Various States of Undress: Virginia (33 page)

She couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down her body.

Sara turned to Mr. Pomeroy as he offered his arm. “Are you certain we should be here? We are uninvited.”

He led her gingerly up the front steps. “Even so, I feel it is my duty to welcome him to the community. One can see that taking on this place is a task of great proportions. He needs to know that he is welcomed here and be informed of the local tradesmen and laborers available.”

His logic was sound. But she couldn't keep from wincing when the door protested his banging with a loud crack down the middle. Mr. Pomeroy and Sara shared a glance. He grimaced apologetically.

The door creaked open, only to stop partway. A muffled curse was heard from the other side, and eight fingers appeared in the opening. Grunting started as whoever was on the far side started to pull. Mr. Pomeroy shrugged and added his efforts in pushing. With a loud squeal, the door inched open until Sara and the vicar were able to pass through.

They stepped into a dark foyer, dustcovers over everything, including a large chandelier and all the wall sconces. The man who had opened the door was walking away down a corridor on one side of the main staircase. “I don't get paid enuff fer this,” they could hear him muttering. He pushed open a door and pointed into the room. “Youse wait in there.” He disappeared farther down the corridor.

Sara stared. Mr. Pomeroy stared. They looked at each other. With another shrug, Mr. Pomeroy started down the corridor, and she had little choice but to follow.

It was a parlor, as far as Sara could tell, underneath all the dust. The pale green walls were faded and damaged, giving the impression of sickness. No paintings adorned them, and none of the other small pieces one expected in a room such as this were evident. The furniture that was not hidden by dustcovers was torn and did not appear strong enough to hold any weight whatsoever. She sat on the sofa gingerly, hoping it would not give out underneath her.

“Perhaps we should not have come today,” she whispered to Mr. Pomeroy. “It does not appear Mr. Grant is prepared to receive visitors of any sort.”

The vicar acknowledged her point with an incline of his head. “We are here now, however. We will not stay long, simply offer our welcome and depart.”

They had been waiting in the sparse room for nearly twenty-five minutes before she heard a tapping out in the corridor. It drew closer, and Sara turned her head to the door, wondering what was causing the sound. A gold tip struck the floor at the threshold, and Sara's eyes followed a black shaft upward to a matching gold top shaped into the form of a wolf's head. The head was loosely grasped by lean fingers, confident of their ability to control the cane.

Her eyes continued to rise, taking in the brown coat, striped waistcoat, and snowy white cravat before reaching the gentleman's face. Her eyes widened in recognition, and her breath caught in her throat when she realized that the man was none other than the stranded traveler from a few days prior.

Up close and stationary, his icy blue eyes were even paler, and at this moment, the bloodshot orbs exuded barely concealed disdain that made her even more aware of their lack of an invitation to visit. She barely registered the ants in her throat, for she was too riveted by his face.

An Excerpt from

CAUGHT IN THE ACT

Book Two: Independence Falls

by Sara Jane Stone

For Liam Trulane, failure is not an option. He is determined to win a place in Katie Summers' life before she leaves Independence Falls for good. First, he needs to make amends for the last time they got down and dirty. But falling for his rivals' little sister could cost him everything in the second installment of a hot new series from contemporary romance writer Sara Jane Stone.

 

“W
hat are you going to do with it?” Katie asked, drawing him back to the present and the piece of land that proved he was walking down the path marked success. The equity stake in Moore Timber his best friend had offered Liam in exchange for help running the company was one more milestone on that road—and one he had yet to prove he deserved.

“Thinking about building a home here someday,” Liam said.

“A house? I would have thought you'd want to forget about this place. About us. After the way you ended it.” Katie raised her hand to her mouth as if she couldn't believe she'd said those words out loud.

Liam stopped beside her, losing his grip on the goat's lead and allowing the animal to graze. “I messed up, Katie. I think we both know that. But I panicked when I realized how young you were, and how—”

“I was eighteen,” she snapped.

“By a few weeks. You were so innocent. And I felt all kinds of guilt for not realizing it sooner.”

