Книга - Until Now

Until Now
Kayla Perrin


Never again, she vows. Now that her abusive ex-husband is in prison, Tamara Jackson has finally found some peace.Life can be sweet—as long as she remembers not to lose herself in another relationship. She pledges to remain strong, independent, and single. But now change is in the air in the form of a sexy, smoking hot man. Police detective Marshall Jennings is hardly a stranger–Tamara has known him since college, and now his best friend is married to her best friend, Callie Hart. Marshall’s athletic build, flirty ways and persistent pursuit soon have Tamara second-guessing her strategy. Just one little fling, she thinks. No strings, he thinks. But they both thought wrong. Passion quickly cascades into something more—a wave of emotions that may sweep them into everlasting love…







A kiss to warm her soul…

Never again, she vows. Now that her abusive ex-husband is in prison, Tamara Jackson has finally found some peace. Life can be sweet—as long as she remembers not to lose herself in another relationship. She pledges to remain strong, independent and single.

But now change is in the air in the form of a sexy, smoking-hot man. Police detective Marshall Jennings is hardly a stranger—Tamara has known him since college, and now his best friend is married to her best friend, Callie Hart. Marshall’s athletic build, flirty ways and persistent pursuit soon have Tamara second-guessing her strategy.

Just one little fling, she thinks. No strings, he thinks. But they both thought wrong. Passion quickly cascades into something more—a wave of emotions that may sweep them into everlasting love….


Her eyes roamed over his body from head to toe. His black suit looked like a million dollars on him. The white shirt that he wore unbuttoned at the collar was sexy. He truly was one incredibly fine specimen of a man. There was no doubt as to why women swooned over him.

“You want to get to know me better,” Tamara said without preamble as she walked toward him. “Really get to know me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then how’s this?” None too gracefully, she closed the distance between them. As she eased up on her toes, the thought that came into her mind was that she was definitely drunk with passion. She had no clue why she was doing what she was doing…nor could she stop herself.

Completely out of character, Tamara tipped up on her toes and planted her lips firmly on his. She gripped his shoulders for support. After about five seconds, she ended the kiss as quickly as she had initiated it.

Easing back, she looked up at Marshall and saw confusion on his face. She felt the same as her head swam.

Marshall’s expression said that he was stunned…but also delighted. He raised an eyebrow. “Wow.”

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” she asked, her tongue feeling heavy. “To score?”


KAYLA PERRIN

has been writing since the age of thirteen and once entertained the idea of becoming a teacher. Instead, she has become a USA TODAY and Essence bestselling author of dozens of mainstream and romance novels. She has been recognized for her talent, including twice winning Romance Writers of America’s Top Ten Favorite Books of the Year Award. She has also won the Career Achievement Award for multicultural romance from RT Book Reviews. Kayla lives with her daughter in Ontario, Canada.


Until Now

Kayla Perrin




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


Dear Reader,

If you read my Harts in Love series, then you’ll recognize Tamara Jackson, who is the heroine of this novel. I’m happy to bring you back to Cleveland, Ohio, where you will see the Hart sisters again as you enjoy Tamara’s story. You may remember that in Always in My Heart, Tamara was Callie’s best friend who was trying to get out of an abusive marriage.

Sometimes, when love goes sour, it isn’t just because people grow apart or because someone cheats. Sometimes, there is a more sinister reason.

I wanted to be able to explore a more serious element in this novel—dealing with the aftermath of domestic abuse—and show that healing is possible. More important, I wanted to show no matter the pain you have suffered, there is always hope for love.

I hope you enjoy the ride as Tamara and Marshall, also from Always in My Heart, overcome the obstacles in their lives in order to find lasting love.

As always, thank you for your continuing support!

Happy reading,

Kayla


This book is dedicated to my readers who have endured the darker side of love. I hope you have come out on the other side stronger—knowing that you are worthy and beautiful and deserving of someone whose love lifts you up, not knocks you down.


Contents

Chapter 1 (#u201db2b3-6d13-5943-85e0-377a18dc1c1d)

Chapter 2 (#u3ef0a637-812d-5a61-9d5c-309b9940b532)

Chapter 3 (#u2b386243-e11e-554a-8171-ab589ea8bdd8)

Chapter 4 (#u80ef9a4b-b95d-5335-aa9c-393d63c7eecd)

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)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter 1

“You won’t get away with this, you hear me? You think this is the end of it, but it’s not over! I promise you that! It’s not over!”

Patrick yelled at the top of his lungs, causing Tamara Jackson to flinch. Michael, her son, who was sitting beside her in the courtroom, gripped her hand tighter. With a sense of dread filling her belly, Tamara watched as her ex-husband was pulled toward the courtroom’s exit. He was squirming, trying to free himself from the bailiffs’ grip, and she was sure that if he could, he would lunge at her and cause her bodily harm.

“I’m gonna appeal, and I’ll be out of here before you know it. And then you’d better be scared!”

The judge pounded her gavel. “Mr. Jackson, please calm down.”

“He’s not gonna get out, is he?” Michael asked.

Tamara looked down at her son’s eyes that were wide with terror. “No, honey,” she told him in a reassuring tone. “He’s just trying to scare us because he’s angry. He won’t get out of jail for a very long time.”

“I promise you—I’ll be back!”

Bravely, Tamara watched Patrick being led out the door that would take him out of her view—and her life—forever. He twisted his head to give her one last glimpse and then he was gone.

A long, shuddery breath escaped Tamara. It was over. Patrick was gone. She never had to see him again.

“You okay?”

Tamara turned to face her mother, who was to her right. She instinctively loosened the grip on her hand. But Michael, on her left, was still holding tight to her other hand as if his life depended on it.

“I’m fine,” Tamara said. She didn’t feel fine right now, but she knew that she would be. Patrick was going to prison for forty-two years. He wouldn’t be a problem again.

Though his promise still frightened her. She had spent years being afraid of him, and she couldn’t simply turn off those feelings.

Tamara turned to her son, whose eyes were locked on the door Patrick had just exited through.

“Sweetheart, he’s gone. He can’t hurt us now.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, I can promise you that.” Tamara wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. The prosecutor had assured her that there was no legal loophole for Patrick to file an appeal. The case against him had been ironclad.

Not only had Patrick threatened her and her son’s lives, he had also tried to kill her best friend, Callie-Hart Williams—more than once. He’d been charged with kidnapping, two counts of attempted murder, assault causing bodily harm—a host of serious charges. Callie’s testimony, earlier in the trial, had been moving and effective, and Tamara had seen a couple of the female jurors wiping away tears. The guilty verdict had been a foregone conclusion from the start.

“I love you,” Tamara said, leaning over to rest her face atop Michael’s head. “We have each other. We’ll be all right.”

“I love you, Ma,” Michael said, his voice quavering.

Tamara’s heart broke for him. No boy should have to sit in a courtroom like this and see his father sentenced to prison. But there was nothing she could do to change the events that had happened.

“Well, that’s the end of that,” Tamara’s father commented and began to rise. “I never did like him.”

Tamara bit her tongue. There was no point rehashing the fights she’d had with her parents in the past. No, they hadn’t liked Patrick. But yes, she had married him nonetheless. The last thing she wanted to hear from her father now was I-told-you-sos. She had learned her lesson the hard way. All Tamara could do now was pick up the pieces of her life and move on.

And she was going to do so, literally. She was packed and ready to move back to Cleveland, where she had grown up. Callie had moved back there a year ago after Patrick had run her and her son, Kwame, off the road in an attempt to kill them both. As a result of returning to Cleveland, Callie had reconciled with her college sweetheart, who was also the father of the son he had never met. Now they were happily married. Callie and Nigel had invited Tamara and Michael to stay with them for as long as she wanted, and Tamara was taking them up on the offer.

Tamara kept her arms around her son as she stood, bringing him to his feet at the same time. One year. It had been one whole year since her world turned upside down. She was very much looking forward to putting the whole ugly ordeal behind her.

In a phone call, Callie had stressed to Tamara that she didn’t need to be in the court to hear the sentencing. She had already been there to witness the verdict. And since Patrick had been found guilty on all charges, Callie assured her the sentence would be lengthy and there was no need to be in the courtroom to hear it. But Tamara knew the opposite to be true. She’d needed to be here. Needed to hear the sentence handed down. For her, it was all about closure.

In the time since Patrick’s arrest, Tamara had gone through a year of counseling to deal with everything, not only for herself but also for her son. The counseling sessions had helped her understand what had drawn her to a man like Patrick in the first place.

The most important thing she had come away with was that she had to forgive herself. Sometimes, all you could do was learn from your mistakes, and this was one of those times. Tamara was wiser now in terms of knowing the signs to look for when it came to dangerous men. And she understood what had led her to make some of the decisions she had. Why she had chosen Patrick, why she had stayed. But in the end, the ownership of the behavior belonged to Patrick. She could not blame herself for what he had done.

