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Authors: Allyson Young

BOOK: Fated
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Scrabbling beside the chair, she
came up with her purse, shaking the contents onto the floor. She picked out her
phone, and he opened his mouth, knowing her intention.

“It doesn’t matter, Candace. We
know the truth now.” He meant it. The anticipated upcoming battle with her
father was going to be ugly, but he was prepared. He didn’t want her to show
their hand. Although she still hadn’t given him reason to hope.

“You have no idea of the truth,
Reece. You weren’t here. And I wasn’t there—with you. What kind of parent does
that?”

Hating to have to say it, he forced
the words out anyhow. “He told me that if I made something of myself, gave you
a chance to be certain of your feelings about
me,
he
wouldn’t stand in our way.
My way.
It made sense back
then.
You from such a wealthy, upstanding family, me from the
wrong side of town.
I jumped at it, certain I could prove myself.” And
he had in most everyone’s eyes.

“Oh, my father always has my best
interests at heart,” she said bitterly. “You must remember.”

He did, but he couldn’t change the
choice he made at the time. Candace was punching at numbers on the screen.

“Daddy?
Sorry, I know it’s late. Hope I didn’t take you from something important.”
The saccharine sweetness of her tone made Reece wince.
“I
found out something momentous tonight.
Wanted to share it
right away.”

He set a hand on her knee in silent
support, now knowing she had to do this, and she didn’t shy away.

“It seems you withheld my mail for
years.
Tampered with it.
One of those federal offenses
you go on about from the safety of your office as you fuck with the emission
standards.”

Emerson Grant’s voice was
unmistakable as he shouted over the phone, but Candace kept talking. “We’re
done, Daddy.
Finished.
Disown me or I’ll disown you,
but our relationship is officially terminated. You keep your nasty, judgmental
thoughts and opinions to yourself. I’m nearly twenty-four, in possession of my
trust fund and shut of you. You enjoy your ready-made family, Daddy Dearest,
and if you come near me, bother me in any shape or form, you won’t like the
consequences.”

Tapping the end button, she tossed
the cell on top of her purse, and struggled to her feet. “Take me to my car,
please.”

Jesus
Christ.
Not at all as he’d envisioned this night.
“I’m
not letting you leave in your condition, Candace.”

Giving him another searching
glance, she raised one shoulder negligently, then bent and gathered up her belongings,
stuffing them back in her purse. Little wallet, a tampon, the phone, and some
other detritus were tucked out of sight. She eased around him and he tensed,
ready to stop her if she headed for the front door, but she made her way to the
smaller bedroom, stepped inside, and shut the door.
All
without giving him another glance.

Reece flopped backward and stared
at the ceiling. So not how he thought tonight would play out. In a few minutes
he’d get up and find his own bed. There would be a considerable amount to
accomplish tomorrow in order to keep Emerson Grant acquiescent. Something told
him Candace had poked a hornet’s nest with a sharp stick, but Reece would have
her back whether she needed him or not.

Chapter Four

 

Candy dropped onto the bed, the
firm mattress cushioning her fall. In truth, she’d doubted Reece would take her
to her car, let her go, but
her
only thought had been
to put some distance between them. She was surprised he’d allowed even her
retreat to this room, but then he was likely reeling from the fact his
assumptions were incorrect as well. Or he’d read her and knew that she needed
space.

Once she’d accepted that her father
had denied her contact with the boy she’d loved, sent him away, the very idea
of Reece in Iraq and Afghanistan, waiting and watching for some kind of
response from her … it hurt so badly she had trouble taking a breath against
it. How could he ever forgive her? Or want her again? And he still had friends
and family here who would know of her apparent perfidy. His mom had moved away,
and it shamed Candy she didn’t know why, because anything and anyone with a
connection to Reece had been avoided like the plague.

