Searching for Disaster

“I'm not looking for forever. But I am looking for someday. I think I deserve that.”

—Kate, from
Searching for Someday

“You fought, survived, and flourished. You gave the world a big fuck-you and didn't let them break who you were. That's perfection, Kennedy. Sheer perfection.
”

—Nate, from
Searching for Perfect

“Beautiful. I'm searching for something beautiful out there.”

Her smile was pure joy and comfort and goodness. “Yes. And you've finally found it, my sweet boy. It's love
.”

—Wolfe and Mama Conte, from
Searching for Beautiful

“Let me tell you exactly what I want, Arilyn, so we both know where we stand. I want you in my bed. I want to give you multiple orgasms, excruciating pleasure, and sleep with you at night. I'll take you to dinner and the movies and we'll date. And when we're no longer content or happy with the arrangement, we swear to be honest with the other and walk away with no lies. That's what I can offer.”

“I agree.”

He arched his brow. “That was quick. No thinking about it? We're very different.”

“I know. But this isn't for always. It's only for the moment.”

—Stone and Arilyn, from
Searching for Always

“I don't want to hurt you, Ella.”

“When you open yourself up to love someone, there's no way not to get hurt. You just have to decide if it's worth the pain
.”

—Connor and Ella, from
Searching for Mine

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“All the suffering, stress, and addiction comes from not realizing you already are what you are looking for.”

—Jon Kabat-Zinn

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

—Anaïs Nin

“Life is the sum of all your choices.”

—Albert Camus

This one's for you, Dad.

I love you.

prologue

Six years ago

H
E REMINDED HER
of every delicious, forbidden, dirty action that could be committed under a tangle of sheets.

And tonight, he was going to be hers.

Isabella MacKenzie barely kept from licking her lips in anticipation of a feast. His golden movie-star looks should have put her off. She wasn't into pretty boys. She liked her men dark, dangerous, and tatted up. This one had no mar on his dusky-brown skin, and his white-blond hair gleamed like a halo gifted by the angels. He leaned against the wall, drinking a beer, a serene expression on his features. The party was loud and wild, with hookups galore played out amidst the screaming of alternative music, but he seemed untouched by his surroundings. He barely even glanced at the lineup of girls looking to offer themselves up for a night of forgetfulness. Her gaze flicked over his outfit. She preferred leather and old, tight Levi's. This one wore dark-washed designer jeans and a button-down ice-blue shirt with large cuffs pulled up to show a fancy design. His shoes were camel colored with ties and also looked expensive.

Definitely a mystery. One she wouldn't mind figuring out.

Because the demons had come for her again. Tickling her skin, whispering in her ear. That empty ache in her gut urged her forward, to do something to forget and take away the restlessness consistently taunting her. A night of forgetful, rowdy sex would help. And this time she wouldn't take the drugs. She didn't need them. Her best friend, Raven, was already suspicious, and she didn't want to lie. God knows she'd been lying enough to her own family. It wasn't fair to put that on the last relationship she had left.

Yes. This man would help her quiet the voices.

She headed across the room, making sure her generous hips swayed with enticement. It had become so easy now to become someone else. The seductress was like second nature, especially since she enjoyed her body and the pleasures it brought. She bucked the ridiculousness of the terms
slut
and
whore
, refusing to let civilization or stupid male viewpoints take something precious from her. Izzy enjoyed sex and picked who she wanted, when she wanted. It never lasted long anyway, but that was her choice. Her terms. She wasn't like her siblings, who craved a permanent relationship and ideals of love that didn't exist. She lived for the now and the excitement of dawn, where new possibilities always existed.

She stopped in front of him, cocking her head. His gaze had lit with a touch of interest. Up close, his eyes were pale, pale blue and so clear they reminded her of a still, serene lake touched with ice. His hair fell in thick, burnished, messy waves streaked with a dozen colors of light. His features were as classic as his clothes. Square chin. High cheekbones. Arched brows. Long, elegant nose. His lips were full and lush and looked so soft, she imagined her thumb skating over the plump flesh. Up close, he was even more beautiful, and her breath caught just a bit in admiration, as it would in front of Michelangelo's statue of David.

Or Chris Hemsworth as Thor.

