Yours to Keep (38 page)

It was a smile no woman could resist. Or would want to. There was a subtle promise in the depth of his gaze, in the slow, easy way he drew her in. Cameron’s body heat exponentially increased. He was mesmerizing. Dizzying.

Before she could blink, they were at the double doors that led into the ballroom. “Ready to go back in?” Val asked gently.

Cameron nodded, trying to reclaim some semblance of self. “Yes.”

He swung the door open, escorted her inside, and walked her to her seat, neatly depositing her next to her mother. As soon as he let her go, the electricity was gone, but the heat that had been steadily building in her didn’t fade. She watched him as he crossed the wide ballroom to find his own seat, spare and commanding in his movements.

To Cameron’s relief, the speeches had concluded, and the emcee had already begun to announce the recipients of the artists’ awards. Realizing the evening had gone on long past everyone’s expectations, he kept each award presentation short. Cameron half-listened while the awards were presented, trying to get her mind on something other than her black-haired escort.
Forget about him. Focus on the fact that it’s almost midnight.

She needed to start taking care of herself, so this was the absolute last time she agreed to join her mother at a society function on a work night. Taking a quick glance at her watch, she
calculated the amount of time she needed to stay after the award ceremony was concluded. She’d take at least fifteen minutes to mingle, and then another half hour to dance.

Lord, she wasn’t going to make it home before one-thirty in the morning! And she had an eight
A.M.
appointment with Hermione Alcott, one of her pickiest clients. Mentally, she mapped out the path she’d take in the morning from her brownstone to the coffee shop. She’d have a latte with a double shot of espresso. No, a triple.

Just then, the emcee’s voice cut into her thoughts. “… and last, but not least, for his exceptionally vivid descriptions of historical Massachusetts, this year’s Kirkland Award for Writing goes to Theodore Grayson.”

Cameron clapped as Theo rose to accept his award. He was as tall, dark, and handsome as his brother, but without the same intensity. Her good friend Avery stood and kissed Theo before he walked to the front of the room. If Cameron had given any thought at all to the event beforehand—which she hadn’t—she’d have realized that Theo and Avery were going to be here this evening. At the very least, they could have coordinated their seating.

Though she knew she should be polite and concentrate on Theo’s acceptance speech, she couldn’t help her gaze from drifting over to where Val sat. Even from so far away she could see he didn’t belong here. He looked like he’d be happier standing on the docks at sunset, his hair shining in the fading light, his lean body folded against his boat, that sexy half-smile on his face.

She forced her thoughts back to Theo’s speech. Obviously mindful of the time, he’d raced through his thank-yous and had segued into a discussion of his current work.

“This great honor comes at a fascinating time for me. As many of you know, though I lived in California for a decade, I never called it home. You might say I had Massachusetts on my brain, since every single book I’ve written was set here. Now, I’m following my heart.” He gave Avery a smoldering look. “I’m happy to say that I’ve moved back to Star Harbor permanently, and will continue to focus on local legends. The
Siren Lorelei
, the infamous pirate ship that sank off the coast of Star Harbor during a nor’easter in the fall of 1711, will be the subject of my next three novels,” Theo said. “Honors like the Kirkland Award make it possible for local artists not only to work, but to thrive, knowing that our contributions are valued in the community. Thank you again to my friends, family, Congressman Kirkland, and the Awards Committee who selected my work to be honored.”

There was thunderous applause, and Cameron found herself rising along with the rest of
the crowd. She caught a glimpse of Val from across the room, clapping for his brother, pride etched all over his face.

And then, almost as if in a dream, the applause faded, the large curtain dividing the room opened, and the music in the main ballroom finally began. Soft strains of an old Ella Fitzgerald standard filled the air as the lights dimmed further. Within a moment, the object of her fantasy was at her side, looking very large and very real.

Eyes never leaving hers, Val held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Read on for an excerpt from Toni Aleo’s

Trying to Score

Prologue

Fallon Parker had done it.

Even with all the negativity from her parents and sister about leaving Nashville to go to school out west, she had done it. Fallon had completed her first year at Stanford University. Yeah, she had gained the dreaded freshmen fifteen, but it didn’t matter.

