Dedication

For my brother, Rich

I wish everyone could have a sibling like you—every time we share an inside joke and a high five, I realize how lucky I am. Now excuse me while I get the boat and fishing gear!

Contents

1. Dedication

2. Chapter One

3. Chapter Two

4. Chapter Three

5. Chapter Four

6. Chapter Five

7. Chapter Six

8. Chapter Seven

9. Chapter Eight

10. Chapter Nine

11. Chapter Ten

12. Chapter Eleven

13. Chapter Twelve

14. Chapter Thirteen

15. Chapter Fourteen

16. Chapter Fifteen

17. Chapter Sixteen

18. Chapter Seventeen

19. Chapter Eighteen

20. Chapter Nineteen

21. Chapter Twenty

22. Chapter Twenty-One

23. Epilogue

24. Acknowledgments

25. About the Author

26. By Darcy Burke

27. An Excerpt from Montana Hearts: Her Weekend Wrangler by Darlene Panzera

28. An Excerpt from Blue Blooded by Shelly Bell

29. An Excerpt from I Need a Hero by Codi Gary

30. An Excerpt from Best Worst Mistake by Lia Riley

31. Copyright

32. About the Publisher

Chapter One

Beverly Hills, February

ALAINA PIERCE’S CELL phone buzzed from a call and pinged from a text in rapid succession just as her landline rang. Uh-oh, she thought. Either really great news or really bad news. Then she heard her name called from the entry hall.

“Alaina!” Crystal yelled, her voice increasing in volume as she came toward the gym.

Bad news, then.

Alaina punched the stop button on her treadmill and picked up her phone. There were actually multiple texts. Her publicist. Her agent. And some numbers she didn’t recognize.

Shit, shit, shit. What the hell was going on?

She snatched the towel from the bar on the wall and wiped her face as Crystal strode into the gym. Her typically smiling face had warped into a stormy scowl. Oh, this wasn’t good at all.

Anxiety wound her muscles into little knots, but Alaina knew better than to full-on freak out. She’d been around long enough to know that whatever crisis this was, she could handle it. The question was: Did she want to? She was so damn tired of jumping through hoops and trying to balance celebrity with, you know, having a real life.

Crystal waved her phone at Alaina. “Have you seen this?”

“No.” Alaina grabbed her water bottle from the tray on the treadmill and took a drink. “I was working out. I don’t monitor social media—isn’t that your job?” Crystal had been with Alaina since before social media had existed. She was Alaina’s oldest friend and the person she trusted most in the world. She was also the person with whom Alaina could be absolutely and unapologetically herself, and that meant dishing each other as much sarcasm as necessary to function in Hollywood.

Crystal grimaced, which pitched her neatly plucked blonde brows low over her walnut-brown eyes. “Ha-ha, very funny. It isn’t just social media. It’s every news outlet from TMZ to Al Jazeera.”

Alaina’s insides twisted viciously. Stop it, she told herself. This was nothing new. She was one of the most famous actresses in the world—every day brought a news story. Well, almost every day.

She left the gym, and Crystal followed her to the living room. Once there, Alaina turned toward Crystal. “I highly doubt Al Jazeera gives a damn about me.” TMZ was another story. They practically lived outside her security gate.

“Whatev,” Crystal said, rolling her eyes. “Here.”

Alaina took the phone and instantly sucked in a breath as if she’d been punched in the gut. Staring back at her was a clear photograph of her leaving the ob-gyn clinic last week under the headline, “Who’s the Daddy?”

“Shit.” Alaina stumbled to her favorite chair and sank into it like a stone.

“That’s just the first one,” Crystal said. “Look at the other open pages.”

Alaina didn’t want to. She wanted to go upstairs to her bed and bury her head under the pillow until the nonsense went away. But that was the problem—it never went away.

Reluctantly, she pulled up the next Internet page on the phone and nearly shot out of the chair. “What the hell is this?”

Same picture, but this headline read, “An Abortion for Alaina—but Is It the First One?”

She stared at Crystal. “Why would they say this? I’ve never even been pregnant before!”

“Why do they say anything?” Crystal shook her head. “Assholes.”

“Is there more?”

Crystal nodded. “But nothing worse than that one. Sorry, I didn’t want to lead with it.”

Alaina resisted the urge to flip through the rest. What good would it do? Absolutely none. She tossed the phone onto the coffee table, and Crystal sat on the big squishy sofa that had just been delivered last week.

“Did anyone get it right?” Alaina asked. If they had, that meant someone had spilled. And the only people who knew the truth about Alaina’s plans were Crystal and the clinic staff. Alaina’s own mother didn’t even know—and boy was she going to be pissed when she found out Alaina was trying to make her a grandmother.

Crystal shook her head as she leaned forward and retrieved her phone. “No. Isaac’s already working on damage control. He’s telling everyone it was a routine exam, nothing more.”

Alaina threw herself back against the chair, uncaring that she was—or had been—a sweaty mess. “Is there a chance someone from the clinic said anything about what I was really doing there? How’d this picture even get taken?”

“Come on, you know the paparazzi are cockroaches—they pop up everywhere, especially places they aren’t supposed to. And no, I doubt anyone from the clinic said a word—they all signed confidentiality agreements when you selected the facility for the treatments. No one’s stupid enough to risk litigation, particularly when it’d be a guaranteed loss and they’d never work in this town again.”

Alaina leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling, her eyes fixating on the rough wood timbers she’d installed when she’d bought the house five years ago. The great room was simultaneously rustic and elegant, the perfect mix of her Southern roots and the elite A-list life she led now.

She looked over at Crystal, who was turning her phone over and over in her hand, a nervous tic she did often, particularly since her phone was pretty much an extra appendage. “What does it look like outside?”

“It’s still small, but it’s gathering. Everyone out there—maybe a half dozen guys—is on the phone and yakking up a storm. Could be a full frenzy by noon.”

Shit. Alaina glanced at the huge wall clock made from a wood pallet—it was barely ten. “I have a call with my producing partner in a half hour.”

Crystal stopped rotating her phone. “Yeah, so?”

“So, I need to think about that and not the freakfest gathering outside.”

“You plan to hide in here all day?”

It wouldn’t be the first time. Alaina set her hands on the arms of the chair and sighed. “So it seems.” She’d had to do worse things to lay low over the years.

Crystal’s phone pinged, and she looked down at the screen. “Fuuuuuck.”

Alaina tensed. “What?”

Crystal didn’t take her eyes from her phone as she typed in a response to whoever had texted her and also spoke to Alaina—she was the ultimate multitasker. “The abortion thing is gaining traction. Some gal over at Fox News is already blabbing about it.”

Alaina jumped from the chair and began to pace. “How can people be such callous jerks? Don’t they realize I’m a human being with feelings?”

“No. To them, you’re a commodity, a product they can review and discuss like ketchup.”

Alaina stopped short and swung around to stare at Crystal. “Ketchup?”

Crystal looked up at her and shrugged. “First thing that popped into my head.”

Figured. Crystal’s love affair with ketchup was lifelong and unparalleled. Most women craved chocolate or wine. But Crystal was a ketchup connoisseur.

“You should get out of town for a bit,” Crystal said. “Maybe head to your place in Vail?”

“Like they won’t find me there?” Alaina scoffed. “This is going to get ugly, isn’t it?”

Crystal winced. “It could.”

Alaina groaned as she moved into the kitchen and beelined for the fridge. She pulled out a bottle of water and took a long drink, but it did nothing to ease the ache that had started at the back of her skull. “I need to take a shower. Send Monroe out to survey things in a few minutes.”

Crystal stood up from the couch. “ ’K. You want him to be friendly or employ the Glare of Death?”

The head of Alaina’s security detail had a patent pending on his icy stare—it was almost as lethal as his fists. Not that he’d actually killed anyone with his bare hands. But he could, and that was the important thing. He also didn’t really have a patent pending on his ability to eye-slaughter, but damn, that would be awesome.

“Death stare. Definitely.”

The throb in her head began to subside. Yeah, think absurd thoughts, laugh it all off, be cool. This is just another day like all the rest. In which the world at large speculates about your life, is catastrophically wrong, and judges you for it anyway.

After an obscenely hot shower, Alaina closed herself in her pitch-dark closet and did yoga. She could only afford five minutes, but sometimes that was enough. Today it took the edge off, but five minutes wasn’t going to cut it. This was all too personal. It was one thing to slam the outfit she’d worn to the SAG Awards and another entirely to say she’d had an abortion.

Not that she had any problem with women deciding what to do with their bodies—it was their choice. A private choice. Too bad she didn’t have any privacy.

And that just pissed her off. She’d rail at someone, but even Crystal, her best friend, would tell her she’d made her bed . . . and that there were plenty of pros to go with the cons.

She flicked on the lights and threw on a worn pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. Crystal met her in the upstairs hallway. Her deep frown meant more bad news. Or at least no good news. “What’s the story now?” Alaina asked resignedly.

“The abortion thing is starting to trend. Sorry.”

Alaina fought against a wave of stress-induced nausea. “And outside?”

“Keeping their distance. Monroe scares the shit out of them.”

He should. He was a former Navy SEAL, six-five, and built like a brick shithouse, as her mother would say. In fact, her mother had hit on him the last time she’d visited.

Alaina noted that Crystal said nothing about whether the crowd of paparazzi had increased. Which meant they had. Trying to leave would be a nightmare. Maybe she could “accidentally” run over one of their feet.

Wait, where was she going? She had a call with her friend and now producing partner, Sean Hennessy, to discuss their new project. In preparation to semi-retire from acting and start the family she so desperately wanted, Alaina had formed Rainy Day Studios with Sean, who was about the most grounded producer she’d ever met and just an all-around great guy. The name came from the fact that both of them, because of their economic upbringing—him in lower-middle-class England and her in depressed Blueville—tended to save for a rainy day.

Their fledgling production company had precisely one project under its belt—a documentary-type limited reality series about the opening of a five-star restaurant in Oregon’s wine country. The star of the show was actually Sean’s brother-in-law. Alaina had seen footage, and Kyle Archer was born to be on camera. He was charming, attractive, and completely at ease commanding an audience. She had high hopes for the show and even higher hopes for what she and Sean were going to do next.

She could call Sean from the car . . . But still, where was she going? Vail was out. As was her apartment in New York. And her London flat wasn’t exactly nearby. Why had she sold that retreat in Ojai last year? Because she was stupid. “Remind me to buy a new house somewhere on the West Coast that’s completely and utterly removed from everything. Maybe in the middle of the Mojave.”

Crystal tapped something onto her phone.

“You didn’t really just write that down, did you?”

Crystal gave her a look that clearly said, Are you mental?

Right now, yes. Yes, she was.

The phone in her office rang. Alaina strode down the hallway to the large room that overlooked the pool and backyard. She lunged for the desk and hit the speaker button. “Hey, Sean.” Damn, what if it wasn’t Sean? She hadn’t even looked at the caller ID. “This better be Sean,” she practically growled.

“Uh, yeah. What’s up? You sound stressed.” His familiar British accent relaxed one of the myriad knots of tension bunching her shoulders. From the moment she’d met Sean four or five years ago, she’d liked him, as he’d put her totally at ease. Probably because he’d been new to Hollywood and hadn’t learned the attitude. In fact, he still didn’t have the attitude, and that was probably why they were such good friends and now business partners.

“Pull up any entertainment website and you’ll see. Or Fox News, apparently.”

She heard him tapping keys.

“Bollocks, what’s going on?”

“Stupid paparazzi and gossip leaches.”

He was quiet for a minute, as if he were reading.

“Don’t read it,” Alaina said. “It’s all crap.”

“Of course it is. But damn. These people are vultures.”

She flopped down in the chair behind her desk while Crystal sat on a leather sofa, her face glued to her phone. Alaina massaged her temple. “Can we postpone our meeting?”

“Of course, but I need to get back to Tom in a couple of days. What are you going to do about this rubbish?”

She closed her eyes and dropped her forehead onto the desk. “I don’t know that there’s anything I can do except leave town. I’m just trying to decide where I can go without the vultures circling.”

“Do you want to come here? Ribbon Ridge is tiny.”

“So tiny that they’ve never heard of me?” She wasn’t trying to be sarcastic, she just knew that there weren’t many civilized places she could go without at least one person recognizing her.

“My in-laws live outside of town on about two hundred acres. They have a very comfortable, well-stocked apartment above their garage. You could stay there and be practically invisible. The only people living there right now are Tori’s folks and her brother, Evan, who keeps to himself. You won’t see a soul, unless you want to.”

“Not a soul?”

“Total isolation. I’ll even volunteer to bring you supplies when you need them.”

“This would also give us a chance to work out some details on this project.” A writer friend of theirs had pitched a fantastic idea for a comedy series. The pilot script was sharp and witty. It had immediately won both Alaina and Sean over, and they hadn’t even been looking for a scripted series, comedy or otherwise.

“Yes, it would,” Sean agreed. “But that’s not why I’m offering up the Archers’ apartment. It’s the perfect place to unplug.”

Alaina wasn’t one to belabor a decision. “Great, I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“People picked it up,” Crystal said loudly.

“Make that later today,” Alaina amended. “Text me where to fly into.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Sean said. “I’ll call Isaac. That bastard owes me a favor and probably owes you about twenty. He’ll get you a jet, and I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

Alaina’s publicist was also a friend of Sean’s. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem. See you soon.”

She ended the call and dropped the phone on her desk. She turned her head, laying her cheek against the cool wood, and opened her eyes to see Crystal standing next to her chair.

“Where are you going?” Crystal asked.

Alaina squinted up at her. “Should I tell you?”

Crystal snorted. “Like you can’t trust me. Who held your hair when you puked up gin when we were fifteen? Who covered for you when you skipped our algebra final? Who—”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Of course I trust you. But what if someone tortures you? It’s better if you don’t know where I am, because then you can’t accidentally leak it.”

Crystal stared at her like she was a moron. “It’s finally happened. You finally believe the crap you act out on screen.” She shook her head. “If you don’t tell me, I can’t rescue you, but whatev.”

“I won’t need rescuing.”

“Since when?”

Since never, and she was sick and tired of it. It was past time for Alaina to be accountable to herself and no one else. “I’ll be in Ribbon Ridge, Oregon, but I don’t want to see or hear anything to do with any of this.” She stood up and ran her fingers through her still-damp hair, pulling it back from her face and letting it fall against her back. “I don’t want to talk to you unless you’re calling to chat about the weather. Are we clear?”

“Crystal. But then, that’s my name, isn’t it?” She smirked, and Alaina rolled her eyes.

“I’m going to pack. Figure out how to get me out of here with minimum kerfuffle.”

“Got it.” Crystal turned toward the door, her gaze and fingers once again engaged with her phone. “Kerfuffle,” she muttered. “Such a great word and so underused.”

Alaina smiled in spite of the situation. But her amusement was short-lived as she recalled the specifics of what was going on outside.

It’s just another stupid rumor, she told herself. It will pass.

Yeah, until it’s trotted out in six months and again in a year and so on, the other side of her brain argued. Every story about her, true or false, was part of the public consciousness, whether she wanted it to be or not.

She was just so exhausted by it all. It was past time to get out of Dodge for a while, and, given the future she was planning, perhaps time to get out permanently. The high-profile life she led was no place for a child, and if she was lucky enough to have a baby, he or she would come first.

Chapter Two

EVAN ARCHER ROUNDED the larger of his parents’ two garages and was immediately hit by the smell of smoke and the peal of an alarm. He instinctively pressed his hands to his ears and looked up at the apartment on the second floor of the garage. Smoke billowed from an open window. Despite the excruciating sound, he ran toward the door, threw it open, and vaulted up the stairs. The door at the top, which led to the apartment, was open. The acrid scent of smoke assaulted his lungs as the scream of the alarm violated his ears.

A woman stood beneath the alarm madly waving a towel.

Evan strode to the dining table situated in front of the windows and pulled a chair beneath the smoke detector. He said nothing to the strange woman, but nevertheless she moved out of his way. He stepped onto the chair and promptly pulled the battery from the alarm. Blessed silence reigned. He closed his eyes with relief.

“Thank you,” she said, draping the towel over her shoulder. “I am so sorry about this. Who are you?”

He didn’t look directly at her but recognized her immediately. “You’re Alaina Pierce.”

“I know who I am. Who are you?” There was a guarded, tentative look in her eyes. He universally sucked at decoding emotional expression, but that was one he knew. Probably because he’d seen it in the mirror so much when he’d been younger.

He jumped down off the wooden chair and returned it to the table. “I’m Evan Archer. Are you staying here?”

“Yes. Sean didn’t tell you?”

“Nope.” Evan hadn’t seen his brother-in-law today, but that wasn’t unusual. He and Evan’s sister Tori lived in a condo in Ribbon Ridge proper, while Evan lived fifteen minutes outside the center of town with their parents in the house they’d all grown up in. “Should he have?”

“Maybe not. My being here is a secret.”

Then it made perfect sense that he hadn’t told Evan. He was terrible at keeping secrets. “I suck at secrets.” And knowing when to keep his mouth shut.

“I see. Well, do you think you could keep me a secret?”

Maybe. If he didn’t make the mistake of blurting it out without thinking. “I guess.”

“Hey,” she said with more volume than she’d used before. “Would you mind looking at me so I can see if you’re telling the truth?”

He forced himself to look straight at her. She was beautiful. But not in the glamorous movie star way he’d expected. She wore very little makeup, not that she needed any at all. The color of her skin reminded him of rich buttermilk, and her hazel eyes carried a beguiling sparkle. They were very expressive and probably her defining feature. Along with that marquee smile he had yet to see.

“Do you have a superpower that allows you to detect lies?”

Her mouth inched up into an almost-smile. “Yes, I do. It’s a side effect of being ridiculously famous.”

“Good to know. I was only moderately famous, so that’s a skill I don’t possess.” He was also fairly lousy at lying. How could he recognize it in someone else? He looked away from her, settling his gaze on the still-smoky kitchen. “I’ll do my best not to expose your secret.”

“How were you moderately famous? Wait, I remember. That reality show with the sextuplets.”

He flicked her a quick glance. “You watched it?” The show had ended almost fifteen years ago, but Evan remembered it the way one never forgot the most unpleasant moments of one’s life.

“No, sorry. Sean told me about it.”

Evan noted the cookie sheet on the stovetop. It bore slender blackened strips. “Is that bacon?”

She groaned. “Yes. I read somewhere that you could broil bacon in the oven, that it was less messy than cooking it in a pan on the stove.”

“But you burned it.” Hence the smoke. “Did you forget about it?”

“Yes, actually. My assistant called, and I went into the bedroom to talk to her. Next thing I knew, the alarm was going off and smoke was clogging the apartment. Please apologize to your mother for me. I’m surprised you’re the only one who came running.”

Evan didn’t know for sure, but he suspected his parents were out. They’d been going on a lot of date nights lately. It helped them keep their minds off the one-year anniversary of his brother Alex’s suicide a couple of weeks ago. “I was coming back from a walk.”

More or less. Actually, he was getting pretty good at the lying thing, now that he thought about it.

“In the dark?”

He heard the surprise in her question. That was one inflection he could usually discern. Plus, even he knew walking in the near-dark in February was perhaps . . . odd. He shrugged. “It’s not totally dark yet.”

“Oh, okay.” Was that sarcasm? He couldn’t be sure. He also couldn’t care less.

Intellectually, he registered that her being here was extraordinary—something he probably ought to have picked up on when he’d first come into the apartment. She was a world-famous actress, someone he’d seen in countless movies and whose talent he admired. “Why are you staying here?”

“I’m, uh, hiding out.”

“Why?”

“Just stupid famous-person stuff. The paparazzi were annoying me.”

He’d hated the fame that had come along with their reality show. Everyone in Ribbon Ridge knew who they were, which he supposed was to be expected even without a show, given the size of the town. However, it was one thing to be acquainted with people and another for them to think they knew you on an intimate level, as if you were friends. He imagined it might be like that times a hundred for Alaina. “That has to be hard. Your life really isn’t your own. When we did the show, people were always talking to me like they knew me, like I was their buddy.”

She cocked her head to the side. “You totally get it. That’s . . . weird. I mean, cool, but weird. Most people don’t remotely understand.”

“But you signed up for that, right?” He hadn’t. His parents had agreed to put them all on the show when an old family friend had pitched the idea. After the third season, they’d pulled the plug because of Evan’s discomfort—something no one knew. Hmm, apparently he could keep secrets, too. Good to know.

“I didn’t sign up to have my life scrutinized and invaded.” Her tone had risen again. He tried to decide if that meant she was agitated, excited, or something else. Sometimes talking to strangers was like speaking in tongues. Sometimes? Always.

“Do you need any help with this?”

“No, I’ve got it handled. Thanks. But should you leave that battery out? What if there’s an actual fire?”

“Are you planning on making more bacon?”

She shuddered, and a lock of her dark blonde, wavy hair fell against her face. “God no. I’ll find something else to eat.”

He ought to invite her to the main house for dinner, but he was probably going to heat up a frozen burrito or make nachos. She wrapped her arms around herself, and for the first time, he registered the chill coming from the open windows.

He went and closed the window. “The smoke’s mostly gone.”

“I’ll go shut the one in the bedroom.”

“I’ll get it.” He turned and went into the single bedroom. The light was on, and he saw an array of clothing spread out over the bed. His gaze lingered on a lacy bra and a matching pair of panties. She’d look amazing in those.

He quickly spun around and closed the window.

“Thanks,” she said as he moved back through the living room toward the kitchen. “What about the battery?”

“Right.” He’d meant to put it back, but her underwear had totally distracted him. He retrieved the chair and replaced the battery in the alarm. “All set.”

“Thank you for rushing to my aid. Maybe I’ll see you . . . tomorrow. Or something.”

“How long are you staying?” It probably wasn’t his business, but the question was out of his mouth before he could censor it.

“Until my life gets back to normal.” She laughed. He recognized that laugh from her movies. It was full and sexy and utterly distinctive. “What a joke. My life will never be normal.”

“Why don’t you quit, then? If you hate the fame and you want a normal life, just walk away. I’m guessing you have plenty of money.”

“Yes, but I also love my job. Could you walk away from something you loved?”

Something he loved . . . What was that exactly? His family. His cat. His job? Not yet. But the potential was there. Finally. Yeah, he’d walked away from something he loved. After grad school, he’d moved away from home, from his family, whom he loved—to prove that he could. “Yeah, I could walk away. Maybe all the negatives associated with your job are telling you to leave. Sometimes you have to realize it’s time to move on.”

That had been one of the hardest lessons of all, in both big and small ways. It had taken him years to learn to walk away from an incomplete school assignment and accept he could finish it later. Or let go of a specific rule or idea.

“Thanks for the unsolicited advice,” she said.

More sarcasm? Probably. “I wasn’t trying to give you advice.” He walked toward the door but paused at the threshold. “If you want some beer, come over to the house and I can pull you a growler or whatever you want. You know my dad’s a brewer, right?”

She shook her head. “That was a bit of a non sequitur, wasn’t it?”

He was the king of non sequiturs, and as a result, he had learned a few defense mechanisms for when people noticed the oddity. “It’s part of my allure.”

She took the towel from her shoulder and laid it over the back of one of the barstools. “Sean told me you own a bunch of brewpubs.”

“Not me. My dad. Technically, Archer Enterprises, and he’s the CEO. My adoptive brother, Derek, is the CFO, and my brother Kyle is acting COO while my younger brother, Hayden, is in France learning to make wine.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and her lips did that almost-smile thing again. “Also an encyclopedia, I see.”

He had a canned comeback for that, too. “The better to charm you with. Seriously, if you want the beer, just come over.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“See you later.” He closed the door and descended the stairs to the exterior door, which he’d left ajar. After shutting that tight, he crossed the parking area and went into the house, beelining for the beer tap in the kitchen. Talk of beer had made him thirsty.

He thought about their conversation, specifically regarding his job. After five years doing IT consulting work, he’d started a new career doing what he really wanted—writing and design. It was early yet, but so far he loved it. Yes, loved it. And he didn’t want to walk away.

He sipped his beer at the bar and heard the back door open. Expecting Mom and Dad, he was surprised to see Sean and Tori instead.

“Hey, Evan,” Tori said, smiling at him. She wore the purple knit hat he’d given her for Christmas. “What’s up?”

“Not much.”

Sean came toward the bar. “Say, I wanted to tell you. There’s a guest staying in the apartment. She’s a friend of mine.”

“I met her a little while ago.”

Tori joined them. “You did?” She glanced at the keg tap. “Beer me. Please.”

Evan pulled two pint glasses from the cupboard behind him, assuming Sean would want one, too. “She tried to burn the apartment down.”

“She what?” Sean asked as he reached for his beer.

“She burned some bacon and set the smoke detector off. I went in and helped her out.”

Tori winced. “Yikes, I bet the sound drove you up a wall.” His sister knew him better than almost anyone.

“It wasn’t a big deal.” It had been like needles in his ears, and he’d felt a prickly sensation all over his body, but he’d tolerated it for the brief moments preceding the battery removal.

“So, Evan, it’s important that you keep her presence a secret—you know who she is?” Sean asked.

“Of course I know who she is. Why is she hiding out here?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“She said it was something to do with being famous. She didn’t seem very happy about it.” That much he could tell.

Sean took a drink of beer. “You get that it’s a secret, right?”

Tori elbowed him in the arm. “Sean!”

“Hey!” Sean elbowed her back. “You said he wasn’t good at secrets! Sorry, Evan.”

Evan held up his hand. “You’re right. I suck at them.” Or maybe, he had sucked at them. He actually had a few secrets, and it felt kind of cool. “But I’m getting better. Anyway, you know me. I keep to myself.”

“Right.”

Tori rubbed Sean’s arm. “Sorry, honey. I’m a little overprotective.”

“I know. It’s cute.” He dropped a fast kiss on her mouth.

“I’ll just leave you two alone,” Evan said. He’d come back down and get dinner later.

“You don’t have to go,” Tori called after him as he left the kitchen.

He made his way upstairs to his old bedroom, which was now his new bedroom. He’d put most of the furniture from his apartment in storage, but some things were stuffed in his room, which was the largest of the six bedrooms upstairs. He’d been given the biggest room so that he could have a rotating swing. As a kid, he’d spent hours on that thing. They had another one in the gym on the lower level. Sara had used it, too. Their sensory-processing issues were similar and yet unique. And, of course, he had Asperger’s to go with it.

He set his beer on his desk and opened his laptop. The open Word document stared at him. It was good that he’d learned to cope with unfinished things, as the manuscript was nowhere near completed, and he wasn’t sure it ever would be. Ten years ago that would’ve driven him around the bend, but now it was just a tiny splinter in the back of his mind. Aggravating, but he could avoid thinking about it.

Which wasn’t to say he didn’t think about it. Often. How could he not? Of all the jobs Alex had assigned him and their other siblings, this seemed the most important, the most personal.

Finish my book.

Alex had left them all letters, some of which had been delivered, while others sat in a locked file cabinet in Alex’s attorney’s office waiting until the day he’d instructed her to give them to the appropriate person. As far as Evan knew, Mom, Dad, Derek, Sara, Kyle, and Tori had all received theirs, too. Only Liam and Hayden hadn’t gotten theirs.

Aubrey Tallinger had given Evan his letter about a month after Alex had died. He’d read it so many times, he’d committed the words to memory.

Dear Evan,

I hope it’s okay that I assigned the IT stuff for the new hotel to you. I didn’t want to overload you, and even though I’m hoping you’ll move home, I’d understand if you didn’t. Of everyone, you’re the only one who gets a pass from me. Okay, maybe Sara, too, but I actually think Sara wants to be at home, whereas I’m not sure what you want. I can pretty much figure the rest of them out, but you’ve always kept me guessing. What I wish I knew is whether you did that on purpose or if you don’t really know what you want either.

I do have another job for you, one that’s the nearest and dearest to my heart. I started a novel last year. I’d hoped to finish it before I left, but I got too busy with preparing everything. Also, I’m not sure how it ends. I figure there’s a good half or even two-thirds there, but I’m giving it to you to finish. I trust you to make it better than I could have. The only thing I ask is that you do whatever necessary to get it published—submit it to an agent or a publisher or even publish it yourself. I’ve done some research on that and left my notes with the manuscript on the flash drive Aubrey gave you.

I know you have a creative side, and I hope this will inspire you to exercise it. Don’t be afraid to step outside your comfort zone. I know it’s hard, but I think the reward will be so worth it.

I hope you’ll help everyone through this difficult time, especially Tori. She’s going to need your love and support more than ever before. She’s so used to being the caretaker, but it’s going to be your turn to take care of her.

I love you.

Alex

Evan hated that last part about Tori because he’d totally failed her. He’d gone back to Longview and done what he did best—bury his head in the sand. He’d thought Alex was wrong. Tori was stronger than any of them, and she’d seemed fine. She’d come back to Ribbon Ridge from her job in San Francisco in order to design the renovation project Alex had left for them in his will.

Evan had no idea she’d been a total mess. None of them had realized it until her husband had shown up last fall, surprising the hell out of them since they hadn’t known she was even married. Too late, Evan had decided he should come back home and be here for Tori and the rest of his family.

Now, here he was, staring at Alex’s unfinished book and contemplating how he could possibly do it justice. He’d tinkered with it here and there, but he couldn’t seem to find a groove to actually sit down and write the rest of it. It was silly, especially given the main character of the story—a young man with Asperger’s whose nonverbal autistic brother had died and who was trying to fulfill his deceased brother’s dreams. Alex hadn’t been autistic, but the similarities between the story and Evan’s real life were too eerie to ignore. Hadn’t Alex realized it would be weird at best and unsettling at worst?

Probably. That’s why he’d included the part about stepping outside his comfort zone. Well, Evan had done that. In ways Alex hadn’t even imagined. If he had, he would’ve said so in his letter. What Evan had really wanted was Alex’s job as creative director at Archer. Yeah, Evan had a creative side, and he was tired of burying it underneath his IT expertise. Because he was good with computers and databases and all that garbage, he’d been cast in that role by everyone, including his family.

But he wanted to write. To design. To create. And not with website code. Like Alex had said, he wanted to exercise his creative side. So that was precisely what he was doing.

What would Alex say if he knew that Evan was Archer’s new creative director? Forget Alex, what would the entire family say? He smiled to himself, again impressed with his ability to keep this massive secret. He’d applied for the job using a business name—a creative consulting firm he’d started for this very purpose. As a result, they only knew the name of the person they’d spoken to via phone interview—his Skype connection had been conveniently poor, necessitating an audio-only conversation—the fictitious Eric Steele. He’d used a voice distorter, and since all of the employment paperwork was with the business, there was no way they could trace him, unless they went to the state and obtained the name of the person who owned the firm. But hopefully they wouldn’t do that. They had no reason to.

No, he’d thought this through, and so far, so good. He’d spent the past month working on a new marketing plan for the various beer festivals they’d be participating in this summer. Plus, he was updating the marketing collateral for their ten brewpubs. Overall, he was having a blast—and it was all a secret.

Keeping secrets reminded him of Alaina Pierce in the apartment over the garage. He wondered how long she would stay. Not because he was concerned about keeping her secret, but because he sort of hoped he’d see her again.

Chapter Three

ALAINA DIDN’T REMEMBER the last time she’d slept so soundly. The bed in the Archers’ apartment was freaking fabulous, and the knowledge that she was in the middle of nowhere—and that no one knew where—filled her with a giddy pleasure she hadn’t felt in a long time.

It probably helped that she’d completely turned her phone off. Crystal’s updates were too distracting, and unfortunately she kept sending them, even though Alaina had asked her not to. That was one of the problems with working with someone who’d known you forever—they sometimes thought they knew what you wanted better than you did. Occasionally that was true, but not this time.

She jumped out of bed and padded into the kitchen. Last night, she’d found a blender and plenty of supplies for a smoothie, her breakfast of choice. After the smoothie, she’d use the gym Sean had told her was on the ground floor of the main house. It was too cold to run outside—plus she’d probably get lost in a nearby vineyard or something—so she’d hit the treadmill.

Once she was dressed in her workout clothes, she headed out of the apartment and over to the house. It was massive, much larger than her house in Beverly Hills. She went in through the back door and was greeted by a line of hooks on the wall of the mudroom with each Archer kid’s name. She imagined they’d hung their coats and backpacks here when they were younger.

