Книга - Soaring On Love

Soaring On Love
Joy Avery


Flights of passionWhen her engagement party is crashed by her fiancé’s mistress, Tressa Washington will do anything to escape the disastrous aftermath. Even stow away in the back of a guest’s SUV. And when she tells Roth Lexington to “just drive,” the handsome aerospace engineer does exactly that. In his snowbound mountain cabin, mutual attraction ignites a scorching affair…Roth has three rules: never be vulnerable, always wake up alone and stay in control. Thanks to Tressa, he’s broken them all. One beautiful, sensual night becomes many, but once they leave their haven behind, mistrust and meddling exes intervene. Soon he faces a choice: watch this stunning, adventurous woman walk away or finally let his guard down. Roth will quickly learn that in order to reach the heights of love, you have to be willing to fall…







Flights of passion

When her engagement party is crashed by her fiancé’s mistress, Tressa Washington will do anything to escape the disastrous aftermath. Even stow away in the back of a guest’s SUV. And when she tells Roth Lexington to “just drive,” the handsome aerospace engineer does exactly that. In his snowbound mountain cabin, mutual attraction ignites a scorching affair...

Roth has three rules: never be vulnerable, always wake up alone and stay in control. Thanks to Tressa, he’s broken them all. One beautiful, sensual night becomes many, but once they leave their haven behind, mistrust and meddling exes intervene. Soon he faces a choice: watch this stunning, adventurous woman walk away or finally let his guard down. Roth will quickly learn that in order to reach the heights of love, you have to be willing to fall...


“Something clearly exists between us, Roth. Something that gives me so much peace it scares me.”

He hummed a sound that could have been interpreted as understanding or confusion, then his arms tightened around her a hint more. Was that his way of saying he felt the same way? She needed him to use words.

“Why are you afraid of me, Roth?” That was the only logical explanation. The only thing that made sense.

Roth chuckled, the smooth, sexy sound caressing her ears.

He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. “Woman, do you really think I’m afraid of you?”

There was no need to be, but she replied, “Yes.”

“I’m not afraid, Tressa. Just cautious.”

“Am I a risk?”

“Yes,” he said without blinking.

Now they were getting somewhere. “Am I one worth taking?” She could tell by the way he studied her that the question had caught him off guard. Bringing her mouth within inches of his, she teased him in the same way he’d teased her earlier. “Am I a risk worth taking, Roth?”

His jaw tensed, relaxed, then tensed again. “Yeah, I think you are,” he said in a low tone of surrender.


Dear Reader (#uacdae8c6-7e96-5a30-b5c0-5e7f44fbae14),

Thank you so much for purchasing Soaring on Love! Whether you’re trying one of my novels for the very first time or are already a #joyaveryromance reader, your support is everything. I appreciate each and every one of you!

Because of his past, Roth would consider himself a hard man to love. It’s a darn good thing Tressa doesn’t see it this way. Nothing can break down barriers quicker than love. Just wait and see...

I hope you enjoy Tressa and Roth’s love story just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Until next time, HAPPY READING!

Love and light,

Joy

By the way: I love interacting with readers, so let’s connect:

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authorjoyavery@gmail.com


Soaring on Love

Joy Avery






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


JOY AVERY works as a customer service assistant. By night, the North Carolina native travels to imaginary worlds—creating characters whose romantic journeys invariably end happily ever after.

Since she was a young girl growing up in Garner, Joy knew she wanted to write. Stumbling onto romance novels, she discovered her passion for love stories; instantly, she knew these were the type of stories she wanted to pen.

Joy is married with one child. When not writing, she enjoys reading, cake decorating, pretending to expertly play the piano, driving her husband insane and playing with her two dogs.


Dedicated to the dream.


Acknowledgments (#uacdae8c6-7e96-5a30-b5c0-5e7f44fbae14)

To everyone who made this book possible... THANK YOU!

To everyone who has supported me on this glorious journey... THANK YOU!

To my readers... THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!

A special THANK YOU to my Joyrider Street Team. You ladies are priceless!

A special, special THANK YOU to my editor Shannon Criss! You made this possible. I will forever be grateful!


Contents

Cover (#u9f8d33a8-0bae-5c53-893c-5cecf1fee134)

Back Cover Text (#u0d3e91d2-d956-5b88-9e53-9ee6571215dd)

Introduction (#uf1509c71-ca35-5758-ac9a-ee1764054c1e)

Dear Reader (#ub2d60658-2ffa-58e7-89ef-b7c7e22c5d86)

Title Page (#uf3f8dc1d-0440-5d76-9af6-e55087bed388)

About the Author (#ud9b3f0af-0402-50ed-a066-92c7085a8923)

Dedication (#u918a0821-c302-5e69-9a17-ce726b57b861)

Acknowledgments (#ucb667b2f-edec-5b0b-9d80-893d9b110804)

Chapter 1 (#u2f4607e3-dc4b-55a1-922b-b4d7abe9760b)

Chapter 2 (#u51c8486c-f927-58f5-acdd-16d31206dc54)

Chapter 3 (#udb81b745-7cd0-5dc4-bdb2-c1c5f93dba81)

Chapter 4 (#u27a9f4d4-aae2-5348-b6ac-0cb804e40724)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter 1 (#uacdae8c6-7e96-5a30-b5c0-5e7f44fbae14)

Roth Lexington leaned against the banister of the upper-level balcony inside The Underground Jazz House—The Underground, for short—nursing a glass of bourbon. The amber liquid had always been his drink of choice, ever since he’d taken his first sip at thirteen. “It’ll make you a man,” he’d been told. He was definitely a man, but he wasn’t sure the bourbon had anything to do with it.

Taking a swig, he savored the earthy notes. A fire flared in his chest, but it wasn’t from the whiskey. This inferno ignited from envy. With a tight jaw, he observed the partygoers below. He soaked in their laughs, their smiles, their congratulatory hugs and handshakes for the future bride and groom.

Normally, nothing soothed him like a smooth beverage and the silky sounds of jazz, but neither did much for him now. And he knew why. The reason stood several feet below him in the form of the sexiest woman in the room. Also, the guest of honor at this engagement party he’d reluctantly attended.

Tressa Washington.

Since the first time he’d laid eyes on the ravishing ER nurse several months ago in his best friend’s living room, she’d danced in his thoughts. Danced sensual moves. Provocative moves. Seductive moves. Moves that had forced him awake in a hot sweat on several occasions. In his thirty-six years, he couldn’t recall a woman ever having this kind of effect on him.

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all.

Stunning in a fitted off-white jumpsuit, Tressa stood out among the sixty or so people in attendance. Tiny curls framed her round face, lightly touched with makeup. Though she didn’t need any makeup at all, really. That was how stunning she was.

Engulfed in conversation with a group of women, her lips—the ones he craved to leave kiss swelled and aching—curled into a smile, and those dimples he’d grown to adore pierced her chocolate-brown cheeks. His gaze burned a heated path along her voluptuous body, stopping briefly to appreciate her ample breasts. They’d fit in his grasp perfectly.

It took a real man to handle dangerous curves like hers. And as he’d stated before, he was a man.

A knot tightened in his stomach. How he’d love to suckle nipples he’d teased with his thumbs to tautness. He curtailed his thoughts when he felt a tightening in his boxers. Wearing a hard-on for the bride-to-be in the middle of her engagement party would be a shit thing to do. But dammit, he couldn’t help that Tressa turned him all the way on. He wanted her so badly he ached. Forbidden fruit was always so damn tempting.

Loud laughter drew his attention to Tressa’s fiancé. Cyrus Williams. Even the thought of the man’s name put a sour taste in his mouth. A cornball name for a cornball. Damn he hated that man. Or more accurately, envied him. Cyrus had something he wanted—Tressa’s warm body pressed up against his.

Pushing his envy aside, Roth still got a bad vibe from this Cyrus character. He’d always been good at reading people and something about Tressa’s soon-to-be husband screamed shady. Roth blew out a heavy breath. But Cyrus was none of his business, and neither was Tressa. And if he told himself that a few more hundred times, maybe he’d actually be convinced. He slid his eyes back to her.