“You don't belong here.”

His gaze flicked over her, then swept back up again, lingering. “What gave it away?”

She shrugged. “You look bored. And you're too dressed up.”

He regarded her with an honest curiosity she savored. “I think you're underdressed.”

Izzy grinned at his pointed stare, which was taking in her beaded black crop top and low-cut jeans showing off her belly ring. She'd worked on her uncontrolled curls with a ruthless precision until the pin-straight strands framed her face with a bit of an edge. She sported purple streaks today because it matched her nail polish. “Usually that isn't considered a problem.” His slight frown told her maybe it was. Interesting. “You don't go to college here, do you?” The SUNY upstate campus was rural, with a solid education and a huge reputation for epic parties. Raven had dragged her here for the weekend for some type of art-and-wine festival in town, and they'd ended up hooking up with a cool group who invited them to crash at the dorms. Tammy and Rick were the party couple in the crew, quickly offering up Tammy's room to Izzy. Raven wanted to skip the college parties and head into town, so she'd left Izzy on her own for tonight.

“No. I graduated, but my brother lives in the dorms, so he invited me. You?”

“Nope. I just get invited to the parties.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Izzy noticed immediately the instant connection simmering underneath the dialogue. Yes, there was chemistry. And he was different from the others. “How old are you?” she blurted out.

“Twenty-three.” He glanced at the red Solo cup she held. “Tell me you're drinking age.”

Her lips curved in amusement. “I am. Is that important to you?”

“That you're able to drink?”

She stepped forward, testing. “That we follow the rules.”

His eyes darkened. The sounds around her dimmed to a foggy slur. “Nothing wrong with rules,” he said softly.

“Nothing wrong with breaking them either.”

The simmer caught and flared. Her heart ramped up as sweet sexual arousal sung in her blood, loosening her limbs and quieting her mind. How she loved the beginning of the chase; the excitement of the unknown gave her the perfect edge.

“What's your name?” he asked.

“Izzy.”

“Short for Isabella?”

She nodded. “Yours?”

“William.”

“Do they call you Willy?”

She gave him credit. Those gorgeous lips twitched in a half smile. “Not if they want to live. Friends call me Liam for short.”

“Well, Liam. I'm crashing at a friend's place down the hall. It's quieter there. Want to go?”

Fascinated, she watched an array of emotions flicker across his face. “Is it safe to invite strange men to your room?”

With another man, she'd give in to the anger that he was judging her. But with him, she got the impression he really cared and didn't want her hurt. He seemed like the oldest twenty-three-year-old she'd ever met. “Are you safe?”

“Yes.”

“Then let's go.”

She didn't turn back to check if he was following. Threading through the crowds with expert ease, she exited and headed down the narrow hallway, where students spilled out, talking and laughing in a rowdy parody of
American Pie
. She paused at the door with the plastic rose wrapped around the handle and went inside.

He followed her in.

The dorm room was small but clean and organized. Instead of the usual twin bed, this one was outfitted with a decent queen. Little else fit except for a nightstand and a battered chest of drawers. She switched on the bedside lamp and sat down on the bed.

He remained standing near the door. His sweeping gaze took in the surroundings, and Izzy sensed that this man noticed things others didn't. His mind seemed to actually click as if registering a level of detail most people ignored. Fascinated, she leaned back a bit and patted the bed. “Wanna come sit?”

“In a minute. Do you go to college somewhere else?”

“No. Not in college. I prefer a more worldly education.”

He nodded, as if he agreed. “I don't think a freshman class could hold your interest,” he noted. “You seem like you need more . . . color.”

A chuckle escaped her lips. Yes,
color
was the perfect word. “I prefer travel to classrooms. People's experiences to books.”

“A hands-on approach.”

She deliberately stretched so her crop top strained against her breasts. She knew her body well, accepted its pros and cons with fairness rather than kindness. She'd always been a bit too short, a bit too curvy, but her breasts were definitely her best asset. Those pale-blue eyes regarded her with steadiness, but a lick of flame told her he wasn't immune. It had been a long time since she had enjoyed being a seductress on the hunt. “Definitely hands-on. In all ways.”

“And smart.”

“Wanna discuss my attributes a bit closer?”

“No.”

