Книга - Bedded By A Bad Boy

Bedded By A Bad Boy
Heidi Rice








BEDDED BY A BAD BOY

HEIDI RICE


PREGNANT MISTRESSES







To my best mate, Catri, for all those

Navajo frybread moments. May we have

many more. And to my husband, Rob,

for helping make my dream come true.

I hope yours does, too.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

EPILOGUE




CHAPTER ONE


‘WHOEVER he is, he’s completely naked,’ Jessie Connor said as quietly as possible. Not easy with the heat flaring in her cheeks and her heartbeat pounding like a sledgehammer in her ears.

The most magnificent male specimen she had ever seen stood less than fifteen yards away. Stark naked. Thank goodness, he had his back to her, or her heart would have stopped beating altogether.

Dark tangles of wet hair flowed down to touch broad shoulders. Roped with muscle, his bronzed skin glistened in the afternoon sunlight as water dripped off his powerful physique and onto the white stone tiles of the pool patio. Oh, my.

Jessie edged back. She could feel the warm, weathered wood of her sister Ali’s Long Island home through the thin cotton of her blue sundress, but it was nothing compared to the heat throbbing low in her belly.

‘Who is he? Do you recognise him?’ Ali hissed next to her ear.

Jessie stared at her sister, huddled beside her behind the house. She took in Ali’s worried frown and her round figure, distended in pregnancy. ‘Well, I can’t be absolutely positive from this angle, but I don’t think I know him.’

‘Move over, I’m taking a look.’ Elbowing Jessie aside, Ali peered round the corner. After getting what Jessie considered more than a necessary eyeful for a married woman, Ali shuffled back. Her face had turned a vivid shade of scarlet. ‘Wow, that bum’s almost as gorgeous as Linc’s.’

Jessie decided to ignore Ali’s extremely inappropriate comment about her husband. ‘Yes, but did you recognise it?’

‘Of course not, I’m a married woman.’

‘Now she remembers,’ Jessie muttered.

‘We’ve got to get out of here and call Linc.’

‘Don’t be daft. We can tackle him ourselves.’

Ali’s eyebrows shot up. ‘We most certainly cannot. I’m nearly eight months pregnant and he’s enormous. Did you see those shoulders?’

‘Yes, I did. Among other things.’

‘You can’t go out there. This is America. He could have a gun.’

‘I’d like to know where he’s got that hidden,’ Jessie replied, her indignation rising. ‘He’s trespassing and I intend to tell him so. How dare he just come in and use the pool as if he owned the place?’ Jessie glanced down at her sister’s rounded belly. ‘You better stay here.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Linc’s due back with Emmy any minute.’

‘What if he attacks you?’ Ali’s furious whisper sounded desperate.

‘Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.’

Ali’s brows set in a grim line. ‘I don’t think I want to hear this.’

‘It worked a treat for Bruce Willis in Die Hard 2.’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’

‘Shh.’ Jessie pressed a finger to her lips. ‘He may be built but he’s probably not deaf.’ Taking a steadying breath, she leaned back around the corner and took another peek at their trespasser.

Jessie’s teeth tugged on her bottom lip. Ali was probably right. They shouldn’t approach him. But ever since they had returned from her sister’s hospital appointment and spotted the powerful black motorcycle sitting in the driveway, the sizzle of adrenaline had been surging through Jessie’s veins.

Impulsiveness was her worse trait. Hadn’t Toby, her stuffy ex-fiancé, told her as much the whole two years they’d been going out? ‘If only you were as reckless in bed as you are out of it,’ he’d shouted at her during their final titanic row six months ago.

Jessie squinted as the sun sparkled off the surface of the pool. She watched as the stranger towelled himself dry with an old T-shirt. The familiar anger at Toby’s insults flashed through her. Well, Toby could take his opinion and shove it in a place where the sun didn’t shine. She wasn’t reckless—or frigid, for that matter—it had just taken her a while to realise that Toby Collins wasn’t the Mr Right she’d spent her whole life looking for. He hadn’t needed her the way she’d thought he had. While she’d been dreaming of making a home, having children, building a family together, Toby had been fantasising about having a wildcat in bed and a mouse out of it. It still infuriated her that it had taken her two long years to figure it out.

The trespasser pulled a pair of jeans over his long legs. Jessie ignored the quick stab of disappointment as his beautiful bum disappeared behind faded denim.

Men! Jessie clenched her teeth. She simply was not going to let this arrogant stranger get away with his outrageous behaviour.

She toed off her sandals, her mind made up. ‘Right, I’m off,’ she whispered to Ali. ‘You better go back to the car and call Linc.’

‘Don’t…Jess…’

Neatly sidestepping her sister’s grabbing fingers, Jessie crept out from behind the safety of the building. Time to teach their trespasser a lesson.



Monroe Latimer fastened the threadbare jeans and stuck his hands into the pockets to straighten them. The tips of his fingers touched the old letter he’d been carrying around for over a year. He pulled out the heavily creased envelope. A drop of water slapped onto the paper, smudging the Key West address of his old parole officer, Jerry Myers. He raked the dripping hair off his forehead. Sighing, he wondered for about the hundredth time what had made him keep the damn thing for so long. And what had possessed him to take that exit off the interstate when he’d spotted the sign to the Hamptons this morning.

Curiosity. Monroe shook his head—just the sort of impulse he was usually smart enough to avoid. He pulled the letter out of its envelope and scanned the contents, though he knew them by heart.

Dear Monroe,

You don’t know me, but my name’s Alison Latimer and I’m your sister-in-law. I’m married to your older brother Lincoln. Linc’s been trying to track you down for a long time now. I’m sending this letter to Jerry Myers, in the hope he will pass it on to you.

Linc and I have been married for five years. We’re based in London, but we spend July to September every year in our summer house on Oceanside Drive, East Hampton, Long Island.

Please, Monroe, come and visit us. Linc and I would love you to stay for a while. From what Jerry tells me, Linc’s the only family you have left. I know you haven’t seen Linc in over twenty years, but he never stopped looking for you.

Family is important, Monroe.

Please come. Love Ali

Good thing the first line of the return address had been rubbed off the back of the letter months ago. He might have been dumb enough to go knocking on his brother’s door, if he’d had the right house number. Of course, the minute he got to Oceanside Drive, he knew he shouldn’t have come. Guys like him only came to neighbourhoods like this one if they were doing yard work.

Monroe crumpled up the letter, shoved it back in his pocket. At least now he could throw it away. He’d seen the way his brother and sister-in-law lived. No way was he ever going to follow up on their invitation. He didn’t belong here. He had his Harley, his battered box of oil paints, spare clothes and a bedroll, and he had himself. That was all he needed; that was all he was ever going to need.

Alison Latimer was wrong. Family wasn’t important. Not to him. He’d been free to do what he pleased, when he pleased, for the last fourteen years and that was the way he intended to keep it. Family was just another kind of prison and he’d had enough of that to last him a lifetime.

He pushed away the familiar bitterness. He could hear the rustle of a sea breeze through the flowerbed by the pool. Angling his head, he caught the fresh perfume of sweet summer blooms mixed with the chemical scent of chlorine—and grinned. Well, hell, at least he’d gotten a swim in a ritzy pool in one of the most beautiful homes he’d ever seen.

He’d been turning the Harley around, ready to head back to the interstate, when his artist’s eye had spotted the wood and glass structure rising out of the sand dunes. Situated on its own at the end of the chunk of land that jutted out into the Atlantic Ocean, the modern structure had seemed to beckon him. Like all the other houses in the area, the grounds were surrounded by deer fencing and a high privet hedge, but Monroe had spotted the edge of the pool, winking at him in the sunlight as the bike had purred over the rise and down into the driveway. He’d been grimy and dog-tired, had been on the bike since daybreak in Maryland and he still had another few hours to go until he hit New York. The place was hidden from the road. He’d pressed the door buzzer to make sure no one was home and a quick check of the security system had told him it wasn’t armed. So he’d boosted himself over the main gate and enjoyed the luxury of an afternoon swim. The thrill he recalled so well from his childhood of doing something forbidden on a lazy summer afternoon had been a nice fringe benefit.

Better hit the road now, though. The owners could return any minute and call the cops. With his record, it wouldn’t go easy on him if he got caught trespassing. Time to move on.



Keeping her breathing slow and steady, Jessie tiptoed across the patio. She stopped dead when her trespasser shoved whatever it was he’d been staring at back into his pocket. When he didn’t turn around, but reached for his T-shirt, she let go of the breath caught in her throat.

Humming some tuneless melody, he sat down on the sun-drenched tiles, rubbed his feet with the T-shirt and picked up a sock.

Sticking her two fingers out, Jessie shoved the points between his shoulder blades and shouted out in her most authoritative voice, ‘Don’t move. I have a gun.’

He stopped humming, his back went rigid and he dropped his sock.

‘Okay, don’t get excited.’ His voice was gruff and tight with annoyance. He sounded American, but there was something else about his accent she couldn’t quite place.