Part of what she had learned in therapy was that she had been drawn to men who needed nurturing. It was amazing how you could think you had your life together, how you could see other people’s problems, and yet so dismally fail at recognizing your own. Tamara had never put together the pieces that having had a father who was emotionally distant had led her to pick men who were like injured birds. Men she believed that with her love she could help learn to fly again.

“I do wish you would reconsider moving to Cleveland,” her mother said once they were out of the courtroom.

“I know,” Tamara said. She had already heard their objections to her plan. “But it’s something I have to do.” Tamara’s parents believed the move would be temporary. But Tamara had other plans. She had taken a leave of absence from her job just in case, but she had every intention of making Cleveland her home again.

A new but familiar start...

“Right now you need to be with your family,” her mother stressed. “We want to help you through this.”

“And you have. In this past year, you’ve helped me a lot. I understand that you’re worried, but Michael and I will be okay. Being here in Florida...emotionally, I can’t handle it. And Michael has had a tough time, too. I think it’s best for both of us that we put Florida behind us, at least for the time being.”

“You’re leaving your job behind,” her father piped in. “How do you intend to survive?”

“I have savings,” Tamara said. “And I can get another job. I can work in real estate in Cleveland if I have to.”

Her father scoffed, and Tamara tried to ignore the wave of disappointment washing over. She was thirty-two, a mother and entitled to make her own decisions. She didn’t need her parents’ approval.

Now, of all times in her life, she needed to stand on her own two feet. But she didn’t dare mention her future plans to her parents at this point—which included a change in career paths—because they would surely object.

“I know you’ll miss me,” Tamara said gently. “I’ll miss you, too. But I’m going to be with Callie and Nigel, and Michael will have his old friend Kwame to make the transition easier. Please understand, this is something I need to do.”

A look of resignation passed over her mother’s face, and then she pulled Tamara into an embrace. “I love you. Your father and I just want the best for you.”

“I know that.”

“You’re heading out tomorrow, then?” her father asked, and Tamara could tell that he was holding in his emotions. He had been emotionally aloof all of his life, but she knew that he loved her.

“Yes,” she answered. “In the morning, we’ll start the drive.”

“You are still coming for dinner?” her mother asked hopefully.

“Yes.” Tamara smiled. “Yes, of course.”

Tamara looked at Michael, who had been silent during the conversation. His eyes were downcast, and she could only imagine what he was thinking.

Her poor son. Eight years old now, and he had endured more than he should. He deserved a father who loved him, not one who had made their household a nightmare. Things had soured for Patrick when he’d lost his high-paying consultant job and couldn’t find a new position. He’d turned to the bottle and spiraled out of control. On more than one occasion, he’d belabored the point that he was the man, and that he should be able to provide for his family. No matter how many times Tamara had reminded Patrick that they were still doing well, that they hadn’t lost everything, that their savings were going to see them through until he got another job, he didn’t want to hear it.

Stop thinking about Patrick, she told herself. She knew it was easier said than done. But with her divorce decree in hand as of last week, and Patrick’s sentencing today, things were already looking better.

“You know,” her father began, “there’s no reason that you have to leave so soon. Your house hasn’t even sold yet.”

“Callie’s sister is getting married on Saturday,” Tamara said, something she had already explained.

“I understand that,” her father said. “But you can fly out there for a few days, enjoy the wedding and then come back. I don’t understand why you’re selling your house if it’s a temporary move.”

“Because she doesn’t want to live in the house she shared with Patrick,” her mother pointed out, sounding a little exasperated. “Surely you can understand that, Howard.”

“Yes, that makes sense,” he said. “But shouldn’t she be here to see about securing another property, at—”

“I want to go to Cleveland,” Michael suddenly interjected.

Surprised, Tamara and her parents all looked down at him.

“Tomorrow,” Michael went on, looking at Tamara, his eyes pleading. “I don’t want to wait.”

“I know, baby.” Tamara stroked his face, feeling his pain. She knew it hadn’t been easy for her son in the months after his father’s arrest. The kids at school hadn’t been kind. They’d had to stay in Florida to deal with the charges and the trial, but it was clear now that Michael was ready for a fresh start as much as she was.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Don’t you worry, son. We’re going to Cleveland tomorrow, just as planned.”

Cleveland represented a new beginning.

A new life.


Chapter 2

A trial, a divorce and a wedding.

Tamara played the words over in her mind as she drove into Cleveland, thinking that she might just have come up with the next winning title for a British comedy. Starring Idris Elba, of course—one seriously fine British brother.

Only Idris wouldn’t play her crazed ex-husband. No, he would have to be a new, sexy stranger who would come into her life.

Tamara rolled her eyes and chuckled mirthlessly, then concentrated on the task at hand—looking for the exit that would lead her to St. John African Methodist Episcopal Church. Why were her thoughts even heading in the direction of any type of sexy stranger? Now that her divorce was final, she was literally and figuratively free of anyone holding her back, and the last thing she was interested in was dating. Her only focus was herself and her son completely.

A short while later, Tamara exited Interstate 490 and headed onto East Fifty-Fifth Street. She maneuvered her way to Cedar Avenue, where the historic church was located. As she reached the church, she saw a white Bentley parked outside the front. A bow adorned the car’s front emblem, with two lengths of white ribbon extending to the side mirrors. White ribbon was also looped through the wrought-iron railings lining the steps, and capped off with bows at the top and bottom. A red carpet extended from the church doors down the steps to the road where the car was parked.

It was elegant and beautiful. And reminded Tamara of her own wedding day. She inhaled sharply with the memory. She didn’t want to think about that day, not with the reality of how horribly her marriage had turned out.

Tamara turned into the parking lot and found an available space without too much trouble. She spent a few minutes touching up her makeup, which was all the time she could afford. She was running a little later than she had hoped, getting to the church with about twelve minutes to spare before the ceremony was to begin. She’d taken an extra day during her drive from Florida, which meant she had to travel on the day of Deanna’s wedding, and that had put her a bit behind schedule.

“You ready, Michael?” Tamara said as she opened the back door for her son.

He nodded, but his eyes were still glued to his Nintendo DS gaming system.

“Okay. Time to put away your DS. We have to go inside and get a seat.”

Tamara wished she had gotten to Cleveland earlier so that she could have changed into her dress at Callie’s house. But traveling with Michael, she hadn’t wanted to spend two excessively long days on the road. So driving this morning had been a must. As Michael got out of the car, she smoothed the back of her dress, hoping that the three-hour car ride hadn’t made it too wrinkled. Then she grabbed the blazer for Michael’s suit from the backseat and helped him into it.

Tamara hurried into the church with Michael. An usher handed her a glossy wedding program, with a lovely photo of Deanna and Eric posing on either side of a tree. Then Tamara and Michael headed into the sanctuary and settled in seats halfway up on the bride’s side.

“Where’s Kwame?” Michael asked.

“I don’t know, son, but he might be in the wedding. You’ll see him later.”

Michael nodded but didn’t look up. His gaze was on his hands. Tamara put her arm around him and squeezed. A year had passed since Michael had seen Kwame, and Tamara had no doubt that the boys would pick up where they’d left off. There was a two-year age difference between them, and Kwame had always been like a big brother to Michael.

Kwame’s relationship with Michael was one of the reasons that Tamara made the decision to head back to Cleveland. She’d grown up here, but left for Florida when her parents moved there. Later, she’d started college there, and Callie had come down to join her in the “sunshine state” after she got pregnant.

Tamara looked around, taking in the various guests at the church. Through the windows in the doors at the back of the church, she caught a glimpse of Callie moving around. She smiled, as she always did when she saw her friend. Then she glanced at the clock hanging above the doors. Two minutes until noon. Looked as though this wedding was going to start on time.

Tamara looked over her shoulder again and saw a man and woman briskly entering the church just as a man was propping the back doors open. The woman was striking, wearing a red dress that was cut too low for the occasion and looked as if it could have been painted on. The man had his hand on the small of the woman’s back as they walked forward and quickly slipped into a pew closer to the front.

As the smiling man glanced backward, Tamara drew in a sharp breath. She recognized the handsome face.

Oh, my goodness, it was Marshall Jennings. She hadn’t seen him in thirteen years, but certainly could never forget him. Tall, fit and seriously fine, he’d been known as a playboy. A rich playboy who’d had his share of the women in Cleveland. Tamara’s cousin, Gloria, had been one of those women. At first, Gloria had been thrilled with the attention Marshall had doled on her. But in the end, she had been devastated when he had quickly moved on to a new woman after getting her into his bed.

Tamara remembered that Marshall had been a friend of Nigel’s, and perhaps she would have seen him at Callie and Nigel’s wedding months ago—if she had been able to attend. But a winter storm had ravaged the eastern seaboard, canceling flights all over the country. Hers had been one of them, and she’d been crushed that she hadn’t been able to make it to Cleveland for her best friend’s winter wedding. That was why—even if she had to drive forty-eight hours straight—she would not have missed Deanna’s special day.