As if sensing his ogling, Tressa shifted in his direction. The instant their gazes locked, a lightning bolt of desire seared through him. She smiled at him in that warm, welcoming manner he’d become accustomed to. A smile like that wasn’t easily forgotten. But that was exactly what he needed to do. Forget. Forget that soul-stirring gesture and the woman donning it.

Tressa’s best friend, Vivian—his best friend Alonso’s wife—said something that drew Tressa’s attention. Tressa slid her gaze away, allowing him to breathe again. Maybe he was being absurd, but he’d got the feeling she’d regretted ending their connection just as much as he had. Yeah, absurd.

Alonso clapped him on the shoulder. “Careful. The way you’re staring at the bride could give someone the wrong idea. Namely, her soon-to-be husband.” He laughed.

She wasn’t a bride yet.

Roth and Alonso had been friends since way back. Over the years, Alonso had kept him out of so much trouble and got him into his fair share, as well. He didn’t trust many people, but he trusted Alonso with his life.

Roth continued, still coveting something he’d never have, “You know if this was back in the day, she’d be mine, right?”

Yes, it was a cocky statement but also a true one. When he was young and dumb, he would not have hesitated to pursue Tressa at full throttle, regardless of her situation. Luckily for Cyrus, he’d become a far better man than he’d once been.

Alonso chuckled. “Trust me, I know. I’m surprised you came. You sounded a little iffy when we talked earlier.”

Roth pulled his attention away from Tressa before he overheated. Taking another swig from his glass, he paused for a moment to savor the rich flavors. “Figured I’d swing by on my way out of town.”

“Out of town?”

“Headed to my place in the mountains.”

Alonso quirked a brow. “Alone?”

“That’s a good question.” Powerless against it, he sought out Tressa again. When their gazes locked, electricity—raw and powerful—slammed through him, causing a puff of air to escape. What in the hell was that? Alarm triggered his defenses, sending flares up like Fourth of July fireworks. He needed rescuing.

“You all right, man?” Alonso asked.

No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t be all right until he’d got Tressa out of his system.

* * *

As one of the women went on and on about something, Tressa slid an inconspicuous glance to her watch—a flashy piece packed with diamonds—that Cyrus had given her as an engagement gift. He was good at giving expensive gifts. She just wished he were as generous with his time. In the past two weeks, they’d barely seen one another. As an investment banker, he should understand the importance of investing in the future, as well as in the right commodities.

She gave an occasional nod and displaced smile, just to present the illusion of listening. Will this party ever end? It’d only been an hour since her family and friends had all gathered to celebrate what should have been one of the most exciting nights of her life.

It wasn’t.

There were a number of reasons she could have rattled off as to why, but the most severe one hovered above like a sexy gargoyle watching over the city.

Roth Lexington.

Simply thinking his name made her insides flutter. Then she scolded her body for the defiant act. Plenty of times she warned her system against responding to Roth. And plenty of times it’d disobeyed her.

Don’t look at him. I repeat, do not look at him.

As if her body would choose today of all days to start listening to her. Defiant. Her brain sent her gaze to the balcony. The man was as tempting as the glowing hot-doughnut sign at Krispy Kreme. Who in the hell could resist? Definitely not her. But in this case, she had to. She was getting married.

Roth stood chatting with his best friend, Alonso. The mere sight of him pounded her insides like a sensual jackhammer against stubborn concrete. From any angle, he was gorgeous. Tall, a few inches over six feet, a body that would be the envy of any athletic trainer, skin the tone of the best imported cocoa beans and a gleaming smile that rivaled the sun. That damn smile. In a quiet setting, it could hypnotize a woman into doing reckless things. Trust her, she knew.

When Roth’s attention slid to her, she gasped from the shock of awareness that scorched her soul. He flashed a half smile. She returned the gesture, then yanked her focus away from him before she melted into a puddle of lust in the middle of her own engagement party.

Damn. Why did that man cloud her better judgment and distort her common sense? Stop it, Tressa! You’re getting married in one month. February 18, she reminded herself. But looking was okay, right? As long as she didn’t touch. She gnawed at the corner of her lip. But she had touched. Oh, God, how she wanted to touch again.

She’d never been the unfaithful type, but when Roth had pulled her into his arms and kissed her senseless, she hadn’t done a damn thing to break free. A reel of the kiss in her best friend’s kitchen played in her head. Recalling how good his mouth had felt pressed against hers caused her lips to tingle. She touched two fingers to them.

It’d been the best damn kiss she’d ever experienced in her life. They’d both agreed that what had happened had been a huge mistake and had vowed to never mention it again. But a kiss like that haunted you. It wasn’t something easily purged from your system. But, Lord, had she tried to purge it, along with this ornate desire to... To what? What did she really want from Roth?

Everything, she ruefully admitted. So why in the hell was she about to marry another man? Because Cyrus is the right choice. She eyed the gaudy diamond on her finger. So why didn’t she feel the same exhilaration when she looked at Cyrus as she did when she eyed Roth? It’ll come, she told herself. Give it time.

The air in the room grew thick, and she struggled to breathe. Was she having a panic attack? Fresh air. She needed fresh air. Weaving her way through the crowd, she escaped unseen through a side door. On the massive stone patio, she sucked in a few deep breaths. After several minutes her pounding heart returned to its normal steady beat. But she still felt as if she were plummeting.

The chill of the winter night air jarred her, making her regret not grabbing a jacket. She cradled herself in her arms to generate some heat. Closing her eyes, she appreciated the stillness of the night. But even the tranquil setting couldn’t silence her thoughts and they popped right back open, the world rushing in.

Fools rush in.

She wasn’t sure why the phrase blared at full volume in her thoughts. Fools rush in. Was she rushing into this? At thirty-four, shouldn’t she be married? Some of her friends were already married with several kids. Her mother’s voice played in her head and she smiled. If your friends jumped off a roof, would you jump, too?

No, Mommy, but... She sighed. Her biological clock was tick, tick, ticking away. She wanted kids. A houseful of germy, whiny, adorable, lovable kids. She thought about Jamison and her eyes burned with impending tears. Pushing thoughts of the boy away, she refocused.

Cyrus is a good man. An honorable man. A respectable man. So why did it feel like she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life?

Tilting her head heavenward, she whispered, “God, please give me a sign.”

“Escaping your own party?” The voice came from behind.

Tressa flinched. That was fast. Ignoring Roth as the sign—for now—she turned toward him. No man should have been allowed to look that damn good in a simple black suit. On any other man, it would have been forgettable apparel. Something told her this image would linger in her thoughts all night.

Finding her words, she said, “Um...no. Not escaping. I just needed some fresh air. So many people inside. It’s a bit stuffy. How’d you know I was out here?”

Roth leaned against the banister, crossing his legs at the ankle. “Instinct, I guess.”

Instinct, her ass. She’d felt the caress of his eyes on her all night. She may have escaped everyone else, but she hadn’t escaped his watchful eye. “And here I am, believing I’d made a clean getaway.”

“Getaway, huh? What—or who—are you running from?”

Curious eyes probed her. “No one.”

“Hmm.”

Why did that hmm sound so accusing? Roth straightened to his full height. They stood in silence for a moment, simply staring at one another. The intensity in his eyes made her knees wobble, but she refused to turn away. If he wanted to assert dominance, he’d have to find a less willful opponent.

Then he folded his arms across his chest and the move rattled her, because his biceps blossomed into cannonballs and strained against the tailored suit coat—it fit him far too well to be off-the-rack.

“So, fresh air is the only reason you’re out here?” he said.

Regrouping, Tressa said, “What other reason would there be?”

He shrugged one wide shoulder. “I don’t know. It looked like you were having some kind of anxiety attack. I came out to check on you.”

Tressa released a nervous laugh. “What? No. An anxiety attack?” She brushed his accurate words off. “No.” How was he diagnosing her with anything? He was an aerospace engineer, not a doctor. But the fact that he was concerned about her warmed her insides. “I’m fine. Like I said, it was stuffy in there. I came out—”

“For fresh air,” he said, completing her sentence.

“Yeah.” A corner of his mouth lifted into a sexy smile and she chastised herself for staring so hard at his lips. Lifting her eyes to his, she mumbled, “I’m just fine.”