‘Put your hands up, but don’t turn around.’

His skin felt warm, but the muscles beneath were hard as rock, flexing under her fingers as he raised his arms. Up close, he looked a lot more dangerous. Jessie spotted a faded tattoo across his left bicep. Ridged white scar lines criss-crossed the tanned skin of his back. But then she noticed something else. Despite the impressive muscles across his shoulders and upper arms, he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. He was so lean, she could make out his ribs. A Goliath who didn’t eat properly? How odd.

‘Listen, put the gun down and I’ll get out of here. No harm, no foul.’

He started to turn. She prodded her fingers harder into his spine. ‘Don’t turn around, I said.’

‘Easy.’ He didn’t sound scared, just really pissed off. Maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea after all. ‘I’m putting my hands down,’ he ground out. ‘I’ve been on the bike all day and I’m beat.’ He lowered his arms.

The seconds ticked by interminably.

‘So what do we do now?’ he asked.

Jessie’s heart hammered against her rib-cage and sweat pooled between her breasts. Hell, she hadn’t thought this far ahead. Where was Linc? Her fingers were starting to hurt.

‘Where you from? You sound English?’ he said.

‘I think where you’re from is probably a more pertinent question,’ Jessie shot back. No arrogant trespasser was going to charm her.

He leaned forward. Jessie’s heart jolted in her chest. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Grabbing my socks. Any objections?’ The response was measured, calm and condescending.

Jessie bristled. ‘Fine, but next time ask permission.’ Just as she issued the order her tightly clamped fingers twitched.

The trespasser’s back tensed and his head swung round. Oops!

‘Damn it!’

Jessie jumped back, yelping, as her prey shot up and grabbed her in one quick, furious movement.

‘Let me go,’ she shrieked, struggling to pull her arms free as his large hands clamped on them like manacles.

‘The finger routine. I got to hand it to you, I never thought I’d fall for that one.’

Striking blue eyes stared daggers at her out of a face that would have done Michelangelo proud. The man was quite simply beautiful. Jessie gulped, momentarily transfixed, taking in the high, slashing cheekbones, the rakish stubble on his chin and the dare-devil scar across his left eyebrow. Adonis or not, his face was as hard as granite. He looked ready to murder someone and, from the way his fingers dug into her arms, she knew exactly who it was.

Her heart rate shot up to warp speed. Don’t pass out, you silly cow. This is no time to panic. Twisting, Jessie kicked out with her bare foot and connected with his shin.

‘Ow! Stop that, you little…’ he yelled, yanking her towards him and wrapping his arms around her.

‘Let me go. You—you trespasser.’ With her face pressed against the soft, curling hair on his chest, the demand came out on a muffled squeak. The smell of fresh, wet male was overpowering. She lifted her knee, intending to stamp on his foot, but before she could make contact he tensed and shot backwards.

‘Watch out!’

His hands let go. Jessie turned, poised to bolt for freedom, but he grabbed her from behind. Strong arms banded under her breasts, he lifted her off the ground as if she weighed nothing at all. She kicked, frantically, but he was holding her so close, so tight, she couldn’t get any leverage.

Okay, now was the perfect time to panic.

‘My sister’s in the house with a shotgun,’ she squealed.

‘Yeah, right.’ His arms tightened, cutting off more of her air supply. ‘You’re a danger to society, you know that?’

The buzzing in Jessie’s ears became deafening. She was going to faint. His whole body was wrapped around her. His size, his strength, overwhelmed her. Why hadn’t she listened to Ali? How the hell did she always get into these situations? And how was she going to get out of this one?

The whisper of his breathing against her ear made her shudder.

What would Bruce do now? Think, woman, think. ‘I’m warning you,’ she said, through gritted teeth. ‘If you don’t let me go, I’ll hurt you, a lot.’



Monroe’s lips twitched. Having gotten over the humiliation of falling for his captive’s harebrained stunt, he had to admire her gall. The threat was ridiculous. She was close to a foot shorter than him and slender, too, despite the impressive curves he could feel pressed against his forearms. ‘You’re a real firecracker, aren’t you?’

She must have heard the admiration in his voice, because she went very still. He loosened his arms a little. He should probably let her go and get the hell out of here, but she felt good in his arms, round and soft in all the right places. He wasn’t going to hurt her, but he figured she deserved a little payback. After all, she’d scared the hell out of him.

‘So how exactly are you going to hurt me?’ He purred the words in her ear.

‘You don’t frighten me, you complete sod.’

‘Sod, huh?’ He grinned; her clipped, precise accent made her sound like the lady of the manor addressing one of her peasants. It made him think of all those summers he’d spent in London as a kid with his English grandmother. It was one of the very few good memories from his childhood. He grinned. ‘You are English, I’d know that accent anywhere. Hell, I’m half English myself. Kind of.’

‘Isn’t that flipping lovely for you?’

Funny, but she didn’t remind him of prim and proper Granny Lacey one bit.

‘Tut-tut.’ He inhaled the heady scent from her wildly curling hair. ‘And my sweet little granny always used to say English manners were the best in the world.’

‘I’ll give you manners,’ she snarled, wriggling some more.

He laughed, really starting to enjoy himself. She was rigid in his arms, but he could feel her chest heaving with fury. He could imagine that pretty face of hers, glowing with temper. High cheekbones, smooth peach-toned skin, the sprinkle of freckles across her pert little nose, and those large, expressive sea-green eyes. He’d only glimpsed her face for a moment, but it had made a hell of an impression. She struggled again, and the firm swell of her butt pressed against his naked belly through the clingy little dress she had on.

The strong surge of arousal surprised him. He tightened his arms. She smelled good, too. ‘You know, you’re cute.’ He smiled, nuzzling her hair. ‘When you’re not trying to kill me.’

‘You are so going to die,’ she snapped back.

‘Get your hands off her!’

Monroe’s head jerked up.

A man with a savage scowl on his face marched across the patio towards them. The little girl skipping along beside him didn’t make him look any less threatening. Monroe registered the heavily pregnant woman behind them, but kept his gaze focused on the big guy.

The situation didn’t seem quite so funny any more.

‘Damn it.’ Monroe let go of Miss Firecracker. She turned, glared at him, her green eyes sparking with fury, and then dashed over to the pregnant lady.

‘Who are you and what the hell are you doing on my property?’ the man bellowed.

Monroe held up his hands and tried to think fast. The guy was maybe an inch over his own six feet two and well built, but the tailored pants and pricey designer polo shirt he wore made him look rich and cultured. Monroe figured he could take him. But he couldn’t swing at the guy when he had a kid beside him. And he didn’t want to add assault to a trespassing charge if the cops arrived. Which left diplomacy as his only option.

‘I just took a swim in your pool. I thought the place was empty.’

‘Well, it’s not.’ The big guy ground the words out, his ice-blue eyes blazing with temper. ‘Stay with Jessie, Emmy,’ he said as he pushed the little girl behind him.

Monroe spotted Miss Firecracker take hold of the child’s hand. The redhead was still glaring at him—and starting to look very self-satisfied.

The guy pushed the sleeves of his polo shirt up forearms that were ridged with muscle. ‘I’m going to teach this idiot a lesson.’

A sick feeling in his gut, Monroe realised he’d have to take the punch. He closed his eyes, braced for the pain.

Then the pregnant lady shouted, ‘Stop, Linc, stop!’

When nothing happened, Monroe risked opening one eye. The woman had a hold of the man’s arm but she was staring right at him. ‘Who are you?’ she asked softly.

‘Nobody, ma’am. All I took was a swim.’ If only he could just deck the guy and get out of here.

‘You’re Monroe.’ She said the words so quietly, Monroe wasn’t sure he’d heard her right.

‘What the hell is going on?’ Mr Furious shouted back, still busting to take a swing at him.

‘Linc, he’s your brother. Can’t you see the resemblance?’

Oh, hell. It hit Monroe just who these people were. He tried to swallow past the boulder in his throat, but his mouth had gone bone-dry. All he’d wanted was a quick swim and now look what he’d done.

‘Monroe?’ The big guy looked as if he’d taken a punch to the gut. Monroe knew how he felt.

He hadn’t seen that face since he was ten years old, but now that he looked at it properly, Monroe recognised it all right. The guy had the same clear blue eyes as he did. And that mouth, that chin—didn’t he see virtually the same ones in the mirror every time he remembered to shave?

‘I should split,’ Monroe mumbled.

Every one of them—his brother, the pregnant lady, who he figured must be his brother’s wife, even the little girl and the woman with the flaming hair—was staring at him as if he’d grown two heads.

‘I never thought I’d see you again.’ His brother’s voice was thready, his eyes shadowed.

‘It’s no big deal. It’s a mistake. I shouldn’t have used your pool.’ Boy, was that the truth.

‘I don’t give a damn about the pool,’ his brother said weakly.