Tamara noticed the woman in red lean close and whisper into Marshall’s ear. Could she be his wife?

The classical music that had been playing in the church stopped, and the opening score of an instrumental love ballad began. The groom and his groomsmen entered from a door near the rostrum and took their place on the right side. It would have been easy to spot Eric even if Tamara hadn’t seen his picture on the program. He was the one beaming from ear to ear.

Once the men were in place, two flower girls started down the aisle. The crowd oohed and aahed at the darling little girls. Tamara realized that she was right—Kwame was in the wedding—when she saw him carrying the rings down the aisle on a pillow made of white satin. Then came the bridesmaids, followed by Callie, the matron of honor. Tamara looked at her friend and grinned. Callie spotted her and her eyes brightened as she smiled back at her.

A woman walked onto the rostrum, and a few moments later, the music changed again. A man at a piano at the front of the church began to play something soft and romantic. Then the woman began to sing. Everyone stood and looked toward the back of the church, where the bride now stood with her arm looped through her uncle’s.

And then the bridal march began. Deanna looked beautiful in an off-the-shoulder dress made of satin. It was a closely fitted gown that flared at the bottom. As Deanna passed her, Tamara could see that her eyes were filled with happy tears.

Once Deanna was at the front of the church, Tamara’s eyes went back to Marshall. With his hand on his guest’s back, she could see now that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

So the woman wasn’t his wife. If Tamara had to bet, she would guess that the woman was just a plaything he had picked up so he could have her on his arm for this occasion. The Marshall she had known had liked flashy cars and flashy women. And this woman certainly fit that bill.

Eric took his bride by the hands. The minister stood before them with a large smile, and then the ceremony began.

And despite the fact that Tamara was freshly divorced, she got caught up in the magic of the day.

* * *

Tamara didn’t have the chance to say more than a few words to Deanna until the reception, once the meals were consumed and the dancing began. She was sitting at a table with Deanna’s mother and uncle and some of the extended family members. Michael had gone home with Kwame, where a babysitter was watching them now. At least at the table with family, Tamara didn’t feel awkward for not having a date.

Spotting Deanna speaking with a couple of young females at the edge of the dance floor, Tamara rose from the table and started toward her. Seeing her approach, Deanna’s eyes lit up, and she stretched open her arms in the offer of a hug.

“Tamara,” Deanna said in a singsong voice as Tamara walked into her embrace. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Of course,” Tamara told her. As she pulled back, she took Deanna’s hands in hers and squeezed. “Congratulations, Dee. I’m so happy for you and Eric. He seems like a great guy.”

“Thank you.” Deanna’s smile was as bright as the sun. “He is a great guy. An old friend I never saw as anything more than a friend until I came back to Cleveland and we got to know each other.”

“You both look very happy.”

“We are. And I can hardly believe it. When I came back to Cleveland, I never thought that I would find love. In fact, that was the last thing on my mind. Yet, here I am. Married.”

“Let me see the ring.” Deanna extended her left hand, and Tamara eyed the stunning engagement ring and wedding band encrusted with diamonds around the entire band. “Gorgeous.”

“Thank you. Of course, it’s not about the ring. It’s about the man.” Her eyes lit up as she glanced beyond Tamara’s shoulder. “And there’s my baby now.”

Deanna looked up at her new husband with a loving smile, and he grinned down at her as he came beside her and slipped an arm around her waist. It was a beautiful moment between two people who loved each other, and reminded Tamara that relationships were fundamentally good. She had just been with the wrong man.

Tamara extended her hand to Eric. “Eric, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Tamara, Callie’s best friend.”

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard a lot about you. Nice to meet you, and thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for having me. Your ceremony was beautiful, and the reception has been exceptional.”

“Thank you,” Eric said.

“Where are you two heading for your honeymoon?” Tamara asked.

They both looked at each other, as if determining who would answer. A moment later, Deanna spoke. “Well, we wanted to do something different than the typical Caribbean honeymoon. Eric has always wanted to go to Scotland, so that’s where we’re headed. We’re going for two weeks to tour the country. We’ll even be staying in an old castle and everything.”

Eric pulled Deanna close. “I’m not the type of guy who likes to just sit on the beach for seven days. When I want rest and relaxation, I go to my parents’ cottage on the lake. I wanted our honeymoon to be an adventure.”

“It will be. As long as we’re together.” Deanna looked like the happiest woman alive. “As long as I’m with you, I don’t care where we go.”

“Well, congratulations again. You both look very happy, and that’s what matters.”

Tamara was walking away when suddenly she felt a hand on her arm. She turned to see that it was Deanna who had touched her. Deanna walked a few more steps with her, out of earshot of Eric, and asked, “How did everything go in Florida?”

Tamara made a face as she shrugged. “As well as can be expected. Patrick got what he deserved—a forty-two-year prison sentence. And I got my closure. But it was emotionally draining for me and for Michael. Of course, Patrick was livid. He uttered more threats as he was dragged out of the courtroom, saying that he’ll get out on appeal and then I’ll be sorry.” Tamara waved a dismissive hand. “But I’m not afraid of him.”

“Good,” Deanna told her. “With what he did, there’s no way he’s going to get out of prison. He can’t hurt you any more. And if he ever does live to see freedom, he’ll be old and certainly won’t be dumb enough to try to come after you.”

“I know. I’m not worried about him.”

“That’s good,” Deanna told her. “I just wanted to add that I know you might be feeling out of sorts and uneasy, but we’re all here for you. I went through my own scare with a crazy ex—nothing as serious as your situation, of course—but still, there’s life after an abusive relationship.” Now Deanna smiled. “For me, coming back to Cleveland was what led to my ultimate happiness.”

“Are you trying to forecast that I’m going to find love here, too?” Tamara asked, flashing Deanna a look of mock skepticism.

“It’s my wedding day. I guess it’s fair to say I’m full of hopeful optimism.”

Behind Deanna, Tamara noticed Marshall enter the banquet hall. He’d eaten dinner, then left, and Tamara had thought he wasn’t coming back.

Not that she was keeping tabs on him.

“Basically, I just wanted to make sure that you were okay,” Deanna continued.

“I’m good. Actually, I’m happy to be back here. Over the last year, I’ve gone through a lot of counseling. Both me and Michael. I feel strong. And I’m ready to make changes in my life for the better.”

“Good.”

The song changed from an upbeat tune to a slow ballad, and Deanna instantly turned. “I should get back to my groom.”

“Of course.”

Tamara watched Deanna hurry back to Eric, remembering how happy she had been on her own wedding day. How in love. How she had wholeheartedly believed her marriage to Patrick would last forever.

Stop thinking about Patrick, she told herself. This is Deanna and Eric’s day, and they’re going to have a wonderful life together. Tamara was certain of that. Just looking at them, she knew they had that inexplicable X factor she and Patrick hadn’t. The ease of communication, the obvious respect. A gentle kind of love that would carry them through the hard times.

“Can I have this dance?”

Tamara turned. And her heart slammed against her rib cage when she saw Marshall standing there.

“Excuse me?” she said.

“May I have this dance?” Marshall repeated and extended a hand to her.

Well, this was a surprise. He hadn’t given her more than a fleeting glance after the ceremony, and he had passed her by when everyone had been mingling at the reception hall. She had, however, caught his eye more than once, but the fact that he hadn’t made a point of saying hello had led her to believe that he wasn’t interested in talking to her.

And now here he was, asking for a dance.

“You want to dance with me?” Tamara asked.

“Why do you seem so surprised? A beautiful woman like you? What man in his right mind wouldn’t?”

Tamara narrowed her eyes. Didn’t he remember her? All this time, she had expected him to approach her to say hello. When he hadn’t, she’d assumed it was because of his date. Some women got irrationally jealous if their man talked to another female. But now, as he looked down at her, Tamara figured that he must not remember her. Surely if he knew who she was, he would address her with a sense of familiarity.

“Don’t make me beg,” Marshall continued, the corners of his lips lifting in a charming smile. “This is a wedding. I assure you, I’m not some creep from off the street.”

That confirmed it. He had no idea who she was. It was a little bit humorous, in fact. He had gone after her cousin with such steadfast determination that he had obviously taken no note of her.

“All right.” Tamara took his proffered hand, smirking with the secret knowledge that he was clueless.

Marshall led her the short distance to the dance floor and then took her in his arms and pulled her close. Her breasts flattened against the hard wall of his chest, and the unexpected sensation of his body against hers caused her breathing to halt for a few seconds.

What a physique he had. His chest was muscular and strong, and so were his shoulders where she’d brought her hands to rest. She hadn’t been able to see his sculpted figure beneath his suit, but she could certainly feel how fit he was now that they were dancing.

Of course he had a magnificent body. A man like Marshall would make sure to stay in tip-top shape for the ladies.