Meanwhile, she’d had whatever book bag the school counselor had given her, and she’d certainly never had a hook to hang it on in the tiny box she’d grown up in. She’d barely had a bed—just a mattress and box spring on an oft-repaired frame.

Her eyes fell on Evan’s name. He’d been a little odd. Or maybe that had just been her interpretation after a long, nasty day capped off with a near-fire. She was just glad he’d been there to help. She wasn’t sure she would’ve thought to take the battery out of the detector and probably would’ve just suffered the damned alarm until it stopped.

She contemplated which direction to take to the gym downstairs. There were two doors on the right side of the mudroom. One was open to a laundry room, and the other was closed. Maybe it led to the stairs. She opened it and froze upon realizing it was someone’s bedroom. But no one was inside.

Exhaling, she scanned the room, and her gaze fell on a picture sitting on the nightstand. She moved toward it and looked at it more closely. It was the Archer kids, she realized. She recognized Evan, who was quite a bit taller than everyone else in the picture. They looked like they were eleven or twelve. In the center was a grinning boy—he had an identical twin from the looks of everyone. She hadn’t realized the sextuplets included a set of twins. Which one of them had died? Sean had given her a brief overview yesterday, but her brain had been overwhelmed with her own turmoil, and she hadn’t paid close enough attention. Now she felt bad about that.

She turned and left, closing the door behind her. There, on the other side of the mudroom—next to the stupid door—was a set of stairs leading down. Observant much?

She jogged down the stairs and was met with two closed doors on the right. The first revealed a brewing facility. Clearly where Rob Archer crafted the beer Evan had offered her last night. She closed the door and moved on to the next one.

As soon as she opened it, she froze like she had upstairs. Okay, maybe froze wasn’t the best word, because heat rushed over her.

This was the gym, all right. And on the other side of it doing bicep curls, his arms and abs straining in gorgeous muscular glory, was Evan Archer.

Holy smokes, he was beautiful. Cut better than most of the guys in Hollywood. And tall, which she loved, since she was five-ten—he was probably six-four. She’d found him attractive last night, with his thick, dark brown hair and sexy gray eyes. Sexy? Had the fact that he’d barely made eye contact given him a mysterious air? Why did she have to like guys with a mysterious air, for heaven’s sake? They were almost always jerks. Scratch that. They were always jerks.

He set the hand weights down. “Good morning.”

“Morning. You’re, uh, you’re hot.”

“Yeah, I know. I should’ve turned on the fan.” He grabbed a towel from the bench behind him and mopped his brow.

Was he being funny? She would’ve assumed so, but his flat tone said he wasn’t. “I meant hot as in ridiculously good-looking.”

His gaze settled on her, and the gray of his eyes was so clear, so stunning, she was momentarily tongue-tied. Good-looking didn’t remotely cut it. He was an Adonis. “I get it now.” Then the eye contact was over.

She exhaled, and it came out shaky; she’d apparently been holding her breath. “My agent would drool if he saw you.”

He shot her a puzzled glance. “Is he gay?”

She laughed, certain now that he wasn’t being sarcastic this time, either. “Yes, actually, but he’s also happily married. No, he’d drool because he’d want to sign you to a modeling contract or find you a commercial for . . . damn, for anything.” She cocked her head to the side. “You don’t have much of a filter, do you?”

“Nope. Don’t really need one, either, since I don’t particularly care about impressing people.”

Wow. Alaina couldn’t fathom that attitude. At the same time, she envied it. Sure, she had enough money that she didn’t need to care, but that would also put an end to her career. A career he’d just last night suggested she abandon.

He picked up the weights and started another set. Alaina wanted to pull up a chair and just watch. Damn, she’d been without a guy for too long. By choice—she’d dated a string of guys in LA, all of whom were more interested in Alaina Pierce, the movie star, than Lainie Bickford, the real woman she was underneath. Crystal would say that was Alaina’s fault for not letting any of them get close enough to meet Lainie Bickford. Crystal might be on to something, but Alaina wouldn’t ever tell her that.

She was going on two years since her last boyfriend, and until now, she hadn’t missed having one at all. But watching Evan, she suddenly imagined them in all sorts of naughty positions, their mouths doing equally naughty things.

Maybe it was too hot in here.

He set the weights down. “Did you come to work out? You’re dressed for it.” His gaze swept over her. “You look pretty hot yourself.”

Oh man, she loved his lack of filter! Not only was it refreshing, it was downright sexy. Or maybe she was so far gone with lust that anything he said would be sexy. Either way, she didn’t much care.

“Yes, I came to use the treadmill.”

He inclined his head toward the right wall where there were two treadmills, two bikes, and an elliptical. “They’re over there. The one on the left is pretty new, so I recommend that. I can show you how to use the TV, too, if you want.”

“You guys have a lot of equipment.”

He shrugged, wiping his face with the towel again. “There are a lot of Archers.”

“Right—seven kids?”

“Six now.”

Damn, the one brother had committed suicide. “Yes, six. Sorry.”

He shrugged again and honestly didn’t look the least bit offended. “It’s okay. It happened a while ago.”

Did you ever get over losing a sibling? Of course not. She’d acted that part before—the grieving sister, mother, daughter, friend—and she’d always played it as nothing short of life-altering. “I’m still sorry. It has to be tough.”

“The one-year anniversary was a couple of weeks ago. We had a little memorial—he’s buried in the pioneer cemetery outside of town.”

“There’s a pioneer cemetery? Awesome.” She winced. Now who was lacking a filter? “Sorry, I grew up in the South, and I loved going to old cemeteries. I love history.”

“Where in the South did you live?”

“North Carolina mostly.” She didn’t bother mentioning the rinky-dink town, as there was no chance in hell he would’ve heard of the backwater shithole.

“Do you go back there often?” he asked, draping the towel around his neck.

“Not unless I have to.”

His brow furrowed briefly. “You don’t have family there?”

He really knew nothing about her. That was so fantastic. “My grandfather.” He’d never leave. His plot in the Blueville cemetery had been reserved and paid for long ago—when Grandmama had died.

“Is he your only family?”

“No, my mother lives in Dallas.” In a monstrosity of a house that Alaina had paid for to keep her out of her life. “We aren’t particularly close.”

“You and your mom or you and your grandfather?”

“All of us.” Grandpapa had written Alaina off as an unrepentant sinner the minute she’d left for Hollywood. She could only imagine what he was saying now, with the news stories of her abortion that had never happened. And he’d never much cared for Alaina’s mother, his daughter-in-law. She’d corrupted his son, led him into the drugs that had stolen his life. Alaina could still hear him railing at Mama, which happened nearly every Sunday when they’d gone to his house for dinner.

When Alaina was eight, she’d finally asked her mother why they still went to Grandpapa’s house since he was always so mean. Mama had answered that it was a free meal, and for a decent free meal, you put up with whatever you had to.

That had been the first time Alaina had truly understood that they were dirt-poor. She thought everyone ate SpaghettiOs and macaroni and cheese every night and shopped at the Goodwill for special occasions.

“My family is . . . complicated,” she said. “What about yours? From what Sean told me, it sounds like you’re all pretty close-knit?”

He picked up a sports bottle and flipped the straw open for a quick sip. “I guess. We’re kind of spread out—or at least we were before Alex died. He bought an old monastery and left it to all of us to renovate into a restaurant and hotel. He gave each of us jobs so that we’d all come back to Ribbon Ridge and be together.”

“That’s nice, if you wanted to come home. If you didn’t, then I suppose it might feel manipulative.”

“I think Liam feels that way. He’s Alex’s identical twin. He owns a bunch of real estate in Denver and has no interest in coming home.”

Alaina recalled the picture in the bedroom and suddenly wondered if it had been Alex’s room. There had been a pristine, almost unlived-in quality to it—not a speck of dust anywhere. “Did everyone else come home?”

“Pretty much. Except Hayden—he’s not one of the sextuplets. He’s making wine in France. I think he’s supposed to come home this summer, but I’m not sure he will. He’s pretty happy there. Has a girlfriend, too.”

“That sounds amazing. Where did you come home from? You said everyone was spread out—were you near or far?”

“Not too far.” He took another sip of water.

A fluffy gray cat prowled into the room and went directly to Evan, nuzzling his leg. He leaned down and stroked the animal’s head. “Hey, Jean-Luc.”

Jean-Luc? “As in Picard?”

Evan flashed her a look of surprise. “Yeah. That’s weird that you’d know that.”

She laughed. “I loved that show growing up. I used to pretend I was Dr. Crusher.”

He finished petting Jean-Luc. “I’m going to go shower now. Do you want help with the TV?”

She wasn’t sure if he’d heard what she said or not. Maybe he was just really desperate for a shower. “No, I brought my iPod. I’m good.”

“Cool.” He walked past her, and she pivoted, her eyes glued to his jaw-droppingly sculpted back.

“Hey, Evan?”

He turned at the door. “Yeah?”

“I don’t suppose you’d want to keep me company for dinner tonight? I was going to make some pasta—I make a mean Bolognese.” It was one of the few things she cooked—and cooked well, if she wasn’t being modest. Plus, she had everything she needed in the apartment, thanks to Sean stocking it with her shopping list.

“Sure. What time?”

“Seven?”

“Sounds good.” He left, closing the door behind his magnificent ass.

With a sigh, Alaina turned toward the treadmill. She wasn’t in the mood to work out anymore. At least not on a treadmill. A horizontal workout with Evan Archer sounded like much more fun. Hell, it didn’t even have to be horizontal. She was horny and undersexed, not picky.

Get a grip, Alaina!

She’d purposely chosen not to engage in any sort of relationship—one-night stands or otherwise. They were far too complicated, and the truth was she didn’t trust anybody. One of her boyfriends had “accidentally” texted pictures of her, which she had no idea he’d even taken, to all of his friends. And one of them had sold them to a tabloid. So yeah, Crystal was right: Alaina didn’t let her guard down very easily, if at all.

Evan Archer seemed down-to-earth and completely transparent, which was a far cry from the guys she typically met in LA. However, she’d known him all of twelve hours and was probably just being stupid and hopeful. Nobody was ever that genuine.

Everyone had secrets or demons or something they wanted to hide. Especially Alaina.

EVAN CLIMBED THE stairs to the garage apartment, the bottle of pinot in his left hand. He’d been looking forward to dinner all day. He liked Alaina. And he didn’t get invited to dinner very often.

He knocked on the door and waited just a moment before it opened. The scent of Bolognese filled his nostrils. “You’re not setting off the smoke detector.”

She grinned, showing him that movie-star smile for the first time. He blinked and shifted his gaze away from her. She was almost too brilliant to look at, like the sun. “No, not burning anything. But I will if I don’t get back to it. Come in.”

She rushed back into the kitchen and stirred something on the stovetop.

He moved to the other side of the bar and watched her cook. Music filtered through the sound system. He didn’t recognize the artist. “What song is this?”

“Oh, it’s a friend of mine. He releases his music independently, so you probably haven’t heard of him. Which is too bad; he’s great.”

“Sounds like it.” The song had a good beat, and whoever was playing guitar was quite good. “Has a bit of a Mumford and Sons vibe.”

“Exactly.” She turned from the stove and stood across the counter from him. “Did you bring wine?”

“I did. It’s a pinot from a winery up the road.”

“Fantastic. I love Oregon pinot. I wonder if I’ve had this one.”

He set it on the counter and showed her the label, but she shook her head. “They’re pretty small,” he said.

“I can’t wait to try it.” She pulled a corkscrew from the drawer and handed it to him. “Can you open it?” Her fingers grazed his upturned palm.

He jerked his gaze to hers, briefly, but the connection slammed into him. “Sure.” He focused his attention on the bottle instead of her.

“I have spinach salad, too.” She tossed some dressing in with the salad before turning back to the stove. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Yep.” He popped the cork out and went around the bar to the cupboard that held the wineglasses.

She turned again and bumped into him, bringing them chest to chest. She looked up at him. “Oops.”

He tried to ignore the feel of her breasts against him. Impossible. He moved away and quickly grabbed the glasses. Picking up the wine bottle, he went to the table, which she’d set. It was a nice, safe distance away from her.

Except then she joined him. But only briefly as she placed the salad on the table. “Let me toss the pasta, and I’ll be right back. I hope penne’s okay with you.”

Penne? Pasta. Sometimes focusing was difficult, but then, he had mild ADHD along with everything else. Although he suspected the issue wasn’t his ADHD, but his attraction to her.

She came back with a large pasta bowl and a basket of bread. “I hope you like it.” She sat down and looked at the wine bottle. “Are you going to pour?”

“Yes.” Focus.

She held up her glass and inhaled. “Great nose.”

Evan understood wine-tasting terminology, but he didn’t bother with it. He just knew what he liked, and he liked this wine. “Hayden says it’s one of the best pinots from the vintage.”

“He’s the one making wine in France?”

“Yes, he’s the expert.” He dished up salad into a salad bowl and the pasta into his pasta bowl. “This is a lot of bowls,” he said.

She laughed. “Yes, I suppose it is. Especially if you consider the balloon pinot glass a sort of bowl.”

He contemplated the glass. “I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right.” He sampled the pasta. “This is really good.”

“Thanks. It’s one of the few things I can cook.”

“I like to cook sometimes, but I’m no chef like Kyle. You don’t cook?”

“Not so much. Why would I when Maya is so much better—and healthier—at it than I am?” She took a bite of salad before adding, “Maya’s my personal chef.” She washed the salad down with a sip of wine. “Oh my God, this is fabulous. Maybe we could go to the winery tomorrow. Are they open for tasting?”

“Uh, I think so.” Most wineries around here were open on the weekends, if not seven days a week. “I can look it up.” He pulled his phone from his back pocket.

She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Never mind. I really shouldn’t go anywhere.”

Because her being here was supposed to be a secret. He set his phone on the table. “Why are you hiding out?”

“You mean you don’t know?”

He swallowed another bite of pasta. “No. Should I?”

“I thought you would. I figured everyone in the first world would know. If you Google my name, you’ll get about fifty stories about it.”

“Why would I Google you?”

She stared at him. “I honestly don’t know. God, you’re so normal.”

He shook his head. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but never normal.”

“Okay, maybe you’re a little quirky, but in a good way. Not psychotic quirky like most people I know.”

Most people she knew were psychotically quirky? No, she had to be exaggerating. Stay on topic, Evan. “This is the second time I’ve asked you about why you’re hiding here, and you haven’t answered. Is deflection another one of your superpowers?”

She laughed. “You’re so funny. Yes. When you go to mega-famous-actress camp, there’s a whole class on deflection.”

“Sounds informative.” He stabbed some salad onto his fork. “Can anyone go to this camp, or do you have to prove you have a multimillion-dollar movie deal?”

“Well, you’re not even the right sex, so you’re screwed either way.”

Ha. “True.” He reluctantly ate the salad. He didn’t like spinach very much, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. He was just glad he’d managed to filter that—it took effort.

“Back to your question—I wasn’t trying to deflect,” she said. “Which might be a first for me. I was at a medical clinic, and some paparazzi took pictures of me leaving. The pictures were picked up by every website and entertainment news source and run with a variety of speculative stories about what I was doing there.”

“What were you doing there?”

“A routine appointment—at my gynecologist.”

He hadn’t meant to pry into her personal matters. Looked like his filter was overloaded from the spinach effort. “Yeah, that’s nobody’s business. Why would anybody even read those stories?”

She smiled at him. “I’ll say it again: You are so normal. And I find that so attractive.”

He couldn’t help but smile back. “You find me attractive?”

She made a sound in her throat. “Didn’t we cover that in the gym this morning? You’re smokin’ hot.”

He wasn’t very good at flirting, but perhaps if he thought about it, he could pull it off. “Maybe I just like hearing you tell me.”

“From anybody else, I would interpret that as a cheesy come-on. But not from you. You are an extraordinary person, but you probably hear that all the time.”

Weird? Definitely. Unique? Sure. Extraordinary? Never. “Not really. I don’t particularly care what people say or think. I keep to myself—my family calls me a homebody. I’m, in a word, boring.”

“And that could make me fall in love with you.” She looked down at her bowl as she took a bite of pasta.

She had to be kidding. He laughed because it seemed like he should. He waited for her reaction. Her lips lifted in a smile as she reached for her wine.

He thought about her changing her mind about wine tasting and came up with an idea. “Are you going to be here long?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I just needed to get away . . . I’ll be here through the weekend at least. Maybe longer. Goodness knows you guys have enough stuff to keep me occupied—the gym, the game room, the movie theater . . . Too bad it’s winter and the pool is covered.”

“My parents have always talked about putting in a sheltered lap pool somewhere, but they’ve never gotten around to it.”

“This property is huge—they could put in an entire water park.”

He contemplated that for a second and smiled. “Yeah, I guess. It’s mostly just forest and green space. There’s a creek. It runs by the old homestead.”

She brought her head up and blinked at him. “There’s an old homestead?”

“Yeah.” He wished he hadn’t said anything. His big secret was centered near there.

“Awesome! I told you I loved history. Is it okay if I go check it out?”

“Uh, sure. I could take you over there this weekend, if you want.” That way he could keep her from investigating the cabin.

“Sounds great!”

They finished up, and Evan helped her take the dishes into the kitchen.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said. “I guess I should go.”

“You don’t have to rush off. We haven’t even finished the wine.”

He glanced over at the bottle on the table. There was maybe a third left. “It’s okay. You can drink it, since you liked it so much.”

She laughed. “I’d better not. On second thought, I don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow. Too bad you didn’t bring another bottle.” She went to the table and refilled her empty glass. “There’s enough for two pours.”

“Why do you want me to stay?”

His question caught her off guard. “Uhhhh, to hang out? We could watch a movie. Or you could tell me what it was like to star on a reality show.”

“It sucked.” He didn’t want to hang out. He’d planned to work on Alex’s book tonight. He had an idea for the next chapter. “I need to go. Thanks again for dinner.” He turned and went to the door. When he opened it and looked back, he was surprised to see that she’d followed him.

What she did next really surprised him.

She stood on her toes and kissed him. Full on the mouth. He could count the number of women who’d done that on one hand. Okay, now, with her, he needed the second one.

It was quick, a fleeting touch, really, but it sailed through him, leaving a hunger in its wake. He should leave before anything else happened. Because . . . because. It just seemed like he should.

“Bye.” He flashed her a quick look and tried to gauge the expression in her hazel eyes—confusion, disappointment, something else entirely? That right there was why he should leave. He was terrible at communicating, at relationships. It was why he didn’t have them.

Chapter Four

“YOUR MOM HAS left at least twenty voice mails,” Crystal said.

Alaina had Crystal on speakerphone while she finished putting her hair up in a ponytail in the bathroom. “Just text her back that I’m fine.” They used a specific phone for communicating with Alaina’s mother—and Crystal typically monitored it.

“I’ve done that. About ten times.”

“Then go for eleven. Or maybe stretch yourself and try twelve.”

“Smart-ass.”

“And sassafras.” Alaina grinned into the mirror as she completed the saying they’d made up the summer they’d met when they were ten.

“Are you really okay?” Crystal asked. “You’re staying offline, right?”

“Completely.” It had been difficult at first. She was so tempted to see what people were saying. But after her conversations with Evan yesterday, she was finding it easier not to look. Why should she care what anyone said? Because it was an especially private issue. “Anyone get it right yet?”

“Not exactly. I mean, there’s speculation that you’re pregnant or trying to get pregnant, but no one’s waving around proof.”

Alaina exhaled with relief and picked up the phone from the granite counter. “Good.”

“How long are you staying up there?”

“I don’t know. It’s beautiful.” Alaina moved out of the bathroom and looked out the bank of windows from the dining and living area. “There’s this mist over the valley. It’s mysterious and haunting.”

“You’re such a romantic.”

Alaina could practically hear Crystal rolling her eyes. “And you’re such a pragmatist. It’s why you’re the business mind and I’m the artist, remember?”

“So you like to remind me.” Crystal shuffled some papers. “Three more days, maybe?”

“Or a week. I don’t know. I don’t have anywhere to be, do I?” Alaina had reviewed her calendar on the plane, and it had looked clear for the next ten days or so.

“No, but Isaac called, and there might be an opening at the Academy Awards. Charlize Theron is sick or something, and they may need someone to present an award.”

“Which one?” Alaina had presented several over the years, and she’d accepted one of her own. That had been the greatest night of her life.

“I think it’s costume?”

“Oooh, Frannie’s up for that award this year. That would be fun if she won.” Francesca Cavanagh had designed several of Alaina’s movies, and she was her favorite costumer.

“You’d have to come back on Wednesday probably. I’ll ask when rehearsals are. The ceremony’s next Sunday.”

“Right. Well, keep me posted.”

“Got it. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.” Alaina ended the call. If she’d had to leave today, could she go? The fact that she even asked herself that question surprised her. Her life completely revolved around her career. It was everything she’d dreamed and more.

When she’d left Blueville a week after graduating from high school, she’d expected to toil in Hollywood for years before maybe scoring a commercial. With fortune on her side for the first time in her life, she’d found a job at the front desk of a fitness club, where she’d met a ton of Hollywood people—talent scouts, agents, and the modeling scout who’d signed her. Six months later, she was doing commercials. And a year after that, she was guesting on television shows, working her way up from corpse number one on crime shows to multi-episode arcs. By twenty-one, she’d filmed her first independent movie and been nominated for an Independent Spirit Award. Two years after that, she’d been lucky enough to land an action film franchise, and her career had caught fire.

She’d embraced the fame and had even sought it out. Things had changed so much, though. Back then, Twitter hadn’t existed, and she’d been foolish enough to think that she could simply pull the blinds down on her life when she wanted some seclusion.

Now, she was in a different stage. She wanted quiet and comfort and normalcy. She wanted a family. No, that wasn’t quite right. She was desperate for a family. Her biological clock had started ticking two years ago and had only grown louder. As soon as she’d hit thirty and hadn’t seen any sign of a husband in her future, she’d decided to take charge of her own destiny. She’d done it before—with unbelievably spectacular results—and she would do it again. Hence, her visits to the fertility clinic that was going to make her dream come true.

A knock on the door shook her from her thoughts. She hoped it was Evan but expected it to be Sean. He said he’d check up on her.

She opened the door and was surprised. Also pleased. “Evan.” She was afraid she’d made him uncomfortable last night.

“Hey. I know you don’t want to go out, so I thought I’d arrange for some wine tasting here. Well, not here, over in the wine cellar.”

He had? “Wow, I’m . . . surprised. I thought I drove you off last night when I kissed you.” She couldn’t help looking at his lips.

“Why?” He seemed genuinely curious. “I told you I was leaving before you did that.”

He had said that. “Most guys would’ve taken that kiss as an invitation to stay that they couldn’t refuse.”

His brow furrowed, but he still wasn’t looking directly at her. He rarely did, and it was disappointing. His eyes were amazing. “I don’t understand.”

“Most guys would’ve kissed me back. You know, laid one on me. We would’ve made out. When you didn’t, I figured I’d crossed a line and maybe offended you.”

“I see. Sometimes I don’t interpret cues very well. With me, it’s best if you just ask for what you want.”

Well, that sort of took the nuance and romance out of it. Or, maybe it just eliminated the mystery, and wasn’t she completely over mysterious guys? “Note taken.” She glanced at the clock. “It’s just after eleven. Isn’t that a little early to taste wine?”

“Most of the wineries start pouring at ten. I thought it was the perfect time. But if you’d rather wait—”

She smiled at him, hoping to put him at ease. If he wasn’t good at cues, then maybe he thought she was offended or something. “No, I didn’t mean it was a bad time. Wine-tasting novice here.”

He nodded. “You want to come, then?”

“Definitely.” She stuffed her phone in the back pocket of her jeans and grabbed her jacket from a hook on the wall by the door.

She followed him down the stairs and was once again treated to a spectacular view of his muscular back—though it was shamefully covered up with a long-sleeved, heather-gray T-shirt—and tight ass. He was total eye candy, and she almost felt bad ogling him. Almost.

He led her over to the house, opening both the external doors from the garage apartment and the house for her. He might be a little brusque, but he’d clearly been taught manners. She could hear her grandmama’s lament, “It’s a dying art!”

“The cellar’s downstairs,” he said.

She chuckled. “I figured.” As she walked down the stairs, she realized he stated the obvious sometimes. Did she make him nervous after all? She hadn’t thought so—especially now that she knew the kiss hadn’t actually thrown him off—but maybe he was just really good at covering it up.

At the base of the stairs, she stopped and waited for him to join her. “Now where?”

“That way.” He pointed to an open door up on the right. They passed the entrance to the large movie theater, and she paused.

“That’s quite a room. My theater isn’t that big.”

“Big family.”

She shook her head at herself. “I keep forgetting. You actually grew up in this house?” It was such a stark contrast to the way she was raised.

“Since we were five or so. It took a year to build. Before that, we lived closer to town. I barely remember that house, but some of us had to share rooms.”

“Did you?”

“No. I was a pretty restless sleeper, so I had my own room. And then we all got our own rooms here.”

Unsurprising, considering the size of the house. “Are they all on the top floor?”

“Except Alex’s. His was on the main floor because of his lung problems. Stairs could be hard sometimes. Plus, being on the main floor meant he was closer to Mom, and she preferred that.”

“I haven’t met your parents; are they home?”

He shook his head. “They’re at the coast. They’ve been going a lot. I think they’re looking for a house down there.”

“How far is the beach?” She thought Sean had said it was relatively close.

“About forty-five minutes to an hour—depending on where you go. My favorite beach is about an hour and ten minutes.” He moved on to the wine cellar. “The tasting’s all set up.”

He stood just over the threshold as she came in. “Holy smokes!” There were three bar-height tables with stools, plus a counter with a sink and a dishwasher along the far wall. Wine bottles were perched in groups on each table and on the counter. “This is a lot of wine.” And all of it was open.

She went to the first table. There were three bottles, all red, from the winery that had produced the great pinot they’d drunk last night. She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. “Did you have all this in the cellar?”

“No, I went to the winery this morning and picked it up. Then I hit two other wineries in the area.”

He’d been a very busy boy. “And the fourth?” she asked. “Assuming there are four wineries.” Which seemed to be the case.

He gestured to the counter. “That’s a flight of stuff from the cellar. They’re all the same vintage, but from these three wineries. I didn’t open those yet—just in case we don’t make it through these first.”

“This is incredible.” The wine on the tables had already been poured—two glasses in front of each bottle. “You have everything ready. It’s . . . Thank you.” She smiled at his thoughtfulness.

He joined her at the table. “Shall we start with the 2013 pinot?”

“Sure.” She picked up the glass and took a sniff. “Similar to last night, but not the same.”

“That was a 2012. The stuff over on the counter is 2010, one of my dad’s all-time favorite vintages.”

She sampled the wine. It was even better than last night. “So good.”

“If you don’t like any, you can toss it in the sink,” he said before tasting his wine.

She couldn’t imagine that happening. “I doubt any of this is tossable.”

“You never know. You may also want to taste it in your mouth, then spit it out so you don’t get completely trashed.”

She laughed. “Good point. But I’d hate to waste any of it.”

“That’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re tasting wine. At least, that’s what Hayden says, and like I said, he’s the expert.”

She saw crackers, fruit, and cheese on a board over on the counter. “You even put out snacks.”

“You’ll want to cleanse your palate a bit, and the cheese will augment some of the wines. I can tell you which ones go best with the wine over on the counter. I’m not sure about the rest of them.”

He’d gone to a lot of trouble to create this tasting for her. She was touched. She rested her fingertips against his forearm, just beneath his elbow. “Thank you for doing this. I’m . . . overwhelmed. In a good way,” she hastened to add. “Does this mean it was okay that I kissed you last night?”

“Sure.”

He’d asked her to be plain, so she would. “What if I’d taken things further?”

“I don’t know.” He picked up the second wineglass. “I’m not interested in any kind of relationship.” He paused for a moment, then flicked her an uncertain glance. “Was that supposed to be a date last night?”

He looked adorably confused, and she wanted to put him at ease. “No! When I escaped LA, I didn’t really think about what I would do once I got here.” And that was the honest truth. She’d just wanted to get the hell out of town. “Then I met you, and you’re interesting and fun, and that’s it. I was hoping we could hang out while I’m here.”

“Like this?”

“Sure.” But kissing wouldn’t be so bad, too, would it? Yes, it would. Settle, Alaina. You don’t need that kind of complication. “It’s nice to be with someone where I can just be myself, and I don’t have to talk about anything I’d rather not think about.”

“The reason you’re hiding out.” He took a drink of wine, his gaze lodged somewhere over her right shoulder. “I’m happy to hang out with you as long as you’re here.”

She held up her glass in toast. “Excellent.”

“Hello?” A female voice sounded from the hallway. They both turned toward the door as two people appeared at the threshold.

“Hey, Tori,” Evan said. “Sean.”

Tori came into the wine cellar. “What’s all this? Looks fun.” She held her hand out to Alaina. “Hi, I’m Tori Archer-Hennessy.”

Alaina shook her hand. “I’m Alaina. Pierce,” she added, since Tori had given her full name.

Tori laughed, and it lit up her blue-green eyes. She was really pretty, with long dark hair that fell straight past her shoulders. There was a definite sibling resemblance between her and Evan—it was the shape of the eyes and nose. “I figured that. Guess you didn’t need my last names either. Unless Sean didn’t tell you about me?” She glanced at her husband, her eyebrow playfully raised. “Do I need to be worried about you and this mega movie star?”

Sean rolled his eyes. “As if. I know it makes me completely mental, but I’ve never been attracted to Alaina. She’s like . . . my sister. If I had a sister.”

Alaina recalled their meeting at a premiere party a few years ago. He’d been classy and funny, and she’d instantly liked him. “It’s true. It’s the reason we’re such good friends. He’s one of only a few guys who didn’t try to pick me up within ten minutes of meeting me.”

“I didn’t do that either,” Evan said.

She smiled at Evan. “No, you didn’t. Guess that makes us friends, too.” Except she was attracted to Evan, whereas she never had been to Sean.

“So what is all this?” Tori asked again.

When Evan didn’t immediately supply the answer, Alaina said, “Evan set up a private wine tasting for me since I didn’t want to go out.”

“We know a lot of the winemakers around here,” Tori said. “If you want a private tasting and a tour at a winery, just let us know.”

“Thanks, but I’m good with this.” She set her glass down and picked up the next one. “Cheers.” She tapped Evan’s glass with hers, and he glanced at her. Damn, every time he looked straight at her, which wasn’t often and typically lasted only for a split second, she felt it all the way to her toes.

“Mind if we join you?” Tori asked.

Again, Alaina waited for Evan to answer. But he didn’t. She couldn’t remotely tell what he was thinking. Had he planned for this to be a private event with just the two of them? Like a date? She doubted it, given his question earlier about whether last night was supposed to have been a date.

“Please do,” she said. As Tori and Sean went to grab a couple of glasses, Alaina stood on her toes and whispered next to Evan’s ear. “Is that okay with you?”

He abruptly turned as his hand came up and swiped at his ear, like a bug had landed on him. “Don’t do that,” he said.

“What?” Her heart rate kicked up as she registered the distress in his tone. “What did I do?”

“Hey.” Tori came up beside him and set her glass on the table. She touched his bicep. “You’re fine.”

Alaina blinked at them, uncertain what was going on. Had she done something wrong? Her mind scrambled to determine what that could’ve been and came up with nothing.

Evan set his wineglass down. “Give me a minute.”

Alaina watched him leave and felt bad even though she had no idea what she’d done to upset him. “What happened?”

Tori turned toward her. “Did Sean tell you Evan has Asperger’s syndrome?”

Uhhh, had he? Shit, she really wished she’d paid more attention. “Maybe?”

Tori flicked Sean a glance, but he only shrugged. “I don’t remember,” he said. Alaina was beginning to think he had and she just hadn’t been listening. It was nice of him not to throw her under the bus.

Alaina put her glass on the table. “I think he did, but I blew it.” She sort of knew what Asperger’s was but had no clue about the specifics. “Isn’t that a form of autism?”

“Some classify it on the spectrum, but that doesn’t really matter. You just have to know that Evan is sensitive to sound and touch sometimes. Your whispering in his ear probably sounded like mortar fire.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I had no idea. I’ll go apologize.”

