She's No Angel (16 page)

“To who?”

He swallowed. Lexi watched the smooth column of his throat with fascination. His skin brightened with a flush of heat. He was nervous.

The realization startled Lexi. Nothing flustered Brett Newcomb. He was always confident and coolly in control.

“Me.”

She stared at him, silent and dumbfounded.

“How?” How had he been able to afford that? The land was prime real estate.

With a negligent shrug that seemed completely out of place, he answered, “I had some money. And took out a huge loan.”

Was she the only one who could see the slick edge of fear lurking deep in his eyes? He’d used the money he’d been saving. The nest egg he’d spent years building. Why in heaven’s name would he give up that security?

She stared at him, unable to process just what that meant.

“I’ve purchased the land, but I’m going to need the support of other investors to make the resort feasible. A consortium of private owners. I know this town is full of savvy business owners. In the last few weeks I’ve had a chance to speak to quite a few of you. Not only will there be an opportunity for a return on your investment when the resort opens, but opportunities to cross-promote your other businesses.”

Money. Of course, that’s what all this was about. Brett had seen an opportunity and had taken a calculated risk. Lexi had to admit it was a good one. With the new designs, she couldn’t see how the venture could fail.

That’s why he’d come back. Not for her.

And now she’d have to see him around town. God, it hurt. Lexi’s body curled inward, protecting herself in the only way she could.

She’d figure out a way to deal with this, but not today. Today it was too much and she needed to get out of here before she lost it and made a fool of herself in front of the entire town.

Standing suddenly, Lexi tried to slip out quietly, but it didn’t work. She wasn’t even halfway down the aisle when the smooth, even tone of Brett’s voice stopped her. “Don’t leave.”

Lexi paused, but she didn’t turn. She didn’t trust herself to look at him and not fall apart.

“Lexi.” His voice was rough, cracking halfway through her name. “Please don’t leave.”

16

H
E
WAS
LOSING
her. Panic surged through him. Without thinking, he closed the gap between them and grabbed for her. Anything to keep her here this time. Anything to make her listen. To believe.

Behind him, Gage surged to his feet. He and Lexi’s brother had come to an unsteady truce, but he knew one wrong move would have those heavy fists swinging straight for his head.

“Let me go,” she whispered, refusing to look up at him.

“No, Lexi. I won’t let you go this time. You’re too important to me.”

She finally looked at him and the expression in her eyes was a punch straight to the gut.

“So important you came into town and didn’t even let me know you were here.”

He swore beneath his breath. “I didn’t think you wanted to see me. I was hoping after you heard about the resort everything would change.”

“Why would it?”

His fingers tightened around her arms. He saw her slight wince and wanted to ease up, but couldn’t. “Woman, you would try the patience of a saint. Because I did it for you. I bought the land for you.”

“You bought the land because it was a sound investment and you have the skills to make it hugely profitable.”

His teeth clicked together with a snap that echoed through the room. Everyone around them had gone perfectly silent, hanging on every word of their exchange.

Beside them, something shifted and caught his eye. His gaze darted sideways long enough to notice Mrs. Copeland smirking a bit gleefully at them.

Without taking his gaze from Lexi’s, Brett hollered behind him, “Mr. Harper, I’d like to sign the land over to the town. Do you think the council would approve paying me a dollar?”

Several people gasped and shifted uncomfortably on their chairs.

Lexi’s eyes widened. Her father responded, “The council might, but I won’t. Son, I won’t let you do something that stupid.”

“Fine. Anyone else like to take me up on the offer?”

No one answered, but then they didn’t have to.

Hope unfurled deep inside Lexi’s eyes, crowding out the fear and hesitation.

“Don’t,” she said, barely audible.

“What?”

“Don’t,” she said again, this time loud enough for everyone around them to hear. “Don’t you dare, Brett Newcomb.”

“Does that mean you believe me when I say I don’t care what happens to the land or the resort? The only thing I care about is you. Lexi Harper, I love you.”

Her eyes widened and her lips trembled.

“You and this little town you call home. I want to build this resort because I think it’s a great project. I think it’ll succeed and I think Sweetheart needs something like this. But I can’t—won’t—do it without you.”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, magnifying the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide. The combination nearly brought him to his knees. He hated that he’d hurt her, adding to the harsh lessons she’d already learned.

Wrapping his hand in her hair, he pulled her close. His forehead touched hers and he whispered, “I’m so sorry, Lexi. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I promise I’ll do my best to never do it again. If you’ll give me the chance.”

She stared straight into him. He stilled, holding nothing back and hoping she could see the truth behind his words. And waited.

