Stowaway (36 page)

This time would be different and he’d be damned if he’d let her walk all over him again. He held the reins now.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
On Wings of Love:

Trey Langden stretched his long, jean-clad legs in front of him as he leaned his head against the back of his favorite chair. He’d eaten a solitary meal, taken a shower and pulled on a pair of jeans before settling himself in front of the living room fire. It had been another long, exhausting day. He hated March. It was a cold, windy month when spring tantalized but winter refused to relinquish its hold on the weather.

The lower elevations of New Mexico didn’t usually suffer from extreme temperatures, but this winter they’d experienced record amounts of snow and more damaging winds than usual. It had been hard on the cattle, thus harder on him and his ranch staff. Now, every living beast—man and animal—was growing restless.

He watched the flames dancing in the hearth and sipped some whiskey before resting the glass on the flat, hard plane of his stomach. It had become a habit, the whiskey—the need for something to dull his senses every night before he could sleep, despite his physical exhaustion.

The liquor was a crutch. He knew it and never risked the effects during daylight hours, but nighttime was different. He restricted the drinks to one or two glasses, depending on how restless he was and how persistently the memories fought to surface. He never allowed himself complete oblivion, even if he was tempted.

The night stretched before him, long, quiet and lonely. Damn! Sometimes the loneliness was unbearable. He could find entertainment and female companionship in the nearest town within an hour, but two years of trying to assuage his particular brand of loneliness had taught him that it was a waste of time.

He wanted his woman, he thought grimly. A short bark of self-derisive laughter followed the silent admission. Despite knowing that his wants would go unfulfilled, he still longed to see her sassy smile, to touch her soft, sexy body and to hear her infectious laughter. When he closed his eyes, he could easily conjure up the image of Jillian’s slender, shapely body. The image was always gloriously warm, naked and needy.

His own body reacted with swift arousal at the thought. Trey cursed the too-vivid memories and his unholy need for one woman. He shifted his legs restlessly and emptied the contents of his glass in one long swallow.

The alcohol burned all the way down, making him feel more empty and lonesome. A loner by nature, he was more in tune with his land than with people, but lately he’d longed for the type of human contact his ranch hands couldn’t supply.

Most of his life had been spent in a masculine domain, from the relative isolation of the ranch, to a tour in the army and then back to the ranch. He’d thrived on the challenges, but his was a solitary existence.

It was a life he’d chosen for himself and had been content with until he’d met Jillian. Since then, nothing seemed quite as satisfying. Something always seemed to be missing, some essential part of his being. She’d stolen his peace of mind, his dreams for the future and his heart. He deeply resented the loss of all three.

Trey shook his head to ward off the depressing memories. Then he stretched out in the recliner and closed his eyes. Some nights, his favorite chair was preferable to a big, lonely bed. This was one of those nights.

He’d just dozed off when the stillness of the evening was shattered by the ringing of the telephone. The sound ricocheted around the sprawling ranch house with annoying shrillness. He was tempted to ignore it, but the caller was persistent. After the fifth ring, he dragged himself from the chair to the hallway and the phone.

His tone wasn’t cordial or welcoming. “Langden.”

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line, and he felt a quiver of indefinable reaction.

“Trey?” The voice was softly feminine, huskily wary and achingly familiar. “Trey, it’s Jillian.”

He hadn’t needed her name. The sound of his name from her lips had made every muscle in his body knot with tension. The blood sang through his veins in a heated rush. Oh, hell! Not tonight.

“Trey?” This time her tone held a note of panic. The emotion was totally alien to his memories of her.

“What’s wrong?”

Her soft, sad sigh hummed through the lines and over his body. “I’m in terrible trouble,” she admitted. “I need a place to hide.”

A rush of protectiveness bombarded Trey, but he quickly subdued it. He had good reason to be wary of involvement with the woman who’d caused him so much heartache. Jillian had never really needed anyone, especially not him. He’d learned that lesson the hard way.

“Who are you hiding from?”

“From everybody. From everything. From the whole world,” she told him in a quivering voice.