Tori shook her head but tempered it with a soft smile. “No, don’t. He went to the gym to swing it out, I think. He just needs a minute to readjust. He knows you didn’t do it on purpose. It’s important that you don’t take his reaction personally. It isn’t you.”

“Okay.” She felt strangely . . . annoyed. Not at Tori and definitely not at Evan. At herself. She hated that she’d hurt him in any way when he’d gone above and beyond to create this special, probably once-in-a-lifetime experience.

“Hey, don’t worry. He’ll come back. It’s not a big deal—and he won’t be angry with you. Evan doesn’t hold grudges, and he doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body.”

Holy hell. He was perfect.

And that could seriously mess with her resolve to keep her hands to herself.

WHEN EVAN WENT back to the wine cellar, he paused in the doorway to watch Alaina with his sister and Sean. They stood together at the second table, wineglasses in hand, and they were laughing. Sean’s hand massaged Tori’s back, and she leaned into him. He couldn’t see much of Alaina’s face because of the angle of her body, but he didn’t need to. He’d be able to envision her even if he never saw her again—her sparkling hazel eyes, her sculpted light brown brows, and her crazy sexy mouth.

“Evan, you’re back,” Tori said. She motioned for him to come in. “We’re on to Sokol Blosser—almost done, in fact.”

He joined them but didn’t pick up a glass. “I’ll skip this one.”

They chatted about this and that as they moved to the next table. Evan drank the wine but didn’t pay close attention to the conversation. He’d gotten overstimulated, and Alaina whispering in his ear had sent him over the edge. Ten minutes on the swing had put him to rights, but he still felt . . . off.

Why had he become overstimulated? It wasn’t too hot or too loud—the proximity of her whisper notwithstanding. Was it the wine maybe? It had never bothered him before. The only thing that was new or unexpected was Alaina, but he liked being with her. She made him feel great. Better than great.

Maybe that was the problem. Since she’d kissed him last night, he’d thought of little else. He’d only kissed a handful of women and could maybe classify three of them as girlfriends. Or not. He’d never referred to them as such, and the relationships had stayed fairly casual. Until his former neighbor in Longview.

It had started out perfectly. She was a single mom who hadn’t wanted anything serious. Just sex on the nights when her son was with his dad—Wednesdays and every other weekend. Since Evan thrived on routine, it had been an ideal situation. But last fall she’d started to get clingy. Demanding, even. The end of his idyllic setup had contributed to his decision to move home.

“Evan?”

He blinked at Alaina, realizing he’d retreated into his head. Sean and Tori were over eating cheese and crackers. “Yeah, sorry. Sometimes I get a little lost in here.” He pointed at his temple.

She gave him a warm smile. “Me, too. Is everything . . . okay? I’m sorry about before. I didn’t know that would bother you.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t always. I wish I could tell you when it does, but it isn’t like that. What works for me one day is a total nightmare the next.”

“Ouch, that sounds difficult. You’re so . . . together.”

“There you go again—describing me with words no one has ever used with me before.” How could he not like her? He looked down at her glass. “Did you try that one?”

“Actually, no. And I think I’m done for now. I didn’t do a very good job of pacing myself, I’m afraid.”

He glanced around at the quantity of wine he’d laid out. “I think I might’ve gone overboard. I do that sometimes.”

“What should we do with it?”

“We’ll cork it and drink it later—not all tonight.”

She grinned up at him. “I didn’t think so.”

“Everyone will be here for Sunday dinner tomorrow. We can put a dent in it then.”

Tori rejoined them. “I heard you mention dinner tomorrow.” She looked at Alaina. “You’re coming, right? Six o’clock.”

“Uhhhh . . . ” She glanced at Evan, but he wasn’t looking at her, as usual, nor did he say anything. “Sure?”

“You should,” Sean said, coming to the table. “You don’t want to miss Kyle’s food.”

“No, I don’t. Not after everything you’ve told me. When can I see this restaurant you’re filming?”

“Oh, anytime.” Sean looked at Tori. “Since Alaina’s my producing partner, she wants to see what we’re doing with the show.”

“I can take you up there tomorrow,” Evan offered, thinking it would keep her away from the homestead and his secret. “If that’s okay.”

“That would be great,” Alaina said.

Sean sipped his wine. “Let us know what time, and we’ll meet you there.”

Evan shrugged. “Sure.”

Alaina put her hand to her mouth to cover a yawn. “That wine’s put me to sleep! I think I need a nap.” She turned to Evan. “Thanks for such a great time.” She looked back at Sean and Tori. “Bye.”

“Hey, I’ll walk you over real quick,” Sean said. “I wanted to chat with you about something.”

“Okay.” Alaina left the wine cellar with Sean trailing after her.

As soon as they were gone, Tori turned to Evan. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “You sure you’re okay? I haven’t seen you do that in a while. Not since you’ve been home, anyway.”

“And you didn’t exactly see me much before that.”

“No, it was kind of hard with you living in Longview and me living in San Francisco.” She smiled at him. “I’m so glad we’re both here now. But I’m still surprised you made the move. I thought you liked living independently, away from all of us.”

“As much as you did, probably. Why did you come home?”

“Because of The Alex. Because of Alex—what he did. And then Sean.” She shook her head and blew out a breath. “My life has turned completely upside down in the past year.”

“Yeah, it has.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Has yours?”

He picked up the used glasses and took them over to the sink area, dumping leftover wine down the drain. “I guess.”

She brought more glasses and set them by the sink, then opened the dishwasher and started loading them into the racks, which had been designed specifically for wineglasses. “Does Alex dying have anything to do with you coming home?”

He went around and picked up more glasses. “I suppose. You’re all coming back and working on the monastery. I felt like I should, too.”

“Not all of us,” she said, taking over dumping the wine and then loading the glasses in the dishwasher. “Hayden left, and I doubt Liam will ever come back.”

“You have a point. But Hayden will be back when his internship’s done. I’m sure he’ll open the next best winery in the valley.”

“You’re probably right.” She leaned her hip against the counter. “You’ve never said whether you’ve gotten your letter from Alex.”

“No.”

“Have you?” He sensed the intensity in her question. She’d been so upset when she’d had to wait for her letter. Alex hadn’t intended her to have it for a whole year, but Evan had demanded Aubrey give it to her last fall, when Tori’s life had basically imploded from grief and guilt.

He hadn’t wanted to tell anyone that he’d gotten his letter. They’d only ask what was in it, and he couldn’t share what Alex had asked of him. Not until Evan had done it. But since she was asking him point-blank, he didn’t see a reason to lie. Whoa, now he was thinking about whether or not to withhold information. Maybe he was as together as Alaina said. Cool. “Yes. Aubrey brought it to me last March.”

“She brought it to you? In Longview?” Tori folded her arms over her chest. “Why’d you get yours so fast when Alex was going to make me wait a year?”

Evan arched a brow at her. “Didn’t he say something in your letter about perspective?”

“Yes.” She finished putting the last of the glasses in the dishwasher. She dropped a soap pellet into the compartment on the door and closed it. “Will you tell me what he wrote?”

Evan went around and recorked the bottles. He still wasn’t ready to reveal the part about the novel. The same went for his new job. “It was relatively short, actually. He told me to take care of you.” He flicked her an apologetic glance. “I should’ve done better.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. I wasn’t letting anyone help me. Even if you’d been here, I likely would’ve pushed you away along with everyone else. I was such a head case. And kind of a bitch, too, probably.” She turned to program the dishwasher to start.

“Don’t beat yourself up either,” Evan said. “Our brother killed himself. You’re entitled to deal with it however you can.”

“Well, that was my problem. I didn’t deal with it.” She turned and leaned back against the dishwasher. “What about you? How did you cope?”

That was a tough question to answer. Evan didn’t typically show a lot of emotion, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any. He’d been angry and sad and, most of all, confused. He just didn’t understand how someone could be depressed enough to end it all. But he also accepted there were many things he’d never understand, and that was just the way his brain worked. “It might sound simplistic, but I acknowledged early on that this was a tragedy and that I couldn’t change it. The only thing I could do was to keep on living.”

She came toward him, her mouth curving up. “You are the smartest, most grounded person I know. Thank God you provide some much-needed sanity in this family.” She kissed his cheek. “Now tell me what the heck is going on with you and Alaina Pierce! Was this a date?”

“No. She wanted to go wine tasting and couldn’t. No big deal.”

“No big deal? You went to three different wineries, as far as I can tell, and picked up a bunch of bottles of wine. That had to have cost you at least three hundred bucks.”

“Yeah, so? I have plenty of extra money since Mom and Dad won’t let me pay them rent.”

She started toward the door. “You know, it wouldn’t be bad if you liked Alaina. Sean says she’s great.”

“I do like her.”

Tori looked back at him over her shoulder, her brow arched. “I mean like like her. As in dating.” She stopped in the hallway and turned to face him. “Unless you’re still together with your neighbor. What was her name?”

“Michelle.”

“That’s right. You guys were together for a long time. I guess I just assumed you broke up when you moved back here.”

For nearly two years they’d done their thing, but they’d never been “together,” not in the way Tori meant. “There was nothing to break up. It wasn’t serious.”

“Are you sure?” Her brow knitted, and she adopted her older-sister expression. “Evan, you do realize that she might have thought things were more serious than you did. I mean, are you sure she’s okay?”

“I think I can manage my own relationships, thanks.” Or nonrelationships, such as they were. “She’s fine.” Except she texted him sometimes and asked him to visit. He’d declined at first, but now he pretty much ignored her. Shit, maybe Tori was right.

She exhaled. “I’ll stop micromanaging. You know I’m just trying to help, right?”

“I do. Thanks.”

Tori pivoted and started toward the stairs. “But seriously, if you and Alaina are going to date, let me know.”

He followed her up. “Why, so you and everybody else can meddle? I heard how much you appreciated that when Sean was trying to woo you back last fall.”

“Oooh, that burns!” She laughed. “Point taken. I’ll mind my own business.”

They got to the top, and she turned again and then touched his arm. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I think you want me to be in love—like you are.”

She cracked a smile. “Maybe I do. It’s pretty great.”

He could see it all around him. Her and Sean. Sara and Dylan. Derek and Chloe. All of them happily married or engaged. Then there was Kyle and Maggie. Not married or engaged yet, but definitely happy.

“See you later.” He left her and hurried upstairs to his room for some quiet. He needed downtime every day, otherwise he’d be an overstimulated mess. He pulled up his e-mail and saw a message from Dad.

Evan swallowed as he opened it, surprised to find he felt a bit nervous. But it was his first big promotional campaign for Archer. No, it was his first big promotional campaign, period. Dad had taken a chance when he’d hired a fledgling marketing and design consultant. Evan had come up with the idea to shield his identity after Alex had died—he hadn’t wanted to go after his brother’s job, not in the midst of everyone’s grief. Last summer, he’d set up the fake company, and in the fall, he’d applied for the job under the identity of Eric Steele and said he suffered from acute agoraphobia, which would prevent him from interviewing in person or working at the company facility. It seemed like a crazy idea, but Evan had worked hard to dot every i and cross every t to ensure he came off as credible and capable. And it had worked.

Evan scanned the e-mail, his adrenaline pumping.

Eric,

When you promised us innovation as well as a keen understanding of our brand, I thought you were just saying what every applicant says and what employers want to hear. However, your earnestness and attention to detail won us over, and we hired you. I never imagined you’d deliver something so quickly and that it would be so spot-on perfect. This is incredible. The logo you designed for our summer festival beer is fantastic and the name . . . well, it’s Epic!

Evan smiled. Every beer they’d ever made bore a name that was tied somehow to archery. He’d wanted something a little bit different but in keeping with the idea of something archery might represent. He’d thought of mythology and legend and literature with archers, and so many of them were epic. It seemed the right name.

I understand your disability doesn’t allow us to meet in person, but if we could, I’d shake your hand. Hell, I might even give you a hug. Well done!

Please move forward with everything you discussed and let us know when you have collateral designs.

Best,

Rob Archer

Evan couldn’t stop grinning. He’d thought he’d done a good job, but he hadn’t known. This was all so new to him. He was tempted to share this with someone, and strangely, Alaina came to mind. He shook his head. Maybe Tori.

But then he’d have to ask her to keep it a secret from Dad and everyone else.

Or, he could come clean with Dad. He should. But he wasn’t ready yet. He’d nailed this assignment, but what if it was the only one? What if everything else he did fell completely short? He could hear everyone telling him, “At least you’re great at the tech stuff. You’ll always have something to fall back on there.”

While he couldn’t argue with that, it wasn’t what he wanted. And Alex had been right—Evan hadn’t known what that was. Until now.

Chapter Five

AROUND NOON ON Sunday, Evan knocked on the door to the garage apartment. He was a little tired, but then he’d stayed up working past two at the cabin, where he’d set up his work space. He’d chosen the small building as his secret office where he could lay out all of his design work and inspiration without anyone seeing it. Hardly anyone visited the homestead, meaning the house, and no one went down the hill to the small cabin that had been the first dwelling of Benjamin Archer, who’d founded Ribbon Ridge.

Evan had been so into his design work, he’d barely noticed the time. If not for the protein bars stuffed in his desk drawer, he might not have remembered to eat. He was glad he’d put a couch in the cabin, as it had given him a place to crash.

The door opened, and Alaina looked surprised. “Evan, I didn’t realize you were coming.”

“Sorry, I would’ve texted, but I realized we didn’t exchange numbers.”

“No, we didn’t.” She cocked her head to the side. “You could’ve asked Sean for my number.”

“Didn’t think of it. Are you ready to go to The Alex?”

“The Alex?” She looked at him in confusion.

“The monastery that we’re converting into a hotel. Kyle’s restaurant?”

“I didn’t realize it was called The Alex. That’s really nice.”

He saw her smile, even though he was looking past her into the apartment. “So, are you ready?”

“Um, no.” She laughed. “I didn’t know you were coming! Let me throw some makeup on and fix my hair.”

He looked at her and did a quick survey. Her dark blonde hair hung around her face in waves. She wasn’t wearing makeup, but he only noticed because she’d said so. “You’re naturally beautiful. You don’t have to do any of that.”

She laughed again. “I suppose you’re right—not the beautiful part, but that I don’t have to wear makeup. It’s not like the paparazzi are waiting outside.” She glanced toward the windows. “Are they?”

He still didn’t know why she was hiding out, and he supposed he could Google her. Maybe he would. Later. If he thought of it. “No one here but us. My folks still aren’t back yet.”

“I gathered that. I went over to the house last night looking for you, but the entire place was empty.”

“You searched the house?” He wondered if that included the bedrooms. His room was a potentially embarrassing mix of his younger and current selves.

“I didn’t open every door, if that’s what you’re asking.” She grinned. “I’m not that nosy! Let me get my shoes.” She disappeared into the bedroom.

Evan looked around the apartment. Though she’d only been here a couple of days, it looked lived in. Her coat and a jacket hung from the framed hooks on the wall. Her purse was on the kitchen bar. The kitchen itself was cluttered with dishes, and a box of crackers stood open on the counter. He went and closed it up.

“You don’t have to clean up after me,” she said, coming toward the kitchen as she put a small hoop earring in one ear.

“I hate stale crackers.”

“Who doesn’t? It was my weak attempt at lunch. I’ve never been very good at cooking for just myself. Seems pointless.”

“Is that why you invited me the other night?”

“That and your hotness.” She flashed a smile, and it was like a gut-punch of heat. “I would’ve invited you last night, too, but I couldn’t find you. Like I said, the house seemed empty.”

“I wasn’t there.” Because he’d been at the cabin working. He probably could’ve worked at home, since his parents were gone, but he kept his work stuff completely separate. He didn’t need anyone barging in while he had Archer creative stuff open across his computer monitors.

He thought of what she’d said earlier about exchanging numbers. “You could’ve gotten my cell phone number from Sean.”

“I could’ve. But . . . I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I can’t quite read you. I’m not sure if I’m a nuisance or not.”

“Definitely not a nuisance.” He swiped his hand through the cropped hair over his ear. “Listen, as bad as I am at reading cues, I might be even worse at giving them. I’m incredibly literal—often to a fault. And when I’m occupied with something, I’m occupied.”

“Were you occupied last night?” She hesitated before adding, “I wondered if you were maybe on a date. It was Saturday night, after all.”

He looked at her, and the connection of their gazes was potent enough to make him look immediately away. It was almost like her touch—wonderful but completely disruptive at the same time. What he couldn’t decide was whether that disruption was good or bad, but he was leaning toward good. Very, very good.

And that was bad.

He hadn’t felt an attraction like that since he’d first met Michelle. He didn’t need another Michelle right now.

That was absurd. Alaina was nothing like Michelle, and he highly doubted there was any sort of potential for a physical connection. She was here for a short time, and they were just hanging out.

“I don’t really date.”

“Why not?”

He turned from her and opened the door. “Come on, you can interrogate me in the car.”

Her laughter followed him down the stairs. He held the door open for her at the bottom and closed it after she walked outside. She’d grabbed a jacket and her purse.

“I wasn’t trying to interrogate you. You don’t have to talk about your love life.”

Love life? He turned toward the garage where he kept his Subaru Forester—one of the middle bays beneath the apartment. “I’ve never had one of those.”

She hurried to walk beside him. “Wait, are you saying you’re a virgin?”

He stopped at the door and flicked her a glance. “I never said that.”

“Whew.” She exhaled. “I thought I had a Jamie Fraser on my hands.”

He punched in the code, and the garage door opened. “Who’s that?”

“Eighteenth-century Scottish hero from a great book series. Super hot, very gentlemanly, and a virgin until his wife deflowers him.”

“Deflowers?”

She giggled. “Too much?”

“I’m not sure I’ve heard that word before, though I can deduce what it means.” He opened the car door for her.

She nodded toward the open door. “See? Gentlemanly. And we’ve established your hotness quotient.”

“I’m not Scottish. Actually, there might be some Scots blood on my Dad’s side. Yeah, I think so.”

She slid him a sideways look as she sat in the car. “But not a virgin?”

He curved his mouth into a half-smile. “Definitely not.”

She smiled back, but there was nothing halfway about it. “Goody.”

He closed the door and walked around to his side. Even he had to realize she was flirting with him. What was he going to do about that?

He climbed into the car and started the engine. “I didn’t text Sean. Is that okay? I’d rather show you the place myself.” Apparently that was what he was going to do about her flirting.

“Well, Sean is my partner. I should probably text him.” She was quiet a moment. “You know what? Never mind. I’ll text him later. Let’s go.”

Evan pulled out of the garage and clicked the remote to close the door. He drove through the porte cochere and around the fountain in the front of the house, then down the long drive to the gate.

“How far is it?” she asked.

“Maybe ten minutes. Up the hill a bit.”

“So Alex left this place to you in his will, and none of you had a clue?”

He remotely opened the gate and drove through to the end of the road, where he turned left to head up into the hills. “No, but then, the only person who lived here at the time was Hayden. And he didn’t live in the house—he has a place on the other side of town. Kyle and Maggie are living there now while Hayden’s in France.”

“Sounds like you all drifted apart.”

“Sort of. Everyone’s fairly close, even when we aren’t together. We can go periods of time without seeing each other or even communicating, and when we finally do, it’s like no time has passed. But I talk to Tori all the time—at least texting and IMing.”

“Sounds like you and Tori are pretty tight,” she said. “I don’t have any siblings.”

He couldn’t imagine what that would be like. The quiet, the lack of insanity . . . “Sometimes they’re more trouble than they’re worth.”

“Was that a bit of sarcasm? It sounded like it, but you said you were literal, so I have to ask.”

“Yeah, that was sarcasm—I’m occasionally capable of that.”

She nudged his arm, surprising him. “That makes me feel better. I’m the Queen of Sarcasm, or so Crystal tells me.”

“Who’s Crystal?”

“My assistant. And my oldest friend. I guess she’s the closest thing to a sibling I have.”

“There’s the monastery.” He pointed through the windshield to the spire that climbed two hundred feet.”

She leaned forward. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting something so big.”

He rounded the corner and pulled into the large gravel lot. To the left was the trailer they used as an office. He parked on the other side of the lot, nearer the restaurant. He jumped out, but she was already climbing from the car before he could get there.

“You’re not letting me be a gentleman.”

“I won’t deduct any points.” She winked at him as she closed the door. She put her hands on her hips as she looked at the restaurant. “This is going to be so amazing. Was this a church?”

“Yep. Over there was the monks’ quarters. That’ll be the hotel. We’ve started that phase, even though the restaurant isn’t quite done.”

“Sean said there was a zoning problem delaying things. The restaurant was supposed to be open by now?”

He nodded. “New Year’s was the original goal, but the zoning issue put a wrench in that. We’re hoping to get everything squared away so we can open this summer, but the zoning appeal is taking forever.”

“Sean also said it was because of some guy who’s got some decades-old vendetta against your dad?”

“Yeah, something like that. I don’t pay too much attention to that sort of thing.”

“Smart of you to stay away from drama.” A sharp wind blew over them, and she shivered. “Can we go in?”

He went to the heavy wooden door on the right and unlocked it. Then he held it open for her. “After you.”

“Wow.” She walked past him into the restaurant.

It looked somewhat like a dining area since the tables and chairs had been delivered, plus there were two banks of booths. Nothing had been set up, however, so it was sort of a jumbled mess. Evan suppressed the urge to order everything.

“I love that some of the church elements have remained—the stained glass windows and the dark wood. It has a kind of English country house feel. Very cozy.”

“It seemed a bit dark, so they installed those wide windows on either side of the door.” Evan gestured behind them.

“A good idea. That lets in a lot of natural light.” She moved toward the far wall. They’d put in a massive fireplace where the altar had been. “This is gorgeous. I love the stonework.” She ran her fingertips over the rock but quickly withdrew her hand. “Brrr, that’s cold!”

“Yeah, there’s no heat on in here today, sorry.”

“It’s okay. I should’ve packed a hat and a scarf and gloves. But I was in too much of a hurry when I left, and I just didn’t think of it.” She smiled, shaking her head. “February in southern California is not the same as February in Ribbon Ridge.”

“No, it’s not. If you need that stuff, I can pick it up for you in town.” He’d bought Tori’s purple hat at a little boutique called The Knitty Gritty. It was run by two sisters who knitted a lot of the products. They also carried an array of accessories. It was the sort of store that gave a guy a headache if he stayed in there too long, but his mom and sisters loved it.

“You are the nicest guy. And no drama. Are you for real?” She came closer and touched his chest. “Yep, real.”

Then she moved away, and he just barely restrained himself from dragging her hand back. Touch was a weird thing for him. Sometimes he wanted nothing to do with it, but others, the craving for human connection was almost painful. And right now, he wanted it. From her.

Thankfully she strolled over to the bar area. “I just want to sit down and order a Spanish coffee.”

He joined her but kept his distance. “There isn’t any alcohol here. And we can’t get a liquor license yet.”

“A girl can dream.” She tossed him a smile before cutting around the bar to the doors into the kitchen. “Where does this lead?”

“Kitchen, office, bathrooms are to the right.” He gestured down the hallway that terminated behind the bar.

She nodded as she continued along the short corridor, passing Kyle’s office and heading to the kitchen.

“Holy smokes, this is amazing.” She walked along the various prep areas. “It looks ready to go.”

“It pretty much is.” He followed her as she went to the wide window that looked over what would be an herb and vegetable garden and tried not to stare at her backside. She wore tight black pants tucked into knee-high brown boots. And underneath her coat was a very soft-looking V-neck ivory sweater.

“I love that there’s natural light in here, too. It feels like a real kitchen, not commercial. Are there going to be veggies out there?” She pointed out the window.

“Yes. Kyle’s girlfriend, Maggie, is a gardener. She’s plotted the whole thing out so there’ll be fresh produce. There’s a root cellar from the original building, too.”

She turned from the window. “That’s so great that you’re able to bring in some of the existing aspects of the place.”

“As much as we can. There’s an underground room and tunnels where the monks used to store wine that they made. Dylan—that’s Sara’s fiancé—had the idea to convert it into a pub. They’re working on the exterior door now, well not right now. It’s supposed to look like a door from Hobbiton.”

“Fun! I visited Hobbiton when I was in New Zealand last year.”

His brain zeroed in on what she said, and everything else fell away. “You’ve been to Hobbiton?”

She nodded. “It was incredible. I was a huge fan of the movies.”

“Do you have pictures? I’d love to see them. I’m, uh . . . ” He flicked her a direct glance. “I’m a bit of a Lord of the Rings nerd.”

“Then you should totally go!”

The thought of traveling so far made him cringe. “New Zealand is on the other side of the world. That plane ride has to be brutal.”

“It’s not so bad if you take first class.”

Thanks to the money he’d inherited from his grandfather, he could more than afford that, but he still wasn’t convinced. “I’ll think about it. But I’d still like to see your pictures.”

“Definitely. I have a bunch on my iPad back at the apartment. Can you show me the underground room? I’d love to see it.”

“Sure. We can go out the back door over here.” He unbolted the rear entrance and opened the door to let her out. Once they were both outside, he locked it back up behind him. “This way.” He led her along a wide path. “This will be a corridor connecting the restaurant with the hotel.”

“I see it’s all marked.” She gestured toward the wooden stakes set at intervals. “And your sister’s fiancé is managing this entire project?”

“Yeah, and he’s doing a great job.” His mind had drifted away from Lord of the Rings and was making its way back to her. He could just smell her perfume—something light and fresh, with the slightest hint of floral. “Does your perfume have peonies?”

She laughed. “Where did that come from? Sorry, I guess you did tell me you’re the King of the Non Sequitur. Yes to the peonies. They’re my favorite flowers. You have a great nose.”

“Sometimes. Hayden would argue that I don’t get wine quite right.”

“Don’t you ever wonder if that’s all garbage anyway? I mean, I can never smell all the things the notes say I should be able to, can you?”

“Not always, and that’s why Hayden debates me. I call bullshit, and he defends the various notes in the wine—vanilla, cassis, coffee . . . whatever. Like I couldn’t pick up the smell of coffee. It’s one of the strongest scents out there. Sometimes I can barely put up with standing in line at Starbucks. Good thing I don’t like it that much. It’s good with caramel in it. Or sometimes I have a mocha. Last year I started drinking chai tea lattes. Those are pretty good.”

She paused and looked at him. “I don’t know that I’ve ever heard you say that much at one time.”

Crap, he’d rambled. He didn’t do it as often as he used to, but sometimes he mentally checked out. It was a sign that he was pretty comfortable with her. Comfortable enough to lower his guard. He thought of a way to put a humorous spin on it—or try to, anyway. “Part of my lack of filter. You’re lucky I didn’t launch into a monologue about Peter Jackson’s adaptation of Tolkien’s novels.”

She laughed, and he relaxed. Mission accomplished.

“I love chai tea.” She turned to look at the monks’ quarters, which were currently undergoing renovation. “This is the hotel?”

“Yes, there will be forty rooms.”

“Will there be a spa? This place is screaming for a spa.”

He looked over at her. Her gaze was fixed on the building. The wide doorway had been cut but was covered with plastic until the doors came in.

“I don’t think we’ve talked about a spa. That’s a good idea.”

“It’s just so beautiful and peaceful here. I bet it’s breathtaking in summer.”

He thought of the warm, gentle breeze, the smell of grass and wild berries, the sounds of birds and bees—and the odd farm equipment running somewhere in the distance. “There’s no place quite like Ribbon Ridge. Well, I’m sure there is, but I’ve never been there.”

“You don’t travel much, do you?”

“Not unless I have to. The furthest I’ve been is Disneyworld.” Which had been too loud and incredibly overstimulating for an eight-year-old. Their family vacations in Hawaii had been much more his speed.

“Whereas I’ve been around the world.”

“Where’s your favorite place?”

“Until this weekend, I would’ve said Ireland or Greece, but Ribbon Ridge is coming up pretty high on my list.”

He felt her gaze on him. It was almost as strong and potent as her touch. It awakened his senses and set them to craving something he shouldn’t want.

“The underground pub is this way.” A blessedly cold wind rustled through his hair, giving him a much-needed chill.

She wrapped her arms around herself. “Brrr. That wind is something else.”

“I’ll go into town when we get back and get you a hat. What’s your favorite color?”

“Turquoise.” She glanced up at him. “But you don’t have to go to any trouble.”

“Buying you a hat isn’t trouble.”

“I wish I could go with you. I’d love to see Ribbon Ridge proper. Your family’s flagship pub is there?”

“In the heart. The Arch and Vine. All of the pubs have Arch in the title, and so does Kyle’s restaurant. It’s the Arch and Fox. The fox was Alex’s animal. We all have animals. It comes from the Christmas ornaments that Mom bought for us when we were kids. Although, Sara’s is also Dad’s nickname for her—Kitten.” He realized—too late—that he was rambling again, so he stopped.

“What’s your animal?” she asked.

“A bear.”

“Is there a reason, or did you just like bears?”

“It’s because I liked bear hugs. I have . . . sensory issues. Like the whispering in my ear thing the other day. When I was young, I liked tight hugs—bear hugs. That’s where it comes from.”

“That’s so sweet.” Her voice was soft and gentle, the opposite of the crushing hugs he’d needed when he was overstimulated. “What’s the Arch name for the underground pub, or does it have one?”

“Actually, it’s a different convention. I think we’re calling it Archetype. Since it’s our first underground pub.”

“Love it.”

He looked at the entrance to the pub. It was dug out and had a wood frame, but the ground was muddy. Not sink-down-into-it muddy, but it wasn’t dry, either. “Good thing you wore boots.”

He started toward the door, but she didn’t come with him.

“Um. These cost twelve hundred dollars, and they’re my favorite. No way I’m stepping in the mud in these.”

He turned back, swept her up into his arms, and ducked through the doorway. Her arms curled around his neck. “Such a gentleman,” she murmured. Her breath was warm and soft against his cheek. And this time, her whisper didn’t jar him. On the contrary, it stoked the need already kindling within him.

“The floor’s still dirt in here for now, but it’s not muddy. Can I set you down?”

She sighed. “If you must.” The clasp of her hand against the base of his neck told him another story. And she weighed nothing, despite her height.

Reluctantly, he let go of her legs, and they dropped to the ground. He didn’t remove his hand from her back, however, and neither did she take her hand from his neck. She turned into him. “You told me I should tell you what I want. I want you to kiss me. Is that bad?”

“No. I want to kiss you, too.”

Her other hand rested against his chest, and she moved it up the front of his leather jacket until it met her other hand at his nape. “I just love how tall you are.” Her fingers pressed into his neck. “Hey, any chance you can look at me?”

He forced his gaze to meet hers, and the connection was swift and hard. He wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her against his chest. Then she closed her eyes, and he dipped his head. Their lips met, and a burst of desire rolled through him. That mouth he’d been surreptitiously watching—the one that curved into the smile that lit up millions of screens—was as lush and soft as he’d imagined. Her head tilted and her lips parted while her hands splayed against his neck. Every place where her body met his reveled in her touch.

He opened his mouth and met her tongue as he clasped her more tightly against him. He wanted to feel her everywhere without their clothing to keep them apart.

She kissed him more aggressively, her fingers digging into his flesh. He loved the pressure of her hands, the demand of her mouth, the press of her breasts into his chest. He moved a hand down to her ass and cupped the soft swell. Her legs parted a bit, and her hips pushed into his.

He thrust his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, devouring her, stealing soft little moans emanating from her throat. Everything about her was unbelievably sexy, and she was pushing him to the absolute limit. She kissed him back with every bit of hunger he possessed, her body straining against his.

He clasped her waist and lifted her. Without breaking the kiss, she wrapped her legs around his hips, fitting them together in the most intimate way possible with their clothes still on.

And damn these clothes anyway.

He squeezed her ass as she tightened her legs around him. God, she felt so good. The strain of his muscles as he held her up enlivened his body and fed his senses.

The sound of voices somehow pierced his lust-crazed brain. He dragged his mouth from hers and for a second could only hear their ragged breathing. “Someone’s coming,” he managed.

She pulled her legs from his waist, and he edged her down to the ground. They both took a step back and brought their hands to their mouths. Evan strode toward a darkened corner and fervently hoped his raging erection would disappear.

Tori and Sean appeared in the doorway. “Hey, I thought you were going to let us know you were coming,” Sean said.

“You didn’t get my text?” Alaina asked. Damn, she was pretty good at lying. And fast, too.