“Not anymore,” she said, her voice firm. Defiant. “I'm not innocent anymore.”

“No.” Liam knew every line, every angle of her face. There were days he woke up dreaming about the soft feel of her skin. But it was the way Katie had looked at him after he'd gone too far, taken too much, that haunted his nightmares. In that moment, her green eyes had shone with hope and love.

Back then, when he was fresh out of college, returning home to build the life he'd dreamed about, that one look had sent him running scared. He wasn't ready for the weight of her emotions.

And he sure as hell wasn't ready now. Eric had given Liam one job since handing over part of the company—buy Summers Family Trucking. Liam couldn't let his best friend, now his business partner, down. Whatever lingering feelings he had for Katie needed to wait on the sidelines until after Liam finished negotiating with her brothers. There was too much at stake—including his vision of a secure future—to blow this deal over the girl who haunted his fantasies.

He drew the goat away from the overgrown grass and started toward the wooded area on the other side of the clearing. “We should go. Get you home before too late.”

But Katie didn't follow. She marched down to the fir trees. “I'm twenty-five, Liam. I don't have a curfew. My brothers don't sit around waiting for me to come home.”

“I know.”

Brody, Chad, and Josh were waiting for him. Liam had been on his way to see her brothers when he'd spotted her car on the side of the road. They'd reluctantly agreed to an informal meeting to discuss selling to Moore Timber.

She spun to face him, hands on her hips. “I think you wanted to take a walk down memory lane.”

“Katie—”

“Back then, you never held back.” She closed the gap between them, the toes of her sandal-clad feet touching his boots. “So tell me, Liam, what are we doing here?”

He fought the urge to reach for her. He had no right. Not to mention bringing her here had confirmed one thing: After seven years, Katie Summers still held his mistakes against him.

She raised one hand, pressing her index finger to his chest. Damn, he wished he'd kept his leather jacket on. Her touch ignited years of flat-out need. No, he hadn't lived like a saint for seven years, but no one else turned him on like Katie Summers.

An Excerpt from

SINFUL REWARDS 1

A Billionaires and Bikers Novella

by Cynthia Sax

Belinda “Bee” Carter is a good girl; at least, that's what she tells herself. And a good girl deserves a nice guy—just like the gorgeous and moody billionaire Nicolas Rainer. Or so she thinks, until she takes a look through her telescope and sees a naked, tattooed man on the balcony across the courtyard. He has been watching her, and that makes him all the more enticing. But when a mysterious and anonymous text message dares her to do something bad, she must decide if she is really the good girl she has always claimed to be, or if she's willing to risk everything for her secret fantasy of being watched.

An Avon Red Novella

 

I
'd told Cyndi I'd never use it, that it was an instrument purchased by perverts to spy on their neighbors. She'd laughed and called me a prude, not knowing that I was one of those perverts, that I secretly yearned to watch and be watched, to care and be cared for.

If I'm cautious, and I'm always cautious, she'll never realize I used her telescope this morning. I swing the tube toward the bench and adjust the knob, bringing the mysterious object into focus.

It's a phone. Nicolas's phone. I bounce on the balls of my feet. This is a sign, another declaration from fate that we belong together. I'll return Nicolas's much-needed device to him. As a thank you, he'll invite me to dinner. We'll talk. He'll realize how perfect I am for him, fall in love with me, marry me.

Cyndi will find a fiancé also—everyone loves her—and we'll have a double wedding, as sisters of the heart often do. It'll be the first wedding my family has had in generations.

Everyone will watch us as we walk down the aisle. I'll wear a strapless white Vera Wang mermaid gown with organza and lace details, crystal and pearl embroidery accents, the bodice fitted, and the skirt hemmed for my shorter height. My hair will be swept up. My shoes—

Voices murmur outside the condo's door, the sound piercing my delightful daydream. I swing the telescope upward, not wanting to be caught using it. The snippets of conversation drift away.