“Good. You’re going to catch your death out here, Nurse Washington.” Roth removed his suit coat and draped it over her shoulders. “Better?”

Lost in his manly scent, she mumbled, “You smell fantastic.” Immediately realizing she’d actually said the words out loud, her cheeks burned with awkwardness. “Um, yes. Better. Thank you. W-what about you? Now you’re going to catch your death or at least pneumonia.” She’d been around Roth plenty. Why now was she turning into a bumbling fool?

“I don’t get sick,” he said.

Roth slid his hands into his pockets. The move caused his biceps to flex again, and she imagined wrapping her hands around them as he made slow, sweet love to her. “I see. You muscle—muscle—must,” she spit out. “You must have a strong immune system.” Bumbling fool.

“I guess so. You and your fiancé seem happy together.”

The odd timing of his words took her by surprise. “Thank you.” She shifted away from him before he saw the uncertainty in her eyes and stared out into the darkness. Were she and Cyrus a doting couple? Was that what people saw when they looked at them—happiness?

Roth leaned in slightly. “Are you happy?”

Alarmed by the question, Tressa snapped, “Yes. Why would you ask that?” Then she regretted the sharp bite in her tone.

Roth pulled one hand from his pocket and flashed a palm. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just...” He shrugged. “It’s just that most women seem over the moon when they’re about to walk down the aisle.”

Was he suggesting she wasn’t over the moon? She was plenty over the damn moon. “Yeah, well, I’m not most women.”

“Oh, I definitely know this.”

A glint of something flashed in his demanding brown eyes and it smoothed her ruffled feathers. Again, their gazes held for a long, quiet, intense moment. Were these probing glances power plays between them, or was it that when they looked at each other, they simply became lost in each other’s souls? There was something soothing about the way Roth looked at her, a look that could polish rough edges.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your fresh air. Congratulations again on your engagement. Good night.”

Tressa’s brow furrowed. “Wait.” The word came too urgently. “You’re not leaving, are you? The party, I mean.” Why did the possibility bother her so much?

“Shortly. I promised two of your aunts dances, and I don’t make promises I can’t keep. Then I need to get on the road before it gets too late.”

Yeah, her aunts—and several other of her female family members—had grown quite fond of Roth. Alonso, too. But Vivian had intervened on that one, crushing all of their dreams about her man. “On the road?”

“I have a cabin in Silver Point. The mountains,” he clarified. “About four hours away.”

“Huh.”

“Don’t look so surprised.”

“It’s not that. I just took you for more of a city dweller.”

“I love being in the mountains. No one near for miles. Absolute peace and quiet. I can go on my deck and play my sax as early or as late as I want without disturbing a soul.” His brow furrowed. “That reminds me. I don’t think I locked my vehicle.” Obviously, he noticed Tressa’s where-did-that-come-from expression. “Juliette’s in there—my saxophone.”

“You call your saxophone Juliette?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Tressa recalled the first and last time she’d watched him play his sax. It was the most alluring thing she’d ever witnessed. He’d made absolute love to the instrument. The way he’d held it, caressed it, wrapped his lips around it... Her cheeks heated just thinking about him playing her like a saxophone.

What is wrong with you? You are about to be a married woman. Her mother would be so disappointed in her for lusting over one man while engaged to another. She massaged the side of her neck. “So, the mountains?”

Roth continued, “Mountain air is great for clearing the mind and rejuvenating the soul.”

Sounded like her kind of place. “You sound like a travel brochure. I’ve never been to the mountains.” The declaration sounded as if she was trolling for an invite. She kicked herself.

“Really?”

She nodded.

“Well, anytime you and your husband want to get away, let me know. You’re more than welcome to use my place. It’s not much, but it’s cozy and intimate. The perfect escape for a couple in love.”

A couple in love. Boy, he was laying it on thick. Tressa returned her attention to the darkness.

“Tressa, are you sure—”

Whipping toward him, she said, “Yes, I’m sure I want to marry Cyrus. Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“I...was actually going to ask you if you were sure standing in this cold was a good idea.”

She eyed Roth dumbly, her level of embarrassment soaring to unprecedented heights. “Oh.” Compassion danced in Roth’s eyes as he scrutinized her. No doubt he saw right through her. How was that possible?

Standing dangerously close to her, he said, “If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m a great listener.”

“Thank you, but I’m—”

“Fine,” he said, completing her sentence for the second time tonight.

“You’re getting pretty good at finishing my thoughts.”

The corner of his mouth lifted into a sexy smirk. “If I thought that had been a compliment, I would say thank you.”

He was getting pretty good at reading her, too, because it had been a cynical remark. When she attempted to remove his coat to return it, he stopped her.

“Just leave it with the hostess when you’re done. She’ll make sure I get it. Good night, Tressa. Enjoy the rest of your party.”

“Enjoy the mountains.”

When Roth disappeared through the doors, she tightened his coat around her, inhaling his delicious scent. Had Roth’s intrusion really been her sign? She laughed at herself. No. Tilting her head again, she said, “God, if you send me a sign, please make it a pronounced one. I don’t want to miss it.”

Twenty minutes later Tressa found herself on the dance floor with her soon-to-be husband. With her thoughts still stuck on her encounter with Roth, she barely processed Cyrus’s presence.

“Should it bother me that my fiancée smells like another man’s cologne?”

This snagged her attention. Reeling back, she stared into Cyrus’s probing green eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You smell like him.”

Playing coy, she said, “Him, who?”

Cyrus’s features hardened and deep lines etched into his caramel-toned forehead. “You know what him I’m referring to. Don’t try to play me for a fool.” His expression softened. “I love you, Tressa. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I need to know.”

She searched his sad eyes. “Need to know what, Cyrus?”

“I need to know... I need to know if you’re sleeping with him.”

Tressa froze, stunned by Cyrus’s question. Her lips parted, but nothing readily escaped. Why in the world had Cyrus asked her that?

“I see the way he looks at you. Hell, he’s been staring at you all night. Every damn move you make. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose you to him.”

Cyrus’s words broke her heart. At that moment she realized how unfair she’d been to him. Cradling his smooth face between her hands, she said, “I would never hurt you like that, Cyrus. You’re the man I’m marrying, remember?”

A smile curled his lips and he eased his forehead against hers. “I love you, baby. I love you so much.” His expression turned somber and he rested his hands on either side of her neck. “I’ve made mistakes, Tressa. But I swear I’m going to be a good husband to you.”

Mistakes. What mistakes had he been referring to? Before she got the opportunity to ask, clapping sounded behind Cyrus. Tressa glanced over his shoulder, her gaze landing on a brown-skinned woman in a very revealing black gown. She wore a black fishnet veil that made her look as if she was in mourning.

“That was so beautiful,” the woman said, nearing them. “Too bad it’s nothing but a bunch of bull—”

“Natalie!” Cyrus barked. His nostrils flared and a vein pulsed in his neck. “What in the hell are you doing here?” he said through clenched teeth.

Fine lines etched into Tressa’s forehead. “Natalie? You know this woman, Cyrus?”

“Yes, he does. Very well.” Natalie placed her hands on her hips. “We had an intimate work relationship until a few days ago,” she said with a smirk.

Cyrus looked as if he could snatch the woman’s heart out with his hand. Spittle flew from his mouth when he said, “Shut the hell up, Natalie,” through teeth gritted so tightly they should have all been ground to dust.

Whispers and words revealing shock among the small crowd now circling them, swirled around her. Tuning it all out, she zeroed in on Cyrus. “You should probably start talking right now. What’s going on?”

“Yes, Cyrus. We’d both like to know what the hell is going on,” Natalie added.

This time ignoring their party crasher, Cyrus turned to her. “Tressa. I made a mistake. We can—”

When he reached for her, she backed away. This was the mistake he referenced earlier. “How long?”

When he didn’t answer, Natalie did. “Four months.”

“Four—” The air seized in her lungs.

“Baby—”

Tears stung her eyes, but they were more angry than sentimental ones. “You lying, cheating, no-good, trifling bastard.” She wrenched the ring from her finger and tossed it at him. Eyeing Natalie, she said, “He’s all yours. The wedding is off.”