He pulled her a little closer and lowered his hand down her back, causing a shiver to dance down her spine. His hand stayed a respectable distance above her behind, but the warmth of it emanated through her dress and across her skin. And when his fingertips urged her even closer, she felt a startling flush.

It had to be the wine, she told herself. She’d had a couple of glasses with dinner. Clearly, the alcohol was getting to her head.

“See? No reason to fear me,” he said into her ear, his voice low and deep.

And as if he had whispered sweet nothings in her ear, she felt another flush.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the wine. Maybe it was the fact that Marshall was a manly man, one who knew how to touch a woman, how to look at her and make her feel incredibly beautiful. That was all a part of his charm, and clearly Tamara wasn’t immune to it. And that surprised her.

Though maybe she shouldn’t be surprised. Obviously, she wasn’t dead. A woman would have to be blind and without any senses at all to not know that Marshall was an attractive man. More than attractive. He was fine.

And not only did he look good and feel good, he smelled good.

Tamara’s eyes widened with alarm. Why on earth was she thinking about the fact that he smelled good?

“I hear you’re from Cleveland,” he said, distracting her from her thoughts. “How is it I’ve never seen you around before?”

“You’ve seen everyone within the city limits?” Tamara challenged.

He eased back to look down at her. “Someone like you I would have noticed.”

Tamara leaned her head forward so that he wouldn’t see her face and rolled her eyes. He was so predictable. Did every player in the world have to comment on how odd it was that an attractive woman had escaped his prowl?

“I didn’t exactly look like this when I moved from Cleveland the summer after my freshman year of college. I was too skinny, had no fashion sense. I didn’t attract a lot of male attention.”

“I find that very hard to believe.”

Tamara eyed him, thinking it ironic that he didn’t realize his very words were proving her point. Obviously, her very boring appearance had to be why he hadn’t noticed her when he was dating Gloria. True, she hadn’t met him many times, but it was clear that his encounters with the shy, gawky kid she’d been had not been memorable.

One of the reasons Tamara had been drawn to Patrick when they’d met was because he had seemed smitten with her. Patrick had been older, worldly, and saw her as a diamond in the rough in a sea of more sophisticated women. Ironic, when Tamara had started to become a more confident person, Patrick hadn’t liked it.

“I didn’t hang out much,” Tamara added. “I was more of a bookworm. I didn’t do the club scene.”

“Maybe that explains it,” Marshall said. “You must have been hidden away somewhere. Your father was probably afraid to let you out into the world.”

Tamara rolled her eyes again. So he really had no clue.

A few seconds later, when the song ended, Tamara began to ease back. “Well, thanks for the—”

“Oh, no no no. I’m not ready to let you go yet. The music is still slow. We can keep dancing.”

She eyed him with curiosity as the Charlie Wilson song began to play. “Seriously, don’t you think your date will get upset?” Tamara hadn’t seen the woman in a while, but she didn’t have to see her to know that a second dance with another woman would no doubt irk his date.

“My date?” Marshall looked confused. “Oh, my cousin. She left.”

“Your cousin?” Tamara asked doubtfully.

“So you noticed me,” Marshall said, sounding amused.

“Who wouldn’t?” Tamara countered. “Tell me, was her dress painted on?”

Marshall chuckled, a throaty sound that was all too enticing. “Renee likes attention, I’ll give you that. She had to head home right after dinner. She agreed to accompany me because I didn’t have a date.”

Now Tamara was the one who laughed. “You don’t strike me as the kind of man who has a hard time finding a date. Unless, of course, you’ve gone through all the women in Cleveland...”

“Ah!” Marshall exclaimed, his lips widening in a grin. “I like you. You’re funny.”

She wasn’t trying to be funny. She was diplomatically letting him know that she knew exactly what kind of man he was.

But the interchange between them was becoming more interesting by the second, and she was suddenly feeling a little mischievous.

“So, what’s your name?” she asked, her voice taking on a little flirtatious subtext.

“Marshall,” he answered. “And I’ve already heard your name. Tamara.”

“That means you’ve inquired about me?”

“Like I said, I noticed you. And I understand that you’re back in town for a while.”

“You’ve certainly done your homework.” Tamara looked up at him and gave him a quizzical look, and even batted her eyelashes. She would play his game. Play it so she could get the satisfaction of rejecting him.

“Someone like you—of course I did my homework.”

“My, is this how you are with all the women? Total silver tongue?”

“You’ve got me all wrong,” Marshall said. “If you’re implying that I’m simply a sweet-talker, that’s not me.”

Again, Tamara eased back to look at him. “You’re telling me that you haven’t broken your fair share of hearts?”

“I’ve had my heart broken, too.”

Yeah right, Tamara thought. Men like Marshall didn’t get their hearts broken, because they didn’t have a heart. When it came to relationships, all that mattered were the notches on their bedposts. Men like Marshall stayed with a girl until he grew bored with her. Then quickly moved on.

His hand went to her upper back and urged her closer. Tamara’s cheek pressed against pecs that were rounded with muscles. And—she couldn’t help noting—a perfect place for a woman to lay her head.

Good grief, what was wrong with her?

The second song ended, and Tamara slid her hands down Marshall’s arms and began to step backward. “Again, thank you for the dance,” Tamara said, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

She saw Marshall’s eyes widen with lust, and she had to inwardly smile. Yeah, she had his number. All a woman had to do was bat her eyelashes and give him a little bit of feminine charm, and he would eat it up.

“You’re leaving me already?” Marshall asked once she had maneuvered herself out of his arms.

“Fast song. And I have two left feet.” She smiled sweetly.

He came to stand beside her and leaned into her. “Let’s go to my table, then...to talk.”

“Thank you,” Tamara reiterated firmly. “The dance was nice.”

“But I haven’t even begun to get to know you.”

Tamara simply shrugged, then started to walk away.

Marshall fell into step beside her. “I see. You’re going to make me chase you.”

“Aren’t there some other attractive women here that you’d like to get to know?”

“The only woman I’m interested in getting to know here is you. Trust me on that.”

Tamara already knew his game. He liked a challenge. He had chased Gloria until she finally gave in, and once she had surrendered to him, that had been it. The thrill for Marshall had been gone.

“I’ll see you around, Marshall.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.”

But when Marshall placed a hand on her arm, Tamara shrugged out of his touch and kept walking. Seconds later, she turned to look over her shoulder and saw him standing and staring after her with his hands placed on his hips and his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

Poor Marshall. He clearly had no clue how to handle rejection.

Tamara chuckled as she made her way over to Callie.


Chapter 3

“Tamara,” Marshall said as he pulled out a chair and took a seat beside Nigel. “I want to know everything about her.”

Nigel looked at him askance. “Didn’t I just see you dancing with her?”

“Yes. But it ended too soon.”

“Ahh, rejected,” Nigel said with a grin.

“Feels more like a game to me,” Marshall said. Tamara had undoubtedly flirted with him. And now she wanted to see if he would chase her. “Tell me about her.”

“She’s been Callie’s friend for years. She’s the one who Callie had to go to Florida to testify for.”

“Ahh, that’s right. The one with the crazy ex.”

“So I wouldn’t say she’s playing any cat-and-mouse games. I seriously doubt she’s ready for any of that.” Nigel looked him dead in the eye. “You’re interested?”

“Can you blame me?” Marshall looked in her direction. “Look at her. She’s gorgeous.”

“And she’s off-limits,” Nigel said.

Marshall jerked his gaze back to Nigel, frowning. “She just ended her marriage. You telling me she’s already dating someone else?”

“No, I mean she’s off-limits to you.”

Marshall began to smile. “Should I be offended?”

“What I’m trying to say is that she’s had a rough year. She’s just closed the door on her abusive ex-husband. She’s not the typical girl you like to hook up with, the kind who’s interested in having a hot fling and nothing more.”

Marshall nodded. “So basically you’re telling me I should stay away from her because you think I’d hurt her.”

“Not on purpose. But considering I doubt she wants what you want, yeah, I see the risk of her getting hurt.”

“No worries, Nigel. I’m not planning to hurt her. I’d just like to get to know her a little bit better.”

Nigel gave him a knowing look.

“You telling me I can’t even talk to her?”

“You’re a big boy. I’d never tell you that. But she is Callie’s friend, which means I want to look out for her. She’s got to be vulnerable right now, so I would take that into consideration.”

“I’m your best friend, Nigel. You know I’m not some evil guy.”

“Of course not. If you were, we wouldn’t be friends. Just...keep in mind what I said. She’s fresh out of her marriage, so I don’t imagine she’d be interested in anything. But I do know that I don’t want to see her hurt any further.”

“Duly noted.”

Marshall looked in her direction again and caught her looking at him. She quickly averted her eyes. He smiled, because he’d caught her looking.

Oh, yeah, she was interested in him. At the very least, she liked what she saw. She hadn’t told him to get lost, and then there had been that whole flirtatious exchange. Marshall knew when a woman found him attractive.