The desolation and defeat in her tone slammed into Trey with unexpected force. The Jillian he knew was a die-hard optimist. She never, ever admitted defeat.

“Why call me?”

“There’s nobody else I can trust. I was hoping you’d come and meet me.”

Trey felt a hot rush of anger. “The last time you asked me to meet you, you didn’t show,” he reminded her grimly.

“I can explain,” she promised.

“You could have explained two months ago, but you didn’t. You didn’t even bother to call. Why now?”

“I know you’re furious with me, but I really need help, Trey.”

Was there a sob in her voice, or did he imagine it? The tiny sound created an unwelcome clenching in his gut. Was she playing games with him? He hadn’t believed her to be that type of woman, but that was before she’d coaxed him to Dallas and left him waiting.

Trey heard another “please” accompanied by a smothered sob, and he tensed. Jillian’s attempt to stifle the sound affected him more than blatant crying would have done. She’d never used tears to manipulate him, so his curiosity was even more aroused.

There was no doubt he was furious with her, but despite his personal feelings, he wasn’t the type of man who ignored someone in need of help. Jillian obviously needed help.

“Where are you?”

“I can’t say much,” she mumbled so softly that he had to strain to hear, “but I can hitch a ride as far as Albuquerque.”

Hitch? What the hell was going on? He didn’t like it. “Why can’t you fly?”

“I don’t have much money, and I stopped using credit cards because they can be traced.”

Trey didn’t waste any more time arguing. She had to be in deep trouble. “I can be in Albuquerque in a little over two hours,” he told her.

Jillian’s voice trembled with relief. “That’s about how long it’ll take me,” she said, then cleared her throat. “There’s a truck stop on the east side of town, just off the highway.”

“I know where it is.”

“I’ll meet you there, but don’t come looking for me. Just park, and I’ll find you,” she told him. “What will you be driving?”

“A dark blue Lincoln.”

“I’m wearing a man’s tan overcoat with my hair tucked under a hat,” she said, then added, “I have to go now.”

Is he the real deal, or just another regret waiting to happen?

A Forever Kind of Guy

© 2011 Barbara Meyers

First on Hayley Christopher’s list to get her train-wreck life back on track: stay away from men. Especially the ones who cause a ripple effect of bad decisions.
 

Still reeling from a high-profile divorce, the college dropout and former pro cheerleader is stumbling through yet another challenge—temporary custody of her nephew, Fletcher. No one knows better than Hayley that she’s not mother material. When she opens the door to her new landlord and old flame, she wonders just how many more past mistakes she is destined to pay for.

After the death of his wife, Ray Braddock is still putting the pieces back together. Hayley—and the silent little boy at her side—both bristle with emotional barriers so high, it appears no one but him can see that together, three broken people just might make a whole family.

As she watches Fletcher respond to Ray’s patient care, Hayley’s determination to hold on to her heart begins to soften. But just when she begins to think that Ray is one opportunity she shouldn’t let slip by, Fletcher’s gang-connected father threatens to make her pay for the one good choice she ever made…

Warning: Touches on issues of death, child abandonment, neglectful parenting. Sensuous love scenes.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
A Forever Kind Of Guy:

Four-year-old Fletcher stood to the left of the front door, his attention focused on whatever was on the other side of the slender pane of sidelight glass. Hayley moved closer to see a man hunkered on the other side making funny faces at Fletcher. She glanced down to see Fletcher’s reaction. His expression was the one he usually wore of serious concentration, but a ghost of a smile played around his lips. At least Hayley wanted to think he might be close to a smile. It’d been a long time since he had.

There was no chain on the door, so Hayley debated for a moment about whether to open the door to a strange man. It was broad daylight and he looked harmless enough. He straightened when he heard the deadbolt slide back.

They stared at each other for what was probably a split second but felt like a lifetime. Hayley felt the ripple run through her. She’d experienced
the
ripple effect
twice in her life. Once with her ex-husband and the first time with—

“Hi, I’m Ray Braddock,” he began.