‘I need to go.’ Monroe glanced at Miss Firecracker. She wasn’t looking smug any more. Her face had gone stoplight-red to match that rioting hair.

His brother’s wife stepped forward. ‘You can’t go, Monroe.’ Her deep green eyes were steady on his. ‘You and Linc have a lot of catching up to do. We want you to stay for a while. That’s why we invited you.’

She seemed as if she meant it. Monroe felt honour-bound to set her straight. He didn’t belong here; couldn’t she see that? ‘Look, ma’am, it’s nice of you to ask me—’ he huffed out a breath ‘—but I’m going to get on my way.’

He heard his brother curse, but his wife just shook her head, sadly. ‘You’re Linc’s brother. You’re family, Monroe. We want little Emily here to get to know you. You’re her uncle.’

Monroe’s gaze flicked to the little girl who was whispering furiously to Miss Firecracker and gazing at him in that penetrating way only kids could pull off.

He wasn’t her uncle. He wasn’t anyone’s family.

‘I’m Ali, by the way, Linc’s wife,’ the pregnant woman continued. ‘That’s our daughter Emmy and my sister Jessie.’

Monroe gave a stiff nod, the little girl waved back at him and said, ‘Hi,’ but the redhead just continued to stare at him. She didn’t look anywhere near as welcoming as her sister.

‘We’ve got five bedrooms in this place, Monroe,’ his sister-in-law said as her fingers settled on his arm. ‘Surely you can stay for a while and get to know us all.’ The determination on her face told him there was no way she was going to let him bolt. The sinking sensation in his stomach dipped lower.

‘I’m not staying in your home.’ On that, he was firm.

‘There’s an apartment above the garage that will give you privacy.’

Monroe wondered if his sister-in-law had been a steamroller in a former life.

‘Linc, why don’t you take your brother into the house? Get him a beer, and then you can show him where he’ll be staying.’

‘Sure. Grab your stuff, Roe.’

The nickname reverberated in Monroe’s mind, no one had called him that in close to twenty years.

‘I think we both deserve a beer,’ Linc said as he gave him a rueful smile. The crooked twist of his lips stabbed at Monroe’s memory again.

‘Hold on.’ He hadn’t agreed to anything, had he? But as he tried to form a protest, his sister-in-law picked up his T-shirt and shoved it on top of the boots in his arms.

‘Hell,’ Monroe grumbled as the brother he’d never intended to see again led him into his home.



Jessie gaped at her would-be trespasser as he padded past her, carrying his boots and T-shirt with a bewildered look on his face. If she could just get her jaw off the floor, she might be able to speak.

Linc had a brother? She’d had no idea.

‘Can you believe that?’ Ali’s face beamed. ‘I wrote that letter to his old probation officer over a year ago on an off chance. I can’t believe he’s finally here.’

‘His probation officer!’ Jessie choked out the words. ‘So he really is a criminal!’

‘Don’t sound so shocked. He was little more than a child when he went to jail. From what Jerry Myers told me, he’s been clean as a whistle for the last fourteen years.’

Jessie didn’t believe it. Did law-abiding citizens sneak into other people’s houses and use their pools? Did they manhandle women they didn’t even know? She didn’t think so.

‘By the way—’ Ali sent her a saucy smile ‘—you guys looked like you were having fun when we arrived.’

Jessie stiffened. ‘I thought he was a trespasser or worse. I wasn’t having fun. I was trying to get away from him.’

‘I see.’ Ali looked doubtful. ‘So that would explain why he was whispering sweet nothings in your ear, then, would it?’

Jessie’s cheeks flamed. ‘Actually, he was being rude and obnoxious.’ She glared at her sister. ‘He was having a ball trying to scare me to death.’

‘It serves you right for haring off to confront him in the first place.’

‘What?’

Ali waved away Jessie’s indignant shout. ‘Come on. We better get in there and make sure Linc doesn’t let him get away.’

‘I’m not going in there,’ Jessie snapped back. ‘I never want to see That Man again.’

‘Jess, you can’t avoid Monroe. If Linc and I have our way, he’ll be here for a while.’

What was wrong with her sister? Couldn’t she see the guy was trouble with a capital T? ‘I think you and Linc are insane for inviting him, Ali. You don’t even know him.’

The twinkle in Ali’s eyes dimmed. ‘I’m sorry I teased you. I shouldn’t have. What happened by the pool was probably a bit of a shock.’

‘I’ll say.’ At last, Ali was seeing sense.

‘But you’re going to have to apologise to Monroe about it.’

‘You can’t be serious.’ Was her sister insane? ‘I’m not apologising to him. He was trespassing.’

‘No, he wasn’t,’ Ali replied softly. ‘We invited him, remember?’

‘But that’s not the point.’

‘Look, Jess. I can’t explain this thing with Linc and Monroe to you properly. It’s complicated. It has to do with their childhood.’

‘Really?’ A kernel of curiosity pierced Jessie’s anger.

Jessie knew there was something wrong with Linc’s family—the only person he’d ever mentioned was his British grandmother who’d died years ago. From the little Jessie knew, he’d spent his summers with her as a child, but he never spoke about the American side of his family and neither did Ali. But still, having met That Man, she wasn’t convinced Linc needed to get to know him again. The guy had ‘deadbeat’ written all over him.

‘I can’t tell you about it, Jess. Linc wouldn’t want me to.’ Ali paused, seemed to struggle to find the right words. ‘Since we had Emmy, it’s been important to Linc to find his brother. He may not be able to have a relationship with Monroe. But the fact that he’s here is important. Linc needs to make sure he’s okay.’

Jessie looked at her sister and thought she understood.

Ali and Linc were such fantastic parents, they just naturally wanted to watch over everyone. It was the thing she admired most about them. Their devotion to Emmy and to each other had made her yearn for a home and a family of her own.

Jessie didn’t think for a minute that the man who had been taking a dip in their pool needed anyone to watch over him. She could see, though, she wasn’t going to be able to convince her sister of that. She heaved a sigh of frustration. ‘If it’s that important, I won’t get involved.’

‘Jess, you are involved. You’re here and so is he. Couldn’t you make peace with him? I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable. It’s taken us years to find him and get him here. I want Linc and him to have a chance.’

Put like that, what choice did Jessie have? Ali and Linc had done so much for her. They’d comforted her when she’d broken up with Toby. She was sure they’d only invited her to stay with them this summer because they’d been worried about her. She could never refuse them anything.

‘Oh, all right.’ But she’d be keeping her eye on Linc’s bad-boy brother. No one took advantage of her family.

‘Great.’ Ali’s eyes warmed. ‘Once Linc has helped Monroe settle into the garage apartment, why don’t you go over there with some clean sheets and towels? Show him there are no hard feelings, then you could invite him back to the house for dinner.’

Jessie groaned as her sister waddled off towards the house.

Flipping fantastic! How exactly had she gone from being Bruce Willis in Die Hard 2 to the welcoming committee from The Stepford Wives?




CHAPTER TWO


‘NICE place you got here,’ Monroe said to Linc as they walked through the lush landscaped gardens towards the garage. Talk about an understatement, Monroe thought. A spread like this must have cost well into the millions.

There had to be at least two acres of grounds. They came to the large three-car garage, nestled at the end of the estate. Monroe was glad to see the two-storey building was a good distance from the main house, constructed in the same wood and glass.

Monroe knew his brother had done well for himself, built his own computer software company up from scratch. Monroe had picked up on a few magazine articles over the years about the Latimer Corporation and its successes. Still, he’d never given any thought to what that meant. His brother was a stranger, so why would he? But now his brother’s wealth was staring him right in the face, he could see Linc and he weren’t just strangers. They were from different worlds.

‘It does the job,’ Linc replied mildly.

Linc led the way round the side of the building. Monroe followed his brother up the outside steps.

‘Your wife’s English, right?’ Maybe a bit of polite conversation would help ease the knot in his gut.

‘Ali, yeah. We live in London most of the year, her family’s there. But we vacation every summer in Long Island. We’ll be here through September.’

‘Right,’ Monroe grunted. No way would he be here that long. Hearing the affection in his brother’s voice as he talked about his family had made the knot in Monroe’s gut tighten.

Linc opened the door to the apartment and flicked on the main light switch. Recessed spotlights illuminated the spacious, airy room. With a new kitchen and breakfast bar on one side and a comfortable, expensively furnished living area on the other, the room looked clean, modern and barely used.

‘It’s only two rooms and a bath,’ Linc said.

Two rooms or not, it was the most luxurious accommodation Monroe had seen let alone stayed in for a very long time.

‘It’s a good thing we had it fixed up over the winter,’ Linc said, opening the French doors at the end of the room that led onto a small balcony. ‘Or we wouldn’t have had a place to offer you.’

Monroe frowned. He needed to put the brakes on, before Linc got the wrong idea. ‘It’s nice of you to offer. But I don’t know if I’ll be staying more than a night. I’ve got stuff to do in New York and I don’t have a lot of dough at the moment.’