“No.” Sean pulled his phone from his back pocket. “Terrible service in here.”

“We’ll fix that before it opens,” Tori said. She stepped closer to Alaina. “What do you think of the place?”

“It’s incredible. I told Evan you guys should have a spa.”

Evan was relieved to feel his hard-on diminishing. But he still wasn’t quite ready to step out of the shadows.

“Oh. My. God. Why haven’t we ever thought about that?” She slapped her hand to her forehead. “I’m serious. That’s ridiculously stupid. I guess we were just focused on the other aspects. Where would we put it?”

“I have no idea. You’re the architect, right?” Alaina asked.

“Right. I’m just thinking out loud. This is so brilliant! Sean, what do you think?”

“I think we’re complete gits not to have thought of it. Can you carve some space out of one of the floors of the hotel?”

“That would mean losing rooms. No, I think we’ll have to add on. Geez, maybe it’s good that we have extra time due to this zoning BS.”

As back to normal as he was going to get—his heart was still racing, and his body was still strung tight with desire—Evan emerged from the corner. “Would you guys mind taking Alaina home? I need to get back.”

It was a lame excuse. Actually, it wasn’t an excuse at all, but he needed to get away from this situation. He was completely overstimulated at the moment, and he was having difficulty self-regulating.

“Sure, no problem,” Sean said.

“Thanks. See you later, Alaina.” Evan headed toward the door, but a touch on the back of his bicep slammed into him, and he turned, knowing who it was.

“Hey, why are you leaving? Was it something I did again? I thought we were on the same page.” She kept her voice low.

“We are. But now that they’re here, I’m . . . uncomfortable. I need to go.”

“Who’s going to carry me over the mud?”

Shit. He hadn’t thought about that. “Want me to take you now?”

“Take me?” Her voice had lowered to a dangerously seductive level. “God, I hope you mean that in the most caveman, sexual sense of the word.”

Okay, when he’d asked her to speak plainly, he hadn’t anticipated anything like that. His cock sprang right back to attention. “You’re making this—me, you’re making me—really hard.”

Her eyes shuttered for a moment. “You are too good to be true.” When she opened her eyes again, the gold rimming the hazel irises seemed to glow with an inner fire.

He shifted his gaze away. “I’ll see you later—at dinner.”

“Count on it. And this time I want dessert.”

He glanced down at her feet. “What about your expensive boots?”

“I’ll be fine. You go ahead.” She reached out and nudged his hand with her knuckles. “Remember: dessert.”

He turned away from her and strode quickly to his car. Once inside, he took several deep breaths to calm his racing pulse. He didn’t remember the last time he’d been this worked up sexually. Maybe never. He was tempted to go home and take the edge off, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to wait, to anticipate.

He couldn’t wait for dessert.

Chapter Six

ALAINA HAD SHOWERED after Sean and Tori had driven her back from The Alex. Not because she needed one, but because she’d hoped the cold water would dampen her raging hormones. No such luck.

So here she was at five to six, about to go have dinner with Evan’s family while trying not to jump his bones. This was going to be fun.

More like torture.

She spread gloss on her lips and pressed them together before taking a final look in the mirror. Going makeup free was fine for an afternoon hanging out with friends, but for dinner with the Archer clan, she wanted to look nice. Her mama might be a former crackwhore, but she’d taught Alaina to make a good impression. Flaws and mistakes were meant to be covered up.

Alaina picked up her phone and realized she didn’t have anywhere to put it. Her dress didn’t have a pocket, and she didn’t really want to bring a purse. Wasn’t the whole point of getting away to step off the grid? So far, so good. She was nice and isolated in her little corner of Ribbon Ridge. She was beginning to think it was paradise.

She left the bathroom, dropped her phone on the kitchen counter, and exited the apartment.

A few cars were parked between the garages, one of which she recognized as Sean’s. As she stepped into the back door of the house, conversation and laughter drifted from the kitchen, which she’d visited last night during her tour of the empty house.

She’d lied about not opening every door. She’d figured out that the far wing of the first floor belonged to Evan’s parents, so she’d respectfully left it alone. But she’d gone upstairs for a quick peek. Most of the rooms were open, and she could see they were the former bedrooms of the Archer kids. They looked like they belonged to young adults. Until she’d come to a nearly closed door. When Jean-Luc Picard strutted out and meowed at her in passing, she’d deduced it was Evan’s room.

A stab of guilt had made her turn away, but then she’d talked herself into taking just a very quick look. Then she’d seen the Star Trek collectibles. And Lord of the Rings posters, which had been signed by Peter Jackson. She’d had to play dumb that afternoon when he’d mentioned it, which only made her feel even more guilty that she’d peeked.

He wasn’t just a Lord of the Rings nerd, he appeared to be a full-on Big Bang Theory geek. And she loved it.

Science-fiction movies had been her first love. Sigourney Weaver in Aliens was the entire reason she’d wanted to become a movie star. And not an actress—yes, she’d wanted to act—but a movie star. She wanted to star in movies so that she could do things that she never could in real life, like kill an alien. Or go back in time. Or fall in love.

Okay, that last one she could do, she just didn’t think she ever would. Cynicism had befriended her at a very young age, even before Crystal, and it was a hard habit to break. The string of boyfriends and one fiancé who had never made it to the altar only reinforced her belief that she was destined to be—and probably better off—alone.

“Alaina?” Tori came into the hallway. “I thought I heard the door. Come on in.” She smiled welcomingly. “Can I get you a beer or some wine? As you know, we have several excellent bottles open and ready. In fact, we’re doing our best to decimate what’s left.”

“You guys must be power hitters,” Alaina said. “That was a lot of wine.”

They moved into the huge kitchen, which included what Tori had earlier called a gathering room. It sported a massive farmhouse-style table, and there was a stone fireplace with a fire crackling in its hearth. It was exactly the sort of home Alaina had always dreamed about—not just because of the cozy way it looked, but because of the group of people standing around and sharing an obvious affection for one another. They were a family, something Alaina had never had.

Okay, maybe she wasn’t exactly better off alone. She swallowed a surprising lump in her throat as introductions began.

An older couple, who had to be Evan’s parents, came forward. “Hello, and welcome. I’m so sorry we weren’t here to greet you when you arrived. I’m Emily Archer, and this is my husband, Rob.”

Rob offered his hand, and Alaina shook it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said.

“The pleasure is mine. I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay in your apartment.”

Emily gave her a quick, warm hug. Alaina had to revise her earlier assessment; she could very easily fall in love—with this entire family. “Stay as long as you like, dear.”

Oh, she was in such trouble.

“Alaina, can I get you a glass of wine?” Sean called from across the kitchen.

“Sure, whatever.” Alaina scanned the faces for Evan and finally located him over near the dark windows. The sun had gone down, but Alaina knew there was a lovely view of their sprawling backyard and the pool area below.

More Archers introduced themselves. Evan’s adoptive-brother-who-wasn’t-really-adopted, Derek Sumner, and his artist wife, Chloe, Evan’s brother Kyle, the chef who looked as though he belonged in the Point Break remake that was currently shooting, and his girlfriend, Maggie, the gardener who was also, in a word, adorable. And finally Evan’s sister Sara, an event planner, and her fiancé, Dylan, the rugged contractor who was transforming the monastery into an A-list resort.

Sara’s left hand was adorned with a rock the size of Kansas. Alaina took Sara’s fingers and held them up. “He’s a keeper.”

Sara laughed. “I think so, but not because of the ring.”

“It doesn’t hurt.” Alaina winked at her as she let go of her hand. “He’s quite a contractor, too. I saw The Alex today—it’s amazing. And that underground pub is such a fantastic idea. You’ll have lines out the door.” She looked at Dylan as she said this.

“Thanks. Your spa idea is pretty great, too, although you just completely screwed up my schedule.” He said this with a smile.

“I’d apologize, but you’ll thank me when you’re raking in the profits.”

“Does that mean you and your A-list friends will come and stay and put us on the map?” Sara asked in a playful tone.

“I’m not sure I’ll have to. Sean’s show about the opening of the restaurant is going to do that all on its own. You should think about including the hotel development in the show. Sean and I talked about that possibility this afternoon.” They’d discussed the project at length, probably boring poor Tori, but she hadn’t complained.

Kyle, who was busily prepping dinner with some help from his mom and Maggie, whistled. “Dinner’s up! Did someone ever set the table?”

“Shoot, I was in the middle of that and I got distracted,” Sara said. She pivoted toward the table.

“Can I help?” Alaina offered.

“Sure. The placemats are stacked over there—just distribute them along with some napkins. I’ll get the silverware.” She turned toward the kitchen.

Alaina went around the table to where Evan was standing with his wineglass. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey.”

She set her wineglass down and spread the placemats around at each place. “How come you’re standing over here by yourself?” she asked.

“I’m a little, uh, overstimmed—overstimulated—tonight.” He didn’t look anywhere near her, and his tone had that flat, almost monotone quality that he used from time to time. She was used to his lack of eye contact and the vocal intonations and understood both. She’d read up on Asperger’s and knew that eye contact was difficult, almost painful even, for him. She’d also learned about social interaction and difficulties related to that, including vocal modulation. She’d concluded that he appeared to adapt pretty well. He seemed quirky, but she liked that about him. He was unlike anyone she’d ever known.

She wanted to understand what made him tick. “What does that mean exactly? Is it because of what happened this afternoon?”

“Probably. You . . . unnerve me.”

She instinctively touched her mouth, thinking of their kiss. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It isn’t bad. I don’t know what it is yet.”

Sara came to the table with the silverware. “You want to do spoons and knives or forks?”

“Whichever.” She held out her hand, and Sara gave her spoons and knives.

Alaina helped her finish with the table just as the food started arriving. She stared at the gorgeously arrayed plates featuring pork loin with a sauce, some greens, and what looked like polenta. “You plated the food?”

“He can’t not plate the food,” Tori said.

“Who here doesn’t like fancy-looking food?” Kyle asked loudly.

“I don’t really care,” Evan answered.

“You’re the only one, bro.” Kyle set down the last two plates. “Let’s eat!”

Sean, Tori, Derek, and Chloe all brought wine bottles and set them at intervals along the table.

Alaina leaned close to Evan. “Where do I sit?”

“You can sit by me,” he said, taking a chair that faced the kitchen instead of the windows. Rob and Emily took the chairs at either end, and five chairs were crammed on each of the sides.

“If Hayden and Liam come home, let alone have significant others, we won’t all fit here,” Emily said.

Rob smiled at her. “Maybe we just need a larger table.”

“Shall we toast to our illustrious guest?” Kyle asked, lifting his glass.

Alaina scoffed. “I’m not remotely illustrious.”

“Let’s see, Golden Globe and Oscar winner. One of the highest-paid actresses in the world. I guess you’re right. Total slacker. Never mind.” Kyle winked at her. “To Alaina What’s-her-name, the biggest loser to ever grace our table.”

Everybody raised their glasses and clinked them against their neighbors’. Alaina laughed as she tapped her glass to Evan’s and then Sara’s.

“Kyle’s obnoxious,” she said to Alaina.

“I can see that.” She could also see why he’d been the star of their reality show when they were kids and why Sean had wanted to profile him. He was naturally charismatic with crazy good looks to go along with it.

She slid a sideways glance at Evan, who’d started eating. Had it been difficult growing up with someone who was such a master at things that came so hard to him? Or had Kyle and his other siblings helped Evan out and given him the confidence and inspiration to be who he was today? She’d never missed the idea of having siblings more than she did right now. It gave her something to think about as she planned the next stage of her life and started her own family.

“Don’t worry, Evan, I made your plate special—no spinach, just Swiss chard and escarole.”

Alaina paused in eating and turned her head to look at Evan. “You don’t like spinach?” she asked quietly.

“Not particularly.”

“Yet you ate it the other night.”

He glanced at her. “I didn’t want to be rude.”

He really was a gentleman. She nudged his thigh with the back of her hand and had to swallow a gasp. Damn, she had it bad. She sucked in a deep breath. “Tell me what you don’t like in the future. And tell me what you do.” She realized, belatedly, that he could take that a variety of ways. Nevertheless, she didn’t clarify. Let him take it however he wanted.

Unfortunately he didn’t look her way again, so she couldn’t detect a thing about what might be going on in his head. He seemed tense, his body more rigid than normal. Was that her fault? Had she strung him up tight with their kissing earlier?

“Kyle, this is delicious, as usual,” Emily said. Alaina forced herself to pay attention to something other than her attraction to Evan.

“Maggie made the polenta, so it was a joint effort.” Kyle smiled at his girlfriend, who sat across from him, next to Emily.

“I had a great teacher,” Maggie said, picking up her wineglass and giving him a little toast.

Conversation sprung up around the table. Alaina was in the center on her side, and Chloe was directly across from her.

“How long will you be here?” Chloe asked.

“I’m not sure.” Alaina glanced around the table. Sean had assured her that everyone would keep her presence secret. Some of these people—maybe all of them—would have read the stories circulating about her. But she didn’t think anyone would bring them up. They didn’t seem like people who would care about that sort of thing. Plus, they’d endured their own fame, albeit at a different level, and, as Evan had demonstrated, they likely understood the negatives that came along with it.

“You should come to The Arch and Vine,” Chloe said.

“I don’t know that I want to go into town,” she said somewhat sheepishly. She hated sounding pretentious.

“We could sit you in a booth at the back of the restaurant. It’s a narrow area—we use it for large groups because you can kind of contain people in the space. We could put up a screen so no one would see you.”

“I’ll think about it.” She was curious to see the pub, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to risk going out. Furthermore, she still wanted to see the historic homestead Evan had mentioned.

She turned to look at him. He was mostly quiet, but she’d heard him talking to Tori a little bit—she was on his other side. “Can you take me to the homestead tomorrow?”

He glanced at her, and the gray of his eyes seemed sharper, more crystalline. Or maybe she was just being a fanciful romantic. Crystal would say that was definitely the case. “Sure, if you want. I can come by around one if that works.”

She thrilled to the idea of spending the day with him again. Or at least part of it. “I have absolutely no schedule.”

By the end of dinner, Alaina was sharing behind-the-scenes stories from her latest films. It helped to keep her mind off the too-attractive man sitting beside her. The entire table listened and seemed completely engaged. Everyone but Evan. But she knew that just because he didn’t look engaged didn’t mean he wasn’t.

“Your parents must be so proud. Where do they live?” Emily asked.

“It’s just my mom. She lives in Dallas.” Alaina gave a tight smile before taking a drink of wine. “Nice and far away.”

Emily’s forehead creased. “You aren’t close?”

“No. We both prefer it that way.”

“Thanks for a great dinner, Kyle,” Rob interjected, perhaps to redirect the conversation before it could slam into the trainwreck that was Alaina’s mother.

Chloe stood and started collecting dishes. Tori and Sara did the same.

“Should we do something?” Derek asked.

“Like introduce Alaina to your cut-throat games of pool?” Sean asked. He leaned around Tori, who was picking up plates, and looked at Alaina. “Make sure you talk to me before you choose a cue.”

She had no idea what that meant but nodded. “Okay.”

Alaina hadn’t played pool in a long time. It sounded kind of fun, but she was focused on Evan. And dessert.

It was like an invisible cord was strung between them, linking them together, and it pulsed with excitement and energy. Did he feel that way, too, or was she completely fooling herself?

“I was kind of hoping for movie night,” Sara said. “Alaina’s stories put me in the mood.”

“I can’t believe you’re turning down an opportunity to school everyone at pool.” Dylan stared at her. “Are you my fiancée?” This was met with laughter from around the table. Even Evan cracked a smile.

Alaina leaned closer to Evan. “I take it Sara’s good at pool?”

He turned his head, bringing their mouths close enough that she could probably kiss him. So tempting. “The best.”

She couldn’t help staring at his lips or imagining them tangled with hers, his tongue invading her mouth. She thought of the theater downstairs. If they sat in the back in the dark . . .

Evan abruptly stood and took his and Alaina’s plates to the kitchen. Alaina got up and poured more wine into her and Evan’s glasses. “More wine anyone?” she asked.

Just about everyone answered in the affirmative, and Alaina ended up using multiple bottles to refill all the glasses.

Chloe picked up her wine. “What movie should we watch?”

“I suppose it would be weird if we watched one of Alaina’s,” Maggie said, coming back to the table.

“It’s fine with me,” Alaina said, though she secretly hoped they wouldn’t. Watching herself made her uncomfortable. In fact, she hadn’t even seen a handful of her performances and likely never would.

A phone rang on the counter.

“Whose is that?” Rob asked.

Kyle reached across the granite and picked it up. “Mom’s. It’s Liam.”

“Go ahead and answer it,” she said.

Kyle slid his finger across the screen. “Hey, douchenozzle. You missed another fine family feast.” His smile faded, and he handed the phone to his mother. “He wants to talk to you. He sounds serious.”

“Doesn’t he usually sound serious?” Derek asked.

Emily took the phone and retreated into a small office off the kitchen.

Alaina turned to Evan, who’d come back to her side of the table. “What’s going on with Liam?”

He shrugged. “No idea.”

“So, what about the movie?” Maggie asked. “Action-adventure? Rom-com? Sci-fi?”

Alaina knew what Evan would pick. “I love sci-fi. That was my first love. And fantasy.”

“Really?” Evan’s gaze lingered on hers a second longer than usual.

“I told you I loved Lord of the Rings. And Aliens is one of my absolute favorite movies. Ripley is maybe the greatest action heroine ever written.”

“Classic,” Sean said, joining them. “Maybe we should think about a reboot for you.” He said this with a smile, but she sensed he was only half-kidding.

“That’s total sacrilege. And anyway, I don’t think I could do it. They approached me about the prequel a few years back, and I just couldn’t say yes. I was afraid I would mess it up. I feel simultaneously bad and excited for all the young actors doing the next Star Wars movie. Amazing opportunity, terrifying responsibility.”

Emily came back into the kitchen, and the conversation died down. “Is everything all right?” Sara asked, moving toward her.

Emily looked pale—it seemed as though things were not all right. “Liam was in an accident. He’ll be fine, but he dislocated his shoulder and has a hairline fracture in his wrist.”

Rob joined her and immediately stroked her back. “How the hell did he do that?”

Emily looked up at her husband, worry etched in her face. “Heli-skiing.”

Kyle dropped a towel on the counter, his brows pitched low over his eyes in either concern or irritation, maybe both. “He’s going to kill himself one of these days.”

“Sometimes I wonder if that’s the point,” Tori murmured. She’d moved next to Sean and slid her arm around his waist.

Liam had a death wish? Alaina shook her head. This family could star in their own movie. But then, she guessed they had with the reality show.

“I think I’ll skip the movie.” Emily turned, her brow creased with concern, to Sara. “Will you and the others take care of the kitchen?”

“Already on it, Mom,” Kyle said. Derek was assisting him with loading the dishwashers.

Rob and Emily disappeared from the kitchen, their heads bent together and their hands clasped. It was an incredibly sweet image, and it tied a knot in Alaina’s chest.

“I think I’ll skip the movie, too,” Evan said. His baritone thrummed through Alaina.

She turned to face him, effectively blocking Sean and Tori from their conversation. “What? Why?”

He didn’t look at her—surprise, surprise. “I just remembered I have something to do.”

Disappointment sliced through the pleasant haze of desire she’d been floating in all evening. “What about dessert?”

He shrugged, appearing absolutely unfazed. “I don’t think there is dessert.”

She blinked at him. “We talked about dessert earlier.” Was this a cue he wasn’t picking up on? Had he not understood the coded flirting that afternoon? “You know . . . dessert?”

Comprehension dawned in his eyes. “Right, dessert. Um, tomorrow?”

Tomorrow. She’d been looking forward to . . . what? Sex? Yeah, she’d thought they were going to have sex. And he’d been . . . Hell, she didn’t know what he’d been looking forward to. Nothing, apparently.

“Sure,” she said coolly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nodded, then said good night to everyone else and left the kitchen.

“Well, I’m still up for a movie, if you are,” Tori said.

“Why not?” Her evening had moved into unsalvageable territory, so why not catch a flick, enjoy some good company, and get drunk? She grabbed her glass and one of the still-full bottles from yesterday. “I’ve got the wine.”

Tori grinned at her. “Then let’s go.”

As Alaina made her way downstairs to the theater, a niggling voice at the back of her mind told her to be patient with Evan, that he was worth waiting for.

Just a bit louder, however, came the admonition that she’d maybe just dodged a bullet. Her life was headed in a direction that was bound to become even more complicated, and adding Evan into the mix would be a mistake.

Chapter Seven

EVAN YAWNED AS he walked up the stairs to the garage apartment at about ten to one the next day. He’d stayed up far too late working on Alex’s book. Liam’s accident had given him a jolt of an idea for the story, prompting him to go upstairs to work on it into the early morning hours. He’d slept a little late but had still squeezed his workout in. It was the one part of his routine he simply couldn’t compromise.

But it was okay, as he was still early to pick up Alaina. He knocked on her door and waited. And waited.

He knocked again. Still nothing. Impatience growing, he knocked a third time. Silence.

He pulled his phone from his back pocket and pulled up her number. He’d done as she’d suggested and gotten her cell from Sean. He typed in a message: Where are you? I’m standing outside the door.

He leaned against the wall on the small landing while he waited for her to come to the door. Still nothing. He pounded on the wood. His phone vibrated.

I decided it was a nice day for a walk. Your dad gave me the key and directions to the homestead.

Shit.

If she went exploring around there and looked too closely at the cabin . . .

He jogged down the stairs and out the door, then around the garage to the path that would take him through the woods, over a small rise, and eventually to the homestead. Thankfully it was a nice day—cool, but sunny.

Less than ten minutes later, he arrived at the 130-year-old house and went to the door. It was locked. Where had she gone? If she’d returned to the apartment, he should’ve passed her on the path.

He circled the farmhouse but didn’t see any sign of her. Apprehensively, he made his way toward the cabin. He went through the copse of trees and down the hill to the creek. As he neared the small structure, his fears were confirmed. There, standing outside the front door, was Alaina.

Irritation propelled him to move more quickly. “What are you doing?” he called out.

She turned and shaded her eyes against the sun. “Just looking around. Does someone live here?”

He stopped a few feet from her. “No. You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Why not? Is there a problem?”

“Yes, this is private property.”

She dropped her hand from her forehead. “I didn’t realize.”

He had to get her away. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“What’s the big deal? Hey, did I piss you off or something last night?”

“What?” He glanced at her, blinked, and averted his gaze. She looked a little irritated. “No, you didn’t piss me off.”

“Are you sure? Because you’re being kind of a jerk, and you were a total jerk last night.”

Evan tried to think of what he’d done. “I don’t understand.”

“I thought we had plans. You know, the dessert thing. Next thing I know, you’re cutting the night short without so much as an apology.”

“We didn’t have specific plans.” He’d remember that. He remembered flirting with her at the underground pub after they’d kissed. Had she taken that as a solid . . . date? “I told you I suck at social situations. I didn’t understand.”

“Listen, if you aren’t interested in me, that’s fine. I’m cool with just being friends. But I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t lead me on.”

Lead her on? “I didn’t mean to. We kissed. I thought you liked it. I liked it.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Of course I liked it. It’s why I was looking forward to last night and was disappointed that it didn’t happen.”

He felt bad about that. He didn’t like upsetting people, especially since he could almost never tell when he had. “I’m sorry you were disappointed.”

“Are you at least going to tell me why you left? Was it something I did?”

He glanced at her again but couldn’t remotely read her expression. Frustration bunched the muscles in his shoulders. “I, uh, it’s private.”

“Oh.” She maybe sounded disappointed again.

“Like the stuff you don’t like talking about,” he said.

“I see. Well, I’ll leave you alone, then.” She walked forward, and her shoulder caught his bicep. The touch was like a shock of electricity. And it reminded him of the incredible lust he’d felt yesterday afternoon. Why, exactly, had he decided writing Alex’s book was a better idea than doing the dessert date thing with Alaina?

He pivoted toward her. “Don’t go. Can I show you something?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What?”

He liked her. He felt bad that she was disappointed. He had a yearning in this moment for human connection—both physically and emotionally. And the secret he’d been keeping here was burning a hole in his mind. He suddenly couldn’t contain it anymore, nor did he want to.

He pulled his keys from his coat pocket and unlocked the door to the cabin. “Come in.”

She walked past him as he held the door, shooting him an uncertain glance as she went.

He closed the door behind him and, out of habit, flicked on the space heater in the corner. “This is my office.”

“Your office. Way out here. I don’t understand.”

“What’s to understand? I work here.”

“But you live in a huge house with actual heating.” She looked at the space heater. “Why do you work way out here?”

“Because I want privacy.”

“Should I sit down so you can explain this properly, or do you not intend to do that?”

“See how terrible I am at communicating?” He pushed his hand through his hair. “I work here because I have a secret job. I’m working for my family’s company, only they have no idea it’s me. I used a fake company and a fake name. They never would’ve let me do the job. No one knows I can be creative or artistic. No one but Alex. That’s why I left last night. I’m writing his book. I had an idea, and I just had to work on it. I wasn’t thinking about you or any plans we’d made. I—”

She held up her hand and shook her head. “Whoa. Stop. I don’t understand. You have a secret job? You’re writing a book? Is that the same thing? Maybe we should sit down together, and you can explain this a little better.” She smiled that famous smile, and it did crazy, ridiculous things to his insides. Things that should set him off, make him uncomfortable. But it made him feel . . . happy.

He took two steps until he stood directly before her, then he cupped her face and kissed her. Intimate contact was always such a crapshoot if he didn’t explicitly discuss it with the woman he was with. He took a risk picking up on the cues—did she even want him to kiss her? God, he hoped so.

Her hands gripped his sides through his leather jacket, and he assumed that meant she liked what he was doing. Then her mouth opened beneath his, and he knew she liked it. Because if he were misreading that, he would just have to fucking give up on ever being able to understand.

He slid his hands back to her nape, cradling her head as they deepened the kiss. Their tongues met, sending sparks sizzling throughout his body. She tightened her hold, her fingers digging into the leather but barely making an impression on him through the layers of clothing.

His coat wasn’t zipped. He let go of her so he could shrug out of it. The garment fell to the floor, and he put his hands on her again, touching her shoulders, pulling her against him.

She came eagerly, her chest bumping his and her hands curling around his neck. The kiss, briefly broken by their movements, reignited. Kissing wasn’t something he’d enjoyed the first time he’d tried it, or even the second, but he’d realized he’d had to find the right person. Touching lips and tongues, inviting another person into an intimate space, had been hard for him to get his head around.

She pulled back and stripped her coat, a puffy down jacket, away.

“I didn’t used to like kissing,” he said.

“Really? Why?”

“It felt . . . gross.”

She lifted her hand to her mouth. “Oh no, I’m not gross, am I?”

He shook his head, smiling. “It was the wrong person, I guess.”

“And I’m the right one? Wait, tell me you’ve kissed more than one other person.”

“Of course I have.”

She exhaled. “Good. Not that it matters.” She shook her head. “Why do I think I’m way more experienced than you?”

“Because you probably are. I didn’t even have my first kiss until I was eighteen and out of high school.”

“That’s . . . insane. Compared to you, I’m a bit of a tramp!” She laughed, and he realized she was kidding.

“I wasn’t interested before that. I liked girls, but . . . The whole relationship thing was more than I could handle. It probably still is.”

She touched his hand, her fingers twining with his. It was a simple gesture, but it was erotic at the same time. He looked down at their hands together, imagined holding her like that as he drove between her legs. A white burst of lust clouded his vision momentarily.

“Do you want to go?” she asked softly.

He squeezed her fingers. “No. Do you?” He forced himself to look at her, to see inside of her and allow her to do the same to him.

She shook her head. “I hear what you’re saying about relationships being hard. They’re hard for me, too. Complicated. I haven’t been with anyone in a couple of years, and I wasn’t looking to change that. But you . . . You’re different. I can’t make promises—”

“I can’t either.”

“Then this is damn near perfect, isn’t it?” She wore a plaid button-down shirt and began to undo the buttons. One by one, they opened, and the shirt fell apart, exposing a white camisole. Her breasts pushed up against the top.

“You’re damn near perfect.”

She dropped her shirt to the floor and kissed him again, her hands on either side of his head, holding him as she plundered his mouth. He loved the pressure of her touch, the feeling of being wanted as much as he wanted her.

He pressed his hands against her back, his fingers digging into the skin above her camisole. He moved one down until he felt the swell of her ass through her jeans. He stroked her, then cupped the curve, almost lifting her against him.

Her pelvis thrust into his, her heat rubbing his erection through their clothing. It was too much. He wanted to feel her bare flesh next to his. He moved his hands back up to her shoulders and pushed her away, breaking the kiss. “Is this what you want?”

She pulled at the back of his neck. “Yes.” Her mouth found his again, and he curled his hands into her flesh.

She backed up toward the couch he had against the far wall. “There’s a couch behind me, right?” she asked between kisses.

“Mmm-hmmm.” He pulled up her camisole and yanked it over her head before tossing it behind him.

She released his neck and sank down on the couch. “My boots.” She unzipped one and worked it off.

He watched, unable for a moment to get his brain to work. She was already on the second boot before he knelt to help her take it off. She wore polka-dotted fuzzy socks pulled up over her skinny jeans. But she quickly stripped them from her feet and threw them aside. She wiggled her toes, and he snapped his head up to see her grinning at him.

She reached for his shirt. “You have too many clothes on.”

Before she could grasp the hem, he pulled it up over his head and threw it away. Then he kicked his shoes off and brought his knees up, one at a time, so he could dispose of his socks.

He unbuttoned his jeans, but her voice stopped him. “Uh-uh. Let me.”

Her hands came around his thighs, and she tugged him toward the couch. She pushed his hands aside and finished what he’d started, pulling his zipper down, then dragging the jeans over his hips. He arced toward her, his hips moving almost of their own volition.

She cupped him through his underwear, her warm palm cradling his stiff shaft. He closed his eyes, almost unable to bear the sensation. It wasn’t new, and yet it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

Then he was aware of her slipping his underwear down, her fingers grazing his ass and then skimming along his thighs as she stripped them away. When they hit his ankles, he kicked them free.

Her breath gusted over his cock as her hand closed around his balls, lightly squeezing. Then her lips caressed the tip, and he thought he was going to explode.

“Alaina.” He gritted the word between his teeth. It was all he could manage. Words—coherent thought—escaped him as she slid her tongue along his length and drew him into her mouth. Her jaw dropped, and she swallowed, allowing him deeper than he’d ever thought it was possible to go. He’d had blow jobs from Michelle and honestly hadn’t enjoyed them all that much. The feeling was too intense, the orgasm hard but fleeting.

But Alaina did it differently. She sucked him slowly, deeply, her tongue working a magic he’d never dreamed existed, her hand working his balls and the base of his cock in a way Michelle had never done.

His muscles tightened as the pleasure built. All of his nerves thrummed, and his senses were laid almost painfully bare. Almost was the key—it felt amazing. Everything was heightened, but not so that he was overwhelmed.

Then again, he hadn’t orgasmed yet.

Damn, he wanted to. Blood rushed to his cock, and he tensed. “Alaina, stop.”

He’d wound his hands into her hair at some point and now pulled her away from him. He looked down at her dark blonde head, wishing that he’d watched her suck him. Next time . . . if he was that lucky.

She tipped her head up, and her eyes were dark—more brown than green. “Too much?” Her voice had dropped to a sultry tone. And her lips were dark pink and moist. It took a monumental effort not to slide himself back into her mouth and fuck her.

Instead, he pushed her back onto the couch and went to kneel between her legs.

“Wait.” She tugged her camisole over her head, revealing a white lacy bra that pushed her breasts up and created a snug cleavage he could easily slip his cock into. Michelle liked when he did that. Would Alaina?

He had a hard time keeping up with her—she was already shimmying out of her jeans. He rushed to help, pulling at the legs until the garment slid free. He dropped them to the floor with the growing pile and then stared at her white lacy underwear. She was perfectly formed, her hip bones jutting at a sexy angle and her smooth thighs curving just the right amount. An image of thrusting into her seared into his brain. And stopped him cold.

He stood next to the couch and stared at her concave stomach. “I don’t have any condoms. At least, not here.”

“We should use one,” she said.