But she was vulnerable. He could deal with the fact that she’d been hurt.

Because he wasn’t planning to cause her any more pain.

In fact, his thoughts were far from that.

* * *

Half an hour later, the crowd was cheering as Eric made a production of taking the garter belt off of his bride’s thigh. With Deanna seated in a chair, Eric teased her as he slipped his hands beneath her gown, much to the crowd’s delight, and lowered the blue garter. As people whistled and clapped, he gripped the garter with his teeth once it was past her knee and dragged it down to her ankle.

The crowd went wild.

Deanna blushed as Eric finally pulled the garter over her toes. Then he jumped to his feet, triumphant.

“All the single men, get ready for the garter toss,” the DJ announced.

The eligible men went to the dance floor behind Eric and vied for the best position to catch the garter. Tamara and the guests laughed as Eric pretended he was going to throw it one way—more than once—before ultimately tossing it over his shoulder high to his far right.

Marshall, who’d actually been standing just left of Eric about ten feet back, leaped so far to the right that he was able to snag the material with the tips of his fingers. Victorious, he secured it in his fist and did a little dance while the other men around him accepted defeat.

“Of course,” Tamara muttered.

“What was that?” Callie asked her.

“Nothing.”

“And now it’s time for the single ladies. All single ladies to the dance floor for the bouquet toss!”

When Tamara didn’t move, Callie made a face at her. “Aren’t you getting up?”

Tamara scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

“Come on, Tamara. It’ll be fun.”

Tamara shook her head. “There are plenty of single ladies getting up already.”

“Most of whom look too young to get married. Get your butt up there.”

“It’s not nec—”

“Last call for all the single ladies to the dance floor,” the DJ said. “Don’t be shy.”

“You heard him.” Callie got up from her chair and approached Tamara.

“What are you doing?” Tamara protested as Callie reached for her hand.

“Just get up. Come on. This is the fun part.”

With Callie physically taking her hand, Tamara sighed and stood. Those around her cheered as she made her way to the dance floor.

As if she wanted to catch the bouquet after Marshall had caught the garter.

Fine. I can stand here, but I don’t have to be the one to catch the cursed thing. While some of the teenagers around her looked supereager, Tamara resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Then the music began, and as Eric had done, Deanna teased the teen girls and adult women by pretending she was about to release the bouquet. And then she did.

And it sailed in the air straight toward Tamara.

Reflexively—so the bouquet didn’t hit her in the face—Tamara caught it. And then people began to cheer, and she realized what she had done.

But the realization truly hit her when she looked to the edge of the dance floor and saw Marshall standing there, grinning at her as if he had just won the lottery.

“Give them a round of applause, ladies and gentlemen,” the DJ said with enthusiasm. People clapped. “And welcome the couple to the dance floor to share a dance!”

The guests cheered and whistled their encouragement for Tamara and Marshall to dance. And then Marshall began to approach her.

Tamara’s stomach sank. Good Lord, would she never escape the man?

“So we meet again,” Marshall said as he stopped before her. “How fitting.”

Tamara swallowed. What she wanted to do was flee. But with all of the wedding guests watching with smiles on their faces, that was the last thing she could do.

The DJ began to play Eric Benét’s “I Wanna Be Loved,” and there was nothing Tamara could do but accept her fate when Marshall slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her close.

Her stomach fluttered, and her body tensed.

“That’s right,” the DJ said, urging them on, “get to know each other.”

All eyes were on them as if the guests believed that Cleveland’s newest couple had just been crowned.

“Smile,” Marshall told her. “People are going to start wondering what’s wrong.”

Tamara inhaled a shaky breath and then tried her best to force a smile. She had enjoyed the dancing when it had been on her terms, but now it was as if fate was laughing at her.

“You’re as stiff as a board,” Marshall whispered. “What happened to the woman I was dancing with earlier tonight?”

That woman had been playing a game, or so she’d thought.

“I’m not exactly comfortable with public attention,” Tamara said by way of explanation.

“It’s just a dance. Not a date with the executioner.”

Tamara wished that his voice wasn’t so deep and sultry. And that he wouldn’t whisper into her ear the way he did, as if they had developed some sort of comfort level already.

She tried to ease back as far as possible without looking uncomfortable, and when the song came to an end, she was relieved. It was clear to her that she’d lit Marshall’s fire, so to speak, and that he was interested.

“Excuse me,” she said and stepped away from him.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I need a drink,” she told him. She felt as if her whole body was burning up.

“I’ll join you.”

Tamara headed toward the punch table. She had abstained from the cocktail when she’d arrived at the reception, but with Marshall on her heels, she poured a full cup and gulped it down.

She saw Marshall looking at her with humor in his eyes as he slowly poured a cup and sipped the beverage. Humor and determination.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Tamara put her empty cup on the edge of the table and plastered a smile on her face. “Nature calls.”

“Excellent,” Marshall said. He started for the doors with her. “We’ll go together.”

Tamara’s eyes widened in horror. “What?”

Marshall placed a hand on her upper back and kept walking with her.

“W-what are you doing?” Tamara asked, looking over her shoulder at him in disbelief.

“Not what you think I’m doing.” With one hand, Marshall pushed open one of the double doors, and with the other, he whisked her out of the ballroom. “I just want to talk.”

Tamara expelled a frustrated breath. “You’re following me because you want to talk?”

“You’re having fun with this, aren’t you?” Marshall countered, coming to a stop several feet away from the reception-hall doors.

“Because I have to go to the bathroom?”

“You dance with me, leave me thinking you’re interested, and now you seem as though you can’t get away from me fast enough.”

Tamara stared up at him...and her vision momentarily blurred. She felt a little odd. A bit dizzy. But she forged ahead. “I need to go to the bathroom, and you take that as rejection?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Marshall countered, his full lips twisting. “I just want to know—what happened to the woman on the dance floor earlier? The one who made it clear she wanted me to chase her?”

Tamara guffawed. “Chase me?”

“I bet you’re planning to leave here and not give me a way to reach you. And tonight in your bed, you’ll have a laugh at my expense, right?”

“You know you sound crazy.”

“And you called me the heartbreaker,” he went on, shaking his head while his eyes danced with humor.

Amazing, Marshall didn’t seem perturbed by anything. He had the carefree manner of a man who had it easy in life.

“I’m sorry if you think—”

“Here’s the interesting thing, Tamara. Nigel’s my best friend. We work together. So whether or not you give me your number, I’ll be seeing you again. So why don’t we get past this game part—as fun as it is—and just exchange numbers now.”

“My, my, my. You certainly have a way with women, don’t you?”

Marshall threw his head back and laughed. “Am I coming off too strong? Sorry. It’s just...” His eyes roamed over her face. “Damn, I’m not sure what it is. All I know is that I’m interested.”

“What exactly are you interested in?”

“In getting to know you better.”

Tamara felt a little woozy again and knew she needed to splash some cold water over her face. “Can we please continue this conversation when I come out of the bathroom?”

“Sorry. Of course.”

Tamara found the door to the restroom a few steps away. Before she went inside, she glanced over her shoulder.

Marshall was still there, waiting for her.

He grinned. “I’ll be right here.”

Tamara said nothing, just escaped into the bathroom. Once inside, she headed directly to the sink, turned on the faucet and then splashed her face with cold water.

Tamara raised her head and looked at her reflection. Not only did she feel out of sorts, she looked a little flushed. She didn’t think she had overdone it with the alcohol, but perhaps the punch had pushed her over the edge.

For goodness’ sake, what had she gotten herself into with Marshall? She hadn’t expected him to be like a dog with a bone.

“He sees this whole thing as a game,” she said to her reflection. “He’ll get bored soon enough.”

She should have known that with a man like Marshall, once she had taken on the role of the mouse, he would take on the role of the cat.

Taking one of the hand towels from a wicker basket, she delicately dried her face. She was feeling even more light-headed than minutes ago and wondered if she was coming down with something.

She went into a stall and then came out and washed her hands. Perhaps she should just put Marshall out of his misery now. Tell him that she knew who he was because he had played this very game with her cousin. And she’d heard about him with other women, as well.

The Marshall she had known years ago had loved the chase. And he was good at conquering.

All of the time spent with him this evening had proved to Tamara that he hadn’t changed over the years.

The heir to the auto fortune that his father had built, Marshall went after women as though it was a sport. Callie told her that he’d never been married. He was what now—thirty-four, thirty-five? It wasn’t a crime to be single at that age, but Tamara would bet her last dollar that Marshall didn’t want to settle down because he didn’t believe in commitment.

Which had actually made him a perfect candidate for flirting with tonight. Their banter had been entertaining and had totally kept her from thinking about Patrick.

She exited the bathroom, noting that she seemed to be walking a little bit unsteadily. As promised, Marshall was standing there, waiting.

Her eyes roamed over him from head to toe. The black suit that looked like a million dollars on him. He truly was one incredibly fine specimen of a man. There was no doubt as to why the women swooned over him.