It wasn’t the truth. He’d worked like a dog the last six months so he could afford to spend a few clear months painting. He had stacks of sketches stuffed in his duffel bag that he wanted to get on canvas. He’d had a vague offer to tend bar that came with a room in Brooklyn where he’d been hoping to settle while he got it done.

Painting was Monroe Latimer’s secret passion. Ever since he’d taken one of the art classes they’d offered during his second stretch inside, painting had been his lifeline. In those early days, it had been an escape from the ugliness and the sheer boredom of life in a cage. After he’d got out, it was the thing that had kept him centred, kept him sane. He always gave the pictures away or simply burned them when he had to move on. The process was the only thing that mattered to him. Making the oils work for him and putting the visions in his head onto canvas. He didn’t need family and possessions. He could put up with the drudgery of dead-end jobs and enjoy his rootless existence, if every six months or so he got the chance to stop and create.

He wasn’t about to tell his brother any of that, though. After all, he didn’t know the guy.

‘Monroe, if you’re short right now, surely it’d be good to crash here for a while.’

Monroe stiffened. Pride was the one thing he never compromised.

The irony of the situation, though, didn’t escape him.

When he’d been sixteen and desperate, after his first stretch in juvie, he’d been prepared to do anything to survive. Mooching off his rich brother back then wouldn’t have bothered him; in fact, he would probably have enjoyed screwing the guy over. But in all of the years since, Monroe Latimer had learned a lot about self-control and a whole lot more about self-respect. He’d sworn to himself after that second stretch that he would never go back to that horror again. To do that, he’d stayed clean, and he’d learned to rely on nobody but himself.

‘I’m not a freeloader.’ Monroe forced the words out, trying to quell his annoyance.

Linc sighed, his voice weary. ‘I know that, but you are family.’

‘I’m not family.’ Monroe watched his brother frown at the words. Tough. He needed to get this straight once and for all. ‘We weren’t that close as kids, but even if we had been, that was a million years ago. You’re not obligated to me any more than I am to you. We’re strangers.’

‘All right, stop.’ Linc held up his hand. ‘I understand what you’re saying, Roe,’ he said slowly. ‘Like you say, we’re strangers. Don’t you think I don’t know that?’

‘Then why the hell did you invite me?’

‘Why did you come?’

The quick rejoinder had Monroe stumbling to a halt. Why the hell had he come? ‘I don’t know. Just curious, I guess.’

‘Well, maybe that’s enough for now.’ Linc walked across the living area. ‘Let me at least show you the rest of the place, before you run out on us.’

Monroe was thinking he should do just that when Linc flung open the door to the apartment’s bedroom and his mind went blank.

The wall of glass at the far side of the room flooded it with mid-afternoon light. He could see the pool patio across the gardens, and the ocean beyond. Surf tumbled onto shore on an empty beach of white sand. The view was stunning, but it wasn’t that which made his blood slow, his heart thud against his chest. With its walls painted pristine white and only a bed and a small chest for furniture, the room was so bright and airy, he’d never seen a better place to paint. Always before, he’d had to be satisfied with dingy rented rooms or, one memorable summer, a broken-down trailer next to a car dump in Virginia. He’d never had a studio before, had never thought he wanted one, but, seeing the play of sunlight across one wall, he wanted this one.

‘You like it?’ Linc’s question interrupted his thoughts.

‘Yeah, I do.’ Monroe couldn’t disguise the leap of joy in his voice. He refused to let his doubts surface. Couldn’t he have this one thing, just for a little while? He’d pay his way; he’d make sure of it. ‘Looks like you’ve got a house guest for a while.’

‘Great.’ Linc smiled back at him.

‘But what I said about being a freeloader still goes.’ Monroe walked to the glass and peered down at the garden below. ‘You got anyone to do your yard work?’

Linc frowned as he stood beside him, looked down, too. ‘No, the old guy who used to do it’s having trouble with his arthritis. I figured I’d hire a local kid to keep it under control till Dan gets back on his feet.’

‘No need.’ Monroe took his eyes away from the window. ‘While I’m here, I’ll handle it. Looks like the lawn could use a cut. You got a mower in the garage?’

‘Yes, but…’ Linc’s eyes narrowed. ‘Monroe, I don’t want you doing the yard work. It isn’t necessary.’

‘It is to me.’

Linc didn’t look pleased. ‘Fine. I guess I don’t have a problem with you cutting the grass every once in a while.’

Monroe figured there were probably a lot of jobs needed doing about the place. From what he’d seen so far, the house and gardens were huge and, oddly for rich folks, they didn’t seem to have much hired help. He reckoned if he devoted his mornings to helping out around the place, it’d go some way to paying his brother back for the opportunity to paint in this glorious room.



Jessie replayed her humiliating encounter with Monroe in her head for the thousandth time as she strolled over to the garage apartment, her arms loaded down with fresh linens.

By organising an outing to the local ice cream parlour with Emmy, she’d managed to delay her next encounter with That Man for a good three hours. Unfortunately, out of sight had not meant out of her mind. Of course, Emmy’s endless chatter about her ‘cool new uncle’ over the hot fudge sundaes hadn’t helped. But it was the memory of his naked chest pressed against her back that kept slamming back into her thoughts every ten seconds or so. Not to mention all the daft things she’d said and done before that.

Her palms dampened on the white cotton sheets as she mounted the steps to his door. Oh, this was ridiculous. He was just a guy, and a supremely irritating one at that, if their first meeting was anything to go by. She’d promised Ali that she would apologise and that was going to be hard enough, but she absolutely was not going to dissolve in a puddle at his feet as she had almost done by the pool.

Telling the butterflies in her stomach to go away, Jessie tapped on the door. No answer. She raised her fist to knock again when it swung open.

‘Oh!’ The sight of the tanned naked chest in front of her, glistening with sweat, had her gaping in shock.

‘Hey, it’s the bad cop. Jessie, right?’

Jessie’s eyes shot up to his face. His hair, she noticed, was a dark, burnished blond when it was dry, streaked with gold. With a red and white bandanna tied round his forehead, his tanned, angular face and that thin scar across his brow, he looked like some beautiful Apache sun god, she thought in amazement. Then she spotted the glint of amusement in his riveting blue eyes.

‘Don’t you ever wear a shirt?’ she snapped.

He grinned, sending some really annoying dimples into his cheeks. ‘Not when it’s hot and I’m doing manual labour.’

‘Or when you’re pinching a swim in someone else’s pool.’ The snide remark was out before she could stop it. There was something about the sight of those perfect pectoral muscles, or maybe it was the tantalising sprinkling of chest hair across them, that just seemed to bring out her inner bitch.

‘Well…’ The cool amusement in his voice made her bristle ‘…I figure swimming in your clothes is kind of dumb.’

At that precise moment, Jessie recalled exactly what he had—or rather had not—been wearing when she’d first spotted him and her traitorous skin flushed with colour.



Monroe watched the vivid pink flood her cheeks and grinned some more. No doubt about it, the woman was seriously cute. That mass of curly red hair, which was tied back but hardly tamed, and those round sea-green eyes. With the peaches-and-cream skin and high cheekbones, her face was made up of enchanting contrasts. He glanced down at her slim, shapely legs, showcased by the short skirt of her sundress. Her top half was hidden behind the pile of linens she carried, but he could still remember the feel of her lush breasts pressed against his forearm. She certainly came in one enticing little package.



Jessie hadn’t missed the quick but thorough once-over. The flash of warmth and appreciation she’d seen in his eyes wasn’t doing a thing for the burning in her cheeks. How humiliating. ‘What are you grinning at?’

‘Just admiring the scenery.’

Jessie sent him what she hoped was a withering glance. Unperturbed, he leaned forward and plucked the sheets out of her arms.

‘Come on in.’ He bumped open the door with his butt and strolled into the room.

Jessie stepped gingerly across the threshold. Calm down, woman, and don’t show him how much he unnerves you. She was trying to think of a neutral comment when she spotted the bed frame leaning against the far wall. ‘What are you doing to the furniture?’

He dumped the sheets on the sofa. ‘No need to get ants in your pants. I’m not stealing it.’

Jessie could see the stiff set of his shoulders and suddenly felt ashamed of herself.

She’d promised Ali she’d make peace with him, instead she’d been nasty as soon as he’d opened the door. ‘I didn’t think you were stealing it,’ she said quietly.

‘You sure about that?’ She heard the humour in his voice, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes as he studied her.

She swallowed. ‘Of course I am. I was just curious. Is there something wrong with the bed frame?’ The intense look in his eyes was making her jumpy again.

He shrugged. ‘No, I’m just moving it in here. I’ve got plans for the other room.’

‘Well, that solves that mystery.’ She brushed her hands down her dress. ‘You’re obviously busy. I’ll leave you to it.’

‘Hey, hold up.’ He walked up to her, blocking her exit. ‘You’re not still pissed about what happened by the pool, are you?’

Of course she was. ‘Of course I’m not.’