He turned, intending to find his underwear. “I can be back in about twenty minutes.”

She stroked his hip and pressed into his flesh until he swung back around. “Or, I could finish what I started.”

Without giving him a chance to answer, she braced one hand on his thigh and wrapped the other around his cock. Her lips opened over him, and this time he watched as she sucked him into her mouth.

She held his shaft tight as her tongue slid over and around him. The pressure of her hand on his thigh increased, and she shifted it back so that she grasped his hip and urged him to thrust into her mouth. The sound of her lips and tongue working combined with the moans originating in his throat created an erotic concert that intensified his pleasure.

Again, she cupped his balls, massaging them and squeezing just the right amount to amplify every sensation. He typically felt when his orgasm was building, but it was suddenly upon him. He gripped her head, unsure if he should pull out but ultimately unable to do anything but pulse into her hot, wet mouth.

He let out a low, guttural cry as he pumped into her. She didn’t release him. In fact, she only clasped him tighter, her hand slipping around to his ass and keeping him from withdrawing too far. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back.

When he was finished, her touch gentled, and she let him go. He opened his eyes and looked down to see her wiping the edge of her lips and sitting back on the couch. Her cheeks were flushed, her pupils dilated. His gaze dipped to her breasts.

He knelt before the couch, pushing her legs open wider so he could position himself between them. He put his hands on her breasts, stroking them through her bra. She leaned her head back against the couch and exhaled a sexy sigh. He slipped his hands into the cups and rubbed his thumbs over the hardened peaks of her nipples. With a deft skill he was surprised he possessed, he edged the cups down, freeing her breasts over the top of the bra.

The globes filled his hands, their smooth, pale gold silk a balm to his shuddering nerves. That had been one hell of an orgasm. But instead of languid, he felt energized and was eager to see if she would respond the same way if he gave her what she’d given him.

He leaned forward and drew her nipple into his mouth. It was pebbled and stiff where the rest of her was soft and smooth. He squeezed her flesh and suckled her harder. She gasped as her fingers wove into his hair.

“Oh my God. Evan.”

He pulled on her other nipple while he used his mouth on the first one. She rose against him, her breasts pushing into his fingers and tongue as he worked. Good, she liked it.

He moved his hand down over her rib cage, skimming her heated flesh with his palm. He felt her warmth through the thin fabric of her underwear and pressed against her. She came off the couch, her hips thrusting up into his touch.

Sometimes he was clumsy, awkward. He didn’t want that to happen now. He looked down at her thighs and tugged at the underwear. She shimmied her hips until he pulled them far enough down her legs. Then he stripped them away and really looked at her. She was almost completely bare. It was . . . odd. He’d seen that before, just not in person.

“What?”

Her question broke into his thoughts.

“Just looking. You’re different.” He grazed his fingertip over the smooth skin. She jerked at his touch and let out a soft moan. He stroked the other side, learning the feel of her. “I like it. Feels like velvet.”

She put her hand on his shoulder. “This seems like it ought to be the strangest conversation ever, but you’re actually turning me on even more.”

It was turning him on, too. His cock was hardening again already. He pushed her thighs further apart, exposing her, and ran his thumbs down her cleft. Her fingertips dug into his flesh as she moaned again.

He slowly slid his finger into her wet sheath.

She thrust up from the couch. “Evan.”

He held one of her hips while he worked his finger in and out of her with long, deliberate strokes. He was fascinated watching her and listening to the noises she made. Her grip on his shoulder tightened as he stroked into her.

“More. Please.”

More . . . More fingers? Something else? He wasn’t sure what she wanted, but he knew what he wanted. “You’ll have to tell me if this isn’t what you mean. I respond best to explicit instructions.”

He lowered his mouth to her and replaced his finger with his tongue. Her answering cry sounded like a good thing. He clasped her hip and licked her flesh, his senses overwhelmed with her taste and scent and that damn smooth skin.

Her hips began to move in a distinct rhythm, and her other hand tangled in his hair. “Yes.”

Definitely good, then.

He went deeper with his tongue and used his lips to suckle her. She moved faster, her muscles tightening. “Your finger . . . again.” Her voice was high, breathless almost.

He slid his finger into her and pumped, giving her what she’d asked for. There was just the tiniest patch of light brown hair at the top. Just beneath it was her clitoris. He used his other hand to press on the nub. Her muscles clenched around him, and she gripped him even more frantically, her fingers scoring into his shoulder and the back of his neck. He felt a rush of wetness and put his mouth on her to lap up the sweetness. She was delicious.

She fucked his mouth and hand with a wild frenzy. He worked to keep up, stroking her with hard, fast thrusts and suckling her clit until he felt her orgasm begin to subside.

When she settled back against the couch, he relented. Her thighs quivered on either side of him as he lifted his head. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slack.

He skidded his fingertips along her thigh as he stood and began to dress. When he was pulling his jeans on, he noticed her eyes had opened and she was watching him.

He found her underwear and handed it to her. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” She sat up and pulled them on. “That was . . . fantastic.”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“Any chance we can try that again with a condom?”

He pulled his shirt over his head. “Sounds fun.”

She touched his hand, and he glanced down at her. She’d readjusted her bra to cover her breasts and was wearing underwear again. “I can’t tell if you really enjoyed that. I get that you’re . . . different, that showing your emotions doesn’t always come naturally. And you said I should be explicit. So can you tell me how that made you feel?”

He looked away from her. “It was incredible. I’d like to do it again.”

She stood up from the couch and grinned at him. “Good. Me, too.” She retrieved her clothing and began to dress. “I’m not sure I understand your secret job. This is your office . . . where you write?”

“No. I mostly write back at the house. I do design work here.” His gaze flicked to the three large computer monitors set up on the desk. “I don’t want anyone to walk in on me working on that back at the house, so I set this office up out here. Plus, I like to have visual inspiration.” He gestured to the large cork bulletin boards on two of the walls. They were filled with logos, drawings, words, and some of his favorite Star Trek memes.

“I get it.” She was now fully dressed, save her socks and boots. She sat back down on the couch to pull them on. “I love the memes, by the way. Is Star Trek: The Next Generation your favorite? Since your cat is named after the captain.”

“Of course. I watched it all the time when I was a kid. Then Deep Space Nine. But I still have an affinity for the original—it is the source, after all.”

She smiled at him. “I got to meet Leonard Nimoy once at an event. He was so kind and funny. Just a very genuine person.”

He gaped at her. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“I’m . . . wow . . . that’s . . . awesome.”

She laughed. “Totally. I love that you think it’s awesome.” She moved to the corkboard and studied it a moment. “Why do you want to keep all of this secret? What are you designing—something for your family’s company? You said something about using a fake name.”

He went to sit in his desk chair. Once he was seated, he glanced at the balance ball he also kept here and wondered if he ought to sit on that instead. Focus on the conversation, Evan. Sometimes it was so hard to tune out information and details, especially about his environment. “I applied to be the chief creative officer of Archer Enterprises using a consulting company I set up and a fake name.”

She turned from the bulletin board. “You said your family wouldn’t have hired you. How do you know that?”

He shrugged. “They think I’m good at computers. Alex was the creative one.”

“Did you always want Alex’s job?”

His gaze snapped to hers for a brief instant. He hadn’t thought of it like that. “I . . . maybe.”

“Do they have any idea that you have this creative, artistic side?” She held her hand up. “Wait, no, you said they didn’t. Why not?”

He shrugged again, growing uncomfortable. “I don’t know. Look, can we forget about this? You won’t tell anyone about this place or my job, will you?”

“Absolutely not.” She walked over to him and grazed her fingers against his temple, then pressed a soft, feather-light kiss just in front of his ear. “You can trust me. I’m trusting you to keep my presence here a secret, aren’t I? We’ve got a good thing going.” She chuckled. “After today, I’d say we have a great thing going.”

He pulled her onto his lap, and her weight, though not great, was an immediate balm to his senses. The conversation had started to work him up. He palmed the back of her head and kissed her long and deep.

When they parted, she rested her forehead against his. “I can’t wait for the do-over with the condom. What are you doing now?”

He laughed. “I was going to work. Maybe I’ll see you later for dinner or something.”

“That would be nice.” She smiled at him. “Way better than nice, actually.” Her fingers massaged the back of his neck with delicate strokes. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“You mentioned not being very experienced. Can I ask what that means exactly? I don’t need number of partners, just curious . . . Seems like you were maybe just a late bloomer.”

He pressed his palm into the curve of her waist, loving the feel of her. He’d never been very touchy-feely, but he wanted to touch her as much as possible. “Yeah, that’s how my mom would phrase it. When I showed no interest in having a girlfriend in high school, my brothers would try to set me up. She told them to leave me alone, that I was a late bloomer.”

“So no girlfriends in high school at all?”

“Nope. I didn’t even go to prom.”

Her fingers stilled against his nape. “You didn’t? I’m surprised your siblings didn’t drag you along. I assume they went.”

He nodded. “They tried, but I wasn’t interested. In retrospect, I guess I wish I’d gone, but at the time, it wasn’t remotely important to me.” He moved his hand down to her hip and lightly stroked her through her jeans.

“And college? I presume you went to college, but maybe I shouldn’t. I didn’t.”

“I graduated from Williver, which is only about thirty minutes from here. I didn’t have a girlfriend, per se. Never wanted one.”

“Okay. Good to know.” She laughed. “It’s really good to know. I’d be a terrible girlfriend.”

He stopped kneading her hip. “Why?”

She stood up and ran her fingers through her long hair, pulling it back and then letting it fall. “Oh, you know, narcissistic movie star with a complicated high-profile life. Total nightmare.”

He inwardly flinched. “Sounds like it.”

“I was being sarcastic. Mostly. I do have a complicated high-profile life. Hopefully I’m not a total nightmare, though.”

“Complicated and high-profile are two things that would give me nightmares.” He couldn’t think of anything he would like less. “Do you want me to walk you back to the house?”

She picked up her coat and shrugged it on. “No, you work. I can find my way.” She smiled, her face softening, and he realized it wasn’t like the smile he saw on screen. This one was warmer, more real. “You’re a dangerous man, Evan Archer. I could get used to the idea of uncomplicated and low-profile.”

“That’s me exactly.”

“I see that. Careful, I might just fall in love with the idea of you.”

That sounded nice, but it was, after all, just an idea. And Evan knew from experience that most ideas went absolutely nowhere.

Chapter Eight

LATER THAT EVENING, Alaina checked on the chili she’d thrown together after her tryst with Evan. She’d texted him and invited him to come for dinner—and hopefully dessert—but he hadn’t yet responded. She tried not to read too much into that. He was different from any man she’d ever known, and they’d practically just met.

Furthermore, they’d agreed to keep things casual. Okay, maybe that was overstating things a bit. She’d said she’d make a terrible girlfriend, and he’d all but agreed. But that was fine, wasn’t it? She really would make an awful girlfriend, especially since she was actively planning to start a family.

Her phone chimed on the counter, and she rushed to pick it up, a half-smile already curving her lips as she anticipated Evan’s response.

But it was Crystal.

The doctor called me. Said he couldn’t get a hold of you.

“The doctor” had to mean Dr. Fields, the fertility specialist she’d seen at the clinic. The man who was going to give her what she wanted most and what took her out of the girlfriend contest—a baby. Tensing for the worst, Alaina brought up Crystal’s number and called her.

“Hey,” Crystal said. “How’s it going?”

“What do you mean? You just sent a text that’s freaking me out. What’s going on with Fields?”

“Nothing. He just wanted to assure you that none of his staff are talking to the press, despite their repeated attempts to obtain information.”

Alaina exhaled as her muscles relaxed. She’d immediately thought his calling would be to tell her that someone on staff had blabbed her story. “That’s good to hear.”

“How’s it going?” Crystal asked again.

“Fine. Relaxing.” Especially with Evan to occupy her mind and body.

“Are you sure? You sounded upset at first.”

Alaina went around the bar and perched on one of the stools. “Because I thought there was something wrong.”

“Because you immediately jumped to that conclusion. You need to do more yoga.”

“Or I could just move to Ribbon Ridge. It’s gorgeous here. And quiet. And relaxing. Did I already say that?”

“You did. What’s really going on? What aren’t you telling me?”

That I met a guy. Why wasn’t she telling Crystal? They shared everything. “I’m just having a nice time. The family I’m staying with—Sean’s in-laws—are really cool. They have a family dinner every Sunday. It’s so . . . normal.”

“That has to be culture shock for you.”

“Obviously. The only pleasant family memories I have are with yours.” Alaina had gone on vacation with Crystal’s family a few times, and those were by far the best parts of her adolescence.

“I know. You should call my mom soon. She misses talking to you.”

Maureen Donovan was a lovely woman and the closest thing Alaina had to a real mother. In her Oscar acceptance speech, she’d mentioned Maureen before her own mother—a fact Mama never let her forget.

“I’ll do that. Have you been to my house or talked to Monroe? How’s it going over there?”

“Calmer, but the stalwarts refuse to leave, despite my telling them you aren’t coming out.”

“But they’re convinced I’m still there?”

“So far.”

Wow, they’d managed to pull off her escape without anyone realizing it. Occasionally they got lucky. “I really appreciate all you’re doing.”

“I know. Listen, Isaac called a bit ago. He’s expecting to hear about the Oscar ceremony tomorrow morning.”

Alaina had totally forgotten about that. “When would I have to come back again?”

“I think the rehearsal is Friday. We’ll have to get you a dress and everything.”

Ugh, she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to spend time with Evan. Valuable, exciting, condom-possessing time. And she wanted to go on a picnic to the cemetery he’d mentioned. And talk to him about the historic farmhouse she’d walked through today, as well as his office cabin that looked like it probably predated the farmhouse.

“If they want me, find out the absolute latest I can come back.”

“So you like Ribbon Ridge?” Crystal asked.

Alaina traced her fingertip along a vein in the granite countertop. “It’s a refreshing change of . . . everything.”

“Maybe I should join you.” She exhaled into the phone. “I think I might finally need a break, Lainie.”

Crystal didn’t call her Lainie very often. When had that stopped? When they were younger, that had been her name. Everyone had called her that. “I’m sorry, Crys. What can I do?”

Crystal sighed. “I don’t know. You can’t give me a raise. I’m already the highest-paid assistant by a shit-ton.”

Alaina wouldn’t have it any other way. Crystal worked her ass off, besides being Alaina’s closest friend. “A break is coming soon. Once I’m knocked up, we’ll both be taking it easy for a nice, long while. But for now, if the Oscars fall through and I end up staying here longer, you should totally come up.”

Wait, what? Had she really said that out loud? If Crystal came up here, Alaina wouldn’t be alone with Evan anymore. She wasn’t sure how he’d react to that. She had the sense that he preferred smaller interactions. He hadn’t been uncomfortable at dinner last night, but he also hadn’t seemed as at ease as he’d been with her alone. Or maybe she was fooling herself. Or maybe her head was still too wrapped up in his lovemaking. Which had been absolutely mind-blowing.

“Really?” Crystal asked, breaking into Alaina’s thoughts before they took a completely lurid turn. “That would be great.”

Alaina’s phone buzzed next to her ear from a text. “Hey, I’m going to eat dinner now. I really appreciate everything, Crys. Really. I couldn’t survive without you.”

“You could. It would just be really shitty. Smooches.” She ended the call, and Alaina pulled the phone from her head to read the screen.

Sean: We’re bringing sushi up to the house if you want to join us. Be there in five.

A mini adrenaline dump left her feeling like a limp rag. She’d been hoping it was Evan. And had been abnormally disappointed when it wasn’t. Get a grip, Lainie, and stop getting excited about this guy. Aren’t you the one who said complication was bad?

She took a deep breath and blew it out before she texted Sean back.

I made some chili, but thanks.

Whether she wanted to be excited about Evan or not, she still held out hope he’d come by. They had unfinished business.

Sean: If you change your mind, come on over!

She dropped her phone to the counter and stared at it. Should she text Evan again? Normally, she’d say no. Men hated nags. But Evan wasn’t like any other man she’d known. He’d told her to be explicit. She picked the phone back up and typed.

Chili’s ready when you are.

She deleted that.

Don’t know if you saw my other text, but I’d love for you to join me for dinner. Chili’s ready!

She deleted that, too.

She looked up at the ceiling. Don’t overthink this.

I made chili if you want to join me. Hope to see you later.

She hit send before she could change her mind.

And then she pulled on her big girl pants—metaphorically speaking—and dished up her chili. Alone.

THE VIBRATING OF Alaina’s phone on the nightstand woke her from a deep sleep. Disoriented, she squinted at the clock. Nearly one in the morning. Who the hell was texting her at this hour? It better not be Crystal or Monroe to tell her some asshat was trespassing on her property.

She picked up the phone and blinked.

Evan: I just got your text. Do you still have chili?

What the hell?

She texted him back.

I’m sleeping.

Evan: Clearly you’re not.

She smiled in spite of her irritation.

Fair enough. But I WAS sleeping and would like to get back to it.

Evan: Okay. See you tomorrow.

What did that mean? Tomorrow when? For what? Or was that just a maybe they’d see each other?

Argh.

She’d spent some time tonight reading more about Asperger’s. It turned out it wasn’t even called Asperger’s anymore. According to the fifth edition of The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Asperger’s syndrome was now part of autism spectrum disorder. It didn’t change anything except the label. Alaina hated labels. She didn’t care what he’d been diagnosed. She only wanted to understand him.

What she’d read had told her that she needed to not make assumptions about anything he said or did. There was every chance—way more than most men—that he had no idea how he came off and meant none of the irrational things her overly hormonal mind could dream up. That didn’t mean it was okay to blow her off twice in two days. But that was who he was, and she had to decide if that was acceptable.

And she couldn’t decide that alone in bed.

She picked up her phone and texted him again.

I’ll bring you some chili. Meet you in the kitchen at the house.

She pushed the covers back and shivered as cold night air rushed over her sleep-warmed body. She considered whether to get dressed or just put on a sweater and grab her coat. Her phone vibrated on the nightstand. She picked it up and frowned.

Never mind. I heated up a burrito.

Was Fate trying to tell her to give up? Screw Fate. She’d never done what was easy or expected.

She pulled her favorite sweatshirt on over her pajama top and thrust her sock-clad feet into a pair of Uggs. After a quick stop in the bathroom to brush her teeth, she grabbed her coat and left the apartment.

It was freezing outside—literally. Sunny days in February meant no clouds to keep in any heat. But wow, it was beautiful. She stopped and stared at the ink-black sky. She hadn’t seen that many stars since she’d left Blueville. She’d forgotten how much you could see, how easy it was to let your imagination—and your worries—take flight.

A breeze stirred her hair, and she shivered. Hunching her shoulders, she hurried to the house. She briefly worried the door might be locked, but it wasn’t. Why would there be a need? They lived in a gated compound in the middle of blessed nowhere.

Heaven.

She went into the kitchen just as he was setting his plate in the sink. “You’re done already?” she blurted.

He turned his body toward her, but as usual, his gaze didn’t find hers. “Yeah. You want a beer?”

She saw that he had a half-full pint on the other side of the bar where he must’ve sat to eat his dinner. Or was it a midnight snack?

She didn’t move, just stared at him, especially the sexy, dark stubble cloaking his jaw. “What happened to you tonight?”

“I was working. Writing, actually. I’m sorry I missed your text.”

He said the words, but she wasn’t sure he was really sorry. Did that matter? No, she realized.

“I’m glad you texted. Eventually.” She took off her coat and hung it on the back of one of the stools. “Sure, I’ll take a beer.”

He went to the tap, and she watched him move, appreciating the way the athletic pants rode low on his hips and the pull of the cotton Henley across his chest. That afternoon, she’d wanted to lick every spectacular muscled inch of him. He was almost Photoshopped sexy with his cut abs and the perfect angles of his hip bones. She pulled herself out of the lust-addled memory and went to the bar, where he was drawing her beer from the tap.

“What kind is it?” she asked, hoping he’d attribute the rasp in her voice to the fact that she’d just woken up and not that she wanted to screw him senseless. She didn’t remember the last time she’d wanted someone so ferociously and so . . . often. God, was it the fertility drugs making her horny? She followed him to the beer counter and stood on the opposite side from him.

“Dad just changed the keg this morning. It’s red ale. He tinkers in his brewing room downstairs. This isn’t anything you can find at an Archer pub. At least not yet. Sometimes he shares them with the world, but just as often he keeps special recipes just for us.”

She didn’t often hear a lot of inflection in his tone, but right now she picked up a sense of affection in his voice. “Your family is really important to you.”

“The most important thing. Is yours?”

She picked up the glass and took a swig of the beer. “My family is less than important to me.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

She peered at him over the rim of her pint glass. “I have a judgmental prick of a grandfather and an obnoxious, needy, sometimes-offensive mother. Does that answer your question?”

He went and grabbed his beer before moving back behind the tap. “Uh, sure. What about your dad?”

“Dead. He overdosed when I was seven. Or eight. No, seven. He’d been in and out of jail since before I was born. My mom was a total enabler, and he was a freeloader. End of story.”

“Literally. Since he died.”

She took another drink of beer. “Yep. Your family is so normal. It’s awesome.”

“Except for my dead brother. I’d argue suicide isn’t normal.”

Yikes, she hadn’t meant to imply that. She cringed, even though he didn’t sound upset. “Sorry. Why did he kill himself? Or would you rather not say?”

He lifted a shoulder as he drank his beer. “He was sick a lot. He was the smallest of us when we were born. He had a chronic lung thing. Plus, he had bipolar disorder. There were six of us, and he got the short end of the stick.”

Six kids at once. Yikes. Her mind drifted to her Clomid prescription and the idea that she could easily have multiples. On the one hand, getting it all done in one fell swoop sounded convenient, and she liked convenient. On the other hand, multiples. Although the Archers seemed okay. Except for the dead brother. God, she knew better—things were never what they seemed.

“And that’s why he committed suicide?”

“He was tired of being sick, I guess. I don’t really understand it, to be honest. But I also don’t spend a ton of time thinking about it.”

She marveled at that. Not obsessing over something like that. But really, what would be the point? It’s not as if he could change anything. “You sound so well-adjusted.”

He smiled. “I’m not. I’m just blissfully unaware, as Liam would put it.”

“Liam sounds like a jerk.” She took another drink of beer.

“He’s not. Just blunt to a fault—that’s my dad’s description—but he’d do anything for any of us. The truth is, I am blissfully unaware. I can’t change that, and I’m okay with it.”

“Argue all you like, but that right there is well-adjusted.”

“Do you want to play foosball?” he asked.

She blinked at him as her mind pivoted to catch up. She’d get used to his non sequiturs, but right now they still jarred her. “Foosball?”

“We have a table downstairs.”

“Sure, why not?” She picked up her beer and headed out of the kitchen toward the stairs. “I haven’t played in years and years.”

He followed close behind her. “You’re in trouble, then.”

“Probably.” In so many ways.

EVAN TRAILED HER down the stairs. She wore red plaid pajama bottoms and a light gray sweatshirt with some sort of logo on the front. “Do you want an Archer sweatshirt?”

She turned to look at him as she moved into the game room, a faint smile lifting her lips. “Why do you ask?”

“Your sweatshirt made me think of it. We have a lot of cool swag. We have the basic logo.” He pointed to the A in the shape of a bow and arrow made from iron that hung on the wall. “Plus we have a lot of different art—each beer has its own icon, for lack of a better word.”

He went to the bar and pulled out some pint glasses. “This is the Longbow.” The glass had an imprint of a longbow resting against a tall standing rock. “And this is the Crossbow.” It bore a picture of a crossbow held by an anthropomorphized rabbit. “And this is my favorite.” He set out the Nock, which was a full moon with the Archer logo set against it over a moor.

She picked up the glass. “Very atmospheric. This is cool. You said Alex used to be the creative director. Did he design these?”

He nodded. “Come on, let’s go play.”

She touched his arm, stopping him cold as heat snaked through him. “Wait. Why don’t you tell your family that you can do this? That you are doing this?”

“Before Alex died, I didn’t want to. It was his thing. And now . . . I don’t know. It feels weird. Like I’m somehow taking something away from him, I guess.”

“For someone who’s ‘blissfully unaware,’ you’re incredibly thoughtful. That said, I hope you’ll tell them soon. They seem like a really supportive and caring family. I think they’d be thrilled to know that you’re continuing Alex’s legacy.”

“I guess.” He finished his beer and pulled a sample from the tap at the bar to see what it was. Something dark. He tasted it. A porter, and delicious. He filled the glass maybe two-thirds. “You ready to play?”

Her gaze was on his hand that held his pint glass. “You have another beer tap down here?”

“We have one outside on the patio, too, but we only hook it up in the summer. We’re a beer family, what can I say?”

She laughed. “I can’t even begin to imagine growing up the way you did. I lived in a two-bedroom mobile home with hideous wallpaper peeling off my walls and a window that barely closed.”

Sounded awful. “Why?”

“You heard what I said upstairs, right?”

That her parents were losers. “Yes, but you didn’t say you were poor.”

“Welfare all the way, baby. My mom always had some sort of injury or illness. She’d get a job and then find a reason to quit or get fired, which meant unemployment.” She rolled her eyes.

“Sounds really disruptive. I would’ve hated the uncertainty.” He crossed the game room to the foosball table. “Ready?”

“Why do I think this is going to be really unfair?” she asked, trailing behind him.

“Probably because it is. I’ll give you a handicap.”

She laughed. “Well, then I might stand a chance.”

He sensed she was being sarcastic. She was fun. Funny. And totally at ease with him, which was more than he could say for most people. He was still shocked at the events of the afternoon. All of his previous sexual interactions had been calculated and planned, like most of his life. Even now, he had a condom in his pocket. He wasn’t going to be caught unaware again.

He went to the table and twirled one of the handles. “We usually play for something.”

She moved to the other side of the table. “Like what?”

“Who has to empty the dishwasher or blow the leaves off the driveway. But the dishwasher doesn’t need emptying, and we have a guy who takes care of the yard now.”

“I see. I suppose we could play strip foosball.”

His mind worked, but he came up blank. “Strip foosball?”

“For every point we get, the other person has to remove an item of clothing.” She shook her head. “No, that’s a terrible idea. I’ll be naked, and you’ll be fully clothed.”

He eyed her breasts, which were completely indiscernible beneath the bulk of her sweatshirt. “Sounds awesome.”

She laughed. “Sounds totally unfair!”

“You’re wearing more than me. I have a shirt, these pants, and underwear. You’ve got a bra and shoes, and probably socks.”

“Yes on everything you said except the bra. Although I am wearing a pajama shirt under this sweatshirt.”

He lost track of what she said after hearing she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts were magnificent. So smooth and soft and round. He was a tactile guy, and he could’ve played with them all day. And night.

His cock grew stiff just thinking about it. He picked up a ball from the table. “Ready?”

“No, wait. Since you’re totally going to cream me, I should get something out of this. If I have to take off an item of clothing, you have to . . . I don’t know, let me think of something.”

His fingers closed around the plastic ball. “That’s dumb. I score a point, I get the advantage. If you get something, too, why play the game at all?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re too logical?”

“All the time.” He glanced at her and noted the sparkle in her eyes. She was teasing him. He smiled. “I score a point, you remove a piece of clothing. You score a point, I’ll remove something. Tell you what, since you’re so convinced you’ll lose, I’ll give you a head start.” He took off his shirt and threw it behind him.

Her gaze riveted to his bare chest. “That’s not fair either. Now I’m completely distracted.”

“Is that my problem?”

She laughed. “You can be sarcastic. I love it. No, it’s not your problem. It’s entirely my wonderful, delicious, please-don’t-ever-solve-yourself problem. Drop the ball. I’m ready.” She grasped the handles on her side and dipped her hips as she fixed her eyes on the table.

“Are we playing to a specific point?” he asked.

She sent him a hot glance. “No, we’re playing until someone’s buck naked. Probably me.”

He could hardly wait. He hadn’t seen her completely nude and very much wanted to.

He slipped the ball through the hole in the side, and she immediately spun one of her rods. “Hey, no three-sixty spinning. It’s illegal.”

“Says who?”

“Archer rules. And honestly, nearly everyone else’s, too.”

“Damn it,” she muttered as she tried to flick the ball. She finally gave it a good whack, but Evan positioned his man and tapped it, sending the ball directly into her goal. “Crap! I told you I sucked.”

“Then why are we playing?”

“Because I get to look at your naked chest.”

He grabbed the ball from her goal. “You could’ve just asked to see it.”

“Okay, take off the rest of your clothes.” She smiled broadly, her gaze dipping to his crotch. “Please.”

“No, we’re playing to nude, and that would mean you’d won.” He shook his head. “Too late to change things up now.”

She rolled her eyes. “Is that another Archer rule?”

“Sure. Why not? We make shit up all the time. It’s sort of our thing.”

She laughed again. “Maybe I didn’t miss having a family.”

“Do I get to pick what you take off?”

“Nope. I took off my boots, satisfied?”

“Not yet.” He darted a quick look at her face. She was watching him, her pupils just a bit dilated, just as they’d been that afternoon in the cabin after he’d kissed her.

“You’re a very naughty boy, Evan Archer. Let’s go.”

He pushed the ball through again and scored almost instantly.

She laid her forearm on the edge of the table and rested her forehead on it. “This is worse than I thought.” She threw a sock at him, but it landed on the table. The next one hit him in the chest and floated to his feet.

He plucked the one from the table and dropped it. “You’re crying over lost footwear. I’m the one without a shirt on.”

She lifted her head and stood up straight, her gaze raking over his chest. She didn’t bother masking her appreciation. “Yes, you are.” And then she licked her lips.

His cock, still at half-mast, hardened completely. “You did that on purpose.”

“Yep.”

He grabbed the ball from her goal again and slipped it through the hole. He took a shot, but she managed to deflect it.

“Hey! You didn’t tell me we were starting!” she cried.

“Sorry. Did I neglect to mention Archers are rather ruthless?” He tried another shot at her goal, but again she deflected it.

“Yeah, you did. Though I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m beginning to see how your family works.” She twirled a rod again. “Sorry! Accident! I refuse to accept a penalty, and don’t say you weren’t going to assign me one, because I think that’s exactly what you Archers would do.”

He laughed, amazed at how comfortable and relaxed he felt with her even though they’d only met, what, four days ago? He flicked his wrist and sent the ball sailing into her goal. “I’ll take a point instead.”

She made a low, guttural sound of frustration in her throat. “I’d call you a cheater, but clearly you’re not.” She tugged her sweatshirt off, and a wave of disappointment crested over him. He’d forgotten she’d said she had a top on underneath.

“I think you are. You’re wearing like twice as many clothes as me.”

“That’s not cheating.” She batted her eyelashes at him, and her lips curved into a provocative smile he recognized from one of her romantic comedies. For the first time, he acknowledged it was a bit strange to be playing foosball with this person he’d seen from afar for years. “That’s luck of the draw.”

With difficulty, he jerked his attention back to the game. Thankfully he’d taken a booster pill for his ADHD late that afternoon to retain focus. “Ready? Heaven forbid I don’t give you a warning.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear before assuming her hip-drop position. “Ready.”

He dropped the ball through the hole and decided to let her play for a bit. Maybe he’d even let her score. But then he’d be in nothing but his underwear, and she’d see the blatant proof of his arousal.

Since she was the one who’d suggested strip foosball in the first place, he decided she wouldn’t care. Especially given the way she kept staring at his abs.

They knocked the ball back and forth for a bit. “Why aren’t you scoring on me?” she asked. “I’m not a charity case. Do your worst.”

“I was trying to be nice.”

She lifted her gaze from the game—mistake—and delivered him her sauciest look yet. “Nice guys finish last.”

He slammed the ball into her goal. “So do hot movie stars, apparently. Strip.” He stood back from the table and crossed his arms, anxious to see what she’d reveal. Bare chest or underwear? He hoped for the former. “And make it good.”

She arched a brow at him. “Oh, you want a striptease, do you? I think I need music for that.” She bent down and came up with her sweatshirt, then pulled her phone from the front pocket. She slid her fingers over the screen, then set it on the edge of the table as a guitar strummed followed by a beat and then a man singing.

“I don’t know this song,” he said.

“ ‘Stripped’ by Depeche Mode. I used to take a fitness class that included pole dancing, and this was one of the teacher’s favorite songs.” She reached for the bottom of her shirt and pulled it up, baring her smooth belly. Then she stopped, leaving her midriff exposed. “Maybe I should do the pants first.”