“You want to get to know me better,” Tamara said without preamble as she walked toward him. “Really get to know me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then how’s this?” None too gracefully, she closed the distance between them. And as she eased up on her toes, the thought that came into her mind was that she was definitely drunk. Because she had no clue why she was doing what she was doing...nor could she stop herself.

Completely out of character, Tamara tipped up on her toes and planted her lips firmly on his. She gripped his shoulders, more for support than anything, and after about five seconds, she ended the kiss as quickly as she had initiated it.

Easing back, she looked up at Marshall. Saw the confusion on his face. And felt it in herself as her head swam.

Why’d she just do that?

Marshall’s expression said that he was stunned but also delighted. He raised an eyebrow. “Wow.”

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” she asked, her tongue feeling heavy. “To score?”

“Come again?”

She took a step backward, swaying unsteadily. “I gave you what you wanted, so now you can move on. The chase is over.”

Marshall frowned. “You kiss me like that, and then you tell me...”

Tamara didn’t hear the rest of what Marshall was saying, because the room began to spin violently. She reached out but there was nothing to grab onto.

“Tamara?” she heard him say.

The last conscious memory she had was of strong arms encircling her waist.

And then the world went black.

* * *

Holding Tamara’s limp body in his arms, Marshall looked down at her with a sense of disbelief. What the heck had just happened?

Her eyes were closed and her plump lips were slightly parted. She was undoubtedly out cold.

Marshall felt for a pulse. It was there, and it was strong. Her breathing was shallow but steady.

He had seen this before. Women who drank too much. Suddenly, the alcohol hit them, and they passed out.

The weird thing was, she hadn’t exhibited any signs of being inebriated earlier. She hadn’t lost her footing on the dance floor, and her speech hadn’t been slurred. It had been only moments before she faltered that he’d realized something was wrong.

“Tamara,” he called softly. She said nothing.

He scooped her up into his arms and carried her toward the nearby sofa. He sat her down beside him and propped her head against his shoulder. “Tamara?” he said again.

All he heard in response was the sound of her breathing.

She hadn’t taken something in the bathroom, had she? Some sort of drug? It was a crazy idea, and one Marshall dismissed. She didn’t seem like the type.

He touched her face. She was warm. Her skin was smooth. His eyes ventured a little lower, over her thighs and down her legs. At the silver sandals on her delicate feet.

Wow, she was gorgeous.

And she was an enigma. Why had she kissed him? Oh, he had no complaints. Not until she’d said that whole thing about scoring and giving him what he wanted.

She had no clue what he wanted, and he wondered why she had judged him so harshly.

“Tamara?” He lightly tapped her face and still got no response.

It was clear to him that she wasn’t waking up anytime soon. Marshall didn’t know if he should leave her on this sofa and go to find Nigel. He was about to do just that, then considered the fact that Nigel had told him that the boys were staying with the babysitter for the evening. It wouldn’t exactly be the best thing for Nigel to bring Tamara back there, possibly have her son see her in this state.

Marshall would take her to his place. He would watch her, see if her vital signs changed and act accordingly if they did. But he suspected that the alcohol had simply caught up with her and all she needed was to sleep it off. Then, in the morning, he would bring her home.

Yeah, that seemed like the best thing to do. Besides, the reception was still in full swing, and he didn’t want to take Nigel or Callie or any of the family away from the festivities. His cousin had already left, so there was nothing keeping him here at this point.

Tamara moved against him, snuggling her head against his shoulder a little. A smile touched Marshall’s lips. Did she have any clue what she was doing? That she was with him now? At least she appeared content.

A sleeping angel.

Marshall reached into his jacket pocket for his cell phone, and he sent Nigel a text explaining what he was going to do. He told him not to worry, that he would handle the situation and that Tamara would be returned safe and sound in the morning.

For good measure, he added: Don’t worry. She’s in good hands. I’m heeding your warning.

Then Marshall pulled Tamara’s delicate body onto his lap and secured his arms beneath her legs and around her shoulders. He began to walk with her toward the establishment’s main doors, garnering some stares from a few people nearby.

Marshall grinned at an older couple and said, “Don’t worry, folks. I’m a police officer. I’m making sure that this young lady here gets home.”

“Is she okay?” the older man asked.

“Yes,” Marshall answered. “Just a little too much to drink. Nothing a night’s rest won’t cure.”

As he looked down at the sleeping beauty in his arms, he thought again about the way she had kissed him.

And how he was very much looking forward to doing it again.


Chapter 4

Tamara awoke startled. Her eyes flew open, suddenly registering that something wasn’t right.

She wasn’t in her bed. She realized that even before her eyes started flitting around the room. No, this four-poster bed was most definitely not her own. Just as panic was about to set in, she remembered that she was in Cleveland, not Fort Lauderdale. Of course she wasn’t in her bed.

But even as she remembered that, the sense that something was wrong persisted. Because she couldn’t remember ever stepping into Callie and Nigel’s house, much less getting under the covers.

And something else was strange. By the way the bedsheet was skimming her body, she could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. She’d been so exhausted that she had taken off her clothes and climbed into bed without even putting on her nightgown?

It was as if her brain had gone blank. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to concentrate. She was in Cleveland. She’d been at Deanna’s wedding, which had been last night. Yes, that was right. Callie had forced her onto the dance floor to participate in the bouquet toss.

Tamara’s eyes popped open. The bouquet. Marshall. Their dance.

Then she’d gone to the restroom, and he’d followed her.

And then, a kiss? She gasped. Oh, God. No, that couldn’t be right.

As her stomach fluttered with the wisp of a memory, she wondered why the house was so quiet. The clock on the night table told her it was 9:18 a.m. Shouldn’t Michael and Kwame be up and making noise?

Tamara surveyed the large bedroom, with its pale green walls, dresser with mirror and...fireplace? Nigel and Callie had a spare bedroom with a fireplace? The TV mounted to the wall was at least forty inches. There was a leather love seat beside the window, and through the sheer drapes she could see a sprawling tree outside.

The room boasted polished hardwood floors. But nowhere upon them did she see her suitcases.

She looked around the room again, this time with a sense of desperation. It was minimalist in terms of the furnishings and the decor. Spotting a framed photo on the far corner of the dresser, her eyes soon widened in alarm.

Was that Marshall?

Where was she?

The next second, her stomach filled with dread as she added up the reality in her mind. Marshall’s picture, the lack of suitcases, the absence of any voices...

No, it couldn’t be...

She couldn’t actually be in Marshall’s bed!

Her brain scrambled to make sense of the situation. The wedding. The reception. Flirting with Marshall.

“Oh, God,” she uttered in horror. She remembered the kiss again. She had kissed him. Oh, yes, that had definitely happened. She remembered her mouth connecting with his full lips. It hadn’t been the longest kiss, but she felt it throughout her entire body.

What had happened after that kiss?

And why was she in his bed without her clothes on?

“God, please tell me I didn’t. Please tell me I didn’t do something incredibly stupid!”

But she was beginning to fear that she had. If she had come into this bed merely to sleep, wouldn’t her dress be neatly draped over that rocking chair? She couldn’t see it anywhere.

Finally, she bent her head to look over the side of the bed. And her mortification intensified. Because there was her dress, in a heap on the floor. As though it had been discarded haphazardly.

“I can’t possibly be...”

And then for some reason, she craned her neck to look over her shoulder. And on the wall she saw a photo of Marshall with his parents and brother. A family portrait.

There was no longer any doubt. She was in Marshall’s house.

In his room.

In his bed.

Her horror level reached a 10.0 on the Richter scale.

Oh God, oh God, oh God! What have I done?

The house was still quiet, and Tamara prayed that Marshall was in a bathroom somewhere. If she could get up quietly, she could sneak out of the house.

She threw the covers off of the queen-size bed and slipped her legs over the side. As her feet came down on the floor, the hardwood squeaked. She winced, hoping that she didn’t get Marshall’s attention—wherever he was in the house. Because she had to get out of there without him knowing.

She didn’t even know where he lived in relation to Callie and Nigel, but she would find her way somehow. Maybe Marshall was the type who had to work out every morning, and that was where he was now. If so, all the better.

She couldn’t face him.

She’d been in his bed. And she knew what Marshall did with women in his bed. Even if she hadn’t heard the salacious stories, the fact that her dress had been tossed onto the floor spoke volumes.

But why couldn’t she remember anything? Somehow, she had lost time. She remembered... She remembered nothing. The kiss, yes.

But certainly not a hot night between the sheets.

She quickly scooped her dress up from the floor and slipped it onto her body. Then she reached for the zipper on the side and pulled it up. The mauve dress with swirls of white had looked incredibly sexy on her when she’d put it on, and that had been what she’d needed. As a newly divorced woman, she’d wanted to look feminine and desirable.

And she had—to Marshall. Had this very dress led her down the path of temptation and into this dilemma? She had wanted to reclaim her womanhood. Had she done that and more?