Cyrus grabbed her arm. “No, you don’t mean that.”

A second later Tony—her three-hundred-pound ex-lineman cousin—clapped a large hand on Cyrus’s shoulder. The look in his eyes suggested Cyrus release her now.

Obviously, Cyrus got the silent message, because his grip on her arm loosened, then fell away.

Several family members—including her visibly livid mother—swarmed around Cyrus like bees on the attack. They stung him with their not-so-gentle words of disapproval. As the room erupted in utter chaos, Tressa made her escape. She’d asked for a sign and, boy, had she got it.


Chapter 2 (#uacdae8c6-7e96-5a30-b5c0-5e7f44fbae14)

Amid all of the chaos, Roth eyed Tressa weaving her way through the room and toward the exit. She brushed past the outstretched hands of individuals undoubtedly offering their comfort and support. He tore down the stairs after her, but by the time he made it outside, she was nowhere in sight. Where in the hell had she vanished to so damn suddenly?

He squinted against the dark for any sign of movement. Nothing.

When the door banged open behind him and Cyrus’s snake ass slithered out, dragging his hideous mistress behind him, Roth’s jaw tightened in disgust.

Cyrus slid a razor-sharp glance in Roth’s direction. Roth readied himself for a confrontation, but Cyrus only flashed a scornful expression, then escaped in the opposite direction.

After hanging around another half hour or so—just to see if Tressa resurfaced—he decided to head out, leaving instructions for Alonso to call him the minute he heard anything. Yanking open the door of his SUV, Roth slid behind the wheel and slumped in the seat. A part of him wanted to start the engine and follow through with his plans to leave, while another part of him—a much greater portion—wanted to hang back to make sure Tressa was okay.

He abandoned the idea of staying. Tressa definitely didn’t need him to further complicate her life. Given what she’d just gone through, he was certain he was the last person she wanted to see. Not because he’d been in any way responsible for the debacle that had taken place, but because he was a man. And at this point she more than likely hated the entire male species.

And who could blame her? He’d certainly held a discord for the female population when he’d got his heart broken several years ago. Then he’d met Tressa a few months back and feelings he’d long abandoned rushed him like water released from a dam.

Four months.

Roth shook his head. That slimy bastard had cheated on Tressa almost their entire relationship. Via Alonso, he’d learned Tressa and that clown Cyrus had only dated a short time before they’d become engaged. Why even propose if he knew he had no intentions of being faithful?

Why would any man in his right mind sacrifice a woman like Tressa?

Roth recalled the expression on Tressa’s face as she darted from the room. A mix of confusion and pain danced in her usually sparkling eyes. At that moment he really wanted to hurt Cyrus, if for nothing more than dimming her glow.

“Are we leaving?”

Roth jolted, then whipped around to see Tressa stretched across his back seat. What the... How in the hell had he missed seeing her when he’d got in? Preoccupied, he told himself. Damn. She’d nearly given him a heart attack.

Activating the interior lights, he scanned her body as if looking for any damage. When he saw her red, puffy eyes, he fought the urge to climb over the center console and pull her into his comforting arms. And though she had every right to cry, he wanted to advise her not to waste her tears on a lowlife like Cyrus.

Roth’s words were gentle when he spoke. “Everyone is looking for you.”

She hugged her arms around her body. “I don’t want to be found. I can’t handle the looks and whispers right now.”

Being the voice of reason, he said, “People are worried about you, Tressa. They just want to know that you’re all right. You really should—”

“Roth, please. Spare me the lecture. I don’t have my car here. I need to go. Can you just get me away from here? Just drive. Please.” Her voice was low, but screamed of exhaustion.

Tressa’s sad, pleading eyes tugged at his heart. Who could blame her for wanting to avoid being poked and prodded like a lab rat by people’s stares of pity? Facing forward, he cranked the engine, popped the gearshift into Drive and pulled away.

Silence filled the car for the first few minutes. Roth avoided plying her with the usual pacifiers: it’s going to be okay, the pain will go away, look on the bright side. Instead, he stayed quiet because no words could ease the sting of betrayal. Only time could do that.

Roth adjusted the rearview mirror so that it settled on Tressa’s face. He hated seeing her this way, a sad replica of her customarily jovial self. “Maybe we should call Vivian to let her know you’re okay. She was really worried about you.”

Tressa’s eyes landed on his. Even through the reflection, their connection rang intense. Everything and nothing had changed. Though she’d ended her engagement, she was still off-limits. Maybe even more so now.

“I will,” was all she said before sliding her gaze away.

“Should I take you home?”

“No. He’ll probably be at my place. I don’t want to see him. Ever.”

Roth washed a hand over his mouth as if he was ironing his goatee. All he wanted to do was make her smile—laugh even. But he doubted anything he could have said or done would have accomplished that.

“Were you going to the mountains alone?”

An hour ago the answer would have been yes. But once he’d walked away from her on the balcony, he’d discovered a need for something—or in this case, someone—to take his mind off her. Still, he responded, “Yes, I’m going alone.”

“You don’t have a very good poker face.”

Damn. She’d read him. Now he felt like a complete ass. All she needed was another man lying to her. “Why?”

“I guess because you don’t lie enough to pull it off.”

He chuckled. She was right. Since lying was what people had done to him most of his life, he valued the truth more than most. But that wasn’t the why he meant. “Not that. Why did you ask if I was going alone?”

Her gaze fixed on his again. She didn’t need to answer for him to know she wanted an invite to his cabin. If her goal was to hide from the world, it would be the perfect escape for her. No one would find her in Silver Point. An hour ago the idea of him and Tressa running off together would have been damn appealing, but now it reeked of trouble. “Maybe you’d prefer a hotel? You wouldn’t—”

“You don’t want to be saddled with a jilted ex-bride-to-be. I get it.”

Damn. Why did she have to make it sound so morbid? “That’s not it, Tr—”

“Just drop me off at the nearest hotel. I’ve dealt with scarier things. I’ll be fine.”

Scarier things? What scarier things had she dealt with?

Ten minutes later they pulled up in front of the De Lore Hotel in downtown Raleigh. The sprawling building was the epitome of luxury. He’d heard nothing but great things about it. It even looked fancy. Concierge, bellmen, greeters. Tressa would be comfortable here. Much more comfortable than at his cramped cabin.

Why in the hell did he sound like he was trying to convince himself? And why did the idea of leaving her here alone bother him so damn much? It wasn’t like he was abandoning her. She would be okay, right?

Once she was checked in, he’d call Vivian to come and comfort her. Her best friend was who she needed, not the man who constantly fantasized about making love to her. Roth brushed a hand over his close-cut hair.

A young man who’d been standing at what looked like a podium and dressed in a black overcoat and gloves approached his SUV. When Roth lowered the window a gust of cold air rushed in. He welcomed the brisk breeze because it felt as if his system was overheating.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to the De Lore Hotel. Will you be staying with us this evening?”

“Ah...” Shit. Spit it out, Lex. Say yes, she will. Say it. His gaze slid to Tressa. When she rested her hand on the door handle to open it, his heart raced. Don’t do it, man. Don’t do it. “Actually, no. Maybe another time. Thank you.” The window rose and he pulled off, leaving the man standing there.

Roth swiped his thumb back and forth against the steering wheel. What in the hell are you doing? This woman of all women should not be in your back seat. And taking her to the cabin? The cabin’s your sanctuary.

A significant thought occurred to him. What about the nightmares? His past had a way of haunting him in his dreams. All he needed was to wake up screaming at the top of his lungs. It would scare the hell out of Tressa and embarrass the hell out of him. An occurrence like that would break two of his cardinal rules: never show vulnerability and always maintain control. He’d learned a long time ago that being vulnerable got you hurt and losing control made you rash.

Her being at the cabin with him period would break the third: always wake up alone.

Two days. He could handle two days cooped up with the woman he’d dreamed about, fantasized about since the first day they met. Two days. No problem. Hell, it wasn’t like he could actually make a move now anyway. That would be a shit thing to do. She was vulnerable, grieving and probably out for a little sexual revenge.