—Ray Braddock when she was fourteen. She’d been a brand new student, a freshman at Jannings High School. He and his twin brother Rick had been the hottest boys in the junior class. She’d worshiped Ray from afar, though she’d never actually met him. But every time she saw him, the ripple effect slammed her full force
.

Okay
, she told herself.
You can do this. You are not attracted to him. The last thing you need is a man in your life. Men are bad news. Men cause pain. Men mess up your plans. The ripple effect means nothing. The ripple effect is evil.

“Hayley Christopher.” Good. That’s good. She remembered her manners. She remembered her name. Now if that excitement fluttering in the pit of her stomach would cease and desist, she’d be fine.

“I know.”

Her radar shot out a warning. “You know? What do you mean, you know? How would you know my name?”

“From the property management company. I—”

“Oh? I can’t believe they gave out my name. They have no right. Who I am and where I live is my business and no one else’s. There must be some kind of law—”

“Whoa. Slow down there. I hired the property manager. I’m the owner of the property. I live in the other unit.” He nodded toward the other half of the duplex.

“You—own—wait a minute. What?” The other half of the duplex had been vacant during the short time she’d lived there. Or so she thought.

As if sensing her distress, Fletcher moved closer to her, wedging himself between her leg and her crutch and clutching her thigh. He sent out one of his trademark, almost inaudible whimpers of inquiry. Awkwardly, she patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, sweetie.”

Ray rescued her from her confusion. “I was out of town for a while. So I hired the property manager. But I’m back. Starting next month, you can pay your rent directly to me.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“What happened to you? Do you need to sit down?” Ray gestured at the crutches and Fletcher hanging onto her. “Want me to come in for a minute?”

Hayley couldn’t take her gaze off her landlord. He’d been good looking as a teenager and he still was. But his handsome face had more character now. Tiny lines radiated from the corners of his eyes. As she recalled, he’d been leaner than his brother, and that hadn’t changed. He looked tanned and strong and capable. But he also looked sad. And a bit lost.

Maybe that’s what I look like too
. It was certainly how she felt most days. Giving herself a mental shake, she tried to regroup and say something reasonably intelligent.

Inviting him into her personal space was out of the question. “No. That’s okay. I’ll make the rent checks to you from now on. Was there anything else?”

“Is everything all right with the place? Appliances? Plumbing? Air conditioning?”

“Everything works. I’m not crazy about some of the decorating choices, but it’s nothing critical.”
Except the bathroom wallpaper,
she added silently.
It’s hideous.
She’d seriously considered doing the next tenant a favor by ripping down the hideous wallpaper in the bathroom. Bare drywall would be an improvement over the garish flowered foil.

“All right, then. Here’s my phone number.” He handed her a plain white business card on which he’d written his name and the number. “Let me know if you have any problems.”

She took the card. Her fingertips touched his. She ignored her reaction.

Not.

“It’s only you and your son, here, right? Fletcher? Is that his name?”

She glanced down at Fletcher, who was staring up at Ray. “Yes. Uh, well, sort of.”

Ray’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t feel required to explain her relationship with Fletcher to him. “How do you know his name?”

“The property manager.”

“Oh, right. Okay.”

Ray stood there a moment longer. Hayley wondered what else she should say. She couldn’t think of anything. Her mouth went dry. Her brain became addled. Every nerve ending she possessed went on high alert and sent mixed signals, scrambling her thought process.

Invite him in.

Make him go away.

He’s hot.

You’ll get burned.

Step closer.

Stay away from him.

“Do I know you?” he asked.

Hayley stared at him.

He studied her intently. “You look kind of familiar. Like maybe we’ve met before.”

Great, she thought. Even relocating this far from Jacksonville, she couldn’t get away from the negative publicity. “Do you follow sports?”

“Well, yeah—”

“The Jacksonville Jacks?”

“Not so much lately—”

“Then you probably know that according to every reporter in the greater Jacksonville area, I’m the ex-pro cheerleader, gold-digging, cheating hussy their beloved quarterback Trey Christopher divorced. You probably recognize me from some unflattering photos that ran in all those rags the past couple of years.”