She had done it. Without anyone’s help—not her parents’, her sister’s, her friends’—she had kept her 4.0 grade point average.

On cloud nine, Fallon jumped into her Charger and drove down to San Jose to meet her friends. They were all going out to celebrate and she couldn’t be more excited about the fake ID in her purse. She had been such a good girl her freshman year, but now she was a sophomore and she was gonna live this summer. Fallon was on a mission.

Get drunk, find a guy, and hook up. Maybe not sex, but at least make out some. It was simple really, and Allison, her roommate, had said that the Trails Pub was the place to do all three.

After parking her car beside Allison’s, Fallon headed inside.

“ID, please,” said a big black man, as tall as a giant and named Pinky, according to his nametag. Fallon had no clue what was so pinky about him, but she had learned quickly that in California ya kinda just go with it. Fallon smiled nervously as she opened her clutch and pulled out the ID she had made. “Thanks, Amanda, have a nice night,” Pinky said with a grin as he handed her the ID.

Fallon looked confused but then remembered the name on the ID. “Why, thank you so much, have a nice night yourself.”

Pinky smiled again as Fallon made her way into the bar. She spotted Allison with Hannah and Kristin, the girls from the dorm room across the hall from hers, at a corner booth by the bar. The Trails Pub was packed wall to wall with every type of person imaginable. As Fallon made her way toward her friends, she noticed guys glancing her way with appreciative looks on their faces. She smiled confidently, knowing the short jean skirt and dark red tank that matched her boots was a great combination for man-catching.

“Damn, Fal, looking good!” Allison said when Fallon reached their table. Hannah and
Kristin smiled and waved as Fallon sat down. They weren’t used to sexy Fallon. The Fallon they knew walked around campus in sweats all the time.

That was freshmen Fallon; sophomore Fallon was sexy.

“Thank you, thank you,” Fallon gushed as she looked around the bar.

“A round of tequila, Teagan!” Allison exclaimed.

The bartender smiled over at the girls before very efficiently pouring four shots and handing the drinks to a waitress. As the waitress set the shots on the table, the girls picked them up, bringing the glasses to the middle for a toast.

“Here’s to the first of four years done!” Allison exclaimed, as all three girls joined in with her, clanking their glasses together and downing the shots quickly.

It burned Fallon’s throat. She wasn’t sure what the awful liquid was, but, Lord, it was
disgusting.
Fallon looked off to the side, noticing that there were some good-looking men in the bar that night. She was giddy with excitement at trying to pick one up—she had become used to keeping to herself over the past year but now she was ready to branch out.

As Fallon’s eyes skimmed the bar, they met with a pair of smoking gray ones. She blinked twice as her eyes were held hostage by his. He was gorgeous. Shaggy, dark brown hair framed his face, his nose was wide but fit his face perfectly, and his lips were thin, she noticed as he bit his bottom lip. He had a very boy-next-door kind of look to him but with an edge. A dangerous edge, Fallon decided as he slowly stood. He was tall and had powerful arms, one covered in tribal tattoos, the other bare. His eyes never left hers as he got up, away from the table of equally huge guys, and came around to lean against the bar, watching her.

He didn’t seem to care who noticed him staring or if it was rude. It was as if he saw what he wanted and was waiting to pounce. The craziest thing ever! Fallen thought.

“Jeez, that dude is staring at you hard, Fal,” Hannah said.

“Like, really hard,” Kristin added.

Fallon looked back at her friends for a second before turning back to the mysterious guy at the bar. He was wearing a nice tailored suit but had left his jacket at the table. His shirt was a pale green, rolled up to his elbows to show off his tattoos, and the first couple of buttons were open at the neck so she could see that there was writing on his chest. She wondered what it said, and she wondered why his friends were wearing suits, too.

Who were these guys?

“Go talk to him, Fal!” Allison yelled. “He’s flipping hot!”

He sure was.

“I don’t know,” Fallon said nervously, as thoughts from the freshman Fallon intruded.
What if he’s some guy with the mob, or something? He’s muscular and dark and sexy and … mmm …

“Don’t be a wuss! Go!” Allison said, interrupting Fallon’s thoughts.