The last point gave him pause. Sexual revenge. A woman scorned was capable of anything, right? Well, he’d never played the role of the rebound guy, and he wouldn’t start now. Not even for Tressa. That alone should keep his libido in check.

“Thank you, Roth. I promise I won’t get in your way.”

He met Tressa’s tender gaze through the rearview mirror and his heartbeat kicked up just a notch. Oh, you’re already getting in my way. Influencing him to make bad decisions, testing his resolve, reminding him how it felt to crave something unattainable. “You’ll like Silver Point,” was all he said.

Roth swiped his thumb back and forth across the steering wheel, lost in his thoughts. This was the stupidest thing he’d done in a long while. Reckless, even. He couldn’t be alone with Tressa. Yes, he had self-control, plenty of self-control. But this would require a whole lot of self-discipline.

His eyes slid to Tressa, who’d been watching him through the mirror. For a split second, he didn’t regret pulling away from the hotel. Her eyes slid away, and after a short time, his did, too.

Four hours later they arrived at the cabin on the hill, as the townsfolk often called it. He popped the SUV into Park, then glanced back at Tressa. She’d fallen asleep two hours into the drive—or had pretended to be to avoid having to talk.

His insides did a shimmy watching her. She really was asleep now, because in the stillness, he could hear her soft snores. As far as bad decisions went, bringing Tressa here was the Grandfather Mountain of poor judgment calls. He just hoped it wouldn’t backfire in his face.

* * *

Tressa assumed Roth’s gentle touch was only in her dreams until his voice penetrated her slumber, and she realized he was trying to wake her. She cracked her eyes and squinted to focus. His handsome face slowly materialized. “How long have I been asleep?” she asked in a groggy voice.

“A couple of hours. Come on, Sleeping Beauty.”

She took Roth’s outstretched hand, the spark giving her the jolt of energy she needed. Gravel crunched under her feet as she stepped out of the vehicle. One of the first things she noticed—excluding the bone-chilling cold—was the quiet. No horns. No traffic. No bustling.

Yeah, this was the perfect place to rejuvenate her soul. Being here would be good for her. It would give her the time she needed to think and clear her cluttered thoughts. Inhaling a deep breath, she blew it out slowly. Already she felt...free.

The only light radiated from the full moon. She tilted her head and scrutinized a sky so clear it could have been a flawless oil painting. And the stars... Had she ever seen them twinkle more brightly?

And then there were the oversize trees. She performed a slow turn. Trees, trees and more trees surrounded them. Roth hadn’t exaggerated about the privacy of this location. Not a single soul would be able to hear them scream if they were attacked.

The quaint cabin caught her eye. What it lacked in size, it made up for in charm. Built completely of logs, seven steps led to a nicely sized wraparound porch. A cobblestone chimney protruded from the roof. Several hours ago she would have tingled at the idea of her and Roth cuddled intimately in front of a wood-burning fireplace. Not now.

Roth startled her when he draped his coat over her shoulders. He’d obviously changed out of his suit at The Underground because now he wore a thick black sweater, jeans and a pair of black mountain boots. Despite her current state of mind, she could still appreciate how devastatingly attractive he was. “Thank you. I’m freezing.” She shivered for effect.

“We can go into town in the morning and grab you some clothes. I’m sure you don’t want to wear this the entire weekend.” He fingered the thin fabric of her jumpsuit. “Regardless of how beautiful you look in it.”

Disappointment flashed on Roth’s face that suggested he regretted saying the words. Regardless, the compliment brought a lazy smile to her face. “It’s gorgeous. Your cabin. Thank you again for bringing me here with you. I won’t get in the way.”

What she really wanted to say—ask actually—was why had he seemed so reluctant to bring her here at first, and what had changed his mind? But she decided against it. She was just happy she wouldn’t have to be alone.

“Thanks. Like I said, it’s not much, but I love it.”

Tressa opened and closed her mouth several times.

“Ears popping?” Roth said.

“Yes.”

“It’s the altitude. You’ll get used to it.”

Moving to the back of the vehicle, Roth removed a bag and a large black case she assumed was his saxophone—Juliette—before they made their way inside, out of the cold. Or so she’d thought. It was as cold inside the cabin as it had been outside. Possibly a degree or two colder. She pulled the wool coat tighter around her shoulders.

“I believe it’s warmer outside.”

“I’ll build a fire,” Roth said. “It shouldn’t take it long to warm up in here.”

The interior wasn’t at all what Tressa had expected. A mocha-colored leather sofa and a matching chair sat in the living area. Several pictures of airplanes hung throughout the room. A flat-screen television was mounted on the wall above the fireplace. A bookcase packed with books sat in one corner. Was it for decoration, or did Roth enjoy reading?

Her eyes trailed to the kitchen outfitted with all stainless steel appliances. A small dining area seamlessly melted the space together. A set of stairs led to what she assumed were the bedrooms. This was nice. Really nice.

The sound of the fire crackling curled Tressa’s lips. It took her back to when she was a child and winters spent at her grandparents’ house. Good times. Roth’s voice faded Tressa’s memories.

“Unfortunately, there’s only one bed, but it’s yours. I’ll camp out on the sofa.” He patted the plush-looking piece. “We’re highly acquainted. I’ve fallen asleep in her warm arms many nights.”

“No, Roth. I can’t let you do that. I’ll take the sofa. No argument,” she said when protest danced in Roth’s mesmerizing eyes. “Truly, it’s fine.” No way would she inconvenience him after he’d been so kind as to bring her here.

After a few seconds of scrutiny Roth shrugged. “Okay, but you’re going to hate me in the morning.”

As if that was possible. The perplexed look he gave her rattled her a bit. What was he attempting to decipher? How she was holding up? Why she’d wanted to come here with him? Would she be okay? She didn’t know the answer to any of it.

To end his exhausting scrutiny, she said, “Please tell me you have food in this place. I’m starving.”

“Yes, we do. I have someone who looks in on the place for me. When I let her know I’m coming, she always stocks the fridge.”

She?

Jealousy was the last emotion Tressa expected, but a hint of it crept in. Could this have been the mystery woman he’d intended to spend the weekend with before she’d come along and derailed his plans? Was it selfish that she didn’t regret spoiling his rendezvous? Yes.

“Well, let’s just see what she brought, shall we?” If nothing else could, cooking relaxed her. It’d always been her first love, with nursing a close second, of course.

“In a minute. But first—” he captured her hand and angled his head toward the sofa “—let’s sit a second.”

Tressa studied their joined hands as they moved across the room. A simple act of kindness should not have felt so damn good. A soothing sensation tingled in her palm. At the sofa, Roth released her hand and guided her down, taking the spot next to her. The way he eyed her made her feel as if she’d sneaked the last piece of key lime pie, and he was simply waiting for her to confess before he had to accuse her.

Tressa straightened her back to give some semblance of strength. “Is everything okay?”

He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his thighs and intertwined his fingers. “You tell me.”

Tressa arched a brow. “I...don’t...know what you want me to say.” Though she had a good idea he wanted her to mention something about what had taken place at The Underground. She’d hoped to avoid discussing her disastrous engagement party, but it seemed she wouldn’t get off that easily. Couldn’t he have waited until morning when she’d got a decent night’s sleep before he approached the thorny subject?

“You’ve had a rough evening. If you—”

“I’m fine, Roth,” she said, pushing to her feet. Subtlety obviously didn’t work with him.

Before she could stalk away, he captured her hand again. This time he didn’t let it go when she sat. His large hand completely swallowed hers, but she loved the feel of his warm flesh caressing hers.

“You keep saying you’re fine, but I don’t believe you.”

“And I’m not trying to convince you.” Instantly, she regretted being so callous. But dammit, she didn’t want to discuss what had happened between her and Cyrus. Especially with Roth, of all people. She was hurt, embarrassed and still processing it all.

Her cruel tone appeared to have little effect on him. That same sympathetic expression remained on his attractive face. They stared at one another for a long time. Roth refused to turn away, and so did she. It felt as if he were trying to peer into her soul, but it was too dark for him to see inside. Beyond his strict and unwavering gaze lingered compassion. Mounds and mounds of compassion. And a hint of pity.

Tressa bent to the idea and turned away. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Roth.”