 
But those still living here had to have told
him of her behavior after he’d left. The good time girl hiding her grief and
loss, and the total hurt behind all that meaningless partying. She closed her
eyes against what he might know about her escapades away from Barrister. It
didn’t matter that she’d sought any form of comfort to deal with what she
believed to be callous abandonment. What she’d done had been a reflection of
her low self worth, for the most part, and now she couldn’t stand to look at
him and see that judgment in his eyes. Not when he’d given her hope those years
ago that she was actually someone separate from the rich girl everyone else saw.
Someone valuable and worthy of love.

She hadn’t lied when she said
they’d changed as people. It was true, except nothing had changed. This time it
was she who’d figuratively walked away, having become a different girl from the
one Reece had loved. The memory of him commanding her to her knees unfurled,
and she flinched, now aware he knew of her sexual predilections.

Thinking about her father was
nearly as disturbing. He’d abandoned her, too, emotionally, and
any
respect she’d had for him was gone.
She’d learned a thing or two during that one disastrous year of working for
him, and knew where some bodies were buried. She figured he’d wash his hands of
her now. It wasn’t like he wanted her for anything, unless he saw marrying her
off as some political advantage, and she was no longer dependent upon him
financially, with her trust fund kicking in on her last birthday. There might
be a nasty showdown, but it couldn’t touch her, not really, and wasn’t that a
sad fact of life.

It was time to move on, do
something different with that life. Staying in Barrister had been a mistake,
and she wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to not learn the truth. At
least that way she could have nursed her empty self and carried on. If she
stayed, her torment of the what-ifs would be underscored by seeing Sheriff
Murdoch every day. It had been bad enough knowing he was back, able to hide in
the comfort of her antipathy for him, yet wondering how she’d cope when he took
up with somebody else. There were some young women in the area
who
weren’t blind, after all.

Turning onto her side, she curled
up and pressed both hands between her breasts, trying to assuage the ache
blooming there.
Born under a cursed star, maybe.
Her
daddy was never the same after losing his wife—her mom. He’d married Roslyn
after a decent interval, a widow with two boys he could mold into company men,
unlike Candy. And the marriage had been …
cool
,
efficient, certainly nothing inspirational. She’d unwittingly followed in her
father’s footsteps, never again seeking a grand romance, but she felt not one
iota of empathy for her parent after what he’d done. The bitter taste of
resentment and impotent rage burned her throat.

Reece was on the other side of that
door, or maybe in the bedroom next to hers. She hadn’t heard him moving around,
but he was so quiet for such a big man. Her entire being longed for him, and
she actually flirted with the idea of allowing one last time with him, before
mentally slapping herself. Instant gratification would get her exactly nowhere.
Her phone signaled an incoming text, and she checked it by reflex.

Roslyn.
Call me.
Not likely. She’d said her
piece and couldn’t find it within herself to miss even the idea of her daddy,
or Roslyn.
Or her life in general.
It was actually a
relief, and she hoped it lasted forever.

A door shut softly, and she
flinched. Probably Reece had gone to bed. She could wait a while and then, when
he was sleeping soundly, get up and sneak out. Take that walk back to her car
and drive someplace far, far away. Set up shop someplace else, maybe. Join the
circus like people used to do. The ones who needed to run away, had nothing to
keep them at home or maybe just craved adventure. Her situation fit all those criteria,
although craving adventure took on a decidedly nasty aftertaste.

For a moment she thought about
calling Sinclair, but her friend was probably working out her issues with Craig
and Ash, and she wasn’t going to put her own crap out there.
Funny
how she had faith in those boys, and none in Reece.
Well, that wasn’t
exactly fair—or accurate. She was a seething mass of hormones and need whenever
she thought about him, never mind laying eyes on him and being in such close
quarters. His hands on her … the feel of his hard body against her own … she
bit back a whimper. She was still angry at him for leaving, but that emotion
was fading away as she viewed his actions from a more mature viewpoint. What
should
he have done in the face of her
father’s machinations, an eighteen-year-old boy with familial responsibilities?
The trouble was, without that self-righteous anger and scorned
pride,
she could see no reason not to indulge herself with
Reece.
 