Fallon looked back at the guy and then at Allison, before she nodded and slowly got up to make her way toward him. As she sauntered over like a girl on a mission, his face broke into a grin so wide that she was completely dazzled by his straight white teeth. He looked rugged, lustful, with dark hair dusting his chin. Fallon didn’t say anything as she leaned against the bar, feeling him rake his eyes over her body before returning to her face.

“What can I get for you, sugar?” the bartender asked.

“A Bud Light, please,” Fallon said.

“Four bucks,” the bartender said, as he placed a bottle in front of her.

As Fallon reached into her pocket to get the cash out, she saw the guy shake his head, saying, “Put it on my tab, Teagan.”

“Yup,” Teagan said, then leaving to go help another customer.

Fallon looked up at the guy, a sexy smile on her face. “Thank you.”

“Sure,” he said, as he held his beer out to her.

She clanked her beer to his then took a hefty sip. The cool liquid went down her throat and she wanted to gag. It was her first time drinking beer, and she decided that it was disgusting.

“Don’t like it?” he asked.

Fallon shook her head. “I usually only drink wine.”

“No wine here, baby girl. Teagan, a Mule please.”

“A Mule?” Fallon asked, as the bartender nodded and went to work on her drink.

“Yup, good stuff. Tequila, ginger ale, and lime juice. Drink of champions.”

“So I guess you’re not one since you’re drinking a beer?”

They both looked down at the beer in his hand; he chuckled before looking back up at her. “This is my warm-up drink.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Sure is.”

The bartender returned and placed the drink in front of her.

“Go ahead, try it,” the guy said.

Fallon picked it up and took a sip. It was fantastic. She couldn’t even taste the tequila.

“It’s good, no bite at all,” she said with a nod.

“No bite now, but tomorrow you’ll be singing a different tune if you have too many.”

Fallon laughed and he laughed along with her. “I’m Lucas, by the way.”

Lucas held out his hand, and Fallon took it. He had huge hands, swallowing hers, and people said that she had big hands. “Fallon.”

“Fallon? Interesting.”

“Thanks,” she said with a grin.

“You live around here?”

Fallon looked up and her eyes were drawn to his again. From across the bar she couldn’t see how gray they were. Now that she was closer, she saw they were like smoke, or maybe a dark rain cloud. They were captivating, hypnotic even.

“I do. I’m a sophomore at Stanford,” she said, still being dazed by his eyes.

“Oh, really, a smarty-pants, then?” he asked with a lazy smile.

She giggled. “Something like that.”

“Wait! If you are a sophomore, you’re what? You’re not twenty-one.”

Shit on a shingle. “Um, well,” Fallon sputtered, as she looked toward Allison for help, but Allison was giggling and flirting with a guy who had come over to the table. When she looked back up at Lucas, he was leaning in close, a naughty grin on his lips.

“Oh, someone has a fake ID, huh?” he whispered, as Fallon turned deep red.

“Are you going to tell on me?”

The words flew from her mouth before she could stop them, and she saw a devilish grin cross his face. God, she sounded so damn young!
Seductress? Yeah, right!

“I don’t know. What do I get if I don’t?”

Fallon weighed his statement for a moment before looking back at him. She had nothing to offer him but money, and by the way he was dressed, she was sure he had enough of his own. If he thought she was gonna give him sex, he might as well go on and turn her in! So she blinked twice at him before saying, “Um, what do you want?”

Lucas Brooks chuckled as he looked down at the beauty who had walked into the bar.

After losing the Stanley Cup playoffs earlier that evening he was feeling pretty crappy, but then she walked in. Lucas’s eyes had been drawn to her as soon as he spotted the naughty little red cowboy boots that she was wearing. Didn’t she realize that red is an eye catcher? He was sure she wanted attention, and he wanted to give it to her.

Fallon—
what an awesome name
—was by far the most gorgeous girl in the bar. She looked like a porcelain doll. Yeah, her breasts were a little smaller than he liked, but her ass made up for it. He liked big butts on girls and she had one. It might have been her hair, too; it was long and wavy, a golden brown that brought out her wide, heavy-lidded deep caramel eyes. She had a deer-in-the-headlights look to her but he knew, just by talking to her, that she wasn’t dumb. Her nose was small and dainty, and when Lucas set eyes on her luscious, glossy red lips, he knew he had to talk to her—and have her.