“I don’t. I feel sorry for the bastard who didn’t recognize what he had.”

Tressa brought urgent focus back to Roth, her eyes lingering briefly on his mouth before climbing to latch onto his draining gaze again. Was he the reason she wasn’t feeling the all-out dismay Cyrus’s betrayal should have caused her? She was hurt—and angry—but she also felt something else. Relief.

Roth’s cell phone vibrated and she flinched. “You should get that,” she said, seeing her opportunity to escape this overwhelming and confusing moment.

Without even pulling the device from his pocket, he said, “It can wait.”

After a couple more seconds of buzzing, either the call rolled to voice mail or the caller hung up. Tressa couldn’t help but wonder if it was the woman Roth had planned to spend the weekend with. Before she’d dozed off on the drive up, Roth had sent several calls directly to voice mail. A part of her was happy to be here, away from her own problems, but another part of her felt guilty for potentially causing some for Roth, and for ruining his plans. Even if the idea of him making love to someone else bothered her more than it should have.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Roth. I truly do. But I don’t want to talk about it now. I just... I just want to get through the night. I just want to get through the night,” she repeated.

Roth brought her hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist. It was the most intimate and soul-stirring move he could have made. The energy delivered through the sensual and delicate act sent a shock wave of desire sparking through her system. Everything about being there with Roth felt so right and so wrong all at the same time.


Chapter 3 (#uacdae8c6-7e96-5a30-b5c0-5e7f44fbae14)

When Tressa had volunteered to whip something up, it didn’t take long for Roth to discover that they had two totally different definitions of the term. While he’d suggested preparing peanut butter and jelly sandwiches—to which she’d laughed hysterically—Tressa had taken the reins and created a spread that looked as if it belonged in a magazine for culinary professionals.

How in the hell had she managed to turn generic grocery items—a block of cheddar cheese, a can of Southern biscuits, beef hot dogs, thin-sliced pepperoni, club crackers, kettle chips and French onion dip—into a work of edible art? She truly was amazing in the kitchen.

“Wow. This looks scrumptious,” he said, his growling stomach loudly approving. “A nurse and a chef. How in the heck did that happen?”

“I grew up watching my family help others. My father was a policeman, my mother a teacher. I had aunts, uncles and cousins who were firemen, clergy, counselors, doctors, lawyers, you name it. If there is a position out there geared toward helping people, one of my family members held it. Now, my love for cooking...I got that from my Poppa. My grandfather,” she clarified and beamed with pride.

Roth envied her, envied anyone who’d grown up surrounded by family. As a youngster, he’d dreamed of growing up, getting married and having a thousand kids. Somewhere along the way, that vision had faded. Tressa’s voice snatched him out of his thoughts.

“Do you mind if we eat in front of the fireplace?” she said.

“Sounds good to me.”

After arranging everything on the brown shag rug, Roth returned to the kitchen for two hard black cherry lemonades. It’d actually been Tressa who’d introduced him to the drink. He usually went for the harder stuff—whiskey—or the occasional beer. With her feminine wiles, she’d convinced him to try the sweet beverage when they’d both been at Alonso and Vivian’s place at the beach. He’d got hooked. On Tressa and the drink.

Roth recalled that beach trip. Watching Tressa wade through the water in an ocean-blue bikini, her skin glistening under the rays of the sun, had been torture in its most pleasurable form. On several occasions he’d wanted to ignore the fact that she was seeing someone and seduce the hell out of her, but he’d resisted. Looking back, he wished he had taken a risk. Maybe it would have spared her some heartache.

“Earth to Roth.”

Tressa’s voice pulled him back to reality. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

“Yes. I asked if you could bring some napkins.”

Roth grabbed a stack of napkins off the counter and fanned them through the air. “Got it.” He passed her one of the bottles, then eased down next to her.

Tressa eyed him curiously. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” he repeated when she didn’t look convinced. “I drift sometimes. Growing up in foster care, I rarely got privacy. Sometimes escaping inside my own head was my only refuge.”

Damn. Why had he shared any of that? His past was typically something he kept to himself. Not because he was ashamed of it, but because the second people learned he’d been a foster kid, they showered him with unnecessary sympathy. He hated that with a passion.

“I was a foster mother to a six-year-old once. Jamison,” she said absently. “I’ll never do it again.”

“Wow. That bad, huh?”

Tressa grimaced. “God, I made that sound so harsh and insensitive. Let me clarify. I wouldn’t do it again because I grew so attached to him in the short time he was with me. Watching him leave was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. I cried like a baby for days.”

He’d picked up on Tressa’s nurturing side the first time he’d met her. It was one of the things he found so attractive about her. Nursing was the perfect profession for her. “Why didn’t you adopt him?” Roth asked out of curiosity. She seemed to have cared for the child.

Tressa stared into the crackling fire. “I wanted to.”

“Cyrus? Is he why you didn’t adopt Jamison?” Roth wasn’t sure why he’d come to that conclusion, but when Tressa faced him again he knew he’d been spot-on. He hated the man even more.

She slid her gaze back to the fire. “Pathetic, huh?”

Roth wanted to say something encouraging, but he couldn’t find the words. Growing up, every single day he’d wished for someone to care enough to want to adopt him, but it had never happened. But Tressa could have been the answer to the prayers Roth was sure Jamison said every night. She could have saved him from the hell of the foster system. But instead, she’d allowed that bastard Cyrus to convince her to send Jamison back into...hell.

Anger swirled inside him. He wasn’t sure if it was geared more toward Cyrus or Tressa. He took a long swig from his bottle.

“After two weeks without the sound of Jamison’s laughter, I realized the mistake I’d made. I contacted the agency, but I was too late. A family was interested in adopting him. I know I should have been ecstatic he’d found a permanent home. I was and I wasn’t.” She shook her head. “I had no right to be upset. I’d had my opportunity and blew it. I was being selfish. Which is typically not me, might I add.”

She’d redeemed herself.

“He would have been lucky to have you as his mother.”

A lazy smile curled her lips. “Thank you, Roth. That was kind of you to say.”

Tressa’s lips parted, then closed as if she’d reconsidered what she was about to say. The move drew his attention to her mouth. A knot formed in his stomach when he thought about how badly he wanted to lean over and kiss her. Not a smart move. Fight this, Lexington.

“I asked for a sign.”

Scrambling his thoughts of ravishing her mouth, he said, “Excuse me?”

“Tonight. Right before you joined me on the balcony. I asked God to send me a sign if I was making a mistake by marrying Cyrus.”

Was she suggesting he’d been her sign? Something warm and prideful blossomed in his chest.

“I guess your fiancé’s mistress crashing your engagement party was a fairly obvious one, huh?”

And just like that, it wilted. “You don’t seem too distraught about it.” Roth pressed his lids together. “Shit. I’m sorry. That was an insensitive and stupid thing to say. I’m sure you’re plenty upset.”

“I’m not, actually. I mean, I’m angry as hell and hurt, but not in a debilitating manner, if that makes sense.”

He hadn’t expected that response. “Why?”

A beat of silence played between them.

Tressa lowered her head as if to hide her face in shame. “Because deep down, I knew Cyrus wasn’t the right one for me. I just hung on in hopes of my feelings changing. I guess I kinda brought this whole mess on myself.”

Roth knew it was a statement that didn’t need a response, so he remained quiet. Before he’d even realized what he was doing, he draped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her against his chest. Tressa rested against him without any hesitations. Maybe he couldn’t have her in the way he truly wanted, but he could be a friend in her time of need.

* * *

Tressa tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position. When she moved, it felt as if she were stuck to the smoldering leather. Kicking the quilt off that Roth had given her, she sat up and dragged the back of her hand across her forehead. It had to be three thousand degrees in here. And since heat rose, she was sure Roth was cooked to a crisp.

She sent a gaze to the loft. Though her view was obstructed, she imagined him sprawled out across the bed, his body sweat-dampened and glistening. A tingle in her belly slowly traveled to the space between her legs. As usual, her body was clearly on a mission to destroy her.

The popping embers brought her attention to the fireplace. She thought about their time in front of it earlier and how Roth had pulled her into his arms, and how safe she’d felt there. He’d wanted to kiss her, she was sure of it. So why hadn’t he? Because he was too much of a gentleman.

