The Bride Wore Starlight (32 page)

“Rory? Is Buster a homeless man?”

“Buster says he doesn't want a normal house. He says he owns the whole city of New York, and he should 'cause he fought for it. But Jack does need a house 'cause it's going to snow pretty soon, and he'll freeze. So . . . will you save him like you saved me?”

“Oh, I don't know if . . . ”

She thought about all the animals she'd had growing up on one of the biggest cattle ranches in Wyoming. Until leaving for college she'd never imagined that some kids might not have pets. No dogs, no cats, no horses.

“Please? Jack's the only one left who really loves me.”

“That's so not true, Rory. I know it's not true.” She sighed and sat next to him on the mattress. “I love you. I'm your friend, right? And your mom loves you so much.”

“Mrs. Murray, the foster lady, said Mom was too sick to be a good mother. 'Cause she's in the hospital, too.”

“Again?” Mia stared at him, heartbroken. “Rory, since when? What happened?”

“I don't know when. Before I came here. I tried to call her to tell her I was sick, but she wasn't at the jail.”

For the past three months, Monique Beltane had resided in a women's prison in upstate New York where she was serving one year for theft and illegal possession of a narcotic. She was also living through treatment for breast cancer.

“That's not true, Rory. Your mom will never be too sick to love you. And she's a good mom, too. She's just been sick for such a long time.”

Mia knew Monique's story well. She'd become addicted to prescription opioids after botched shoulder surgery. One year after that operation, Mia had been the one to operate again and managed to relieve some of Monique's permanent pain. During the three years that had followed, she'd kept in touch with Monique and her son, Rory. She liked the woman, plain and simple. Monique wanted to get well. She was just weak when it came to pain. Still, she'd gotten herself clean, and Mia believed she might have made a success of it. Then, six months ago, she'd been diagnosed with the cancer.

She'd managed the chemo, but the mastectomy and the oxycodone to which she was so highly addicted had pushed her back over the edge. Three months ago, she'd purchased oxycodone from an undercover agent, and that had been the end.

But she was back in the hospital. Mia didn't know what was wrong, but her intuition left her worried. At this stage in her recovery, no illness boded well. She made a mental note to track down Monique's physician.

And now here was Rory.

You couldn't make crap like this up.

“But even if Mom gets better, she's in jail for a long time. All I got is Jack.”

“But if Jack can't stay with you at the Murrays, where would he go if we find him?”

He shrugged, and his eyes filled with water. Mia sighed. This was so
not
in her job description. How did one even begin to try looking for a homeless cat in New York City?

“Please, Dr. Mia.”

She smoothed his thick curls. She'd never find one cat in a city that must have a billion. “All right, listen to me, okay? I will see what I can find out, but you're practically a young man and you're smart. You know I might not have any luck. You promise you won't be angry with me if I don't find him?”

He smiled a watery-but-genuine true, toothy, ten-year-old's grin. “You will.”

LIZBETH SELVIG
lives in Minnesota with her best friend (aka her husband) and a gray Arabian gelding named Jedi. After working as a newspaper journalist and magazine editor, and raising an equine veterinarian daughter and a talented musician son, Lizbeth won RWA's prestigious Golden Heart Contest® in 2010 with her contemporary romance,
The Rancher and the Rock Star
, and was a 2014 nominee for RWA's RITA® Award with her second published novel,
Rescued by a Stranger
. In her spare time, she loves to hike, quilt, read, horseback ride, and spend time with her new granddaughter. She also has many four-legged grandchildren—more than twenty—including a wallaby, two alpacas, a donkey, a pig, a sugar glider, and many dogs, cats, and horses (pics of all appear on her website
www.lizbethselvig.com
). She loves connecting with readers—contact her any time!

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Seven Brides for Seven Cowboys

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Beauty and the Brit

Rescued by a Stranger

The Rancher and the Rock Star

Ben Knight has spent his life protecting those in need and helping abused women escape their terrible circumstances. He'll stop at nothing to save the lives of his clients, especially the hauntingly beautiful Kate Morrison, a woman threatened by a man whose wealth allows him to get away with everything—including murder.