Slowly, hope, love and the flickering flame of need flared deep inside her beautiful chocolate eyes.

“I love you, too,” she finally breathed out, the words caressing his face. “I was miserable when you left. I’ve spent most of my life worrying about what I was doing wrong. From the first moment I met you, you felt right. This feels right.”

Her palms bracketed his face. She shifted, bringing their mouths together in a soft kiss. The warm press of her lips was perfect, and yet it wasn’t enough. Two weeks was a long time to go without touching her.

Brett crushed her to him and deepened the kiss, uncaring that the entire town watched. He asked her to open to him, pouring every ounce of shaky euphoria and need into the moment so that she could feel and taste just how much she mattered to him.

Several people sighed. A loud harrumph followed by a sour voice ruined the moment. “Y’all should be ashamed. Get a room.”

Lexi squirmed in his arms. He could already see the angry rush of embarrassment flaming up her skin. And it pissed him off. Breaking away, Brett kept his arm firmly around Lexi’s waist and glared across several heads at Mrs. Copeland.

“After we ruined Mrs. McKinnon’s spread, I don’t think she’ll give us one.”

“You got that right,” she interjected, her normally surly voice tinged with humor.

Several people around them laughed, but Brett wasn’t content to let Mrs. McKinnon’s comment defuse the situation.

“If you ever speak to Lexi that way again, Mrs. Copeland, you’ll have me to deal with. For someone who teaches etiquette you know nothing about being polite.”

A smattering of applause rippled through the crowd.

But he wasn’t content with that either. Instead, he picked up where Mrs. Copeland’s rudeness had interrupted them.

To hell with the prying eyes; he didn’t care about them. As long as he had Lexi in his arms.

He bent to kiss her again, half expecting her to protest. Instead, she surprised him, leaping up into his arms and wrapping her body tightly around his. Her legs locked behind his thighs and her arms circled his neck.

She felt so good.

She met him measure for measure, diving into the kiss just as completely as he did. It swamped them both, blocking out everything but each other.

The entire town thought she was so sweet. And she was, as sweet as anything she sold in her shop. Only he knew Lexi Harper was no angel. But that was okay. He much preferred her apron to a halo.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt of
Waking up To You
by Leslie Kelly!

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1

“W
AIT
,
YOU
'
RE
ASKING
me to
marry
you?”

Her mouth open, Candace Reid stared into the beautiful,
sky-blue eyes that were the dominant feature of the most perfect male face she
had ever seen. Thomas Shane, handsomest man on the planet, hottest young
up-and-comer in Hollywood, subject of fantasies and object of obsessions, had
just said the words every other woman in America would kill to hear from his
lips. And he didn't appear to be joking.

“Yes, I am. Marry me, Candace. Say yes.”

“But...but...you're a movie star.”

“So what? You're a movie costumer.”

She grunted. That
so
didn't count.
Her check on their last film was smaller than his by at least four zeroes.

“We've known each other since kindergarten.”

“Nursery school. Say yes and I will at last forgive you for
stealing my Fruit Roll-Ups during nap time the day we met.”

She growled. She hadn't taken the damn Fruit Roll-Ups. “That
was Joey Winpigler...don't you remember his green teeth?”

“That kid's teeth were always green.”

She groaned, realizing they were getting off topic—off this
insane
topic. “I can't marry you...you're my
best friend.”

“And you're mine. That's why it's so perfect.”

Throwing her arms up in frustration, she exclaimed, “But,
Tommy, you're gay!”

He waved an unconcerned hand. “Oh,
that.
”

“Yeah.
That
.”

“It's really no big deal.”

“I disagree. I don't have a penis, and they're right up there
with raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens for you.”

“Well, I'll admit they
are
among my
fav-o-rite things.”

Of course Tommy would get the show-tune quip—he'd starred in
every musical in their high school and could tap-dance his way around a chorus
line of Rockettes. Not that anyone who had seen him in his last film, taking out
an entire terrorist camp single-handedly, would believe that.

“But really, penises schmenises, most men are jerks,” he
insisted. “I
adore
women.”

“Not sexually.”

He plopped down beside her on the buttery-soft leather sofa in
the living room of his Malibu condo. “Sex isn't everything.”

“Yeah, right.” For him maybe it wasn't, since his career was
his entire focus right now. But for Candace, who liked sex a lot, even if she
seldom got it, it was kind of a biggie.

“I think maybe I'll just be asexual from now on.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes.

“What? I can love from afar. It'll be all tragic and shit.”

“Like the mad crush you had on that guy who played your
grandfather in your second film?”

He pursed his lips, looking prim. “Every serious actor has a
crush on Sir Anthony Hopkins. He's a God.”

