardens and formal Victorian designs she loved most. Thankfully, home owners were beginning to agree with her.

She drove up to the mansion’s front gate for her initial appointment, climbed out of her pickup truck, and pushed at the wrought-iron gate. It swung inward silently and easily.

The driveway was lined with thirty-foot weeping cedars on each side. They hadn’t been pruned in years, and the boughs touched in the center of the narrow unpaved drive.

No way would she leave the boughs like this. They were overgrown to the point of hiding the rest of the property; she could work her ass off to produce an incredible garden, and no one would ever see it.

To Lexa’s mind, the point of landscape design was to highlight a house and add to curb appeal. No one would want their home hidden behind eighty-year-old hedges.

Luckily she hadn’t yet been able to invest in a new truck, so it wouldn’t matter if she poked the nose of her old one through the boughs. New scratches would hardly be noticed on top of all the old ones.

She inched her way through the gates. In an optical illusion, the trees seemed to sway open to let the truck pass. She slammed to a halt. Blinked. No, the boughs were still there, covering the drive.

She rolled forward again. The illusion continued. She could swear the boughs separated just ahead of the truck hood, then closed up again behind her.

Freaky weird.

As was a sudden stab of sexual arousal. It was so intense she shifted in her seat as heat crawled under her skin, down to her belly, up to her breasts, along her neck, behind her ears. Heat and want and need that she hadn’t felt in too long flowed through her veins, right out to her fingertips. Spicy and delicious, she closed her eyes to enjoy the deeply moving sensation. She flexed her fingers around the hard smooth steering wheel, felt the firmness warm in her palms.