 

B
en pulled in behind several police cars nearly thirty minutes later, their red and blue lights flashing. He turned off the car's engine and sat staring up at the massive house. Morgan's prediction played in his mind. This late at night, the woman meant for him had to be in that house. He hoped she wasn't the dead woman Detective Raynott called him about.

Evan Faraday hit Ben's radar when Detective Raynott caught the case of a man found beaten to death in an alley after gambling with some guys in the bar, including Evan. That man was the son of one of his Haven House clients. Ben stepped in as a legal advocate for the family. The guy was only trying to scrape together extra money for his mother and sister. Evan played cards with the guy, but Raynott couldn't link him to the murder. Not with any actual evidence, but the circumstantial kind added up to Evan drunk and pissed off about losing to the guy. Evan killed him; they just couldn't prove it.

More recently, Evan got into another bar fight. Donald Faraday paid off the guy with a heavy heart. He knew what and who his son was, but that didn't stop him from getting Evan out of trouble. Again.

Detective Raynott caught that case too. Ben asked the detective to call him if Evan got in trouble again. Ben wanted to take the selfish, smart-mouthed prick down. Then came the DUI arrest. Now he'd killed again.

Ben got out of the car, tucked in his shirt, and straightened his tie.

“What am I doing?” He was at a murder scene, not meeting a date for drinks and dinner.

But she was in there. He knew it. Anticipated it. And hoped he wasn't a fool for believing in Morgan.

The anticipation and hope swamping his system surprised him more than a little. He hadn't realized how much he wanted a woman in his life. Not just any woman, but the right woman.

“I'm sorry, sir, this is an active crime scene. Law enforcement only,” the officer guarding the police line said. Ben noted the neighbors' interest. They lined the street, whispering to each other and staring at him. Some in their bathrobes, others in lounge clothes. This late at night the sirens got most of them up out of their beds. In this neighborhood, a murder was the last thing they expected.

“My name is Ben Knight. Detective Raynott called and asked me to come.”

The officer held the tape up for him to pass. “He's in the living room. Give your name to the officer at the door.”

Ben did and stepped into the elegant home and surveyed the officers and crime scene techs working the scene at the back of the house and what looked like the entrance to the kitchen. He spotted Detective Raynott standing over a woman with long brown wavy hair, a baby sleeping in a car seat at her feet. With her back to him, he couldn't see her face, but something about her seemed familiar. A strange tug pulled him toward her.

“Ben, you made it. Thanks for coming,” Detective Raynott said, waving him forward.

“Anything to nail Evan Faraday and see him behind bars.”

The woman turned and raised her face to look up at him. He stopped midstride and stared into her beautiful blue eyes. Like a deep lake, the soft outer color darkened toward the center. “Kate?”

He never expected her. Morgan had been right though—they'd shared a moment at a wedding reception for a mutual friend and colleague. That had been more than a year ago now. They sat at the same table and talked, mostly about work and how out of place they felt at the event, made even more uncomfortable when they realized they were seated at a table full of singles and the bride had arranged them as couples, playing matchmaker. They shared some laughs and danced, deciding to make the awkward situation fun. They fell under the spell—the music, champagne, the celebration of love—and Ben enjoyed himself more that night than any other date. He kissed her right there on the dance floor during a particularly slow, sweet song. He remembered it perfectly. The way she stared up at him with those blue eyes. The way her mouth parted slightly as she exhaled and he leaned in. The softness of her lips against his. The way she gave in to the kiss with a soft sigh. The tremble that rocked his body and hers when the sparks flew and sizzled through his system.

The startled look on her face when he pulled back just enough to see the desire flaming in her eyes. A split second later she bolted for the door.

He went after her, but didn't find her. She didn't answer his calls over the next two days. He still didn't know if he'd overstepped, done something wrong, or simply scared her.

“Ben.” Her soft voice, filled with surprise, startled him out of his thoughts. “What are you doing here?” Her sad eyes narrowed on him.

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Everything She Wanted
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In the fifth novel in the Ribbon Ridge series, thrill-seeker Liam Archer will try anything once—except falling in love—but what happens when the one woman whose kiss is better than any adrenaline high puts an end to their no-strings fling?