“No, finish the shirt.” He’d practically growled the request. No, it had sounded more like a command. His body was on fire. For her.

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you changing the rules on me again?”

Fuck yes, he was. He rounded the table, desperate to see her, to touch her, to taste her. “I think I’m done playing foosball.”

She let her shirt fall, covering her abdomen. “Bummer.”

“No. You misunderstand me.” He clasped her waist and pulled her closer. Then he pushed the shirt back up and didn’t stop, unlike her, until her breasts were exposed in all of their glory. “I want the stripping.”

“Just the stripping?” she asked. “I’ve decided I like some of your rules, especially the one about speaking explicitly.”

“I want to have sex with you. I have a condom in my pocket. Are you interested?” He flicked her a glance—longer than a glance, really, but it was all he could manage. She was so beautiful. And right now she was his. If she said yes.

She twined her arms around his neck. “Hell yes. Couch or bed?”

Chapter Nine

SHE HAD NO idea if there was a bed anywhere convenient, but there was at least a leather couch over by the fireplace. Which they should totally turn on because sex in front of a fire—even a fake gas one—was amazing.

All thoughts of a fire, except the one he was stoking in her belly, dissolved as he kissed her. She lost herself in the sweep of his tongue, the grip of his hands on her hips pulling her against his erection, the sound of the music humming through her body and driving her pelvis into him. His fingers splayed over her ass and pressed her hard so that his cock burned her through their pants.

He tipped his head to the side and deepened the kiss, his mouth devouring hers. And she devoured him right back, clutching the back of his neck as if she might float away if she didn’t hold on for all she was worth.

Her shirt was still trapped between them, bunched up over her breasts so they were bare chest to bare chest, and oh, how divine that felt. But the shirt had to go. Tonight she wanted nothing between them.

She slid her hand from his neck, pulled her mouth from his, and whisked the pajama top over her head. She’d planned to resume the kiss, but he had other ideas apparently. His head dipped to her breast, and his lips closed over her nipple. Hot and wet, his mouth suckled her with strong, deep tugs. She held his head and simply gave herself over to the sensations he was giving her. Desire, intense and insistent, pulsed through her.

“Couch,” she managed to say, desperate to get horizontal with him.

He lifted his head and picked her up, his hands cradling the underside of her ass. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to the couch. Their mouths connected in another insanely hot kiss. Heat coiled in her core as she pressed against his rigid cock. She rotated her hips as they moved and groaned as he hit the perfect spot.

At the couch, she slid down his front as he clasped her hips. A new song was playing, another provocative track with a great beat that was perfect for pole dancing—or screwing.

“Fireplace,” she murmured against his mouth just before she nipped his bottom lip with her teeth.

“Oh.” He sounded surprised.

She stroked his nape, worried that she’d done something bad. “Did that hurt?”

“No. It was just . . . different.” He kissed her again, his tongue delving into her mouth. When he pulled back, he returned the favor, pulling on her lip with his teeth. “Like that?”

God, she loved how unassuming he was, utterly unguarded. “You never cease to amaze me.” She pressed her lips to his, pouring everything she had into the kiss. She clutched his neck and pushed her breasts into his chest, seeking every bit of contact she could get. He seemed to want the same as his hands came around her ass and gripped her tightly. They ground against each other, setting lights off behind her eyes as she glimpsed the orgasm that awaited her.

One of her favorite songs started—“Closer” by Nine Inch Nails—and if she wasn’t already pent up with lust, she’d get there real fast with the beat pounding and this hot-as-hell man standing in front of her wearing almost nothing. But that was the problem. He was still wearing clothes. They both were.

She withdrew her arms and danced back from him, swaying her hips as she moved. She glanced at the fireplace and saw the switch on the wall. Moving fast, she flicked it on and was immediately greeted with orange-blue flame.

She turned back to face him and curved her lips into a seductive smile. “I promised you a striptease.”

His gaze was unapologetically glued to her breasts. “No, you didn’t.”

“Okay, maybe not in so many words. But I did suggest strip foosball, and it seems unfair to deprive you of the stripping part. Although, pajama bottoms aren’t particularly sexy.”

“Everything you wear and do is sexy.”

His words made her shiver. He said everything with such clarity, such unadulterated truth, that she couldn’t help but fall under his spell—a spell he likely didn’t even realize he was casting.

She lifted her hair from her shoulders and let it fall as she narrowed her eyes and swung her hips. She’d been really good at that pole dancing class.

“You are seriously torturing me,” he rasped. He flicked his gaze to hers, and she saw raw need in their depths. It was stunning in its power.

She edged the pants down over her hips, moving slowly and gratuitously for maximum effect. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“Oh, I know it will.” He flattened his palms against his thighs. “But I’m warning you that my patience is stretched pretty thin.”

She accelerated her pace, because frankly, her patience was evaporating, too. The heat of the fire at her back drove her to take a few steps forward. That, and she wanted to be closer to him. Needed to be. She slipped the pajama bottoms down her legs and stepped out of them, kicking them to the side. Moving toward him, she swayed her hips and lifted her hands. With a flat palm, she pushed him back onto the couch. Down he went, his gaze never leaving her body and roving back and forth between her pelvis and her chest.

He reached for her panties, but she danced backward. “Uh-uh. My striptease.” She turned her back and stuck her ass out, taunting him with several dips and thrusts. She wished she was wearing a pair that showed her cheeks, but she hadn’t packed any. Why would she have, when she’d planned to hide from the world? Instead, she was in over her head with a crazy sexy guy who ignited her passion like no one ever had before.

In over her head?

Yeah, probably, but she didn’t care. Not right now.

She slipped her fingertips into the top of her panties and inched them down her hips, baring the top of her ass. She looked over her shoulder at him. His eyes were dark, inscrutable, the muscles of his jaw tight. His hands were flat on the couch on either side of him, but she could see the tendons of his arms straining and she knew she needed to bring this game to its conclusion. Which was fine with her, since she could barely wait to feel him slide inside of her.

She pushed her underwear down over her ass and ran her hand over one smooth cheek.

“Please come here.” She’d never heard such emotion in his voice. It was a plea, an entreaty for her to end his misery.

She shucked the garment entirely and stepped out of them before turning and sauntering toward him. She cupped her breasts and ran her hands down her abdomen, letting them rest against her thighs as she stopped just in front of the couch. “I’m done.”

“I haven’t even started yet.” He stood up and switched their positions, then stripped his clothing away. “I’d rather not wait anymore. I’m not sure I can.”

“Me neither.” She stroked her hands over his amazing chest and let out a low moan. “You are so perfect.”

He kissed her, and she dropped to the couch, pulling him down with her. He knelt on one knee between her legs. “Hold on. Condom.”

She hadn’t even seen him take it from his pocket, but she heard the plastic rip as he opened it. She reached between them and stroked his balls, cupping them and working them between her fingers.

“Damn, Alaina. You’re making this hard to do.”

She laughed softly and stopped moving her hand. “My bad. Please, continue.”

“Thank you.” He finished rolling the condom on, then found her clit, his thumb rubbing and drawing a deep moan from her throat.

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the couch as she opened her thighs wider. He fit himself between her legs, and the tip of his cock nudged her opening.

She clutched his hip and drew him tighter against her. He pushed inside, slowly gliding into her, and it was pure bliss. She wrapped her legs around him and squeezed his ass. “God, yes. Evan.”

He sank deeper, his cock filling her.

“Please move,” she begged.

He did as she asked, withdrawing and then surging forward once more. He did this a few times, but it was too slow. Tantalizing and teasing and deliciously infuriating. He had far more control than she did.

She put one hand on the side of his neck and stroked his cheek with her thumb. “Look at me, for just a second.” His gray eyes found hers, and his piercing look was nearly her undoing. “I want you to fuck me,” she said. “Hard, fast. Can you do that?”

He pulled out almost all the way and then slammed into her, his cock stretching her. “I can.” He pushed her hair back from her face and kissed her long and deep but didn’t move between her legs. He dragged his mouth from hers and took her hand from his face. He wound his fingers with hers and pinned her hand above her head against the couch. “Hold on.”

Then he moved. And God, did he move.

His hips snapped back and forth, driving his cock into her with ruthless precision. She felt every muscle in his ass working as she gripped him tight. She clenched her legs around him even harder and thrust with him, lifting her hips and grinding with wild abandon.

Pleasure flooded through her, and she cried out as her orgasm hit. He didn’t relent, and his deep strokes only intensified her sensations. Eyes closed tightly, lights flickered in the darkness as she came.

Then his muscles clenched, and he made a purely animal sound. She dug her fingers into his ass, urging him on. “Come with me, Evan. Yes.”

His grip on her hand tightened, and his sounds devolved into low moans as he thrust. Gradually his movements slowed, but he barely retreated, keeping himself buried inside of her.

She loved the feel of him on her, between her thighs, holding her hand. There was something more intimate about this for some reason. Maybe it was just because she hadn’t had sex in so long. Or maybe it was because he was just different. Special.

He stood up. “I have to go, uh, get rid of this.”

“Sure.” She wished he hadn’t left so quickly. She’d tell him that for next time. Next time? Would there be a next time? What if she had to go back home for the Oscars? She’d come back. Hell, maybe she’d get a place up here, never mind that she hadn’t even really seen the town. She wanted to—but she didn’t want to risk being recognized and having her hideout exposed.

There was a blanket near her feet, draped over the arm of the couch. She pulled it up and turned on her side to look at the fire. Her entire body was tired, spent. Deliciously so. She let her eyes drift close as her lips curved into a satisfied smile.

A few minutes later, she heard him come back. She opened her eyes to see he was dressed already. “You’re dressed,” she said, disappointed. She could stare at his bare chest all night long. A yawn snuck up on her, and she covered her mouth. Or not—apparently she was exhausted.

“Yeah, I’m going to head up to bed. Can I walk you back to the apartment?”

She sat up, holding the blanket over her—without him next to her, she’d grown cold. She wanted to curl up next to him and fall asleep with her head against that magnificent chest of his. “You could stay there with me.”

He shook his head. “I don’t like to sleep with other people.”

“Why not?”

“I like my space. Okay, that’s not exactly true. When I was young, I used to sleep with Alex sometimes. He liked the company. We have a cabin on Mt. Hood, and it has a large bedroom upstairs with bunk beds where we all slept. It was often too loud and . . . busy, so I’d sleep downstairs with Alex.”

He was rambling again, but she didn’t care. She liked learning these things about him. “So you’ve never spent the night with a woman?”

“No. I told you I wasn’t very experienced.”

“How many women have you been with?”

“Four, including you.”

Now she did feel like a tramp. No, that was stupid. Compared to her mother, she was a nun. “Well, I’d love to sleep next to you if you ever want to try it.” She tried not to be disappointed. He didn’t mean anything personal by his choice to sleep alone.

“I’ll think about it. So, can I walk you to the apartment?”

“Sure, let me get dressed.”

A few minutes later, he followed her up the stairs. She grabbed her coat from the kitchen, and they left the house. Outside, she looked up at the sky again. The stars seemed even more brilliant than when she’d come over earlier. But that was her postorgasmic bliss talking, probably.

He walked her up the stairs to the door. She went inside and turned. Flashing him a hopeful smile, she said, “Last chance to change your mind.”

“I’m good.” His brow furrowed. “Wait, are you mad?”

She laughed softly. “Do I look mad? I had a great time tonight. You’re incredible. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, then tell me specifically. I want plans. How about you take me to the cemetery? I’d love to see it, and it would be great to get out for a bit.”

“I can do that.”

By now she knew that nailing him down garnered better results. “What time?”

“I need to work in the morning. Two?”

“Sounds great. Should you set a reminder in your phone or something?”

He smiled fleetingly. “Damn, you know me so well already. Yeah, I’ll do that when I get back. But maybe you should text me a reminder.”

She shook her head, thinking he was more high maintenance than most women, albeit in a different way. “Happy to.” She stood on her toes and pressed a lingering kiss to his mouth. “See you tomorrow.”

“Night.”

He turned and left, and she closed the door with a sigh. As she texted him a reminder, she hoped she wouldn’t have to return to LA. Or maybe she’d just skip the Oscars altogether.

EVAN HURRIED TOWARD the apartment from his office. He was running a few minutes late because he’d been working on Alex’s book. Being with Alaina had opened up a floodgate of creativity, both for his job at Archer and with writing the book, which had taken a somewhat romantic turn. The protagonist had a girlfriend who was maybe patterned a little after Alaina. Or a lot. Whatever. He felt good writing it.

As he strode between the garages, Tori came out of the main house. She walked to meet him, smiling. “Hey! How’s it going?”

He paused on his way to the apartment door. “Fine. I’m supposed to meet Alaina.”

She flicked a glance at the apartment. “Sean is meeting with her upstairs, and I was helping Mom put away groceries. What are you guys doing?”

“She wanted to get out.”

Tori chuckled as she crossed her arms. “I wondered if she was going nuts yet. Sean was going to invite her to dinner tonight. We thought we’d get the back table at The Arch and Vine like Chloe mentioned the other night.”

“Yeah, that would work. But why not just get the private dining room upstairs at Georgia’s?” It was a fantastic restaurant in a remodeled house downtown. The menu was much fancier than the Arch and Vine’s, but he realized he shouldn’t assume that’s what she’d like, particularly since she came from rather humble beginnings.

“You just like it there because of the French onion soup.”

It was his favorite. “Absolutely.”

Tori’s gaze flicked to the bag in his hand. “Is that for Alaina?”

“Uh, yeah. I picked her up a hat, scarf, and some gloves. She forgot to pack some.” He’d gone into town earlier and stopped at The Knitty Gritty.

The door to the apartment stairs opened, and out walked Alaina and Sean.

Alaina’s smile seemed different today. Or maybe she just looked different to him after last night. Sex with her had been astonishing. He’d been anxious to go upstairs alone to try to process the sensations that had stayed with him long after his orgasm had faded. Now he understood what it meant when people said, “I’m going to rock your world.” That’s precisely what she’d done.

Sean joined Tori by the car. “Alaina says you’re taking her out.”

“Yep.” Evan cast her a glance. “Ready?”

“Whenever.”

He went to the keypad next to the garage door and punched in the code. The door went up, and he walked around the car.

“So, what about dinner?” Tori called.

“Dinner?” Alaina asked, looking from Tori to Evan.

Evan turned from the car. “Tori wondered if you wanted to have dinner in town.”

Alaina’s eyes lit. “Actually, I’d love to go into town. I’d hate to leave without seeing it.”

Evan stepped toward her. “Are you leaving?”

She slid him a look that seemed like it might carry meaning, but he couldn’t decipher it. Hell, he never usually noticed such things to begin with. Just that much was . . . odd.

“Not yet,” she said. She turned her focus back to Tori. “I’d love to go to The Arch and Vine. Seems only right that I should check out the Archers’ flagship pub.”

“Excellent. Do you want us to pick you up?” Tori asked.

She sent another look to Evan, this time with maybe a question in her gaze. “Evan can drive me.”

“Sure.” He noted Tori looking at him, her head cocked to the side. “What?” he asked her.

She straightened her head. “Nothing. We’ll see you guys tonight. Six thirty?”

“Sounds good.” Alaina went to the passenger side of his car. “See you then!”

They both climbed into the car, and he waited while Tori and Sean pulled out of the driveway. He glanced over at Alaina’s legs. Clad in skinny blue jeans tucked into the boots she’d been wearing yesterday afternoon, she sat with her knees pressed together and her legs situated at a sexy angle. He wanted to strip her clothes off from the waist down and push her thighs apart so he could sink into her softness.

Yeah, she’d rocked his world, all right.

“Hey, what’s in the bag?”

He’d forgotten all about it in his distraction and had mindlessly set it down on the console between them. “It’s for you.”

Her face brightened, and she smiled broadly. “Really? I love presents!”

“It’s not really a present,” he muttered. “I thought you could use them.”

She opened the bag and withdrew the items, which were wrapped in bright green tissue paper. “Oh! Just what I needed!”

“They didn’t have anything that was solid turquoise.” These were a mix of turquoise, gray, white, and black. “I hope they’re okay.”

She took the hat out first and immediately pulled it onto her head. She flipped the car visor down and looked in the mirror. “I love it!” She unwrapped the gloves and a scarf, which she wrapped around her neck and knotted.

She leaned over the console and kissed him. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.” Feeling pleased with himself, he started the car and pulled out of the garage.

“You didn’t tell Tori where we were going, did you?” Alaina tried on the gloves next.

“No.”

She exhaled. “Good.”

“Why? What’s the big deal?”

“Don’t you think visiting cemeteries is a bit odd?”

He shrugged. Most things he did seemed odd to at least a portion of the population, and he’d never given a flying fuck. “Who cares?”

She turned toward him. “You really don’t care, do you? I wish I could do that. Stop thinking about what people think of what I do, who I am.”

“I don’t think I’m capable of doing that—caring what others think. I mean, I know on an intellectual level that I maybe should, at least as it pertains to making my way in the world. But overall, I just can’t be bothered to work that hard. And for me, it’s hard work.”

She laid her arm on the rest next to the console dividing their seats. “I understand. Or at least, intellectually—to borrow your word—I get what you’re saying. Still, it’s remarkable. I’m conditioned to overthink everything, thanks to the business I’m in.” She sat back against the seat. “It sucks. I’m kind of over it.”

“Then be over it. No one’s the boss of you. Not like when you were younger. That was one reason I couldn’t wait to grow up—so I could be the boss of myself.” Living by other people’s rules and expectations was a nightmare. And it wasn’t that his parents required him to do things that were unreasonable. He just wanted to be on his own schedule and make his own decisions about things. “That’s why I moved out of Ribbon Ridge.” And it was maybe why he was really keeping his identity a secret for the creative job. Huh, he hadn’t thought of that before.

“I so get the need to stretch your wings. I can’t imagine having stayed in Blueville.” She shuddered.

He turned up the gravel road that led to the cemetery, and the gravestones came into view.

“We’re here already?” she asked.

“It’s not far from our property.” He threw the car into park at the side of the road. There was no parking lot, just a gravel loop.

He grabbed a pair of sunglasses from the console before he stepped out of the car. The sky was a vivid blue, and the sun was bright, though it wasn’t above forty degrees.

“Shades. Good idea.” She pulled a pair from her purse before tossing it back onto the seat and closing her car door.

They met at the front of the car, and she grinned up at him. “Nice Aviators.”

She was wearing the same style, although hers were more feminine.

“You, too,” he said. “What did you have in mind for this visit?”

“Honestly? I would’ve brought a picnic, but I was afraid you’d find that too morbid, especially since your brother’s buried here.”

“Actually, that sounds like a nice idea because he’s buried here. As if we’re having lunch with him.”

She laughed. “Yeah, I suppose. Would your family feel the same way?”

“I have no idea. I’ll have to file that under ‘don’t know and don’t really care.’ ”

More laughter. “God, you are so cool.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the grass. “Come on.”

He went along with her, stupidly disappointed that he’d given her gloves and as a result was deprived of the heat and intimacy of her skin. They walked up to the stone marker, and she read it aloud.

“ ‘Ribbon Ridge Pioneer Cemetery, eighteen fifty-nine.’ ” She turned her head to look up at him. “I didn’t realize it predated the Civil War. When was Ribbon Ridge founded?”

“Eighteen fifty-nine was the year Oregon became a state—on Valentine’s Day. Ribbon Ridge was incorporated in eighteen seventy-eight, but my great-great-great-grandfather established the settlement here in eighteen fifty-six. He moved west from New York to find his fortune after a friend came out here to be a fur trapper.”

“Was he a fur trapper, too?”

“No, a farmer. And a postmaster. And a banker. He founded Ribbon Ridge, so he had a lot of jobs. He’s buried over here.” He led her to a relatively new marker. “My grandfather replaced this when my dad was a kid because the old one was falling down.”

She let go of his hand and ran her gloved fingers over the names. “Absolutely fascinating. And so cool. I love genealogy. How far back can you trace your family?”

“Ironically, we can trace further back on my mom’s side. We can get all the way to the Middle Ages in France. With the Archers, we’re sort of stalled out in the seventeenth century, I think.”

“Very cool.” She turned her head back to the stone. “The other name on here is his wife?”

“Yeah. They had separate headstones, but Dad says hers was small and kind of lame next to her husband’s, so they combined them.”

She took his hand again. “Show me more.”

They walked among the headstones, and he told her all he knew of the history of Ribbon Ridge and some of the people buried in the cemetery. Most of them, however, were just fading names on stone. Until they reached the newer part of the cemetery, where the granite was still shiny and the etched information crisp.

Next to a towering oak was Alex’s grave, marked with a four-foot-tall stone and decorated with the Archer logo, which he’d asked for in his will.

“This is your brother,” she said softly.

He nodded, his throat oddly tight. He’d shed tears when Alex had died, but his grief had been compact and easy compared to that of the rest of his family. He just didn’t hold onto negative emotion—what was the point? And that was a question he hadn’t even asked until recent years. Before that, he’d just moved on without realizing he was supposed to cling to sadness or anger or frustration.

“His name wasn’t Alexander?” she asked.

He cleared his throat. “No, just Alex. All of us have four letter names with two syllables. Except Hayden, because he isn’t one of the sextuplets. Mom and Dad didn’t want rhyming names or names that started with the same letter, but Mom was adamant we have some sort of naming convention that tied us together.”

“That’s pretty cool. So there’s you, Tori, Sara, Kyle . . . Who am I missing?”

“Liam.”

She nodded. “The jerk who broke his wrist. Is he doing okay?”

“I think so. I should text him.”

“Or call him.” She laughed. “I don’t know, does anyone call anymore? It’s sometimes easy to forget that these texting machines actually started as phones.”

He liked the feel of her hand in his, even with the glove. “Very true.”

“Despite not calling each other, you all seem really close. Like you said. Which makes me wonder why you’re keeping your job at the company a secret. Why don’t you tell them the truth?”

“I was actually thinking about that earlier. I like the anonymity, the space. What if they want to micromanage me or make assumptions about my abilities?”

She turned toward him and rubbed her thumb over his hand. “Do you really think they would do that?”

He thought about it. His siblings had always treated him, Sara, and Alex a bit differently, something Evan hadn’t even really noticed until college, when he’d finally managed to develop a better sense of awareness, not that it was terribly advanced even now.

“They expect certain things from me,” he said cautiously, wondering if he could explain the dynamics of his family when he sometimes felt he didn’t really understand them. He distinctly remembered telling his mother when he was younger that he wished his siblings “got” him better. Sara related to him the most with her sensory-processing disorder, and Tori tried really hard. The others were less . . . patient. No, that wasn’t the right word. He wasn’t sure what the right word was.

She moved closer to him. “All families expect things—it’s an unwritten rule. And since you Archers are apparently good at those, I’d guess your siblings are particularly awesome when it comes to making assumptions. But aren’t you doing the same thing by not being honest with them? You don’t really know how they’ll react or behave.” She touched Alex’s headstone. “I’d say losing Alex ought to remind you all not to take anything—or anyone—for granted. Maybe you should trust them enough to support you. I can’t imagine they wouldn’t.”

She cupped his cheek and smiled up at him. “Am I making any sense to you at all, or am I just rambling?”

“As it happens, I speak fluent rambling, so even if you are, it makes sense to me.” He leaned down and kissed her, his lips lingering softly over hers.

He felt a vibration through his coat and realized it was her phone in her pocket.

“Excuse me.” She pulled it out and checked the screen. “I have to take this. Hold on.” She let go of his hand and strolled a few feet away, but he could still hear what she said.

“Oh, great.”

She said “great” but didn’t sound excited. At least not to him, but then, he wasn’t very good at discerning tone of voice.

She pivoted toward him, her gaze fixed on the ground. “Actually, I’ve been thinking I’d rather not do it. Is that okay?” She kicked her booted toe at a small rock, sending it skidding over the dry ground. “I know, and tell him I’m sorry. Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

She stashed the phone in her pocket and walked back to him, her face bright with a gorgeous smile. He was getting used to seeing her face in person instead of on a screen, but when she smiled like that, it was always a bit of a jolt.

“Everything good?” he asked.

“Yep. Just a work thing.”

“How long are you staying?” He hadn’t meant to ask, but like so many things he said, the question just fell out of his mouth.

“I’m not sure, but as of right now I don’t have any plans to leave.”

He walked to her and snaked his hand around her waist, then pulled her against his chest. “Good.” He kissed her again, this time for much longer and with considerably more heat.

Her fingers twined into the hair at his nape. He loved that sensation. He pretty much loved everything about her, even her unsolicited advice about his family.

When he lifted his head, he looked down at her but was unable to see her eyes because of her sunglasses. Just as she wouldn’t be able to see him. Here he was making eye contact, and she couldn’t even tell. He nearly laughed. “I’ll think about what you said.”

She clasped his hand. “Excellent. Now let’s explore the rest of the cemetery. I need to work up an appetite for dinner.”

His cock was at half-staff after kissing her. “I could think of a much better way to do that.”

She grinned. “Me, too, but even I draw the line at doing that in a cemetery.” She lowered her sunglasses from her eyes briefly and waggled her eyebrows. “We’ll save it for the apartment.”

“Before or after dinner?”

“Why not both? Come on, I’ll race you to the car.”

Apparently she’d changed her mind about seeing the rest of the cemetery. And he didn’t mind one bit.

Chapter Ten

THE WIND HAD picked up in the hours since they’d walked through the cemetery. And the sky had grown overcast. Now it was nearly dark as Alaina pulled her new knit cap lower over her ears and pulled the scarf up to cover her nose. It maybe wasn’t that cold, but the hat and scarf afforded a great disguise. She didn’t want anyone recognizing her.

“It got chilly,” she said to Evan, who walked beside her, holding her hand as they made their way down Ribbon Ridge’s main street toward The Arch and Vine. She’d asked if they could get to town a little early so she could peek in the shop windows. They’d parked across the street from a cozy coffee shop and bookstore. Alaina longed to go inside and browse. Curling up in the apartment with a good book on a cold winter night sounded awesome. Even better if she could do it with Evan.

Heh, do it with Evan.

She’d done it with Evan that afternoon at the apartment, and it had been even better than the first time. They’d been absolutely desperate to get each other’s clothes off, and as a result, they hadn’t quite gotten naked. They’d also tried at least three different positions. Or maybe it was four. As she started to tally them off in her head, she decided the evening would go better if she wasn’t completely horny from the get-go.

They passed a window display of knitted hats, scarves, and a gorgeous blanket in hues of red and purple.

“This is where I got your hat and stuff,” Evan said.

She looked up at the sign hanging over the door. “The Knitty Gritty. Ha! What a fun name. It looks so cute. I’ve always wanted to take up knitting. My grandmother was really good at it and tried to teach me when I was little, but I wasn’t interested.” She regretted that. Where her grandfather was opinionated and righteous, Grandmama had been soft-spoken and kind. She never openly argued with her husband—at least not in front of Alaina—but she always made a point of telling Alaina to take his sermon-like advice with a grain of salt.

“I’m sorry we can’t go in since they’re closed,” he said. “But we can come back tomorrow if you want.”

“I’ll think about it.” Alaina wasn’t sure she wanted to chance a second foray into town. One visit was risky enough, and as she eyed a couple walking toward them, she wondered if it had been a stupid idea.

She tensed as they neared the couple, but the strangers only waved and nodded as they continued on their way. “Do you know them?” she asked Evan.

“I don’t think so, but everyone’s friendly in Ribbon Ridge.”

She relaxed and mentally chastised herself for being automatically distrustful. Not everyone was a rabid paparazzo or a nosy blogger. “And why wouldn’t they be friendly? It’s just about the cutest town I’ve ever seen. And so picturesque, with the hills and gorgeous vistas surrounding it. It’s postcard perfect.”

He pointed down a street they came to. “The next block there is the park where we hold our annual Oktoberfest, as well as the Ribbon Ridge Festival.”

“Oooh, when’s that? Sounds fun.”

“It does?” He slid her a glance and a half-smile. “You don’t even know what it involves.”

“No, but I’m already half in love with the town, and how can you go wrong with the word ‘festival’? I’m assuming there’s Archer beer, local wine, and lots of great food.”

“That’s about it. Plus local artisans selling their stuff and, of course, live music.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a great time. You didn’t tell me when it was.”

“July. Why, are you planning to come back?”

“Maybe.” She was beginning to think she ought to buy a house up here. Hadn’t she just been thinking she needed a new West Coast retreat away from LA? “Especially if you promise to take me.”

“Uhhhh . . . Those sort of events aren’t generally my thing.”

Disappointment stabbed through her chest. She loved those sorts of things. A carnival had rolled through Blueville a couple of times when she was a kid, and she’d spent practically every hour of every day just walking around and soaking up the atmosphere and watching the people. She of course hadn’t had any money to do much else. She turned her head to look at him. “How come?”

“Too many people. Too much noise. Just too.”

She thought of the wine tasting last weekend and how she’d startled him with just a whisper next to his ear. A crowded event was probably torture. “That’s a bummer.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Eh, I don’t miss it.”

I would. She tried to picture him at any of the typical events she attended in her professional life. And . . . she couldn’t. If she’d decided to do the Oscars, could he have gone as her date? She didn’t think he’d want to.

Whoa, take a step back Alaina. You just met this guy. You’re having fun. You’re not introducing him to your world. Aside from the fact that he’d probably rather have his fingernails pulled off than deal with the drama of your life, you can’t just show up with some guy—he’d be absolutely inundated with intrusive press.

And she wouldn’t wish that on her enemy, let alone a guy she really liked.

Besides, it didn’t matter since she’d declined the Oscar gig. Crystal had been surprised, and she’d said Isaac was going to be irritated, but Alaina couldn’t plan her life around other people’s reactions. She’d done that for far too long.

“Let’s cross the street here.” He gripped her hand more tightly and looked both ways before leading her across to The Arch and Vine.

Her stomach made a low growl as the scent of food hit her. “I think our afternoon activities made me really hungry.”

He laughed, sending her a quick glance. “Is that right?”

She giggled as they approached the door. An old-fashioned sign, like one that would be seen at a medieval pub in Great Britain, hung over the door, which was surrounded by a stone arch. “Do all of the pubs have arches?”

He let go of her hand and opened the door for her. “Of course.”

She stepped inside to a welcome blast of heat but didn’t remove her scarf. Not until they got to the secluded back area.

“Hey there!” Chloe Sumner approached them. Alaina had learned the other night that Chloe waited tables here once in a while and was also the art director for the pubs.

Alaina eyed the trompe l’oeil depicting a medieval street that covered the left-hand wall. “That’s incredible. Did you do that?”

Chloe shook her head. “No, that was before my time. Rob’s uncle used to be the art director. I’ve only touched up stuff at the existing pubs. My first stab at creating new stuff will be up at The Alex. I’m starting in the restaurant next week.” She lowered her voice. “I’m a little nervous.”

“I’m sure it’ll be gorgeous. I’d love to see what you have planned.”

“Sure. I’d be happy to share. The more feedback I get, the better.”

Alaina laughed. “Oh, I don’t know that I have anything valuable to share. I can’t draw to save my life! Which is maybe why I appreciate the talent so much.”

“Well, I can’t act—I tried in high school, but it was an utter disaster—so we all have our skills.” She grinned at Alaina and tucked her blonde hair behind her ear. “Come on, I’ll take you back to your table.”

Alaina retook Evan’s hand before following Chloe. The pub wasn’t very full, but then, it was Tuesday night. No one paid much attention to them as they passed, which is just the way Alaina liked it.

They moved behind a screen to the corner of the pub. Sean and Tori were already at the table, their backs to the wall. Sean stood. “Hi. Alaina, is that you under there?”

She pulled the scarf away. “Ta-da! Not much of a trick, but it’s all I have. I didn’t bring any of my wigs or my sunglasses that pretty much cover half my face.” Which had been stupid in retrospect. “I admit I left in kind of a hurry.”

“Please, sit,” Sean said.

Evan held her chair, and she gave him an appreciative glance before she sat down. He was such a gentleman. He’d probably even impress her grandfather. Too bad they’d never meet.

“What do you think of Ribbon Ridge?” Tori asked.