“But not every serious actor goes trolling for a little strange
cock when he's out of town, away from the cameras.”

“Big strange cock,” he retorted. “And that's a secret.”

“This is nuts. Stop playing around.”

“Babe, I've got to keep my personal life on the down-low for
now,” he said, growing serious. “If I don't, my superhero action-movie days are
over. It sucks, but you know it's true.”

Part of her wanted to urge him to be true to himself and stop
hiding the man he was. She'd known about his sexual orientation for as long as
he had, having realized it in middle school when Tommy had gotten pissy about
her landing a date with the hottest guy in their class. It hadn't been hard to
figure out who, exactly, he was jealous of. The two of them had talked about it,
acknowledged Tommy was gay and that was that.

Her sister, Madison, the only person in the world to whom she
was closer than Tommy, hadn't figured it out quite as quickly. But once she had,
the three of them had become like the Three Musketeers, fighting for Tommy's
right to be himself.

And now he wanted to hide who he was for good.

“There have been rumors,” he said, not meeting her eye.

She shrugged. “There are always those kinds of rumors about
movie stars.” Tommy wasn't the first Hollywood celebrity to worry about
in-the-closet stories, and he wouldn't be the last.

He rested his head on the back of the couch and stared at the
ceiling. “I've also gotten a few veiled threats.”

Oh, hell.
“What do you mean?
Threats from who?”

“Just somebody I had a fling with last year.”

“Blackmail?” she said, indignant on his behalf.

“Not yet. But it could get there. He's making rumbles about
supposedly having some kind of proof.”

Candace glowered at him for being careless. “Tell me you didn't
let some dude take pictures.”

“Do I look mentally challenged?” He sounded indignant.

“Sorry.”

“And before you ask if I left DNA on a Gap dress, let me
explain. It was just some text messages.”

“They can be faked,” she said, waving an airy hand.

“Yeah, but look at what happened to Tiger.”

True. Text messages could definitely come back to bite you. She
made a mental note.
Next time you're about to break up with
someone, borrow his phone to destroy the evidence first.

He turned to face her. “So you see why this is so important?
With that tabloid article hinting I was going to settle down with you, I think I
can put out the fires for a while. Once I nail this franchise, I can get haughty
and walk away to do high-minded indie films.”

Haughty wasn't hard for Tommy, although she knew it was a
pretense. He was almost always in character. Right now it suited him to act the
part of spoiled Hollywood star. But playing the role of her husband? That would
take some Oscar-worthy skills.

“Please, Candy, I'm begging you,” he said. “Just give me a few
years—five max. You and I both know it wouldn't be the first
five-years-to-hide-the-fact-that-I'm-gay marriage in Hollywood.”

Five years. Could she really give up five years of her life?
Okay, so she was only twenty-six, she wasn't seeing anyone and had no interest
in settling down and having babies until she was in her thirties. Still...it was
quite a commitment.

“And there'll be no prenup. You'll get half of whatever I
earn.”

Her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

He saw her reaction and pounced. “You know you could use the
money, since you won't let me lend it to you. You can help out your parents and
your sister, give your grandfather the money to get that broken-down winery he
bought last year up and running.”

That was all true. Curse him for understanding her well enough
to know exactly which buttons to push.

“And it'll be fun. We'll walk the red carpet together.” He
dropped an arm over her shoulders and pulled her close. “I'll be all romantic
when I give my Oscar acceptance speech and thank the wildly sexy woman who made
it all possible.”

Hmm. That sounded like fun.

“There is still one big problem,” she finally said. “I like
sex. Five years is a long time to go without it.”

“You don't have to,” he insisted.

“Eww,” she said, shoving his arm off her. “That'd be like
having sex with my brother. My gay brother.”

“I wasn't talking about me! You can have affairs.”

“Tacky. Besides, that'd
really
cause some gossip. I'm already on the radar of those leeches.”

She hated that, truly. Being the subject of gossip was
infuriating, and she doubly hated the idea that some people might have decided
she got her start in Hollywood because of Tommy. If anything, he'd gotten his
first break through her. He'd come to visit her at work at one of the studios
one day, met a casting director and the rest was history.

“Look,” he said, “we both know you've got a gazillion gigabytes
of internal memory when it comes to sex. You've already stored up experiences
that helped you through dry spells in the past.”

She couldn't argue that, but did stick out her tongue at him.
It wasn't nice of him to point out all those dry spells, usually caused because
Candace had a bad habit of going out with guys who were far more focused on
material things and their own ambitions than they were on her. “Your point?”