And with Marshall, of all people?

Tamara opened the bedroom door and peered into the house at large, finding that she was in the hallway. On the opposite side she saw that the door to another bedroom was open. It was much larger, with a king-size poster bed, and far more photos on the wall. Clearly, that was Marshall’s master bedroom.

Realizing that she hadn’t been in his bed should have given her comfort. But it didn’t. Because his bed was immaculately spread and didn’t look as though it had been slept in last night.

She swallowed and then stepped to her left, toward the top of a staircase. The staircase opened up to a two-story ceiling, with a large skylight. Sunlight flooded into the house, almost like a spotlight on her as she made her way down the stairs. The steps creaked, and she tried to tiptoe without making much sound but it was pointless.

Where was Marshall? In another bedroom? She didn’t hear the shower.

The house appeared massive, with a huge great room off of the foyer. She could see the brown-leather sectional, with decorative throw pillows, in front of a wall that housed a television that looked to be sixty inches. As she stepped onto the first-floor landing, she could see part of a dining-room table in a room that sprang from the left of the foyer. The wood was black, probably black maple, and the room had majestic gold-colored curtains topped with cream swags. It was the kind of house Tamara would love to explore, but given the circumstances, she just wanted to get out as quickly as possible.

Tamara’s feet were cold on the marble floor, but thank God her silver stiletto sandals were neatly sitting on a mat near the door. And she saw her purse on the table in the foyer. At least she would have her phone to call for a taxi and money to pay for it.

A house like this would have an alarm, and she only prayed that it wasn’t currently set. The small alarm panel was closer to the door, so she hurried over to it and perused it, determining with relief that it didn’t appear to be activated.

She bent over and slipped her bare foot into one shoe. She was putting on the second shoe when the door began to open. Her heart spasmed.

In walked Marshall. As though he had walked into his house to greet her in the morning countless times, he smiled an easy, charming smile. Was that the smile he had used last night to get what he wanted?

“You’re up,” he said. And then a little frown marred his face. “Where are you going?”

“I—I have to leave. My son—Michael—he’ll be... God, I can’t believe this.”

She was flustered, and she couldn’t form coherent words. The last thing she wanted was to be heading back to Callie’s place the morning after some sort of scandalous night with Marshall. Her son would wonder where she had been, and what could she tell him?

Lord, this was a nightmare.

“I picked up some breakfast,” Marshall told her. “I didn’t have anything decent in the house. I bought some egg sandwiches from a local deli. A few varieties, since I didn’t know what you liked. I got coffee, too.” He lifted the tray in his hands, in case she somehow hadn’t seen it.

“I’m not hungry.”

“It’s never a good idea to skip breakfast,” Marshall said.

“Thank you for...” She stiffened. For what? “I—I need to get to my son.”

“You can’t take a few minutes to eat breakfast with me?” His eyes narrowed slightly, saying he was more than a little confused as to why she wanted to get out of his house so fast.

She supposed she could understand why he was confused. Most women probably didn’t run screaming from him the morning after a night spent in his bed.

But she wasn’t most women. And clearly, she wasn’t even herself. She had no memory of what had happened at all, which made it much worse.

“I’m sorry,” Tamara said. “I’d rather just leave.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I need to get to my son. This is not how I planned our first night in Cleveland to be.” She was flustered. She stared up at him, her chest rapidly moving with each breath. “But thank you. Thank you for the coffee and the breakfast sandwich.”

“Are you okay?” Marshall asked.

That was a loaded question. How could she be okay? She didn’t know what she’d done with him, but she could only imagine the worst. She didn’t dare ask him, like some fool who ended up in a man’s bed with no recollection of it. Obviously, she’d had too much alcohol and had somehow passed out.

She forced a smile but barely met his gaze. “I’m fine. I’ll take the coffee and sandwich with me for later, if you don’t mind.”

Marshall nodded. “Sure. Though I’m a little disappointed that you want to get away from me so quickly this morning.”

Again, the smile. This time a little devilish. Tamara’s stomach sank.

She’d slept with him. It was obvious now. The look in his eyes, she knew she had.

Oh, God.

Tamara took a coffee from the tray. “I’ll just call for a taxi. No need for you to take me to Callie and Nigel’s place.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll drive you.”

Tamara felt a bout of anxiety. She wanted to escape Marshall, not be confined in a closed space with him. “It’s perfectly fine. You’ve already...done enough.”

“Their house is in Shaker Heights, about a fifteen-minute drive,” he told her. “Honestly, how long will it take a taxi to get here when you call? I’ll just take you.”

Tamara hadn’t thought of that, and certainly it didn’t make sense to sit or stand inside or on the porch for possibly ten minutes or longer for a taxi to arrive. She would love nothing more than to simply flee, start walking anywhere, but she’d caught sight of his sprawling circular driveway when he’d opened the door. Heck, it would probably take her five minutes to get off of his property—where on earth would she walk to?

As much as she wanted to be away from Marshall, taking him up on his offer for a ride seemed the best thing to do.

“As long as you don’t have anything else to do,” Tamara said, resigned to her fate.

“I’m all yours.”

Tamara cringed at the words, wondering if they held special meaning for him. Then she opened the cutout in her coffee lid and sipped it.

“I got it with a little cream and a little sugar,” Marshall explained. “I didn’t know how you would like it.”

“This is fine.” She stepped toward the front door. “I don’t want to rush you, but if you’re ready to leave...”

“Sure.”

Tamara stepped out the door, which was almost flush with the ground, then waited for Marshall to join her. “Hold this for me?” he asked, offering her the bag with the sandwiches and the coffee tray.

Tamara took the items while he closed the door. She checked out the breadth of his shoulders, clad in a T-shirt this morning, and she noted that he was just as sexy in casual wear as he had been in his suit yesterday.

He turned to face her, and she quickly averted her eyes.

He took the coffee and bag from her and then started toward the car with an easy and sexy gait. Tamara followed him to the sleek, black BMW. She didn’t remember being in it last night, but she must have been.

What else had she done?

Marshall opened the passenger door for her, then went around and got in on the driver’s side. Tamara was about to get into the car when she saw a cushion on the seat covered with blond hair.

“What?” Marshall asked, looking up at her.

“Is that dog hair?”

Marshall grabbed the cushion and tossed it into the backseat. “Sorry, yeah.”

Tamara looked around anxiously, half expecting some giant fur ball to be lunging toward her. “You have a dog?”

“It’s a buddy’s dog. He’s gone for the weekend, asked me to check in on him. So I picked Sherlock up this morning and took her to the park so she could run laps with me.”

Tamara still stood there, not getting into the car.

“I already brought Sherlock home,” Marshall said. “What, you don’t like dogs?”

“Not particularly,” Tamara admitted. She had delivered flyers as a teen. More than one dog had chased her or barked savagely at her.

“Well, Sherlock’s at home.” Marshall dusted the leather seat to get any stray dog hairs off. “Will you just get in the car?”

With a sigh, Tamara did just that. Marshall then started the car, and loud hip-hop immediately blared through the speakers. Marshall reached for the volume control and turned it down.

Tamara said nothing, just sipped her coffee as a way of avoiding having to speak. She was desperate to find out what had happened the night before, and also terrified. She knew it was very likely that she had behaved inappropriately, but she was embarrassed to ask.

Perhaps there was a part of her that needed that kind of wild encounter with someone to help make her feel desirable again. It had been a while since she’d been with any man. And as much as it was clearly out of character for her to engage in a one-night stand, obviously, on some level, she’d needed to get it on with someone.

“So,” Marshall began, “did you have a good time yesterday?”

Tamara’s stomach twisted. Was he talking about the wedding? Or afterward? Tamara looked at him briefly and then averted her gaze. “If you mean at the wedding,” she said pointedly, “yes, it was lovely.”

“What do you think I mean?” Marshall asked.

“I—I don’t... I didn’t...” Tamara’s voice trailed off.

“I’m a trained investigator,” Marshall told her. When Tamara glanced at him, she saw that he was giving her a curious look. “It’s obvious there’s something else on your mind.”

Tamara said nothing.

“Tamara?” She could feel Marshall’s eyes on her. “Why don’t you tell—”

“Look,” she interrupted him, releasing a heavy breath as she stared at him. “I’ll make this clear. Whatever happened last night, it can’t happen again. I mean, here I am in your car after a night at your house that I don’t even remember. This isn’t like me. I do—” She faltered. “I do remember kissing you. And then...I wake up half-naked in your bed?”

Marshall’s eyes widened, as though intrigued. “You don’t remember what happened?”

“No. Which tells me I obviously wasn’t in my right mind. And you...you should have known better, even if I didn’t.”

“So that’s why you seem on edge,” he said, sounding as though he finally got it.

For someone who touted himself as a trained investigator, he was also a little dense.

“Of course that’s why I’m on edge,” Tamara responded, her words a little harsher than she’d intended. “I’m not the kind of woman you typically date.”