‘You are, aren’t you?’ That slow, infuriating grin spread across his face, shooting those irresistible dimples back into his cheeks. ‘You’ve got that fired-up look in your eyes.’ He flicked a finger at her ponytail. ‘Suits you—goes with the hair.’

He was laughing at her again. How infuriating. Jessie put on her best queen-to-serf voice. ‘Thank you very much. I don’t think I’ve ever had such an original compliment.’

She tried to walk past him, but he simply reached out and took hold of her upper arm. The warmth of his hard, callused fingers was such a surprise, she yelped.

‘Don’t panic.’ Despite the quiet tone, he continued to hold her in place.

‘Let go!’ Her voice came out in a breathless rush. He stood so close she could smell him, the musty, but not unpleasant, scent of fresh male sweat.

He dropped his hand, then held the palm up as if in surrender. ‘No harm done. I just figured I should say sorry, for earlier.’

The contrite words would be more convincing, Jessie thought, if his eyes weren’t dancing with amusement.

She took a quick step back. She really, really wanted to wipe that smile off his face. Tell him he was an overbearing oaf who needed to learn some manners. But she couldn’t. His words had reminded her of her promise to Ali.

She was supposed to be apologising to him, not the other way round. Because she couldn’t bear to see him laugh at her when she did it, she looked down at her feet. ‘That’s okay. I guess I was quite rude to you, too.’

She mumbled the words, but when he didn’t say anything she was forced to look up. He wasn’t smiling any more. In fact, he looked astonished. ‘Are you kidding me?’

‘No, I’m not.’ Jessie bit back her annoyance. Why was he making this so difficult? ‘My sister pointed out that, since you were invited here, you were the wronged party, so I should apologise to you.’

‘Is that right?’ He tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans; his lips twitched. ‘So it was big sis that put you up to this. She make you come over with the linens, too?’

Irritated by his perception, Jessie kept her tone even. ‘I’m trying to give you a simple and sincere apology. What exactly is your problem?’

‘Simple, yeah. Sincere?’ He considered the question for a moment. ‘I don’t think so.’

Jessie glared at him. Sod diplomacy. ‘You really are insufferable, aren’t you?’

He laughed then, the gesture making his handsome face relax in a way that was ludicrously appealing. Jessie glared at him some more, determined not to notice it.

‘Like I said, Red. You’re cute when you’re mad.’

Jessie’s belly tightened at the hot look in his eyes and the gruff way he said the new nickname. ‘I’m leaving. I did my best,’ she said as she stalked over to the door.

She could hear him laughing harder as she wrenched the door open. She was just about to slam it behind her, though, when she remembered something else.

Turning back, she was dismayed to see he’d followed her. Gripping the door, he leaned against it and grinned down at her. ‘What is it, Red? You got something else to apologise for?’

Ignoring the teasing glint in his eyes, Jessie stepped back onto the landing. ‘Believe me, that’s the only apology you’ll ever get out of me.’

‘Now that’s a shame, when you’re so good at it.’

For a deadbeat, he certainly had an answer for everything.

‘My sister wanted to invite you to dinner this evening at the house.’ She spat the words out. ‘About seven o’clock. I’m sure you can find your own way there.’

Duty done, Jessie stomped off down the stairs. Just as she reached the bottom he called after her. ‘Hey, Red. You gonna be there?’

She looked back over her shoulder. ‘Of course I am.’

He let his gaze drift down to her butt and back. ‘Be sure and tell your sister I’ll be there, then. I wouldn’t want to miss telling her all about that sweet apology you gave me.’

As Jessie stormed off she could hear his deep rumbling laugh all the way past the garage.




CHAPTER THREE


‘DID you and Monroe get everything settled, then?’ Ali asked as she placed a large plate of cold cuts on the dining table.

‘Umm-hmm.’ Jessie dropped her head and concentrated on chopping the tomatoes. ‘I made my peace with him as requested.’ And if he said anything different, she would see to it personally that he suffered.

‘And you apologised, for what happened by the pool?’

Jessie suppressed the tug of guilt and dumped the last of the tomatoes into the salad.

‘Yes, Ali.’ Jessie gave an impatient sigh. ‘I apologised to him.’ Even though it had nearly killed her.

‘And a real nice apology it was, too.’

Both sisters turned to see Monroe standing at the door.

In a newer pair of jeans and a faded blue T-shirt with a Harley Davidson logo, he looked as neat and presentable as Jessie had ever seen him. But as he sauntered into the room with that long, tawny-blond hair, the day-old stubble on his chin and a devil-may-care glint in his eyes, he didn’t exactly look safe.

‘It’s got to be one of the sweetest apologies I’ve ever had.’ He winked at Jessie as he said it and she felt herself flush.

He was laying it on thick to embarrass her. The rat.

‘Monroe, I’m so glad you came.’ Ali greeted him with a warm smile.

‘You’re welcome, ma’am.’

‘Take a seat and Jess’ll get you a drink. I’ll just go and get Linc. He’s reading Emmy a bedtime story.’

As Ali bustled out of the room Jessie busied herself putting the last of the food on the table. She pretended not to notice as Monroe folded his long frame into the chair opposite.

‘A beer would be great, Red.’ He said the nickname in a murmur that was deliberately familiar. Jessie looked up. He was watching her, confident and amused. ‘Cute dress.’ He tilted his head to one side, took a good long look. ‘Fits you just right.’

Jessie felt her pulse skid into overdrive. She wasn’t sure why she’d decided to change into the figure-hugging silk dress for dinner, but it certainly hadn’t been to see that flare of heat in his eyes.

‘I’ll get your beer.’ She walked stiffly to the fridge. The low, masculine chuckle from behind her made her jaws tighten. Where were Linc and Ali? If she had to spend much longer alone with him, she’d dump the beer on his head.

Jessie didn’t miss the teasing heat in Monroe’s gaze when she plunked the glass of beer in front of him. Lounging in the chair, his lean, muscular physique looked magnificent. Her pulse thudded against her neck. Why did all the best-looking men have the most aggravating personalities?

‘Thanks, Red.’ He picked up the glass; one brow lifted as he eyed the huge foam head. ‘Looks like you need a little practice with your bartending skills, though.’

She smiled sweetly at him. ‘I’m sorry to say I don’t have the time. I’m too busy making obsequious apologies to people who don’t deserve them.’

He barked out a laugh just as Linc and Ali walked into the room.

‘Monroe, good to see you.’ Linc held out a hand. ‘I hope Jessie’s making you feel at home.’

‘She certainly is,’ Monroe said smoothly as he stood up and shook his brother’s hand.

As they all settled down to eat, Jessie couldn’t resist sticking her tongue out at him from behind her sister’s back. He winked back, making her regret the childish gesture. She’d ignore him, she thought, as she picked up her knife and fork. Now, if only she could swallow, too.



Monroe thought the dinner would be stiff and formal, but he found it surprisingly easy to talk to his brother and sister-in-law. He hadn’t eaten since a stale bagel that morning in an interstate truck stop, so the mouth-watering selection of salads and cold cuts also went down well.

He’d expected lots of probing questions about what the hell he’d been doing all this time while his brother had made a staggering success of his life. Instead Linc and Ali kept their inquiries discreet and when he didn’t elaborate they seemed more than happy to take up the slack, telling him funny stories about their family and how they’d first met.

Monroe hadn’t missed the intimate looks that passed from husband to wife during the telling. He also noticed the way his brother never seemed to miss an opportunity to touch his wife.

The gentle, possessive hand resting on the small of her back when she sat down to eat. The way his fingers stroked her arm when she passed him the salad bowl. The love between them was so tangible, Monroe was touched despite his determination to remain aloof.

Monroe liked watching people. It helped him create the pictures he painted. But while he could see the love between Linc and his wife, he was more interested in the reaction of Ali’s sister. He had seen the shadow of longing in Jessie’s eyes.

When Linc and Ali left the table to get the dessert, Monroe kept his eyes on Jessie. She watched the couple walk over to the large open kitchen together, the yearning in her eyes obvious when Linc pulled his wife into a fleeting embrace behind the breakfast bar. What was Jessie thinking, he wondered, with that romantic look in her eyes?

She turned suddenly, and caught him studying her.

‘Will you stop staring at me? It happens to be flipping rude.’

It was the first time she’d spoken to him directly since handing him his beer. The exasperation in her voice made him smile.

‘So’s swearing at the table, Red, but you don’t hear me complaining.’



Would she never be able to get the last word with this man? Jessie thought as her teeth ground together.

To her surprise, the dinner hadn’t been as excruciating as she thought it would be. For an ex-con and obvious reprobate he could be charming when he wanted to be. Although she noticed he’d been cleverly evasive whenever Ali or Linc had asked him about his life. He just said he’d been ‘on the move.’ Well, okay, she didn’t exactly have a spectacular career at the moment, but she did have goals, objectives. At the very least, she did a bit more than just travel around on a motorbike.