She’d wanted Roth to kiss her, do more than kiss her, and it irked the hell out of her that he hadn’t. But it’d probably been for the best. What kind of woman wanted a man to seduce her mere hours after finding out her fiancé has been sleeping with another woman? A woman out for revenge, she thought to herself.

No, that wasn’t it. She blew a heavy breath. Her desire, need, want for Roth, weren’t fueled by any of those things. Her longing for him was as authentic as it got. Which was why she had to fight it.

Tressa allowed her head to fall back against the cushions. Why did she always choose the wrong men? That included Roth. She wanted to believe he was a good guy, but the fact he could so easily push one woman aside—who probably believed she had a position in his life—for another, even if the other was her, suggested otherwise.

Pushing everyone else aside, she focused on herself. “Will I ever find love?” she whispered to the universe, a tear sliding out the corner of her eye. “True love.” That kind of ridiculous love that made you suddenly smile for no reason at all. She deserved that and wanted it. Wanted a husband who loved her beyond words. Wanted a family, a house full of kids—biological, adoptive or both. She wanted dogs, family dinners, vacations. “I want it all,” she mumbled.

“You got it.”

Tressa bolted forward to see Roth standing at the edge of the stairs in a navy blue tee that hugged his solid frame nicely and navy-blue-and-white pajama bottoms that sat just right on his lean frame. “What?”

“Insomnia?”

Tressa laughed at herself and wiped her eyes. “Um...sometimes. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Ah, no, you didn’t. I have trouble sleeping sometimes, too.”

Roth studied her. No doubt he wanted to address her tears, but she prayed he wouldn’t. Then, as if he’d read her mind, he turned his attention to the kitchen.

“Hot cocoa usually helps. Would you like some?” he said.

Although she teetered on the edge of spontaneously combusting, she said, “Sure.” She could use the conversation, as long as it wasn’t about her.

When she rose, her muscles protested the move.

Roth chuckled. “So, how’s the sofa? Hate me yet?”

“Ha ha.” Making her way across the room, she said, “Can I help?”

“No.” Roth pointed to the small dining table. “Sit, woman.”

Tressa saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

Lounging in a chair, Tressa gleefully watched Roth move about. There was something alluring about a man working in the kitchen, especially this man. Even if all he was doing was heating milk.

Roth chatted about something, but truthfully, she had no idea about what. Lost in her own thoughts, she chuckled when she recalled the animated expression on his face when she’d nixed his PB&J sandwich suggestion.

“Don’t laugh. It could happen,” Roth said.

Breaking free from her thoughts, she said, “Um...what exactly could happen?”

He rested a hand on his hip. “You haven’t heard a single word I’ve said, have you?”

Tressa bit at the corner of her lip and shook her head. “Sorry. I drift off sometimes.”

He barked a laugh. Obviously, at the fact she’d used his own words against him. “Prepare to be impressed.” He approached the table with two steaming mugs, set one in front of her, then lowered into a chair next to her at the square table with his in his hand.

Tressa took a sip and moaned. “Mmm. Real milk. And the cinnamon is a delicious touch. You did well.”

“See, I can do a little something-something in the kitchen, too.”

She imagined he could do a lot of something-something elsewhere, as well. After taking another sip, she said, “So, what is it that could happen?” Referring to his comment from earlier.

Roth’s eyes slid to his mug, but only briefly. “While you’re here with me, I plan to cater to your every need.”

This sobered Tressa rather quickly. Cater to her every need? The possibilities made her stomach flutter and her body bloom. God, she prayed her nipples didn’t bead underneath the oversize T-shirt Roth had given her to sleep in.

Scattering the illicit images hijacking her thoughts, she lowered her eyes to the steam rising from her cup. “Why—” She cleared her throat. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because you deserve it. You’ve been through a lot. I think you need to be reminded that you’re still a queen. And queens get served.” He tapped her foot playfully with his own.

Tressa dared her body to give one damn indication of how much his words had affected her. Finally, someone saw and acknowledged her worth. But why did it have to be the man she was determined to resist?

Roth continued, “Plus, something tells me you never really abandon nurse mode. That you’re constantly taking care of others and rarely focus on yourself, doing what makes Tressa happy.”

Doing what makes Tressa happy. That should become her new motto. She shrugged one shoulder. “I like helping people,” she said, in lieu of confessing that he was 100 percent correct. She rarely took time for herself.

“This weekend... It’s all about you, lady. Got it?”

Roth crossed one ankle over the opposite knee, rested his hands in his lap, tilted his head and eyed her as if asserting his authority. She propped her elbow on the table, rested her cheek against her palm and eyed him back. That seemed to be their thing—staring at one another for long, heated moments.

“Got it.” What else could she say?

“Good.”

Roth was a lethal combination: successful, sexy, charming. And he used it all well. Though a future with him was impractical, was a night of passionate, no-strings-attached sex out of the question?

What the hell was she saying? Roth struck her as the kind of man who molded into your system and stayed there, the kind of man who made women lose their minds. One night? Something told her one night with him would spiral her out of control. Her world was topsy-turvy enough. Still, everything about him intrigued her. Stay away.

Tressa circled her finger around the rim of the mug, ignoring his alluring aura. “I apologize if I caused any problems between you and your weekend companion.” A corner of Roth’s mouth lifted and her eyes fixed on his lips. Had anyone ever told him how damn sexy his mouth was? She was sure they had.

“Don’t apologize,” he said.

“I ruined your plans.”

“Shit happens.”

“Yes, it does.” And there was some other shit she would love to happen right then.

Shit like him leaning over and kissing her long and hard.

Shit like him gliding his large hands up her bare thighs and underneath her shirt.

Shit like him pushing her panties to the side and curving two long fingers inside her.

Yes, all of that.

“Drifting again?” Roth said in a low, sensual tone.

Straightening her back, she said, “Um...why do you ask?”

Roth’s eyes lowered to her chest and lingered there several seconds before rising. “Seemed as if you were...daydreaming.”

The prickle on her skin told her she would regret looking down, but she tilted her head forward anyway. Yep, regret. Blazing-hot, flesh-searing regret.

There was no hiding those high beams of her beaded nipples. If she could have utilized one superpower at that very moment, it would have been the ability to make herself invisible. She pushed to a stand, urging the floor to swallow her. “I’m really tired. I’m...” Instead of finishing her thought, she forced her feet forward and willed her body to deactivate like she was a Transformer.

“You haven’t finished your cocoa.”

“It worked.” She forced a yawn. “I don’t think I need any more.”

“Wait,” Roth said.

Tressa froze as if he’d pointed a gun at her. When he moved toward her, she felt a wave of nervous tension. His head pointed toward the stairs. “Take the bed. I’ll take the sofa.”

As tempting as the offer was, she shook her head, then snuggled back onto the sofa.

A beat later Roth climbed in behind her. “Anyone ever told you you’re too damn headstrong sometimes?”

Tressa stilled, her body going berserk from Roth’s closeness, his solidness, his heat, his scent. Processing it all scrambled her brain. Her nipples tightened even more, her breathing grew clumsy, the space between her legs throbbed and begged to be touched. Sparring with her out-of-control body, she glanced over her shoulder and said, “Many call it being passionate. And what do you think you’re doing?”

“If you’re on the sofa, so am I. We suffer together.”

“Roth—”

He made a snoring sound, which made her laugh. “Okay, suit yourself. But I’m not moving. I’ve grown very fond of this sofa. It’s extremely comfortable. And for the record, no one falls asleep that fast.”

Another round of snores caused her to laugh again.

Who was being the headstrong one now? If he wanted to stay there, then so be it. But there was no way she was getting off this sofa. Not because she was trying to prove how stubborn she could be. It was because Roth snuggled behind her felt too damn good to simply walk away from.


Chapter 4 (#uacdae8c6-7e96-5a30-b5c0-5e7f44fbae14)

While Tressa showered, Roth scrounged up something for her to wear shopping. He placed the T-shirt and sweatpants on the bed, then went back downstairs. Removing Juliette, he went out onto the deck to free his trapped emotions through music notes. He played and played hard. A rigid and rough tone that would be considered too edgy for most. This soothed him.