“My point is, I'll send you on a trip to France for two weeks.
You can boink your way from Bordeaux to Paris, free from the paparazzi. Once you
back up some orgasms on your libido's hard drive, you can come home and we'll
announce our engagement.”

He always managed to make her laugh. “And what if my vaginal
computer crashes? Am I supposed to zip off to a bordello to do an emergency dump
onto my flash drive?”

“I bet you'd make it two years. Then, when you're crawling out
of your skin, I'll pay for you to go to Australia and you can throw a few shrimp
on your barbie.”

He said the words in a cheesy down-under accent, and she
couldn't help laughing. The whole thing was absurd, ridiculous.

But, craziest of all, she was seriously thinking about it.

Not just because she loved Tommy, or because it might be fun
playing Hollywood wife. No, because she could really use the money. Her parents
were happy in the Florida home where she'd grown up. But since her dad's heart
attack two months ago, they'd been stretched thin financially.

Her sister had just finished grad school and had a mountain of
debt. And her wonderful, willful grandfather had, indeed, been struck by some
wild notion and bought an old run-down winery in Northern California a year ago.
The place had nary a grape in sight, and Grandpa had no clue how to grow them,
much less turn them into wine. But he was determined to make a go of it.

So, yeah, the money would come in handy. Tommy had offered to
help out, but she wouldn't accept charity. She always earned what she got. And
frankly, if she had to give up sex for five years, she would earn every penny.
Because, no matter what he said, she'd never risk having an affair after their
engagement was announced, a time when she'd be more under the paparazzi
spotlight than ever. This sowing-her-wild-oats-in-France thing would be it, the
full extent of her sexual activity for five long, lonely, vibrator-filled
years.

Could she do it? For Tommy? For her family? For the money?

“So what do you say? Pretty please?” he asked, flashing those
baby blues and his amazing smile. That grin, that wicked sense of humor and his
innate kind streak always made her give in. He deserved the brilliant career
within his grasp. No creepy blackmailer should have the right to take it away
from him.

“Oh, hell.”
Farewell penises of the
world.
“I guess I'm in.”

“Yes! You are the best friend ever.” He pumped both fists in
the air, then dropped to one knee. Taking her hand, he stared at her adoringly,
playing the man-in-love character. Put him in a Nick Sparks film opposite Emily
Blunt and nobody would ever guess he'd once seduced the star football player of
their high school.

“Candace Eliza Reid, will you be my bride?”

“Yes, I will. Now get up, idiot. And get your travel agent on
the phone because I am
so
taking you up on that
Paris thing.”

“Or maybe Italy for some spicy pepperoni?”

“Dork,” she said as he wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

“Wait...Ireland! I know you've always dug Irish guys.”

“Nope, French will do. I don't want my sex toy to speak
English. I don't need him for conversation, and I definitely don't want him
talking to any reporters who come around.”

She doubted she'd come across an absolutely amazing superhunk
who would give her five years' worth of orgasms in two weeks, but it was worth a
shot. She'd do her damndest, anyway, and nobody was going to stop her from
gorging herself on one last sexual feast before settling in for five hungry
years of celibacy.

Before Tommy could make the call, however, her own cell phone
rang. She answered, listened and realized that she'd been wrong. Somebody
could
stop her. Something
could
happen that would totally change her mind and her plans.
Because, when it came right down to it, her need to stockpile some sexual
memories couldn't even begin to compete with family, especially when somebody
she loved was hurt and needed her. And her grandfather—whom she adored—was hurt
and needed her.

So, within a few hours, Candace was at the airport, waiting to
board a plane, not for France and orgasms, but for San Francisco and family.
She'd be by her grandfather's side for as long as it took...even if she had to
sacrifice any chance she had of meeting a man who might make her most wicked
dreams come true.

* * *

L
YING
IN
BED
in the
small groundskeeper's cottage that he now called home, Oliver McKean suddenly
found himself wide-awake, wondering what had roused him from his slumber. He was
exhausted, his body aching after a long day of hard work, followed by an evening
in a hospital. After twenty hours on his feet, he'd been totally wiped. When
he'd gotten home, he'd showered, hit the mattress and been sound asleep in
minutes.

Until now.

He lay there in the stillness, blinking, looking up at the
ceiling that still didn't look familiar, though he'd slept beneath it for four
months now. A long silent moment stretched out, broken only by the faint far-off
howl of a coyote. Coming from L.A., he still hadn't grown used to the silence up
here in Northern California. Sonoma was known for its famous wines, but its
landscape was pretty spectacular, with thousands of acres of untamed wilderness.
The estate on which he lived sometimes felt like it was in the middle of a
deserted island.