 

A
ubrey Tallinger finished drying her hands and set the towel down. Lifting her head, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her hazel eyes stared back at her and seemed to ask what she was doing dawdling in the bathroom when a perfectly lovely wedding reception was going on.

Isn't it obvious? I'm avoiding Liam.

She was proud of herself tonight. She'd done a good job of ignoring the one person who always seemed to command her attention: Liam Archer. It helped to have a date along. A date she should get back to.

She took a deep breath and opened the door. Liam stood on the other side of the threshold.

He grabbed her hand and dragged her to the left through a doorway. He let go of her to close the door then stood in front of it, his blue-gray eyes narrowed. “Who's the loser?”

Aubrey registered that they were in a sitting room attached to his parents' bedroom. She wanted to turn and look at the sun setting over the garden through the back windows, but couldn't tear her eyes from Liam. Dressed in a crisp black suit with a natty, striped tie, he was the sexiest best man she'd ever seen. His dark wavy hair was perfectly styled and, as usual, she had an almost irrepressible urge to mess it up.

She tensed as she forced herself to present a cool demeanor. “I introduced you to him at the church.”

“Yes, Stuart the Accountant. But why did you bring him in the first place?”

She cocked her head and gave him a sarcastic stare. “Was I supposed to wait for you to ask me? You don't take me on
dates
, Liam. You never have.” The dinner he'd surprised her with at her house when he'd been home for the long Thanksgiving weekend didn't count. Dates were
public
.

He frowned, and she was shocked when he didn't fire a snappy comeback. “I might've, actually.”

Ha! She'd believe that when she saw it. “Too late. I told you at New Year's that our little . . .
thing
was done.”

“It wasn't a
thing
.”

“No, I think you're right. It was a series of convenient hook-ups, and they are no longer convenient to me.”

She called them hook-ups, but they'd been more than that. Every time they were together, she'd felt as though they'd connected on some sort of intimate level that went beyond just sex. But that was stupid. While she'd come to know him at least a little bit, they hadn't spent enough day-to-day time together to allow anything meaningful to spark. Except for Labor Day weekend. They'd spent the better part of four days in each other's company, and it had been bliss. They'd laughed, they'd danced, they'd talked. And yes, they'd had a lot of sex. The physical aspect of their connection was so far the most powerful.

He prowled toward her, like a jungle cat on the hunt. She had no intention of being his prey. Nor did she want to run. She stiffened her spine and crossed her arms over her chest. Meager protection when she knew just how dangerous his weapons of mass seduction could be.

“Come on, they were a little more than hook-ups. We
planned
to hang out over Labor Day.”

That was true, but they'd both been going to the Dave Matthews Band concerts up in central Washington anyway. It wasn't like they'd formulated and executed the trip together.

He stopped in front of her, his lips curving up. “And you have to admit it was pretty great.”

Incredible. Right up to the point when she'd suggested they see each other again soon. He'd said, “Sure, I always call you up when I'm in town.”

Like she was a convenience. And there was that word again. She didn't want to be anyone's hook-up girl. She'd quashed her burgeoning feelings, but it had maybe been too late. She'd already been crazy infatuated with him. So much so that when she'd seen him at Thanksgiving, she'd allowed herself to be the convenience she didn't want to be.

But no more.

She gave him an arch look. “So it was a great weekend. You still can't argue it was more than a hook-up. I walked away from that without knowing when—or if—I'd see you again.”

He frowned at her. “That's absurd. You're our attorney. Of course you'd see me again.”

Was he being purposely obnoxious?

He put his hands on his hips. “I suppose you're going to tell me Thanksgiving was just a hook-up, too? I brought you dinner.”

After they'd flirted all day at a winery event they'd just happened to meet at. She'd accepted his sister Tori's invitation to attend without realizing Liam would be there. Wait, had he known? “Did you know I would be at the winery that day?”

He arched a brow. “Who do you think suggested we invite you?”

Damn it. She didn't want to know that. “Now you tell me,” she muttered.

He flashed her a grin. “Am I wearing you down?”

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When We Kiss
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