Alaina set her scarf over the back of her chair and pulled off her gloves, then tucked them into her purse, which she also hung over the back of her chair. She toyed with taking off the hat, but decided she just couldn’t part with the last bit of her disguise. “It’s adorable,” Alaina said. “Evan was telling me about Oktoberfest and the Ribbon Ridge Festival. Sounds fun.”

“You should come back. They’re both fantastic, but I’d be remiss in my duties as an Archer if I didn’t give the slight edge to Oktoberfest, since it’s our event.”

“Having been to Oktoberfest, I can tell you it’s incredible,” Sean said. “Kyle’s fondue is can’t-miss.”

“Yum, I love fondue. Any chance he’ll make some while I’m here?”

“Oooh, that’s a great idea,” Chloe said. “I’ll ask him to do a fondue dinner next Sunday. But that means you have to stay at least that long.”

Alaina was beginning to think she might never leave. She snuck a sideways glance at Evan. He was studying the menu and being typically quiet. She noticed he didn’t say much when there were more people around. What she didn’t know was whether he took a sideline approach on purpose, for comfort’s sake, or if there was some other reason for his disengagement. That maybe wasn’t the right word. She thought he was engaged, but honestly, she couldn’t tell. She made a note to ask him.

She heard Tori laugh softly and turned to see her and Sean with their heads bent together. The moment turned fuzzy, almost surreal, as she pictured herself nestled in this cozy life. Her lips curved into a smile . . .

Hold on. She existed in a bubble here, and it couldn’t go on indefinitely. She had a life in LA, including a fertility doctor who was going to try to knock her up next month. What the hell was she doing?

“What can I get you guys to drink?” Chloe asked.

Alaina snapped out of her delirium and picked up the drink menu. “I don’t know.”

“Should we get a pitcher?” Sean suggested. “Tori and I are thinking Nock.”

A porter. That sounded heavy to Alaina right now. Actually, beer in general sounded heavy. “I’m not really in the mood for beer, but don’t let me stop you.”

“I’m getting Crossbow,” Evan said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

Chloe pointed at something called Maid Marian on Alaina’s drink menu. “This is a semisweet hard apple cider, if you like that.”

“Sounds great. Yes, please.” Alaina set the placard down.

“What about a starter? Nachos, hummus plate? Kyle started making the hummus last fall, and since we switched to his recipe, it’s one of the most popular items on the menu.”

Alaina was starving. “Sounds fabulous. Though, you probably could’ve suggested braised tire, and I would’ve asked you to bring an order.”

Everyone except Evan laughed, and Chloe took off.

Alaina wanted to ask if he was okay, but she didn’t want to draw attention to his behavior, especially since Tori and Sean seemed oblivious. Was that because they were too involved in each other or because Tori knew her brother well enough to realize nothing was amiss?

Damn it, she needed to stop overanalyzing everything! Otherwise she was going to find herself in over her head. She didn’t have time for that.

Her eye caught the bottle of ketchup on the table. The label read “Portland Ketchup” and featured a picture of a rose. Portland, she’d learned, was the City of Roses and held an annual Rose Festival in the spring. “Is that good ketchup?” she asked no one in particular.

“It’s fantastic,” Sean said. “Best ketchup I’ve ever had, and I didn’t even like ketchup before I started eating here. Goes great on their signature seasoned tater tots.”

“Then I definitely need some to take back to my assistant. She’s a ketchup fiend.” Crystal was going to be beside herself to find a new variety of ketchup. “Festivals, amazing ketchup . . . What else is cool about Ribbon Ridge?”

“So many things—but you have to like small towns,” Sean said, his eyes lighting. “Although, Portland isn’t far and it has everything you need. Honestly, Ribbon Ridge is perfectly located—an hour to the ocean, an hour and a half to the mountains and skiing, wine tasting in our backyard, and forty-five minutes to the best restaurant scene west of the Mississippi. Hell, maybe the entire continent.”

Alaina grinned at him. “You’re head over heels for the place, Sean. I’m shocked. You loved LA.”

“I loved LA after spending my life in England. However, a few years in LA will cure you of the crush. But that’s just me. You’ve been in LA over a decade, right?”

“Twelve years.” She’d left Blueville as soon as she could, and she hadn’t looked back. “But my reasons for loving LA are less geographic and more opportunistic. It changed my life.”

Tori leaned forward. “Really, how?”

Evan surprised Alaina when he answered. “She grew up in a crappy town, in an even crappier house, with an even crappier family. The life she found in La-La Land was about as far from her roots as you can get.”

Tori blinked and then shifted her gaze to Alaina. “Is that right?”

Alaina maybe wouldn’t have shared it quite like that, but she didn’t say so. “Yep, that’s the Reader’s Digest version.”

Sean knew a little bit about her background, but not as much as she’d told Evan. As a matter of fact, she’d told Evan more than she’d ever revealed to anyone besides Crystal. Oh, the press had tried to uncover whatever they could—they knew her father had a criminal record, since those things were impossible to bury, and they knew her grandfather was a pastor. They didn’t, however, know what it was like to grow up with him or her mother or why Alaina kept her distance from both of them.

“We also have a farmers’ market,” Evan said, referring back to what they’d been talking about. Had he done that to redirect the conversation after he’d veered it off track? Or was it just another instance of him not always following the flow?

“And it is amazing,” Tori said. “Sean hasn’t seen it either, since I, uh, was a giant bitch pretty much all of last year and he wasn’t here.” She directed a sheepish look around the table and stroked Sean’s arm.

Alaina looked at her in sympathy. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. Besides, your brother died. That’s more than enough reason to be whatever you have to be to make it through to the other side.” She fidgeted with the edge of her scarf, which was next to her thigh on the chair. “If there is another side.”

“There is, I think.” Tori smiled at her. “And thank you.”

“Nah, Tori was a raving lunatic.” Sean shook his head, but his eyes glinted with humor. “Batshit crazy, really. I nearly gave up.”

“Thank God you didn’t.” Tori kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

“You probably wouldn’t have been such a trainwreck if I’d been here.” Evan sounded . . . upset. It was an inflection Alaina hadn’t heard from him before.

Tori shook her head vigorously. “No, you don’t. I did the guilt thing, and trust me—it ruins you. So ditch that right now. I’m glad you’re here, but there’s no telling what would’ve happened if you’d come home last year. Maybe I would’ve driven you away forever.” She smiled at him to show that she was at least half-kidding.

Evan nodded. “Sure.”

Alaina loved watching Evan interact with his family. Even when he was quiet, the love and care they showed for each other was palpable. As was her yearning for it.

Knock it off, Alaina. You are not an Archer, and you never will be.

Chloe showed up with their drinks and took their dinner order after they all scrambled to make a decision. Alaina opted for the grilled salmon with a salad and marinated steamed veggies.

A minute after Chloe left, an older gentleman with glasses delivered their hummus plate. Alaina tensed but bit her lip before she could ask why a stranger was serving them.

“Hi, kids,” he said. “Who’s your friend?” He looked at Alaina with curiosity and a friendly smile . . . and nothing else, such as recognition. She forced herself to relax.

Tori gestured toward Alaina in introduction. “George, this is—”

“Lainie,” Alaina interjected. She held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

“I’m George. I’ve known these kids forever—well, the Archers. And that Brit character’s all right. He might be a better beer connoisseur than the entire Archer lot.”

Tori gasped, but it was obviously in jest. “That’s sacrilege.”

George chuckled. He nodded toward Evan. “You here with Evan?” he asked Alaina.

“Uh—”

“She’s a guest of the family,” Evan answered.

George nodded. “I see. Well, if you want the real dirt on them, come see me at the bar, Lainie.” He winked at her before disappearing behind the screen.

“Don’t worry,” Tori said, accurately reading Alaina’s thoughts. “George won’t say a word. But just to be sure, I’ll smooth things over. Is Lainie a nickname or just something you threw out? I guess you’re pretty good at improvising on the fly.”

Sean laughed. “She is an Academy Award-winning actor.”

Tori rolled her eyes as she helped herself to pita bread and hummus. Everyone dove into the appetizer for a few minutes. They all agreed that Maggie was so lucky to be able to eat Kyle’s food whenever she wanted, and Alaina mused that she wished her personal chef was half that talented. It was probably best she wasn’t, since Alaina had to maintain a certain weight. Yet another reason it was maybe time to take a nice, long break. Counting calories and constant workouts were not things she would miss.

Tori sipped her beer. “That has to be the best job—acting. Did you always want to be an actress?”

“Yes, but I started out modeling. I was lucky enough to be born with excellent genes, and I’m not ashamed I used them to my advantage.” Which wasn’t to say she hadn’t worked her ass off when she’d arrived in LA.

“Good for you for never losing sight of your dream.” Sean toasted her with his pint glass.

“What about you, Tori?” Alaina asked. “Did you always want to be an architect?”

“No. I wanted to be president.” She laughed. “But after I was president of the sophomore class in high school, I changed my mind. Evan’s like you—he knew he wanted to work with computers since middle school.”

Alaina, painfully aware of Evan’s silence, looked at him to gauge his reaction—was he engaged? Yes, because he suddenly frowned. “Actually, in college I studied graphic design.”

“I know. You took some classes with Alex.” Tori’s brows gathered. “It was great of you to provide support.”

“That wasn’t what I was doing. I wanted to be a designer, too. I still do. Do you want to know why I really moved home? So that I could have Alex’s job. I’m the new creative director for Archer Enterprises.”

Tori looked at him in confusion. “But you’re a network administrator, not a designer.”

“Wrong. I never lost sight of my dream either, and unfortunately Alex’s death has allowed me to go after it.”

Chapter Eleven

EVAN WATCHED THE array of emotions on his sister’s face, realizing he’d never interpret them all. He did get shock and then sadness, but that was pretty much it. “Did I upset you?”

He hadn’t meant to, of course. He hadn’t even meant to say anything about the job, but Alaina’s advice from earlier had been pinging around in his head all afternoon and the entire time they’d been sitting here. Maybe it was the postcoital bliss still giving him a high, but he’d wanted to share this.

Sean put his arm around Tori and stroked her arm. “You okay?” he asked her softly.

She nodded. “I’m just . . . surprised. I had no idea that’s what you wanted to do. Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“It was Alex’s thing. I didn’t want to take that away from him.” Evan kept his gaze fixed on the narrow space between Tori and Sean. “You’re right that I first took a class to be there for him, but after that I was hooked. I just kept taking them with him.”

Tori rested her forearm on the edge of the table. “I don’t understand you working for Archer. Derek said they hired a consulting firm. Do you work for this firm?”

“No. I created it to shield my name.”

“You lied. No, you actually deceived.” She shook her head and then smiled. “That’s great.”

“Deception is great?” Alaina asked. “I’m so confused.”

“Sorry.” Tori didn’t stop smiling. “It’s just that Evan has never been able to lie very well. That he could concoct this scheme and keep it a secret is remarkable.”

“Well, I didn’t keep it a secret. At least not for very long.”

“Long enough,” Tori said. “Or did you plan to never tell us?”

Evan shrugged, feeling a bit uncomfortable at putting himself so firmly in the spotlight. “I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. I just wanted to do this on my own. I wanted to be the right person for the job, not the beneficiary of nepotism.”

“I understand wanting to do that.” Sean raised his glass in a toast again. “Cheers.”

Everyone raised their glass, and Evan felt a rush of heat to his face. He never liked being the center of attention, even among his family. “It’s not a big deal.”

Tori looked at him intently. “It is. Derek was telling me yesterday that Dad was thrilled with the new creative director, that it almost felt like having Alex back because the new guy understood the brand so well.” She reached across the table and laid her palm flat. He put his hand next to hers and she covered it. “Dad is going to be so happy that it’s you.”

“After he’s done being mad that I lied.”

“I don’t think so. When will you tell him?”

Evan brought his hand back to his lap. “Tomorrow, I guess.”

“Don’t wait. Take it from me: The longer you keep a secret from our family, the harder it is when you finally come clean.” She looked at Sean.

He smiled at her. “Or get outed.”

She laughed softly. “Whatever.”

Evan leaned toward Alaina. “Tori kept their marriage secret for a very long time and only fessed up after Sara overheard her and Sean talking about it. Her comment about coming clean is completely bogus.”

“I see.” She lowered her voice and angled her head toward his ear. “Why did you decide to tell them tonight?”

“I didn’t, really. I just blurted it out. I do that sometimes, remember?” He darted his eyes toward her very briefly. She was so close—her exotic, spicy scent filled his senses—that he pulled his head back to prevent himself from kissing her. Blurting things out about a secret job was bad enough, but kissing her in front of his sister and Sean wasn’t something he wanted to explain.

Because he couldn’t. He liked her. A lot. He was having sex with her. Not a lot, but it could very well become that. Okay, maybe twice in less than twenty-four hours was a lot. Or at least more than he’d done with anyone else. Especially since they’d likely hook up again later. Focus, Evan.

He did like her. She made him feel comfortable and . . . powerful. Yeah, she gave him a sense of confidence. Maybe that was why he’d spilled the beans. She’d made him feel safe and strong enough to say it.

No one but his family had ever influenced him like that before.

Tori’s voice jarred him back into the here and now. “What happened to your consulting business with networks and website management?”

“I don’t do that anymore. I sold the business to a colleague.” He ate some pita bread and hummus, hoping the conversation might turn if he had food in his mouth. He didn’t want to be the center of the discussion any longer.

Tori beamed at him. “I am so excited for you, Evan.”

He swallowed, appreciating her support yet simultaneously bothered. He suspected it wasn’t her, however. His mental revelations about Alaina were distracting him. Thankfully their dinner arrived, and the subject was left behind.

While they ate, Tori asked Sean and Alaina about their producing plans. Aside from the show about Kyle and his restaurant, they planned to do a short series—maybe five episodes—about The Alex. They were also considering producing a comedy series and were talking to a writer who’d given them a pilot they found promising. Evan zoned out for a bit, which he did from time to time when there was a conversation he didn’t feel as though he could contribute much to.

As the meal wound down, Alaina asked, “I don’t suppose there’s a private bathroom?” Her cheeks turned a pale, pretty shade of pink. “Sorry, I hate to sound like a pretentious brat.”

“You are not pretentious or a brat,” Tori said. “I totally understand, and yes we have a bathroom in the basement you could use. I can take you down.”

“Actually, I need to grab something from there,” Sean said. “I mentioned to Kyle that we were coming tonight, and he asked if I could pick up a box of old cookbooks he stashed.”

Tori turned to Sean. “Take her through this side door to the kitchen instead of around to the corridor.”

“Yep, that was my plan.” Sean stood up and winked at Alaina. “I am happy to be your security guard.”

“I usually hire beefier guys, but I guess you’ll do.” She flashed a smile at Evan before she took off with Sean.

Evan finished his beer and had barely set the empty pint glass on the table when Tori asked, “Are you dating Alaina?”

He normally appreciated direct questions, since that’s the way he communicated. However, in this case, he didn’t really want to answer, so he found it inconvenient, to say the least. “Uh, not really.”

“What does that mean? It’s a yes-or-no question.”

“No?”

“You had dinner with her after she got here, right? You set up a wine tasting for her, right? You spent today with her, right?”

And had mind-blowing sex with her. Twice. “Yeah, so?”

“So, she’s clearly showered since I saw her earlier today. And you”—she leaned over the table and sniffed—“you showered, too.”

“Okay, Sherlock, you caught us. We wanted to be clean.”

Tori blew out a breath. “I’m not trying to be nosy.” He arched a brow at her. “Okay, I’m actually being nosy.” She laughed. “But only because I love you. I really like Alaina, but she’s, you know . . . ”

“The world’s most famous actress?”

“Yes. And anyway, didn’t you just break off a long-term relationship?”

“That wasn’t a relationship.” He looked his sister in the eye. “I appreciate your concern, but you really need to let me live my life.”

She settled back in her chair. “I wasn’t trying to meddle, sorry. I think it would be cool if you dated her. She seems great, and you seem really comfortable around her.”

He was. Since Tori had—accurately—mentioned the shower, his mind had turned to Alaina’s body. They’d jumped in the shower together and hadn’t been able to stop from fooling around. But in order to get here on time, they’d put the brakes on. He was suddenly anxious to throw things back into drive and go full speed ahead.

Sean and Alaina returned, and they all decided they were too full for dessert. Chloe brought the tab, which Alaina immediately snatched up. “I’ve got this. It’s my thank-you for making me feel so welcome.” She put a card into the leather folder and handed it to Chloe. “Thank you so much for tonight.”

Chloe smiled. “My pleasure. I’m looking forward to showing you my sketches for The Arch and Fox.”

“I can’t wait.”

They chatted about the restaurant while they waited for Chloe to come back. Evan only half-listened, as his mind was currently imagining Alaina doing another sexy striptease.

Chloe returned with Alaina’s card, and after she signed the tab, they all stood. Alaina gave Chloe a fast hug before wrapping her scarf around her face. After shrugging into his coat, Evan helped Alaina into hers.

Sean came around the table and kissed the tiny bit of Alaina’s cheek that was exposed. “Thank you for dinner.”

Tori hugged her next. “Yes, thank you.” Then she hugged Evan. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” he said. “Night, Sean.”

“Night.” He set his hand against Tori’s lower back as they stepped around the screen.

Alaina pulled her gloves on. “That was fun.”

While she was piling more clothes on, Evan was still stuck taking her clothes off in his head. “Ready?” The word came out low and a bit raspy. He couldn’t wait to get back to the apartment.

He took her hand and led her from the restaurant, waving at George as they walked by the bar.

“Have a good night, kids!” he called.

As soon as they stepped outside, icy wind bit through his coat. The temperature had really dropped.

Alaina shivered. “Brrr.”

He dropped her hand and pulled her close, putting his arm around her shoulders.

“Will it snow?” she asked, snuggling against him as they hurried across the street.

“No. It doesn’t snow here terribly often, unfortunately, and not usually this late in February. Not that it doesn’t happen, but it’s not in the forecast.”

“Bummer. I bet the town is gorgeous with a coating of white.”

“It is. We had a white Christmas maybe seven or eight years ago. It was fantastic.” He stopped abruptly in front of The Knitty Gritty and pulled her tight to his chest. He’d planned to kiss her, but the scarf was in the way. He reached up and inched it down to reveal her mouth, then pressed his lips to hers. “I couldn’t wait another second.”

Her lips spread into a sexy grin. “I’m glad you didn’t.” She glanced around them. “I didn’t look to see if Sean and Tori were around.”

“I don’t think so, but I don’t know, maybe they are. Tori asked if we were dating and demonstrated she’s not above amateur sleuthing to figure it out.”

Alaina’s brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“She deduced that we’d both showered since she saw us earlier today.”

Alaina laughed, her hazel eyes sparkling in the lamplight. “Oh, damn. Come on, let’s get to the car.” She turned, and he held her close again as they strode down the sidewalk.

“What did you say to her?” she asked.

“I said we weren’t dating. She pointed out that we’ve spent a lot of time together, and I have to admit her list sounded like a bunch of dates.” He pulled his keys from his pocket and pressed the fob to unlock the car. “I wish I had one of those remote starters. Then the car would be warm.”

He went to open her door, but she shook her head and said, “I have an idea. Get the heat blasting, then join me in the backseat.”

She climbed into the back while he circled to the driver’s side. He didn’t start the car, but he turned on the electrical so he could get the heat going. Then he slipped into the backseat beside her. “What’s your idea?”

“First, I think we are kind of dating. Don’t you?”

He couldn’t see her face very well. The nearest streetlamp was half a block away, and the windows were fogging up pretty fast. “Um, sure?”

“I’m good calling it that, if you are. Just so long as you know I can’t promise anything long-term. My life is just too ridiculous.”

Dating without expectations . . . That was pretty much perfect for him. It was why his thing with Michelle had worked out, though he never would’ve characterized it as dating. They’d never gone anywhere. “Your life is completely ridiculous. I’m fine with the here and now.”

“Good, because I have a plan for right here and right now.” She turned and straddled his lap, her inner thighs pressing against his outer thighs.

“Seriously? It’s freezing.”

She pulled her gloves off and set them on the seat. “Are you cold?”

He had been, but the heat was warming up the car and she was warming his body. He slipped his hands up under the hem of her coat and clasped her waist. She was already grinding against his thoroughly hardened cock, but he pulled her down nonetheless as he thrust up.

She moaned just before she cradled his head and kissed him. She lifted her body as her tongue plunged into his mouth. He speared his fingers into her hips and kissed her back, licking and sucking as need spiraled through him.

She unzipped her coat and then his. Spreading the two sides of his open, she pressed her breasts against his chest. He moved his hands up her rib cage to cradle the soft globes. She wore a top that crisscrossed in the front—it was called a wrap shirt or something. The style only accentuated her magnificent breasts, and he wondered if they’d be as accessible in this shirt as they looked.

He slipped a hand into her cleavage, and sure enough, the fabric parted to reveal her black bra—he could picture it because he’d seen her in it earlier, before she’d put the shirt on over it. He cupped her through the garment, kneading her.

“Take it out,” she said. “Take them both out.”

He did as she said and pushed the bra down so her breasts could pop free. He gathered one in each hand and pulled the nipples.

“Yes. Harder. Pinch them.”

Again, he followed her command, using his thumbs and forefingers to pull on the nubs and roll them between his fingers before giving them a quick pinch.

She gasped, and her head fell forward, draping her hair over his hands. She kissed him again, her mouth open and wild as she tangled her tongue with his. He squeezed her breasts as she pumped her hips against his. If he didn’t fuck her soon, he was going to explode.

He broke the kiss. “Alaina, we need to go.”

“Why? The windows are totally fogged—no one can see in. Have you ever had sex in a car?” She retreated from him and fumbled with her jeans. “I’m guessing not, given what you said earlier. Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not wrong.” He could just make out her breasts bouncing in the shadows as she pushed her jeans and underwear down over her hips. He licked his lips, eager to taste her again. “Come back.”

“Just a second.” She pulled one of her boots off and brought one naked leg up around his. “Not terribly graceful, but sex in a car rarely is.” She leaned forward, grazing her bare breasts against his shirtfront. “It’s totally worth it, though.” She kissed him again, hard and deep, as she unbuttoned his jeans.

He found her breasts again, his fingers taunting and tugging until she gasped and moaned. Then he pushed them up and bent his head to take one into his mouth. He wasn’t remotely cold now, not with her hot flesh in his grip and on his tongue.

Then, holy hell, her hand dipped into his pants and pulled his cock free. She worked her hand over the shaft, and her fingers circled the base. She pumped him several times while he suckled her hard.

Her moans were punctuated with yesses as she rubbed her thumb over the tip of his cock. She gathered the wetness there and spread it around before stroking his shaft again. Her grip was firm and fast, so fucking good. He dug his fingers into her breasts and moved to the other nipple, drawing on it with his teeth.

“Is there still a condom in your pocket?”

He’d told her he was putting one there—that he would any time they were together, which had made her laugh. “Always.”

She laughed again, but this time it was low in her throat. Gravelly. Sexy. Her fingers dove into the pocket of his jeans and came out with the condom. He kept up his attention on her breasts while she ripped it open and unrolled it over his shaft. When it was on, she moved lower and stroked the underside of his balls, her nails grazing his flesh as she brought her hand up.

Widening her stance over him, she positioned his cock at her opening. “God, you feel so good.” She pushed down, and he slid into her tight, wet sheath as perfectly as an Olympic diver expertly breaching the surface of the pool. She rotated her hips and took him deep until his balls hit her ass. She stayed like that a moment, her thighs pressing against his.

He stared at her breasts, so round and perfect in the near-dark. He buried his face between them, loving her scent and the silky feel of her skin as she began to ride him. He thrust up into her as she ground down. He kept a hold of her flesh and continued tormenting her breasts with his hands and mouth. She gripped his shoulders as she slammed down onto him over and over again. The sounds of their moans and their bodies connecting filled the now-humid car.

He pulled on her nipple with his teeth, and her muscles clenched around his cock. She cried out as she came, her body moving in a spectacular frenzy. He lifted his hips from the seat, piercing into her with hard strokes as his orgasm built to a massive crescendo. He moaned against her flesh, his eyes closed tightly as wave after wave of pleasure assaulted him. He didn’t think he’d ever come that hard.

He leaned his head back against the seat, his breath coming fast. He kept his eyes closed as he tried to regain his equilibrium. She nestled her head against his neck, her pants slowing. She laid her hand on his collarbone and lightly massaged him. Gradually, he began to feel like a human instead of a hungry animal.

She lifted her head, and he opened his eyes. When her gaze found his, he didn’t look away. “I hope that was okay.”

“That was fucking amazing. I’d say I missed out on not having sex in a car before, but the location is secondary. It’s all you, Alaina.”

She was the first one to break eye contact this time. “I got a little carried away. Sorry.”

He stroked his thumb along her jaw. “Please get carried away as often as you like.” He kissed her softly, his tongue joining hers for a gentler, sweeter dance than before.

When they broke apart, she lifted her leg and sat back on the seat next to him. “Sorry about the mess.”

“I have tissues. And there might be a plastic bag in the passenger door. Will you look?”

“Sure.” When she had her pants back on, she bent forward into the front seat and came back with the bag and tissues. “Here you go. Wow, I’m like really hot now.” She laughed as she shrugged out of her coat.

He stripped off the condom and disposed of it before cleaning up. “This is by far the most clothing I’ve ever worn while having sex.”

She laughed again. “The same goes for me.” She pulled her boot on as he refastened his jeans.

“This car is always going to remind me of you,” he said. She turned to look at him. “I’m glad.”

“Me, too.” She climbed into the front seat and buckled up. “Ready whenever you are.”

He was too tall to do what she’d done, so he opened the door and got out. The winter breeze slammed into him, but he was still warm enough from her body or maybe blissed out enough from the orgasm that he barely noticed.

Dating, huh? He smiled to himself as he opened the driver door and for the first time ever thought about the potential for a relationship that extended past tomorrow.

ALAINA STEPPED INTO the Archers’ main house to grab breakfast the following morning. She had stuff at the apartment, but Evan wasn’t at the apartment. How could she run into him unless she went to the house?

The scent of brewed coffee and something else, cinnamon and nutmeg, filled her nostrils. She inhaled deeply and smiled nostalgically. The smell reminded her of the cinnamon rolls Crystal’s mom used to make from scratch.

She moved into the kitchen and saw Emily and Rob Archer sitting at the table together. Both were reading on their iPads but looked up as Alaina walked in.

Emily smiled welcomingly as she pulled her reading glasses off and set them on the table. “Good morning, Alaina! Did you finally come for breakfast?”

“Yes, thank you. It smells delicious in here.” She looked at what they were eating—oatmeal with a side of fruit. The cinnamon and nutmeg smell had to be the oatmeal.

Emily scooted back her chair. “Let me get you a bowl.”

Alaina waved her back down. “No, please sit. I can manage.” She turned back to the counter and spotted a Crock-Pot next to the stove. “You made this last night?” she asked.

“Emily has a thing for Crock-Pot oatmeal,” Rob said. “And I have to admit waking up to a hot meal that’s ready to eat is pretty nice.”

Alaina glanced over at them and saw the smiles shared between them. Loving parents, what an utterly foreign concept. She turned to grab a bowl from the cupboard before the pang of longing doubled her over. What she wouldn’t have given to have that growing up.

Was she dooming her not-yet-conceived child to the same disappointment? Growing up with only one parent? Granted, Alaina would be the polar opposite of her mother, but her life wasn’t exactly the white picket-fence variety.

She pushed the thought away and went about dishing up her oatmeal, which had chunks of apple in it. She could hardly wait to eat it.

“There are raisins and pecans over there if you want to add those,” Emily said.

Alaina skipped the raisins but added pecans, then grabbed a spoon before heading to the table. “Oops, forgot coffee.”

Emily gestured toward a teapot on the table. “There’s also tea, if you prefer. It’s Earl Grey. I’m not much of a coffee drinker.”

Alaina liked both, but tea sounded good with the oatmeal. “Thank you, I’ll have tea.” She went back to the cupboards and found a mug, then came back and sat across from Emily. Rob was at the end of the table on Alaina’s right.

Rob set his reading glasses down and picked up his coffee mug. “I hear you had dinner at the pub last night.”

“I did.” Alaina poured her tea and added a bit of sugar from a small bowl. “It was fantastic. And it’s such a cute place—I loved the mural on the wall.”

“My uncle painted it, but I’m guessing maybe you heard that.” His lips curved up, and the flesh around his gray eyes crinkled. She realized Evan had his father’s eyes. He also had his father’s hair—thick with a bit of a wave—though Rob’s had gone almost completely gray. A few dark strands here and there matched his son’s color. “I also heard you visited the old homestead. What did you think?”

“It’s incredible. I love history. My maternal grandfather used to take me to Civil War battlefields when I was little.” Poppy had died when she was just six, but she remembered those treks. “I think he’s the reason I’m so interested in the past.” Visiting those sites and making believe she lived in another time was a great way to take herself out of the present, which had pretty much been Alaina’s favorite thing to do. It was no wonder she was an actress; she’d spent her entire young life pretending.

“Did anyone tell you we’re thinking of turning it into a museum?”

“Really? That would be so great.” Judging her oatmeal finally cool enough to sample, Alaina spooned a small taste. The resulting sensory orgasm nearly made her moan. “Oh my goodness, this is amazing. Please tell me you can share the recipe, that it’s not some secret family concoction.”

Emily chuckled. “I found it on Pinterest. I’m happy to send it to you.”

“Thank you.” Alaina took a more substantial bite. “Tell me more about this museum.”

“It’s just something that’s been in the back of our minds for a long time,” Rob said. “My folks were interested in doing it, but after my dad died, my mom sort of lost interest. Alex took up the idea for a while, but then he dropped it, too.” Rob’s eyes clouded, and he looked down at his empty bowl.

Emily clasped his hand on the table. She looked over at Alaina. “Chloe has said she’d like to take on the project, but she’s getting awfully busy with doing art for The Alex. We’ll see what happens.”

Alaina bit her tongue before she offered to help. Or worse, offered to buy it. She could actually see herself living there. “I love the idea of capturing a piece of the area’s history. You’ll have to keep me posted—since we’re exchanging e-mails so you can send me this recipe.”

Emily grinned. “Fair enough.”

Rob let go of Emily’s hand and stood up, gathering his dishes. “I need to get to the office for a meeting. Turns out the enigmatic Eric Steele is coming to the office in person.”

Emily looked at him in surprise. “Oh? I thought he wasn’t able to do that. Doesn’t he have agoraphobia?”

Rob nodded. “He said he was on medication and wanted to give it a try—he just sent an e-mail this morning. I’m thrilled to have the chance to talk to him face-to-face so I can tell him what a fantastic job he’s doing. I never thought we’d find someone to replace Alex, but Eric’s a perfect fit.”

Alaina smiled into her oatmeal and tried not to let it show. She was so happy for Evan’s success and even happier that he planned to tell his family the truth. She wished she could be a fly on the wall for the meeting.

Rob leaned down to kiss his wife’s cheek and whisper something in her ear. Emily smiled softly, and again Alaina was struck by the incredible sweetness and normalcy of the moment. He looked at Alaina as he straightened and picked up his iPad from the table. “Nice to chat with you this morning. Have a good day.”

“Bye, and thanks again for your hospitality. Although, you might regret it, since I’ve pretty much fallen in love with Ribbon Ridge. You might be stuck with me.”

Rob chuckled as he set his dishes in the sink. “I don’t think anyone would mind. See you later.”

After Rob left, Emily folded the cover over her iPad and set the device aside. “Are you considering moving here? Don’t you have to live in LA because of your job?”

“I have to keep a place down there, but I do a lot of filming all over the place. I have several residences. I’m also trying not to work as much. There’s more to life than work.”

“That’s nice to hear.”

Alaina laughed. “Don’t give me too much credit. Now that I’ve passed the thirty-year mark, the roles I’m offered have started to change a bit.”

Emily’s jaw dropped. “Really? That’s absurd. Besides, you don’t look thirty at all. How old are you?”

“I turned thirty last year. Thank you for the compliment. I work hard to stay out of the sun and take good care of my skin. You won’t see me under a plastic surgeon’s knife.” She shuddered, thinking of the botched procedures on some of her colleagues.

“Another smart choice. You seem incredibly grounded for someone so famous. Ribbon Ridge would be lucky to have you.”