I don't relax. If the telescope isn't positioned in the same way as it was last night, Cyndi will realize I've been using it. She'll tease me about being a fellow pervert, sharing the story, embellished for dramatic effect, with her stern, serious dad—or, worse, with Angel, that snobby friend of hers.

I'll die. It'll be worse than being the butt of jokes in high school because that ridicule was about my clothes and this will center on the part of my soul I've always kept hidden. It'll also be the truth, and I won't be able to deny it. I am a pervert.

I have to return the telescope to its original position. This is the only acceptable solution. I tap the metal tube.

Last night, my man-crazy roommate was giggling over the new guy in three-eleven north. The previous occupant was a gray-haired, bowtie-wearing tax auditor, his luxurious accommodations supplied by Nicolas. The most exciting thing he ever did was drink his tea on the balcony.

According to Cyndi, the new occupant is a delicious piece of man candy—tattooed, buff, and head-to-toe lickable. He was completing armcurls outside, and she enthusiastically counted his reps, oohing and aahing over his bulging biceps, calling to me to take a look.

I resisted that temptation, focusing on making macaroni and cheese for the two of us, the recipe snagged from the diner my mom works in. After we scarfed down dinner, Cyndi licking her plate clean, she left for the club and hasn't returned.

Three-eleven north is the mirror condo to ours. I straighten the telescope. That position looks about right, but then, the imitation UGGs I bought in my second year of college looked about right also. The first time I wore the boots in the rain, the sheepskin fell apart, leaving me barefoot in Economics 201.

Unwilling to risk Cyndi's friendship on “about right,” I gaze through the eyepiece. The view consists of rippling golden planes, almost like . . .

Tanned skin pulled over defined abs.

I blink. It can't be. I take another look. A perfect pearl of perspiration clings to a puckered scar. The drop elongates more and more, stretching, snapping. It trickles downward, navigating the swells and valleys of a man's honed torso.

No. I straighten. This is wrong. I shouldn't watch our sexy neighbor as he stands on his balcony. If anyone catches me . . .

Parts 1, 2, and 3 available now!

An Excerpt from

WHEN THE RANCHER CAME TO TOWN

A Valentine Valley Novella

by Emma Cane

Welcome to Valentine Valley! Emma Cane returns to the amazing and romantic town for the latest installment in her sparkling series. When an ex-rodeo star falls in love with an agoraphobic B&B owner, he must pull out all the stops to get her out of her shell.

 

W
ith the pie in the oven, Amanda set the timer on her phone, changed into old clothes suitable for gardening, smeared on sunscreen, and headed outside. The grounds of the B&B took just as much work as the inside. She'd hired a landscaper for some of the major stuff like lawn and tree care, but the flowers, shrubs, and design work were all hers. She felt at peace in her garden, with the high bushes that formed walls on either side. The terraced lawn sloped down amidst rock gardens to Silver Creek, where she kept kayaks, canoes, and paddleboards for her guests. She had little hidden walkways between tall shrubs, where unusual fountains greeted visitors as a reward for their curiosity. She'd strung lights between the trees, and at night, her garden was like her own private fairy world.

One she had to share with guests, of course.

As she headed across the deck that was partially covered by an arbor, she glanced toward the hot tub beneath the gazebo—and did a double take. Mason Lopez sat alone on the edge of the tub, his jeans rolled up to his knees, his feet immersed. Though he was staring at the bubbling water, he seemed to be looking inward.

She must have made a sound, because he suddenly turned his head. For a moment, she was pinned by his gaze, aware of him as a man in a way she hadn't felt about anyone in a long time.

She shook it off and said, “Sorry to disturb you.” She was about to leave him in peace, but found herself saying instead, “Is everything all right?”

He smiled, white teeth gleaming out of the shadows of the gazebo, but it was a tired smile that quickly died.

“Sure, everything's fine. My meeting just didn't go as expected.”

She felt frozen, unable to simply leave him when he'd said something so personal. “I bet you'll be able to work it out.”

A corner of his mouth quirked upward. “I'm glad you're sure of that.”

“You're not?” Where had that come from? And then she walked toward him, when she should have been giving him his privacy. But he looked so alone.