She’d also caught him staring at her several times during the meal. That last probing look, when she’d been daydreaming about having a marriage like Linc and Ali’s, had really unsettled her. The strange sense of envy she felt was one of her most shameful secrets.

‘Flipping is hardly a swear word,’ she whispered, so Linc and Ali wouldn’t overhear them. ‘It’s just an expression.’

‘Red, anything’s a swear word when you say it with that look in your eye.’

She choked down her pithy response when Ali appeared with a huge lemon pie.

‘I hope you’ve still got some room left, Monroe,’ Ai said, placing the pie on the table.

Monroe leaned back and patted his flat belly. ‘I might just have a little.’

The pie was served as soon as Linc arrived with a gallon of ice cream. Avoiding Monroe’s gaze, which seemed to be fixed on her yet again, Jessie gave Linc her sweetest smile. ‘I thought I’d go into town tomorrow and beg the people at the Cranford Art Gallery for the Saturday job they’ve been advertising. Could I borrow the BMW?’

‘Sorry, Jess.’ Linc scooped some more ice cream onto his plate. ‘It’s making a weird noise. I’m planning to get the guy at the shop to take a look at it.’

‘I’ll give it a look.’

Linc stopped eating at Monroe’s casual comment. ‘There’s no need.’

Monroe forked up another generous piece of pie, sent his brother a level look. ‘Sure there is.’

Jessie could see Linc was on the verge of refusing again, when Ali touched his arm, silencing him. Ali beamed a smile at Monroe. ‘That’s great, Monroe. It’ll save us the trouble of having to call the mechanic.’

Jessie wondered at the sudden tension in the room between the two men. It was also odd that Monroe had made the offer. After all, wasn’t he supposed to be a deadbeat? She shrugged the thought aside; it made no difference to her what he was. She turned to Ali. ‘Are you using the people carrier tomorrow?’

Ali nodded. ‘Linc and I promised Emmy we’d go to the funfair at Pleasance Beach. Maybe we could drop you off in town and then pick you up later. Did you have a particular time in mind?’

‘It’s okay. That’ll take you miles out of your way.’ Jessie couldn’t help feeling a little crestfallen. She’d wanted to get to the gallery tomorrow. She needed to find a job.

‘You can catch a ride with me on the Harley,’ Monroe said. ‘I’ve got to go into town and pick up some groceries. I’ve got a spare helmet.’

Jessie stared at him. Surely he couldn’t be serious. ‘No, really, it’s no problem. I’ll go in another day.’

‘Don’t be silly, Jessie,’ Ali piped up. ‘If Monroe’s offering you should—’

‘I couldn’t possibly trouble him like that,’ Jessie interrupted her sister and aimed a telling look at Monroe. His lips curved slowly. Why did she suddenly feel like a mouse being stalked by a tomcat?

‘No trouble. No trouble at all.’ He stood up, smiled at Ali. ‘Thanks again for the dinner. It was delicious.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Ali beamed at him as Linc rose and offered to see him out.

Just as he got to the door, Monroe turned and gave Jessie another of those winks that made her pulse scramble.

‘See you in the morning, Red. Better put on some pants, though.’ His gaze crept down and then back up, making her face heat. ‘That little bit of a dress won’t wear too well on the Harley.’

Jessie scowled as his tall frame strolled out the door ahead of Linc. How annoying that he’d gone and got the last word in again.




CHAPTER FOUR


THE next day dawned bright and clear, the sluggish heat kept at bay by a cool breeze off the Atlantic.

Jessie got up with Emmy, made a quick breakfast of cereal and toast for them both, and then handed her over to Linc and Ali. From the flushed look on her sister’s face after the lie-in Jessie had promised the couple, it looked as if they hadn’t been doing much sleeping.

Jessie ignored the stab of envy as she went upstairs to have her shower. Her sister had a fabulous marriage to a fabulous man. When Jessie had been a bridesmaid at their wedding, she’d known that theirs was the ideal marriage—full of passion but grounded in a deep, abiding love. It was the sort of marriage Jessie wanted for herself.

So far, though, things hadn’t quite worked out that way.

It had taken her two long years and one broken engagement to realise Toby was about as far from her ideal mate as it was possible to get. She had thought he loved her, when the only person he really loved was himself.

She’d tried so hard to persuade herself that Toby was ‘the one.’ When he’d asked her to marry him, she’d been swept up in the romance of the moment. But the minute she’d said yes, a little voice in her head had started telling her to run like mad in the opposite direction. She’d been naïve and immature; she could see that now. The huge sense of relief when they had finally gone their separate ways had made Jessie determined never to make that mistake again. However glad she’d been to see the back of Toby, the relationship had left her with the depressing thought that she might never find what Ali had.

Heck, at twenty-six she’d never had halfway decent sex, let alone great sex. When Toby had accused her of being frigid, she’d had to accept that he might well be right. He’d never once stirred the passion in her that Linc so obviously stirred in Ali. She hadn’t so much as kissed a guy since she’d hurled Toby’s engagement ring at him six long months ago. Worse than that, she hadn’t even wanted to.

Determined not to let the creeping sense of despair take hold, Jessie wrapped the towel around her and walked to the closet. After careful consideration, she picked out a chic but simple shift dress with large sunflowers on it. She needed to look hip and stylish if she was going to persuade the art gallery to take her on as a Saturday assistant. Cranford might be a small seaside town, but it was no backwater. A tourist Mecca for the Hamptons’ super-rich and aspirational summer residents, the gallery and its clientele would be as sophisticated as any you’d find in Uptown Manhattan.

Jessie had promised Ali that she’d help out with Emmy until the family went back to London in September. But she hoped to get a Saturday job to earn some much-needed money in the meantime. Linc had insisted on paying all her expenses to get her over here, but Jessie didn’t want him giving her spending money as well. He’d already tried to give her a credit card, which she’d flatly refused, but in the end she’d persuaded him to help her get a temporary working visa. Also, a job in an art gallery was just up her street. She loved art, and, while she’d accepted she didn’t have the talent to be an artist herself, she had always hoped to whittle out a career in the art world. She’d spent six long months drifting since the breakup with Toby. It was time to get her life back on track. Ali handled her life calmly and competently, Jessie thought. If she wanted what Ali had, she needed to start doing the same.

At that thought, the memory of Monroe Latimer watching her in the dining room the night before, his pure blue eyes alight with amusement, blasted into her brain and wouldn’t get out again. Jessie frowned. He might have the goods in the looks department, but luckily for her she was not a shallow person. It hadn’t taken her long to see he was a long way short of her ideal mate in every other department. Flirtatious, arrogant and dangerously attractive, he could make any woman lose sight of what was really important. And for Jessie that was the long haul, not the quick flash-fire of sexual attraction.

Remembering Monroe’s parting comment about the proper bike attire with not a little irritation, Jessie slipped into the dress and then pulled on a pair of jeans. She’d just have to take them off when she got to town. After dabbing on some lipstick, Jessie slipped a pair of yellow slingback sandals into her bag and tugged on her sneakers. She tied her hair into a ruthless ponytail and checked herself in the room’s full-length cheval mirror.

Yep, she looked preposterous.

At least her daft get-up should stop Monroe staring at her in that disconcerting way. She wasn’t looking forward to riding on his bike. Despite all his shortcomings, she had the uncomfortable feeling that being pressed up against that muscular back for the ten-mile ride into town might stir feelings she didn’t want stirred. Quite why she was more sexually aware of him than she had ever been of any other man didn’t bear thinking about.



‘Damn it!’ Monroe pulled his hand out from under the car’s hood and watched the blood seep out of the shallow scrape.

‘Did you hurt yourself?’

Turning at the voice, Monroe watched Jessie walk across the garage towards him. She should have looked ridiculous with denim on under the floating, flowery dress, but she didn’t. She looked chic and summery. His eyes dipped to her cleavage, demurely displayed above the dress’s scoop neck. Sucking the blood from his knuckle, he took in every detail.

‘I certainly hope it’s not fatal?’ The sharp note in her voice suggested she hoped exactly the opposite. He grinned as his gaze lifted back up to her face.

Pulling a bandanna out of his back pocket, he leaned against the car’s hood. ‘You know, Red,’ he said as he wrapped the cloth round his hand, ‘that figure of yours would look great in just about anything.’ And even better out of anything, Monroe thought, enjoying the way her eyes narrowed in irritation.

Trying to ignore the way her pulse was racing, Jessie fingered her bag strap and glared at him. ‘While your fashion advice is certainly invaluable, I can see you’re busy. Maybe I should come back later.’ Or not at all, she added silently, already feeling unpleasantly flustered.

‘No need.’ He pushed up from the car’s hood. ‘I’ll go clean up and then we can head out.’ He walked towards her, forcing her to tilt her head back. ‘It’d be a shame not to, Red. Now that you’re all dolled up.’

She watched him mount the steps to his apartment. He made it sound as if she’d dressed up especially for him. The conceited jerk.