Several minutes later he stopped abruptly and snatched the instrument from his lips. He deserved every damn bothersome emotion swirling around inside him. The harder he tried to deny the pull Tressa had on him, the stronger it became, like a spiteful monster taunting him with its power over him.

If he had just allowed Tressa to get out of his SUV at the hotel, all of this could have been avoided. Why had he brought Tressa here?

Dammit. He was losing control. He never lost control.

The scene from that morning played in his head—waking up with Tressa fast asleep in his arms. For an hour he’d simply watched her sleep, not moving a single muscle and risking waking her. She felt right in his arms. Too damn right.

At one point he’d been so damn hard he was surprised he hadn’t pushed her off the sofa. And when she subconsciously ground her ass against him, he thought he would die a slow and painful death. One thing was for sure, he didn’t stand a chance in hell against Tressa Washington.

He was good at hard and cold. So why did he keep dispensing soft and warm around her. Cater to your every need? Had he really said that shit? He chuckled. Yep. And the funny thing about it, he’d actually meant every word.

He raised Juliette to his lips again but reconsidered. With the mayhem inside him now, playing would terrify the wildlife.

Tressa was right here. Right here for the claiming. Why was he hesitating?

From the deck, he heard her cell phone vibrate again. The tenth time in the past hour. Cyrus’s no-good ass, no doubt. Tempted to answer the phone and tell the bastard to never call Tressa again, Roth resisted. Hell, for all he knew she wanted him to keep calling. She hadn’t actually taken any of his calls to tell him otherwise. Wouldn’t that have been the logical thing to do?

Wow. Wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? He hadn’t exactly jumped to take India’s calls, either. Well, at least she’d had the good gumption to stop calling, obviously realizing he’d rescinded her invitation to the cabin.

Venturing back inside, he stored Juliette, then fixed himself another cup of coffee while he waited for Tressa so they could go to the store. Roth chuckled. Tressa’s presence was definitely going to shock the hell out of Glen. He hoped the man didn’t jump to any conclusions. He and Tressa were just friends. And that was how it had to remain. At least for now. At least until he was sure she was over her ex. And right now he wasn’t so convinced that she was.

* * *

Tressa and Roth arrived at The General Store. Tressa originally assumed it was what Roth called it, but that was actually the name. The General Store. Couldn’t get more generic than that. The airy barnlike structure resembled something from an old Western movie from the outside, but the inside was anything but old-timey.

Everything occupied the large store, including clothing. That was great because, though she was grateful, Roth’s baggy St. Claire Aeronautics T-shirt and oversize black sweatpants didn’t exactly make her a walking fashion movement. Nor did the stilettos she wore with it. And the mountain jacket swallowed her whole. But that part was okay, because Roth’s scent saturated it. It was like having his warm arms swaddled around her all over again.

Her thoughts went to waking in his arms that morning. She couldn’t recall ever experiencing a more peaceful night of sleep—well, until Roth started flinching in his sleep. Whatever he’d been dreaming kept him active.

Falling asleep on the sofa with Roth was one mistake she would not make again. The lapse in judgment had pushed her body to the brink of sexual insanity. Stubborn, passionate, whatever you wanted to call it, that had definitely been one battle she hadn’t picked wisely.

“Lord, look who the mountain lion done dragged in.”

Tressa followed the raspy voice to a short, round man. His long-sleeved denim shirt was buttoned all the way to the top and tucked into a pair of faded jeans held in place by green suspenders. With a head full of wiry salt-and-pepper hair, the older man kind of reminded her of her grandfather. God rest his soul.

A very docile dog with paws the size of saucers ambled up to Roth and brushed against his pant leg in the same manner an adoring cat would do. Roth rubbed his large head. “What’s up, Shank?”

Shank’s appreciation of the attention was clear, his back leg pumping harder the more Roth rubbed him. If Tressa hadn’t known any better, she would have sworn the dog had smiled.

Tressa hung back while Roth, the gentleman and Shank socialized, but she could hear their conversation.

“Nettie told me you were coming to town. Since you’re gonna be here a week, make sure you stop by for supper before you leave. You know Nettie will be hurt if you don’t.”

“I don’t think I’ll get by this trip. I’m only here for the weekend.”

Confusion crinkled the man’s aged dark brown skin. “I thought Nettie said you were here for the week.”

Roth clapped him on the shoulder. “Change of plans.”

Was the change because of her?

“Well, shucks. It’s probably for the best. They’re calling for snow Monday. Could be a headache.” For the first time, his swamp-green eyes trailed to Tressa. “Or romantic. ’Pends on how you view it, I suppose. Hello, beautiful.” He brushed past Roth.

“Glen, this is my friend Tressa,” Roth said.

Tressa wasn’t sure why Roth’s use of the word friend bothered her, because it was exactly what they were. Friends. Just friends. “Hello.” She offered her hand, but Glen pulled her into an embrace that suggested they’d known each other for years. Okay, then. A hug it is. Unlike with Roth, Shank had little interest in her and disappeared behind the counter.

When Glen held her at arm’s length, his round cheeks blossomed. “Well, it’s a pleasure meeting you, friend Tressa.” Glen cut his eyes in Roth’s direction. “And any friend of this man’s is definitely a friend of mine.”

Tressa noted Glen’s obvious admiration for Roth.

Glen continued, “I know you haven’t gone through all of that food my Nettie took to your place.” He clapped a hand on Roth’s shoulder. “My wife likes to make sure this joker is taken care of. And when she heard it might snow...she packed like a famine was coming.” Glen sounded a huge laugh that made his stomach jiggle.

Ah. Nettie was Glen’s wife. The information sent a hint of satisfaction through her.

“Nettie left plenty,” Roth said. “We just need to gather a few other things.”

The front door chimed, drawing their attention.

“All right. Well, holla if you need me,” Glen said and moseyed away.

Tressa glanced up at Roth. “You were supposed to stay a week?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s—”

“It’s not okay.” Normally, he was the one finishing her thoughts. “Don’t let me disrupt your plans again. I already feel bad enough. We’re staying the week. I, for one, wouldn’t want to disappoint Nettie.”

Roth laughed. “You did hear the part about snow, right? We could get stuck here beyond a week. Frankly, I’m not sure I can put up with you for more than a week.”

Tressa’s mouth fell open, and she swatted him playfully. “How rude.”

“I’m just kidding. You’re great company.”

She was in no rush to get back to Raleigh. The more time she could spend in Silver Point, getting her thoughts together, the better. “I’m okay with getting stuck here. I have nothing better to do.”

Roth folded his arms across his chest. “What about your job?”

“Twelve days on, twelve days off. I’m in my twelve-days-off stretch. And I don’t start new culinary classes until the spring.” Man, she was really pleading her case. And for the first time, she considered that maybe Roth’s plans had changed because he hadn’t wanted to spend a full week with her. Backpedaling, she said, “But you’re probably right. Staying a week is probably a bad idea.” When Roth laughed, she shot him a disapproving look. “What’s so funny?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“What?” she repeated, adding a hint of bass to her voice as if it would force this rugged man to yield to her demand for information.

“You’re delaying the inevitable, Tressa,” he said plainly.

Delaying the inevitable? Inwardly, she sighed. Of course, they were back on the engagement party again. “I’m not delaying anything, Roth. I’m—”

“Running?”

Tressa shot him a narrow-eyed gaze. “Excuse me?”

He flashed his palm. “You know what? It’s none of my business.”

“You’re right. It’s not any of your business. So please stick to designing airplanes and refrain from trying to analyze me.” She rolled her eyes and stalked off. Running? Ha. The nerve of him to make such an outlandish assessment simply because she wanted to enjoy the beauty of the mountains. Just like a damn man.

Running.

She wasn’t running from anything. She planned to face her situation head-on, but not until she was ready.

A few steps from Roth’s SUV the lights blinked twice, letting her know he’d unlocked the vehicle. Yanking the door open, she hurled herself inside. A second later the doors locked and Roth activated the auto-start feature. It wasn’t long before warm air blew through the vents, and she closed them in protest, then laughed at herself. The only one who would suffer if she froze to death would be her.





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