“How would you know the kind of woman I typically date?”

“It’s obvious.”

“Really?” Marshall sounded amused. “How is it obvious?”

Tamara had started something, something she wished she hadn’t. She should have just kept her mouth shut. Moved on from the mistake of the night before and forgotten it ever happened.

“Come on. You say something like that, you’ve got to explain yourself. I met you last night. How on earth can you act as if you know me?”

“Didn’t you start off at the wedding with someone else?” Tamara raised an eyebrow as if she had just scored a match point.

“My cousin, Renee. I told you that.”

“Right,” Tamara scoffed. “She looked like she just came from the Playboy mansion.”

“She is beautiful. And she’s also my cousin. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

Tamara glanced at Marshall. He appeared truthful. Which only made her feel even dumber than getting so drunk the night before that she didn’t remember a thing.

But the truth was, she knew of Marshall’s reputation. He could pretend to be a choirboy, and maybe he had changed, but life had taught her that people didn’t just transform into better versions of themselves. She had married Patrick, ignoring his early bouts of jealousy, thinking he would calm down once he felt secure with the reality that she was his wife. Instead, Patrick’s behavior had only intensified.

Marshall had always had a reputation as being a ladies’ man, and she didn’t imagine that that would have changed throughout the years. The fact that she’d ended up at his house, in his bed, did more to prove he was the same man he’d been thirteen years ago.

“The fact that you took me home last night speaks volumes,” Tamara said.

“Does it, now?” Marshall asked.

“In my state of mind? Of course it does.” She still didn’t understand how she’d gotten so drunk, but that was a moot point now. “But I’m just letting you know that whatever happened, it was a one-time thing. I’m not the sort of woman who hooks up with men for one-night stands. That is totally not me.”

Marshall nodded slowly. “I see.”

“I suspect that’ll suit you just fine anyway,” she added in a voice that was almost a whisper.

“Excuse me?”

With a huge sense of relief, Tamara started to recognize her old neighborhood. “Oh, thank God. We’re almost there.”

“Can’t wait to get away from me,” Marshall commented, sounding as though he was speaking to himself. “I guess I should be offended.”

Tamara didn’t respond, just sipped her coffee. She wished she could be out of the car already.

Away from Marshall.

Maybe it was better that she had no recollection of last night. Even if all she and Marshall had done last night was fool around a little, it was still too much for her liking. Not knowing the details, she could pretend that nothing had happened.

Sure, it wasn’t the most mature way to look at things, but she didn’t particularly feel like being an adult about this. Because as she neared Callie and Nigel’s house, she was wondering how on earth she was going to explain herself to her son and to her friends.

Minutes later, Marshall slowed and turned into the driveway of Callie and Nigel’s home and pulled up behind Tamara’s car. Yesterday, between the wedding and the reception, Tamara had followed Callie to the house when she’d brought the boys to the sitter, and they had gone to the reception hall in one car. Tamara was extremely grateful she’d had the foresight to do that, which saved her from having to head back to the reception hall this morning.

As Marshall put the car into Park, Tamara began to undo the seat belt immediately. But as she reached to open the door with her other hand, Marshall took her gently by the wrist.

She looked at him. “What are you doing?”

“You don’t want to ask me what happened last night? You don’t want to know?” he said as he released her wrist.

Tamara swallowed. She wanted to know, but then again she didn’t want to know. Her chest tightened with anxiety even while her stomach fluttered with a different sensation.

“Whatever happened, I think it’s best that we for—”

“Forget it. Fine.”

Marshall’s response gave Tamara pause. Guilt made her stomach tense. She was being harsh with him, and he looked as though he had no clue why.

It was time she fill him in. “You dated my cousin,” she told him. “That’s how I know all about you. I’m not passing judgment out of thin air.”

Marshall’s eyes narrowed with confusion. “What?”

“Twelve years ago—thirteen, actually—you dated my cousin, and you broke her heart. Gloria Miller?” she added, when he continued to seem clueless. “You chased her, you got what you wanted and then you dumped her. She was crushed. And she wasn’t the only woman you used and abused. There were plenty. Your reputation...it was pretty infamous.”

Understanding filled Marshall’s eyes. “Ahh, so that explains your attitude.” He paused. “Then the kiss last night...?”

“Was a bit of payback. I was toying with you. Letting you know that you can’t get your way with every woman. The kiss was about...teaching you a lesson.” Tamara quickly looked downward, shame coming over her. Some lesson that had been.

“At least now I know why you think ill of me. But clearly, whatever lesson you wanted to teach me didn’t go exactly as planned.”

Tamara whipped her gaze to his. “I realize that! You don’t have to rub it in.”

Several seconds passed, seconds that seemed like hours. Marshall stared at her, and Tamara held his gaze, determined not to let her embarrassment get to her.

“I really do need to get inside.”

“And here I thought we’d made some sort of connection last night. I mean, that kiss didn’t feel like payback...”

“You need me to spell it out? I’m not interested. Not in a guy like you.”

“Ouch.”

“Okay,” Tamara said, breathing out harshly. “This has gone in a direction I never intended. Please, let’s just forget all of it. I apologize for being offensive. Obviously things got to a certain level between us last night and I’m upset about that. And now I keep putting my foot in my mouth. I’m embarrassed enough.”

“I’m not stopping you from leaving,” Marshall said.

“Thank you.” Tamara opened the door.

But as she was stepping out the car, Marshall said, “Though you might want to know that you don’t need to be embarrassed. At least not about what did or did not happen last night.”

Tamara halted but didn’t look at him.

“I have no clue how you got naked, because when I put you in my spare bedroom, you had your dress on. You must have taken it off some time in the night.”

Tamara spun around and faced him, her breaths coming rapidly.

“A beautiful woman like you—would I have wanted to help you out of your dress? Sure, if you had been conscious and willing. But you were out cold, and I put you in the spare bed so that you could get some rest and sleep it off.”

Tamara’s eyes widened as she searched his face. “You’re saying that we never—”

“No.” His eyes held hers for a long moment. “Not that I wouldn’t have been willing,” he added, and the words alone made her feel flushed. “But since you practically passed out in my arms when you came out of the restroom, and because I didn’t want to bother Callie or Nigel with the situation—or to have you go home in that state and have your son see you—I took you to my place.”

Tamara was stunned; she had no clue what to say. Not only had he not taken advantage of her, he’d actually been thinking of her son—something she greatly appreciated.

“Never in my life have I had to take advantage of a woman to get her into my bed, and I’m not about to start now.”

“You—you never took off my dress?” How had she gotten naked, then? She must have awoken, perhaps because she was hot. Yes, she had memories of being hot. She must have taken off her own dress and had no recollection of it.

“I guess you’ll believe what you want to believe,” Marshall said. “But, Tamara, the truth is that I didn’t touch you in an inappropriate way. As amusing as it was to watch you squirm, believing that we’d made love, I wanted to make sure that you knew nothing happened—since the idea of sharing my bed bothers you that much.”

“I—I’m sorry.” It was the only thing Tamara could say, even though she knew the words wouldn’t be enough. “I...I just... I thought... I really am sorry.”

She’d been flustered. Out of her element. On edge around Marshall.

“Nigel is my best friend,” Marshall explained. “I told him last night I was going to take you home, look out for you. And even if you think I wouldn’t care about taking advantage of you, there’s no way that I would disrespect Nigel and the trust he placed in me. You can take that to the bank.”

Tamara felt like a heel. “Like I said, I’m sorry. I don’t get drunk, and I still don’t understand what happened. Waking up in a strange bed had me out of sorts. So, I apologize for my attitude. And thank you,” she added faintly.

“Pardon me?”

Tamara couldn’t meet Marshall’s eyes. If she never had to see him again, it would be too soon. Her humiliation was at an all-time high.

She drew in a deep breath and faced him. Hadn’t she dealt with much worse in her life? “Thank you,” she said more firmly, meaning it. “Thank you for looking out for me last night when I couldn’t do it myself.”

“You’re welcome. And a word of advice? Lay off the alcohol.”

Tamara’s face flamed. “Maybe it was something in one of the drinks. Or maybe it was the fatigue of driving for two days. Or maybe...” Her voice trailed off as it suddenly hit her. Why hadn’t she thought of it before?

“What?” Marshall asked.

“Gin,” she said. “There must have been gin in the punch. I’ve never liked it, and the one time I had it in college, I had a bad reaction and passed out. Of course.” It all made sense now.

She’d had the punch, felt weird in the bathroom and then couldn’t remember anything beyond the kiss. The truth was, she was lucky Marshall had been with her at the time she’d blacked out. She would have been far more horrified to know that she had passed out on the floor and was found by another guest at the reception.

“Gin, huh?” Marshall asked.

“I thought the punch would have champagne, not gin.” Tamara shook her head, wishing she could undo what had happened, but knowing that it could be much worse. “Thank you, again. I mean that.”





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