Her brow lifted. “Changing your mind? I'm not looking to trap you in my lair if you don't want to be here.”

“When I come over there, I'm going to do more than touch you, and there won't be any time for conversation. I'd like to get to know you a bit more first.”

Her breath caught, then whooshed out in a rush. Damn, he was sexy. All serious and restrained, but a wildness lurked within him, ready to go off. She wanted to be the woman to uncork it. A current of tension hummed between them, but it was filled with the deliciousness of things to come.

“Most men despise talking,” she said. “They prefer action.”

“Action is important, but it's more powerful with the right information.”

“What do you do, Liam?” Her curiosity was piqued. “Lawyer?”

His quick grin was charming and slightly lopsided. His front tooth held a tiny chip in the corner. She wondered how he'd gotten it. “Going into the police academy. That's why I'm here to visit my brother. Though I haven't seen much of him this weekend. At least he seems happy and settled here.”

He was going to be a cop. The ultimate rule follower and disciplinarian king. A shudder of dislike hit her, but she still didn't want to tell him to go. He was too intriguing and she'd already made her decision to sleep with him.

She wanted him.

Now it was his turn to tilt his head and regard her. “Why do I feel I didn't impress you with my career choice?”

She shrugged. “Won't hold it against you. It's a lofty ambition. I wish you luck.”

“Why don't you like cops?”

“Let's just say I believe societal restrictions are what's leaching the joy and creativity from life. Too many shoulds.”

“But without certain rules, chaos erupts.”

“Within chaos, truth can be found.”

“‘Art is the triumph over chaos,'” he quoted.

“John Cheever.”

His gaze narrowed and probed. A funny tug at her tummy sent shivers of heat spreading through her. “Thought you didn't read.”

“I like the internet and looking up weird things.”

The hum grew to a crackle. Her body was already softening, anticipating the slide of his fingers over her bare skin, the hot thrust of his tongue between her lips. She waited for him to close the distance, but he hadn't finished the Q&A. His shift of weight hinted he was hard and a bit uncomfortable. Her gaze swept briefly downward to confirm the former.

Good.

“So, what do you do as a world traveler? Don't you need money, or do your parents finance you?”

The reminder of her parents zinged her heart. She tried so hard but always ended up hurting them. Whether it was poor grades, or the boys she picked to crush on, or the way she always got in trouble, their consistent disappointment shred her to pieces. It was much easier to leave so they could concentrate on her siblings. Her twin was the poster child of perfection. Between her brother being a doctor, her older sister running a successful bookstore, and her twin determined to be a surgeon, Izzy had nothing to bring to the table. She was the logo of ordinary. Worse, she didn't even want to try to be something more.

“Nope—I pay my own way. It's amazing how much you realize what you don't need in life. Most things that tie us down are useless stuff we want to collect, until it ends up collecting you and you find yourself trapped. I like traveling light.”

“I never thought of it like that.”

“I do. So, I stop and work for a bit at odd jobs, save up money, and hit the road to the next adventure.”

“What type of odd jobs?”

“I learned bartending. Waitressing. Worked at the Gap. Did hair at a local beauty parlor. Had a stint as a dancer.” At his blanch, she laughed. He was fun to try to shock. “Not a stripper. Think
Flashdance
. I did some dance routines up onstage in a bikini. But I really sucked, so that only lasted a few weeks.”

“You can't dance?”

“I tried to do a thing around the pole and crashed to the floor, fracturing my ankle.”

“Ouch.”

“Yep. Very unsexy. Can't sing either. I'm tone-deaf.”

The side of his mouth quirked. “Tragic.”

“I did take off my clothes once for a job, though. An artist's model in France.”

“So somewhere in the world your nude body is on a canvas?”

“Maybe. Does that bother you? I'm getting the impression you're the stuffy type.”

He didn't take offense. Amusement laced his features. “My brother says the same thing. But I'm not judging, Isabella. I'm actually fascinated. It's admirable to find your own way.”

Her name fell like Mozart from his lips. His words held no judgment, just truth. She relaxed. Already she'd shared more of herself than ever before. Why did it feel so right? As if they were protected in their own little bubble of comfort as they spoke. A cramped, plain dorm room ready to hold both of their secrets.