Monroe took less than ten minutes, but Jessie was just about to walk off, her heart rate still hitching uncomfortably, when he reappeared. He had a fresh white T-shirt on, the same worn jeans, a small plaster on his hand and a motorbike helmet slung over his arm.

‘This is for you.’ He handed her the helmet. ‘The bike’s out front.’ As she turned to walk ahead of him she felt his palm on the small of her back. The minimal contact made her jump.

‘Easy, Red.’ He lifted his hand. ‘Just being polite.’

Jessie didn’t think so, from the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, but didn’t trust herself to speak. When they reached the bike, she fumbled for a moment trying to put her helmet on, before he lifted it out of her hands.

He did a circular motion with his finger. ‘Turn around.’

She did as he asked, grabbing her hair when he deftly removed the band holding it in a ponytail. ‘What are you doing?’ she demanded as his fingers combed through her hair.

He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. ‘It’ll be more comfortable like that, with the helmet on.’

He rewarded her scowl with another heart-thumping smile as he placed the helmet on her head and fastened the strap. The light brush of his fingers seemed to burn the soft skin under her chin. This was going to be a nightmare. She hadn’t even got on the bike yet and already she felt as if she were about to explode.

Unhooking his own helmet from the handlebar, he put it on and then climbed onto the enormous machine. ‘Hop on, Red.’

It took several attempts before she managed to clamber up behind him. She had to push her feet hard on the footrests and grasp the back of the seat to stop from sliding against him. She was grateful for the jeans now, because her dress had ridden right up to her waist.

‘I’m ready,’ she said, feeling like an idiot.

Instead of starting the machine, he took his hands off the handlebars, pulled off his helmet and turned round. ‘You ever ride a motorcycle before, Red?’

‘Well, no, not exactly.’ She didn’t like that smug look in his eyes.

‘First rule, hold on tight.’

‘I am holding on tight.’ Her knuckles ached, she was gripping the seat so hard.

He shook his head. ‘Not onto the bike, sweetheart—onto me.’

‘Why can’t I just hold onto the bike?’ She could hear the whine in her voice, but couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to hold onto him.

‘Because when we hit a curve, you’re going to have to lean with me.’ His lips quirked. What was so amusing? ‘Wouldn’t want you falling off.’

He was talking to her as if she were an imbecile. ‘Fine. I’ll hold onto you.’

He grinned, the dimples winking in his cheeks, before he turned and put his helmet back on. To her utter shock, he reached behind, put two large hands on her thighs and dragged her towards him. Before she could blink, she was snuggled against him, her legs spread wide to accommodate his denim-clad butt.

‘Now, put your arms round my waist.’

She didn’t want to, but what choice did she have? She wrapped her arms round him, tried to ignore the feel of his hard, flat stomach beneath her palms. His back felt firm and warm against the thin silk of her dress. He pushed back to kick the bike into life. The powerful vibrations of the machine rumbled up through her thighs, making Jessie painfully aware of all the places where their bodies touched. The very core of her started to throb. How humiliating. His shoulder shifted as he gripped the clutch and her nipples hardened. Worried that he might be able to feel them, she wriggled back, but his hand simply came round again and pulled her back.

‘Stay put, Red, and hold on.’

As soon as he shouted the words at her, the big black machine started to roar up the small hill. Although it was probably only going ten miles per hour up the drive, Jessie tightened her grip on him, grateful for the solid, sure feel of him in front of her. As the breeze caught the ends of her hair beneath the helmet she pressed into his back.

By the time they hit the main coastal road, Jessie couldn’t have cared less if she were naked behind him. The exhilarating feeling of speed and freedom as the scenery whizzed by around them and the wind whipping at her arms and face was fantastic. She loved roller-coaster rides but this was better. Every time they leaned into a bend, her stomach leapt up into her throat and she gripped onto his waist even tighter. He felt wonderful, warm and strong and unyielding. She could smell the clean scent of his cotton T-shirt and the subtle hint of soap and motor oil. The hard, sculpted muscles of his butt rubbed against her centre every time he moved his foot on the gears and her nipples were so hard now she was sure they were boring a hole in his back.

Despite the intimacy, the devastating effect he was having on her physically, she sighed when they drove into the main thoroughfare of town, disappointed that the ride was over so quickly. He slowed the bike down to a gentle purr as he drove through the wide, tree-lined main street of the picturesque seaside town, finally pulling to a stop in front of the grocery store.

Jessie took a moment before peeling herself off him and leaning back. He tugged off his helmet, and a huge grin split his face as he turned round. ‘What did you think?’

‘It’s fantastic!’ Her voice was muffled by the helmet but giddy with pleasure.

‘You liked it, huh?’

She nodded, grinning back at him. As she tried to undo the helmet strap with shaking fingers, he brushed her hands aside and did the job for her, lifting it off her head. ‘You’re a real biker chick now, Red.’



The feel of her lush body wrapped around him had made Monroe’s jeans uncomfortably tight, but he couldn’t help smiling at the look of pure pleasure on her face. Seeing a small mark on her forehead, he rubbed it softly with his thumb. ‘Looks like you could do with a better helmet, though.’

‘Don’t worry about that. It felt wonderful. Everything felt wonderful. It was so exciting. No wonder you’ve spent all those years riding around on your motorbike.’

There was no censure in her words, none of the disdain that she had shown him last night, only joy and enthusiasm. With her emerald eyes sparkling, her hair curling wildly and the pink glow of pleasure flushing her cheeks, she looked gorgeous.

He wanted to kiss her so badly it hurt.

Stunned by the sudden reckless urge, Monroe swung back round and concentrated on attaching the helmet to the handlebars.

‘You better climb down first,’ he muttered.



Jessie stared at his back as she hopped off the Harley. What had happened? One minute he’d been smiling at her, enjoying the moment with her, and then, all of a sudden, he’d as good as dismissed her.

She adjusted her bag as he lifted his leg over the bike.

‘Thanks for the ride. It was…’ She babbled to a halt, seeing the intensity in his eyes as he turned to her. She wetted her lips with the tip of her tongue and his gaze shot down to her mouth. ‘It was really fun.’ The words came out on a feeble whisper. What was going on here? Why was he staring at her mouth like that? She felt light-headed and she didn’t know why.

‘You’re welcome, Red.’ The nickname sounded anything but casual. ‘See that diner?’ He nodded across the street. ‘I’ll hang out there when I’m finished till you’re ready to head back.’

The instant thrill at the thought of being back on the bike with him was followed by uncertainty. Maybe she’d enjoyed the ride too much.

‘I might be a while.’

‘Take all the time you need. I’m in no hurry.’

As Jessie walked away from him she was sure she could feel his eyes following her all the way down the street.



After an hour of trying to sell herself to Mrs Belinda Bennett, the proprietor of the Cranford Art Gallery, Jessie was frazzled. She’d chewed off most of her lipstick during the interview, but the hard sell had been worth it. Mrs Bennett had agreed to give her the job of Saturday sales assistant on a trial basis.

Feeling worn out but enthusiastic, Jessie forgot to feel nervous as she wandered into the small coffee house Monroe had indicated. She spotted him immediately, lounging in a booth opposite the door. He looked relaxed and gorgeous with a few sacks of shopping on the seat opposite.

‘Hi.’ She waved. ‘I hope you haven’t been here long.’

He slid out of the booth as she walked up to it. ‘Not long. I was about to order pancakes.’ His gaze took a leisurely journey down to her feet, now encased in the flattering yellow sling-backs, and then came back up again. Jessie’s nerves came back full force when he smiled. ‘It looks even better without the denim,’ he said.

‘Thanks.’ Her voice quivered annoyingly as she slipped into the booth.

‘Move over,’ he said.

She’d expected him to lift up the bags opposite and sit there, but instead he pushed onto the bench seat beside her, nudging her with his hips. When he leant back and put his long, muscled forearm on the seat behind her, she realised she was totally boxed in.

‘So how did it go—you get the job?’

‘Yes, I start on Saturday.’

‘Hey, way to go.’ He patted her shoulder. ‘How about we order pancakes and coffee to celebrate?’

‘That would be lovely, thanks.’

He seemed genuinely pleased for her, so she tried not to notice the way his long, firm thigh was touching her leg. The thin silk of her dress did nothing to protect her against the warm pressure.

As he ordered two short stacks with coffee for them, Jessie noticed the way the teenage waitress blushed profusely. Did he have that potent effect on every woman he met?

‘Looks like you’ve been busy, too.’ She nodded at his purchases, spotting the logo of the town’s expensive art supply shop. ‘What did you get at Melville’s?’

‘Sketching charcoal, a couple of brushes, stuff like that.’

‘Do you paint, then?’

‘Sure, a little.’

‘Really? That’s wonderful. Are you any good?’

He took his arm away from behind her, looked away. ‘I don’t know and I don’t really give a damn.’

The statement was abrupt and rude, and so out of keeping with his usual easygoing manner, Jessie felt instantly contrite. Somehow she’d insulted him.