Whom she still
loved when she was being honest with herself.

The ache in her chest grew as she
accepted any connection with Reece wasn’t going to be an
indulgence
. He’d brought her here to have it out with her, and when
he’d realized they’d both been misled and tricked by Daddy Dearest, Reece had
given her space, intuiting her need for it.
Because she had
to process and come to grips with everything that had transpired over the past
years without his influence.

So why did he still want her here?
That was the question she’d been circling around as she puzzled everything else
out, forming the pattern to explain her life since Reece.

It
doesn’t have to be over. He still wants you.
The hurt in her heart eased
some at the thought. But she doubted she had the courage. After all, he’d said
he
loved
her. Past
tense,
and now being
wanted
wasn’t enough.
With a sigh, she clambered off the bed and made her way into the bathroom. The
same face stared back at her from the mirror above the vanity, although her
hair was pretty much hanging down every which way and the eye makeup had
devolved into a rabid raccoon look. Was that insanity or hope she saw in her
eyes? She blinked, but it was still there. Should she go to him and trust that
he was indeed willing to take her for the person she was? Could she overcome
the effects of the intervening years when she considered his honesty? Maybe he
could come to love her—again? It made her start when she gave herself a solemn
nod back in her reflection, and a giggle rose unexpectedly up her throat.
Insanity, then.
That would be her defense, and it fit with
this whole legal farce Reece had concocted.

And
the truth shall set you free.

Running a cloth under the hot
water, she scrubbed away at her face and surveyed the fresh faced look she
hadn’t affected in years. Then she headed back to where her case sat and
rummaged for a comb and a toothbrush, knowing exactly where this was going. She
told herself they were fated, she and Reece, and if it didn’t work out for any
reason, she wouldn’t regret giving it a try.

Cleaned up, hair combed into
submission, and her mouth feeling less the bitter cavern of earlier, she ran
her hands over her clothing. She was going to Reece’s bedroom, fact. If she
went fully dressed what might he assume? If she put that silky piece of a
nightgown on and knocked on his door there would be no room left for
assumption. So, the nightgown it was. Without giving
herself
time to think any further, she undressed quickly, leaving the clothing in a
pile on the floor and drew the nightie over her head. The slide of the fabric
made her shiver, but her nipples pebbled in anticipation of Reece’s reaction to
her choice of apparel.

With a deep, cleansing breath, she
crossed to the door and opened it, stepping out into the dimly lit living area
before choosing between the two closed doors—the exit or the one standing
between her and the only man she’d ever loved. Apparel aside, there was really
only one choice to make. Stopping in front of Reece’s door, she raised her hand
to knock. He was a cop after all, and walking into a police officer’s bedroom
might be met with something far different than she hoped for. And there was
that word again. Hope.

****

He’d heard the faint click of the
door handle, followed by the creak of the wooden panels as they swung on their
hinges. Reece was lying on his bed, having adjusted his game plan. Candace had
been blindsided and overwhelmed by the onslaught of information tonight, and
while he’d been desperate to comfort her, he knew she needed some alone time.
As did he.
That didn’t mean he was letting her go. Not ever,
if he had anything to say—or do—about it. All his anger toward her had melted
away, although he couldn’t say the same thing about how he felt about her
father. Reece had held his end up and believed in another man’s word of honor.
Candace had done nothing other than be that man’s child.

The soft pad of bare feet slowed
and stopped in front of his door. His body relaxed, and he was relieved he didn’t
have to chase her down, although tanning her sweet ass would truly be no
hardship. His cock stirred at the thought. He’d been with other women since
Candace, reacting when he thought she’d cut him out of her life, and, always a
dominant lover even as a younger man, he’d sharpened his skills. What he’d
learned about her had considerable appeal, and he looked forward to exploring
their interests together.
Because he wasn’t letting her go.

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