‘I’m sorry.’ She touched his arm. ‘I only asked because I love art and I’m absolutely useless at it myself.’

He glanced down at her fingers, gave a stiff jerk of his shoulders. ‘No harm done.’

‘Here you go, folks, two short stacks straight up.’ The teenager beamed at Monroe as she placed the pancakes and mugs of coffee in front of them.

‘This looks great, Shelby.’ He smiled at the girl, reading the name off the blue tag on her uniform. Jessie watched the waitress flush again before she rushed off.

‘What sort of things do you paint?’ Jessie asked quietly as Monroe concentrated on drowning his plate in syrup.

He didn’t reply. She waited as he swallowed a generous helping of pancakes and syrup. He nodded towards her plate. ‘You not hungry?’

‘I was just wondering about what you paint,’ she repeated, feeling a little foolish now but determined to get an answer out of him.

‘I haven’t done any yet.’

‘Yes, but, when you have, what will you paint?’

‘They don’t taste as good cold, you know,’ he said, looking at her plate again.

Jessie remained silent. He wasn’t meeting her eyes. Why was he being so evasive? But as she watched him take a sip from his coffee it occurred to her. He was shy about his artwork. It seemed so unlikely, but it was the only answer that made sense. The thought made him seem vulnerable, all of a sudden, maybe even a little bit sweet.

She waited. Finally, he stopped eating, turned to her. ‘Look, it’s no big deal, all right? It’s just a dumb hobby.’

‘I’m still curious what sort of painting you do. I mean, is it abstract, expressionism, more traditional like portraiture, landscapes? I’m really interested in art. Looking at it, appreciating it, visiting art galleries—those are a few of my dumb hobbies.’

He let out a breath, put down his fork. He was shy. He looked almost as uncomfortable now as when Ali had identified him at the pool the day before.

‘It’s mostly people, landscapes, any stuff that catches my eye and I want to put it on canvas. But you won’t see any of it in an art gallery, that’s for sure.’ He eyed her plate again. ‘If you don’t want them, I’ll eat them.’

‘Okay, okay, I’ll eat them.’ Jessie picked up the maple syrup and swirled it over her stack, feeling ridiculously pleased that she’d managed to get him to talk about his artwork. After finishing a mouthful, she smiled at him, her mouth sticky. ‘Mmm, these are delicious.’

Licking her lips, she caught the quick flick of his eyes down to her mouth. Her belly tightened. Okay, so maybe sweet wasn’t quite the right word for him.



Having insisted on paying for their pancakes and leaving what Jessie thought was an excessive tip for the smitten Shelby, Monroe guided her out of the coffee shop.

Given that he lived on a shoestring and had very few possessions, she thought it odd that he was so generous with his money. She began to feel a little ashamed about what she’d said to Ali yesterday. He might be poor, but he was no deadbeat.

She had watched his hands while they ate. Long, thin fingers and wide palms—they were really beautiful. He had an artist’s hands. She wondered again about what sort of things he painted. He’d neatly steered the conversation away from his artwork after she’d started eating and she’d let him, even though the subject intrigued her enormously. Not just because she loved art, but because his unwillingness to speak about it had made him seem a lot less cocksure and confident.

She could feel the pressure on the small of her back from his palm as he steered her out of the diner. She couldn’t ignore the warmth in her middle at the contact. He still made her nervous. Men as good-looking as he was would always make her feel a little inadequate. Then there was that aura of wildness and danger about him that was unlike anyone she had ever known before. But she had to admit that he was starting to fascinate her.

They walked across the street in silence, but as they reached the bike Jessie remembered her bare legs. ‘Would you mind waiting a minute while I go and put my jeans back on?’

He glanced at her legs. ‘Sure. Seems like a shame, though.’

She was busy quelling the little flutter of excitement at his words when she spotted a familiar face coming out of the grocery store. ‘Oh, no.’

Monroe gave her a quizzical look as he opened the saddlebags on the back of the Harley. ‘What’s the problem?’

‘It’s Bradley Dexter. I don’t want him to spot me,’ Jessie whispered as she ducked behind Monroe.

Bradley Dexter III was the son of Linc and Ali’s nearest neighbour. Pampered and idle, he thought his red sports car was an extension of his personality and had turned out to be as persistent as a woodworm after Jessie had met him on the beach a few weeks before. She might be hard up, but she was not that hard up.

Jessie realised she was too late to avoid another annoying encounter, though, when the well-muscled young man in the surfer’s standard uniform of board shorts and vest-top walked up to them. ‘Hiya, Jessie. How’ya doing?’



Monroe heard the sigh from behind him before Jessie appeared at his side.

‘Hello, Bradley.’

‘We’ve got a beach party going tonight at the Sunspot. You wanna come along?’ The guy’s eyes dipped down Jessie’s frame in a way Monroe didn’t like one bit. ‘You could wear that bitching little bikini I saw you in last week.’

Monroe thought he could hear Jessie’s teeth grinding together. ‘That’s nice of you, Bradley, but I think I’m busy.’ She touched Monroe’s arm. ‘This is Monroe, by the way. Monroe Latimer—he’s Linc’s brother.’

Bradley gave Monroe an absent glance. ‘Sure, nice to meet you, dude. I guess you could come, too. But I get first dibs on the babe here.’ He winked at Jessie, the hunger in his eyes unmistakable. Seeing Jessie blush and stiffen, Monroe felt his anger rise.

He put a firm hand on Jessie’s hip and pulled her to his side. Ignoring her quick intake of breath, he gave Bradley a sharp stare.

‘I don’t think so, dude.’ He had the surfer’s attention now. ‘I don’t share.’

Bradley stepped back, his Adam’s apple bobbing. ‘Sure, man, no problem.’ He gave Jessie a nervous wave, his gaze fixed on Monroe. ‘See ya ’round, Jess,’ he said and scurried off.



‘What was that about?’ Jessie shrugged off Monroe’s arm.

‘I was getting rid of Bradley the wolf for you.’

‘I don’t need your protection, thank you.’

Miserably embarrassed, Jessie stepped past Monroe but was pulled up short when he put his hands on her hips, tugged her into his arms. ‘He’s looking back,’ he whispered in her ear as he nuzzled her neck. Shock waves shot through her whole system. ‘Let’s show him we mean business.’

‘What?’

Jessie had no chance to react. No chance to register his intent. Strong fingers combed through her hair, angled her head slightly and then his lips were on hers. The move was so smooth, so fluid, Jessie could only gasp before his mouth covered hers.

The contact was electric. His mouth was firm and commanding on hers, his tongue exploring and then retreating in a clever rhythm that robbed her of thought. He kept one hand on her head, anchoring her to him, while the other swept down, moulding her curves before settling firmly on her bottom and pulling her even closer.

The rough feel of his jeans against her legs, the strong, solid feel of his chest against her breasts were so unyielding she felt as if she were being smothered. Her response though was unstoppable. Her mouth opened wider as her tongue tangled with his. He lifted his head for a moment and her breath gushed out, but then his lips were back on hers again. His teeth bit into her bottom lip. She began to pant, feeling dazed, delirious.

Then, suddenly, it was over.

‘There.’ His voice sounded dim because of the blood pounding in her ears. ‘That ought to convince him.’

Jessie blinked up at him, her face flooding with heat as she registered the words through the fog of arousal. It was as if she’d been doused with ice water. She shoved him, her arms still shaking from need. ‘You bastard.’

He held onto her arm. ‘What’s wrong, Red?’

She was so angry she could have spat at him. He was smiling at her, as if it had all been a game. The terrible tug of need and desire still throbbing in her belly only made her feel more humiliated. ‘You had no right…’ Her voice shook. ‘You had no right to do that.’



Monroe could see the sheen of moisture in her eyes and hated himself for it. He wanted to taste her again. God, he wanted to strip her naked and bury himself inside her. Her response to the simple kiss had been electrifying. He was hard as a rock and throbbing painfully in his jeans. It was a major struggle to keep the carefree smile on his face. ‘I was just trying to help you out with Bradley. What’s the big deal?’

It was a lie. He’d wanted to kiss her ever since he’d laid eyes on her. That he’d been unable to resist her wasn’t something he wanted to admit, though, even to himself.

‘I didn’t ask for your help.’ Jessie’s words came out on a broken sob. Desperate not to let him see her break, she struggled out of his grasp.

‘No harm done. It was just a little kiss.’

He made it sound like nothing at all. It would only make her seem like an idiot if she let him see how much more it had meant to her. Biting her lip to keep the tears back, Jessie gripped the strap of her bag with unsteady fingers. She had to get away from him.

He tucked a finger under her chin, his eyes clouded with concern. ‘Hey, I’m sorry.’

Was that pity in his eyes? Jessie pushed his hand away, forced her eyes to go flat and remote. ‘It’s okay, Monroe.’ She’d made enough of a spectacle of herself already. ‘Like you said, it was nothing.’ She whirled away from him.





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