“Thank you.” Alaina took a few bites of oatmeal as she pondered how to broach a subject she dearly wanted to discuss with Emily. And now seemed the best possible time, since they were alone. She swallowed and set her spoon down. “I wondered if I might ask you about your experience having the sextuplets.”

Emily pushed her empty bowl to the side. “Sure. What do you want to know?”

“I’m, uh, thinking of playing a woman dealing with infertility, so anything you feel comfortable sharing would be helpful.”

“Well, I’m the infertility poster child.” A smile pulled at the wrinkles around her eyes, creating little fans. “At least I was until I got pregnant so easily with Hayden.”

“What was the problem? Why did you see a specialist?”

“After three years of failed attempts, we decided we needed help. I had a variety of ovulation problems. We tried different options but ultimately had to go with in vitro fertilization.” She picked up her tea and took a long sip. “The first attempt we tried four embryos, and it didn’t work. We were devastated.” She shook her head. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to try again. We planned to start the process to adopt.”

“That must’ve been so emotional. How did you retain hope?”

“Sometimes I didn’t.” She cupped her hands around her mug on the table in front of her. “But in the end, that’s all you have, isn’t it? Hope and faith that things will work out the way they’re meant to be. We decided to try one more time. They implanted five.”

“And you ended up with six babies.” Alaina couldn’t keep from grinning. “A true testament to the saying, ‘never give up.’ ”

Emily smiled back, her sky blue eyes brilliant with emotion. “We were shocked when there were six. The doctor asked if I wanted to risk keeping them all. We thought about it for a few days, but there was never really a question. After wanting them for so long . . . I couldn’t let any of them go, even if it meant I lost them all. And I know that’s not terribly rational. But logic and rationality are difficult to consider in that situation.”

“It all worked out. You even went on to have another one!”

Emily cast her head back and laughed. It was a sound of pure joy stemming from a love that Alaina wasn’t sure she’d ever known. “I know! Can you imagine our shock? We were absolutely overjoyed. To go from such desperation to such unimaginable fortune . . . It was remarkable.”

Emotion surged in Alaina’s chest, constricting her lungs. She fought to take a deep breath. “Your family is so lovely.”

“Thank you. It’s a shame you and your mother aren’t close.”

“It is, but I made my peace with it long ago.” She hadn’t had a choice. She did, however, have a choice to be a completely different kind of mother—one who was engaged and present and absolutely unselfish. Suddenly the idea of embracing Ribbon Ridge as a potential new home seemed not only ideal, but obvious.

“I almost forgot.” Emily stood up and went to the small office that adjoined the kitchen. “I found these socks downstairs yesterday, and Tori said they aren’t hers. I don’t think they’re Sara’s. She’s picky about her socks, and these feel too thick for what she likes. Are they yours?”

Alaina stared at the bright blue wool socks and fought the heat rising in her cheeks as she recalled just how she’d left them downstairs. “Um, yes, those are mine.” She forced a smile, and it was probably far too bright and fake looking. Pull yourself together, you’re an actress for crying out loud—act like this is no big deal!

Emily brought them to the table and set them next to Alaina. “I’m glad they found their owner.”

Alaina scooped up more oatmeal. “Thanks. I was here the other night . . . playing foosball with Evan.” More heat threatened to flood her neck and face. “My feet got hot.” Really? “I was wearing Uggs and, uh, Uggs and socks are overkill, right?” She stuffed the oatmeal in her mouth before she kept rambling. Rambling? Was Evan rubbing off on her? She kind of liked that idea, actually.

Emily took another drink of tea and kept her hand cradled around the side of the mug after she set it back on the table. “You and Evan have been spending a lot of time together.”

Alaina tensed, feeling irrationally nervous, like a teenager being grilled by an overprotective parent. Which was absolutely ridiculous. “Yes. He’s a great guy.”

“He told me you were dating.”

Alaina had taken another bite of oatmeal and practically choked. She hadn’t thought it was a secret, but she also hadn’t thought he’d publicize it. But why not? It wasn’t a secret. At least not here. Not in her lovely little Ribbon Ridge bubble.

The problem with bubbles, however, is that they always burst.

“Yes, I guess we are.” She took her last bite of oatmeal, simultaneously sad it was gone and glad she could get the hell out of Dodge before the conversation turned really uncomfortable. She chastised herself for feeling that way. These people had been nothing but kind to her, and she did like their son. She had nothing to hide or be ashamed of. “I like Evan a lot.”

“I’m glad. But—and please don’t think poorly of me for saying this—you are about the last person I’d ever expect him to date. You’re so . . . famous.” She laughed, but it wasn’t the warm, soul-lifting sound from before. This held a tinge of uncertainty. “Not that there’s anything wrong with you being famous. It’s just that Evan doesn’t like attention.”

“I know.” Alaina fidgeted with the handle of her mug. “He told me about you ending the show for his sake.”

Emily blinked in surprise. “He did?”

Alaina nodded. “I understand his . . . quirks. They’re one of the reasons I like him so much. He’s unlike any man I’ve ever known.”

“My goodness, is this serious?”

Alaina gripped the mug, feeling as apprehensive as if it were opening night on Broadway, which she’d done a couple of years ago. “Not really. We’re just dating while I’m in Ribbon Ridge.”

“I see. It sounded as though you might consider spending more time here.”

“I might.” Alaina was on the precipice of major life changes. If she was able to become pregnant, she was going to have to make some choices about her career, about a lot of things. Choices she was ready to make but that were now more complicated since meeting Evan.

“I just have to say—and forgive me, but I’m his mother—Evan is special. You say he’s unlike any man you’ve known, and I don’t doubt that’s true. Everyone is unique, but Evan is more than that.”

Alaina thought she understood. “He’s very lucky to have a mom like you.”

Emily stood up and scooped her bowl and mug from the table. “Normally I would smile and accept the compliment, but in this case, I think it’s much more than that. It’s been a terrible year, but I am so grateful for my family. Thank you.” She took her dishes to the kitchen, and Alaina had to blink away a tear.

Damn. Never mind stressing about falling for Evan Archer—she was in real danger of losing her heart to his family. And she couldn’t risk that, not when she was on the verge of building a family of her own. She didn’t think she had room for anything else.

Chapter Twelve

THE UNMISTAKABLE BARITONE of Dad’s voice outside the closed office door drove Evan from the chair in front of his father’s desk. Evan had come early for the meeting to purposely avoid seeing Dad’s secretary. He didn’t want anyone else to know the truth before he told Dad. He owed him that much.

He turned to face the door—and the music. Anxiety pricked his neck and unsettled his senses. He felt fidgety and a bit . . . raw. But it could be so much worse. Thankfully he’d spent an extra ten minutes in the gym that morning in anticipation of this very reaction.

Dad opened the door and looked at Evan in mild confusion. “Good morning. I didn’t expect to see you. Is everything all right?”

Evan exhaled. “Yep, fine.”

“Great.” Dad walked past him and circled behind his desk, dropping his laptop bag on top of it. “I have a meeting. Can we catch up later?”

“No.” Say it. “I’m your meeting.”

Deep furrows etched into Dad’s brow as his movements slowed and then stilled. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m the creative director. I made up the name Eric Steele.”

Dad blinked at him. “But I spoke to you on the phone. Or was that someone else pretending to be you? Rather, Eric Steele?” He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“It was me. I used a voice distorter.”

“You used a what?” Dad ran his hand through his hair, mussing it so that he looked as though he’d just taken off his helmet after a long bike ride. “Sit down and start at the beginning.” He dropped into his chair, his shoulders drooping. “Please.”

Evan sat, but every muscle in his body was tense and taut. “I’m not sure where the beginning is.”

Dad leaned forward and set his elbow on the desk, then rested his forehead against his palm. He massaged the lines away—at least partially. “Let me try to understand. You’re the creative director I hired two months ago. The one who gets the Archer brand like no one else. The one who’s absolutely knocked my socks off and exceeded all expectations.”

Evan started to relax as warmth spread through him. “Um . . . yes?”

Dad flopped back in his chair and laughed. It started low and then came from deep in his belly. Evan had no idea what could be funny. He fixed his gaze on the view of the hills behind Dad. At last, Dad wiped his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m just so relieved. And ecstatic.”

“Why relieved?”

Dad rested his hands on the arms of his chair. “Because I was feeling terribly guilty for loving your work so much. It felt almost . . . sacrilegious to Alex’s memory.” He shook his head again and sat forward, bracing his hands on the desk to scoot his chair closer. “But it isn’t, especially since it’s you. I can’t think of anyone better to carry on his legacy.”

Evan wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. He’d never wanted to infringe on Alex’s place. As a large family, it had been hard to find where you fit in, to carve out that niche that made you special. “I don’t want to replace Alex. That’s why I applied for the job as someone else. I wanted to be anonymous.”

Dad frowned a little. “I’m not sure I understand your thought process, but it doesn’t matter. You aren’t replacing Alex.”

No one ever understood his thought process, and he wished they did. Frustration built in his chest.

The door opened, startling Evan. He snapped his head around to see Derek and Kyle.

“Sorry we’re late,” Derek said. “Hey, Evan, I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

Kyle sat on the couch situated against the wall next to the door. “Hey, bro.”

“Evan’s the new creative director,” Dad said.

The anxiety Evan had felt earlier overtook his frustration. He’d prepared himself to tell Dad the truth, not an audience. And to him, three people were an audience.

“Really?” Kyle sat forward on the couch and gave Evan a brotherly tap on the bicep. “Nice job!”

Derek took the chair next to Evan, turning it so that he faced Evan and could still see Dad and Kyle. Evan knew he ought to do the same so that his back wasn’t to Kyle, but he was almost frozen with tension.

“I don’t get it. What happened to Eric Steele?” Derek asked.

“He is Eric Steele,” Dad said before Evan could respond.

Evan sent him an angry look. “Can I answer, please?”

Dad’s eyes widened slightly. “Of course. Sorry.”

“I’m not sure I’m following,” Derek said slowly. “You pretended to be someone else?”

Evan shot out of his chair. “Look, I didn’t realize this was going to be a group meeting. Can we talk about this later?” Or never.

Kyle stood up and moved closer. “Hey, don’t get upset. This is very cool. I don’t know why you didn’t just apply for the position as yourself, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that it’s you and you’re doing an amazing job. Total win-win, right?”

Evan couldn’t come up with an argument. And why should he want to? “Sorry, I’m . . . This feels weird.”

“Why, because we’re making a big deal?” Kyle grinned. “Sorry, dude, your work is outstanding. Big deals will be made. You’re going to have to get used to it.” His smiled faded a bit. “Is it something else?”

“Evan, may I?” Dad asked.

Evan wasn’t sure what he wanted to say but nodded.

“I think he’s worried about usurping Alex’s spot. I was telling him there’s no way he could. They’re different people, and neither one of them can be replaced.”

“He’s right,” Derek said. “Try not to think of it like that—this position doesn’t ‘belong’ to anyone.”

The office was quiet for a minute, and Evan was grateful for the silence to process everything. “Thanks.”

Kyle slapped his bicep again, a gesture that would’ve driven Evan nuts if it had come from anyone else. But Kyle had always done that to him, and because of that, it felt as good as a hug. “This is such fantastic news! Will you let us celebrate? I know you hate that sort of thing, but maybe a dinner Friday night with just the family?”

Family gatherings could be overwhelming, but he typically enjoyed them, even if he didn’t show it. He enjoyed them even more when Alaina was there, like at dinner the other night. She was a surprisingly calm and nurturing presence. “Can I bring Alaina?”

Kyle shrugged “Sure. How about we go to Georgia’s? I don’t want to cook; I just want to toast my brother.”

“We’ll have to get the private dining room.” Evan didn’t think Alaina would come otherwise.

“Yeah, that makes sense with what . . . twelve of us? I’ll ask our assistant to set it up.” Kyle and Derek shared a secretary.

“Think she can handle that?” Derek asked, and even Evan could pick up the sarcasm in his tone.

“Good point,” Kyle said. They were on their fourth or fifth temp since their former assistant had been arrested for dealing drugs, including selling the pills to Alex that he’d used to kill himself. They had yet to find someone who was a good fit. “I’ll take care of it.”

“So are we still meeting?” Derek asked. “Evan, if you want to postpone, that’s okay with me.”

He was tempted, but he knew that wouldn’t be very professional. He could do this.

“Let’s meet in the conference room,” Dad said. He looked from Derek to Kyle. “You boys go on ahead. Evan and I will be there in a minute.”

“Sure thing.” Kyle turned for the door.

Derek stood and clapped Evan on the shoulder. “Great to have you on board. Officially.” He closed the door again on his way out.

Evan glanced at Dad, who was watching him with curiosity. He moved around the desk and stood in front of Evan. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to sneak your way into the job. And I’m not saying you were sneaky. But I do wish you’d just come to me and explained what you wanted to do. I honestly had no idea you were this artistic.”

Evan shrugged. “Like I said, I didn’t want to infringe on Alex’s thing.”

“But it’s your thing, too. It’s not a competition, Evan.”

“If I’d applied to be creative director when Alex had . . . Would you have hired us both?”

Dad frowned. “I don’t know. And I can’t really answer that question, because you didn’t apply. I don’t want to look back and try to make a decision that’s completely moot now. I’d rather not look back at all.” He set his hand on Evan’s shoulder and gripped it firmly. “I’m thrilled you have this job, that you’re back in Ribbon Ridge. I never imagined you’d want something like this, and I’m just so pleased.” He smiled, and it might’ve been the happiest expression Evan had ever seen. Or maybe he was just so used to the lurking sadness of the past year, and in this moment, it wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

“Thanks. It feels good to be here. I was nervous about telling you the truth. Looking back, I feel foolish.”

“Like I said, don’t look back. Let’s look to the future and the amazing things we’re going to do—together.” He hugged Evan then, pulling him against his chest and giving his back a firm slap.

Evan squeezed his dad for a moment, then pulled away, feeling so much lighter than when he’d arrived.

“Ready to talk promo?” Dad pulled his laptop from his bag.

Evan picked up his satchel with his iPad from the corner of Dad’s desk. “Let’s do this.”

ALAINA PULLED THE growler from the fridge and poured two pints. Evan had texted that he’d picked up the pizza and was on his way. She smiled to herself remembering his phone call—he’d actually called her!—that afternoon. He wouldn’t say why but asked if she was in the mood to celebrate tonight. She’d offered to make dinner, but he said it was his celebration so he was bringing the food, which meant pizza. He’d at least allowed her to run over to the house and fill a growler of beer from the kitchen tap.

She was excited to hear his news but also a little nervous to tell him about her conversation with Emily that morning. But she couldn’t not discuss it.

Her phone vibrated on the counter, and she glanced at the display. Crystal.

She finished pouring and set the growler down before answering the phone. “Hey, how’s it going? Is Isaac still mad at me?”

“Yep. But he’ll get over it. Brian asked if you’ve read the scripts he sent.”

Brian was her agent, whom Alaina loved dearly, but who wasn’t listening very carefully when Alaina said she was taking a break for at least a year. Probably longer. She was about to make a life-altering change. Maybe she’d never go back. “What did you tell him?”

“That you were reading them.”

“Gee, thanks. Now he’ll get his hopes up.”

“What was I supposed to say? ‘She’s hiding out and I have no idea what she’s doing’? Because that’s the truth. What are you doing up in Oregon?”

“Nothing. Just hanging out.”

“I call bullshit. You’d be bored out of your mind, and you don’t sound bored. You have to be doing something—and I know you aren’t reading those scripts.”

Alaina considered feeding her garbage, but why? Crystal was her oldest, best friend. “I’m sort of seeing a guy.”

“What?”

Alaina held the phone away from her ear for a moment, then put it back. “You didn’t need to yell.”

“Apparently I did, because why haven’t I heard this before? And why do you sound guilty?”

Duh, because Alaina felt bad for not saying anything sooner. “It’s not a big deal.”

“You passed on handing out the best costume award at the Oscars. That’s not not a big deal.”

Alaina winced. “Okay, it’s a minor deal. Really, it’s nothing important. He’s a nice guy. We hang out. That’s it.”

“Are you sleeping with him? Because that would make total sense. You haven’t been with a guy in forever.”

Alaina rolled her eyes and took a sip of beer. “Glad to know you’re keeping track.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“Nope.”

“Then I have my answer. And yay! I’m glad. It’s about time you tried a normal relationship with someone outside of the business. I hope you’ll actually let this one get close.”

“You don’t know anything about him. Maybe he’s an actor. Or a writer. Or a director.”

“You’re in Bumfuck, Egypt—I highly doubt it.” She sucked in a breath. “Wait. You’re visiting your producing partner . . . But I thought he was married.”

“He is—and happily so. It’s not him.”

“Then who is it?”

Alaina heard the door at the bottom of the stairs open and close. “Hey, I’ve gotta go. Dinner’s here.”

“What does that mean?”

“Pizza. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Because you have a date, and you’ll be busy. Mmm-hmmm. I see how it is. I want a full report—you owe me that much!”

“Bye. Love you!” Alaina disconnected and rushed to the door just as Evan reached the landing.

He looked so good, a heathered green crewneck sweater peeking out from the top of his leather jacket, his gray eyes sharp and sexy as they raked over her. And he smelled like a dark, damp winter’s night.

“Is it raining?” she asked, moving aside to let him in. It had rained that afternoon for a while.

He strode past her and set the pizza box on the counter. “Yeah.” He shucked his wet coat, and she took it from him to hang it on one of the hooks by the door. “Cold, too.”

“I have the fireplace going—we’ll get you warmed up in no time.”

He reached for her, clasping her waist and pulling her against his chest. “Sounds good.” He lowered his mouth to hers, and she wound her arms around his neck, stretching up into the kiss. Heat fired her belly as his tongue found hers and licked her in delicious, lavish strokes.

When they parted, she was considerably warmer than when they’d started. “I don’t know about you, but I’m well on my way to toasty.”

He turned toward the bar. “Thanks for grabbing the beer.” He picked up his pint glass and lifted it to his mouth.

“Wait!” She plucked her glass from the counter. “A toast to . . . What are we toasting?”

“I told my family about being the creative director.”

She grinned up at him, wanting to envelop him in a joyous hug but realizing it would be difficult, since they were both holding full glasses of beer. “I’m so happy for you!” She tapped her glass to his and took a drink. “It must’ve gone well?”

He drank and then set his glass down. “I think so. My dad had requested a meeting this morning, and last night I—or should I say Eric Steele—e-mailed him to say I’d come in person. He was pretty shocked when he opened the door and found me.”

“I bet. What did he say?” She went into the kitchen to fetch a couple of plates, then brought them back to the counter.

He opened the pizza box and put a slice on each plate. “He was happy. Excited. I was afraid he’d be mad, but he wasn’t at all. Though, he was confused at first. He didn’t understand why I lied.”

Alaina wasn’t completely sure she understood the reasons either, but they’d made sense to Evan, and that was good enough for her. “Did you explain?”

“I tried, but, you know, it’s weird. Alex is gone, and I know I shouldn’t feel like a usurper—Dad said as much—but it’s hard not to. Especially when they were all so complimentary. It still feels like I took something from him, but that’s stupid.”

She stroked his arm. “It’s not stupid at all. It’s sensitive and thoughtful. Your brother would be proud and honored, I think.”

“I hope so.” He glanced toward the dining table and then at the living room. “Where do you want to eat?”

“Will your mom mind if we eat on the couch by the fire?”

“It’s not her apartment. Well, I guess it is, but she doesn’t live here, so who cares?” He picked up his beer and pizza and went to plop on the couch.

Alaina took a bite of pizza, then followed him. “Oh my God, this pizza is fabulous. Where’d you get it?”

“The only pizza place in town—Slice of Pi. That’s pi as in three point one four. The owner’s a retired math teacher. They’re only open Wednesday through Sunday, so we were in luck.”

“Pi—that’s cute.” She took another bite and washed it down with some beer. “So what else happened with your dad?”

“Not too much. Kyle and Derek were there, too. And they were great. We had a terrific meeting about branding the beers we’re taking to the various brew festivals this summer. We didn’t do much last year because of the turmoil with Alex, so we want to come back strong this year. Then Kyle and Derek talked to me about The Alex. Now that they know what I’m capable of, they want me to design the logo and develop the brand. I’m going to work with Chloe a bit—I want to incorporate her artistic concepts, which are in keeping with the established Archer brand across our pubs.”

“This all sounds so exciting. You’ve got me thinking. Sean and I need a logo for our production company—Rainy Day. Think you’d have time to create something for us?”

He finished a bite of pizza. “Sure. I mean, I’m busy, but I’ll make time. Do you have ideas, or do you just want me to come up with something?”

“I trust you. Just something Rainy Day-ish without being cliché obviously.” She laughed. “No umbrella and no giant raindrop, I guess.”

He nodded. “Got it. I’ll come up with some concepts. Oh, I almost forgot. Kyle’s planning a celebratory dinner on Friday at Georgia’s in town. We have the private dining room upstairs. We’ll be able to go in the back and get up there without being seen. And it has its own bathroom upstairs, too.”

He was just about the most thoughtful guy she’d ever met. “You thought of everything.”

“I know how important it is to be comfortable and feel safe. I like to scope things out before I commit, and I think you do too—out of necessity.”

He really seemed to understand the fame thing—at least that part of it. “Yeah, thanks. I’d love to come—I think that was an invitation, right?” He hadn’t outright said, but it had sounded like one.

“Of course.” He laughed again. “I guess I didn’t make that clear. Yes, I’d like you to be my date.”

Speaking of date . . . She wanted to talk to him about her conversation with his mom but was trying to find the right way to bring it up. And now he’d given her a good segue.

He stood up before she could say anything. “You want another slice of pizza?”

“I’m good for now.” She turned on the couch and watched him open the box and grab another piece. “On the topic of dating . . . You told your mom that we were seeing each other?”

He came back around to sit on the couch. “Yeah, is that okay?”

“It’s fine. I just wonder . . . Do you think she suspects that we’re sleeping together?”

“No, because we aren’t. I don’t do the sleeping with others thing.”

She scrutinized him, trying to discern if he didn’t understand.

He smiled at her. “I’m kidding. I know what you mean. Does it matter if she thinks we’re having sex?”

He clearly didn’t care if she knew. And if he didn’t, why should she? “Not really. She found my socks downstairs—I apparently left them there the other night. You know, after the foosball.” The heat swirling in her belly kicked up a notch as she thought of that. “I just wondered if she’d put two and two together.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Finding your socks means we’re having sex?”

She laughed. “It means I’m taking clothes off!”

His gaze dipped to her chest. “Mmmm, sounds like a great idea.”

Alaina suppressed a smile. “So your whole family knows about us?”

He shrugged. “Probably. They’re a nosy, gossipy bunch—among themselves. We’re fiercely protective of our privacy. And of yours, so don’t worry that anyone’s talking about your being here.”

“No, I didn’t think that.”

“Anyway, if they don’t know, they’ll figure it out Friday when we show up together, I guess.” He let his gaze linger against hers for longer than usual. “Is that okay? Did you want to keep it a secret?”

“Not here. But . . . ” Damn, how did she say this without sounding like a cold-hearted bitch? “My public life is complicated, as you know. And sometimes it’s hard to separate it. If people knew I was seeing someone, that someone would be investigated and publicized.” She thought of the things his mom had said—and of the things she hadn’t but that had been heavily implied. Dating Evan could be hazardous—to him. Emily was intensely protective of her children, and rightfully so. Alaina could only imagine the lengths she would go to in order to protect her own child, if she were fortunate enough to have one.

“I’ll make sure my family knows it’s not a big deal and also not to be shared. They’ll understand.”

She didn’t doubt they would, given their own personal experience with fame. After they finished their pizza, she took their plates to the kitchen and topped off their beers, then rejoined him on the couch. “So what are we doing tonight?”

He took a drink of beer, then set the glass on the coffee table. He took her free hand and stroked his thumb along the back of it, gliding from her knuckle to her wrist and back again. “Whatever you want.”

She snuggled against him. “But it’s your celebration. Tell me what you want.”

He tipped her chin up. “You.”

“Well that’s easy.” She smiled just as he kissed her. As she twined her arms around his neck and pressed into his chest, her mind went back to the conversation with this mother. More than anything, she didn’t want to hurt Evan. In that, she understood Emily’s love and concern. The love and concern she’d shower on her own child—a child she should probably tell Evan about.

Maybe. Not yet.

For now, she just wanted to enjoy the moments they shared. If she allowed her real life to intrude, it might spoil what they had, and she didn’t want that.

It was absurd, but she was actually glad her visit to the clinic had leaked. If not, she never would’ve come to Ribbon Ridge. And that would’ve been a shame.

Chapter Thirteen

EVAN PARKED HIS car in the lot at The Alex and jumped out. The ground was soft from last night’s rain, but most of the puddles had dried out overnight. Still, the mud clung to his boots as he rounded the car to get the door for Alaina.

She’d already opened the door and smiled at him as he held it for her. “You’re such a gentleman.” She slid out of the car gently, obviously trying not to sink into the mud in her fancy boots.

“Do I need to carry you again?”

She laughed. “No. I’ve accepted that these are going to get dirty. I’m just going to be careful.” She zipped her coat up to her neck against the breeze. “Where are we going? Restaurant or office?”

“Restaurant. There’s more space. They set up a lot of the tables and chairs yesterday, so Chloe’s going to spread her drawings out in there.”

He’d scheduled a meeting with Chloe this morning to discuss the artwork and branding. He didn’t remember the last time he’d been so excited about a project. Probably never.

She clasped his hand as they walked toward the restaurant. Other cars were in the lot, but they didn’t run into anyone. He opened the door for Alaina and saw it was because everyone was inside.

Chloe, Tori, Kyle, Sean, Maggie, Sara, and Dylan all turned as they walked in. Well, everyone but Derek was there, he realized. He must’ve had a meeting at Archer.

Alaina didn’t retake Evan’s hand as they joined the others gathered around a large table, or maybe it was two tables pushed together. “Good morning,” she said brightly. “I hope it’s okay that I came. I asked Evan if I could tag along. I’m fascinated by this whole project.”

“Sure,” Kyle said. “Makes sense, since you’re funding the show that Sean’s filming about it.”

She nodded. “I suppose so.”

Evan looked around at everyone but didn’t make direct eye contact. “How come all of you are here?”

“We just wanted to watch brilliance take place,” Tori said. She was on his right and moved closer to him. “Is that okay?”

“Sure.” He didn’t love the audience, but he had to get used to it. This was a family business, and they worked together. Gone were the days of working by himself in his office at his apartment back in Longview.

Chloe stood on the opposite side of the table. “Here’s everything I’ve got. You can see I’m incorporating some of the same animal motifs we have in the other pubs. Given the name of the restaurant—The Arch and Fox—and the importance of the fox to Alex, I sort of went with that as a base theme.” She gestured toward a large piece of paper with several renderings of the same fox—strutting, sitting, curled up asleep.

He picked it up and studied the drawings. “These are great. Are you thinking a fox in the logo, then?”

“I don’t know. That’s up to you.”

He thought about what Alaina had said about her studio logo. Not too obvious or cliché. He’d use the same guideline here. A couple of ideas tossed around his head, but he wasn’t ready to share anything yet. “Okay. What else do you have?”

She showed him some other conceptual drawings, ideas for a mural in the hotel as well as paintings in the restrooms and the bar.

Evan had an idea. “Have you thought about doing maybe ten different paintings and then making prints to put in the guest rooms of the hotel? You’re so talented, I bet people would want to buy copies.”

“I’d totally buy one,” Maggie said.

Chloe blushed. “You don’t have to—I’ll paint you something special.” She looked at Evan. “That’s a really good idea. Thanks.”

“Love it,” Tori said, nudging Evan in the arm and beaming up at him.

He could bask in this approval all day long. Maybe audiences weren’t so bad after all.

“What about the underground pub?” Alaina asked. “Are you doing anything down there?”

Chloe cocked her head to the side. “I’m sure we will, but I haven’t thought about it yet. I’ve been working on the Ridgeview space.”

“What’s that?” Alaina asked.

Sean answered. “That’s the special-event cottage at the end of the lane. Didn’t Evan show it to you the other day?”

No, because he’d gotten too distracted with kissing her. “We didn’t get that far. I can show you later,” Evan said, glancing at her on his left.

She smiled up at him, and there was a bit of sauciness in it—maybe she was hoping for a repeat of their last visit. “Sounds good.”

Oh yeah, he could definitely go for round two up here, but not with so many people on site. Dylan’s crew was working over at the hotel, and damn near every Archer was currently underfoot.

“Well, I have a crazy idea about the Archetype,” Alaina said. “What if you did something like cave drawings down there?”

Chloe clasped her hands together at chest-height. “Oooh! I love that idea.”

“So fun,” Sara said. “You have to do that. I don’t care if anyone agrees.”

Laughter spread. “Oh, I’m totally doing it.” Chloe high-fived Sara, who was standing next to her.

Evan looked over at Alaina. She wore that brilliant smile of hers that never failed to make him feel incredible. “Great idea,” he said softly.

She tossed him a glowing look. “Thanks.”

They talked about art for a few more minutes, then Dylan started talking schedule.

“When are you guys set to open?” Alaina asked.

“That is the million-dollar question,” Tori said. “We’re waiting to see how the stupid zoning appeal turns out. We can’t open until they rezone us as commercial.”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” Alaina said. “What happened?”

Kyle scoffed. “This jackass who hates our dad filed an appeal when the rezoning was approved. It’s taking months to resolve.”

Alaina winced. “What a pain. Why does he hate your dad?” She flashed a glance at Evan as she asked this.

“It’s a total pain,” Tori said. “He hates Dad because he stole Mom away from him.”

“No way, really?” Alaina giggled. “That’s kind of romantic in a vengeance-is-sexy sort of way. Not that he’s sexy. No, he’s the villain in this plot, for sure.”

“Chloe, I’d like to see where you envision the mural over in the hotel lobby,” Dylan said. “Would you show me?”

“Sure.” She and Dylan headed toward the exit that led to the hotel.

“I’m going, too,” Tori said, following them. Sean went along with her.

“And I need to get back to Archer.” Kyle turned to Maggie. “Can I drop you back at home, or do you want to hang out here?”

Maggie plucked her coat off the back of a chair. “I’ve got some work to do at home, so I’ll go with you.”

“Hey, I thought you were dialing back on Archer work,” Sara said as Kyle put his coat on. “You’re kind of busy with the show and The Alex. I don’t know where you’re finding all the time.”

“Tell me about it. Maggie’s going to dump me soon, I’m sure.”

“Am not.”

He grinned, then dropped a fast kiss on her mouth. “I’m trying to balance everything, but it’s tough. And with Hayden’s return up in the air, we have to talk about hiring a permanent replacement for COO.”

Evan snapped to attention. He heard most things through a filter. He was aware—mostly—of what was said when he was in a group, but he didn’t necessarily always engage. Just following along could be hard enough. “I didn’t realize his return was iffy. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. He just loves France,” Kyle said. “I think things might be getting serious with the girlfriend, but he doesn’t really say.”

Sara folded her arms across her chest. “He never does. Not since Bex.”

“True dat.” Kyle snatched Maggie’s hand. “Let’s go, babe. See you guys.”

Maggie waved as they left. “Bye!”

“Who’s Bex?” Alaina asked.

“Hayden’s ex,” Sara answered. “They dated in college, and we were all shocked when they broke up. We pegged him as the first to get married, but I guess it wasn’t mean to be.”

“What happened?”

Sara lifted a shoulder. “No one’s really certain. Hayden was pretty close-mouthed about it. She moved back to Central Oregon practically overnight. The whole thing was super awkward, especially because Tori and I were friends with her. We still are, though we’re not as close as we used to be.”

Alaina winced. “Yikes, sounds awkward.”

Evan’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out to see a text from Chloe.

Can you come over here? I need another artist to help me explain the vision.

She’d called him an artist. His chest swelled. He never realized how badly he’d wanted to be recognized as that until this moment. He turned to Alaina.

“I need to run over to the hotel to give my opinion. Do you want to come or stay here?”

“I’ll stay. I don’t want to put my boots in the mud more than necessary.”

He couldn’t help smiling. “Fair enough. See you in a minute.” He thought about kissing her the way Kyle had done with Maggie but chickened out in front of his sister.

As he made his way from the restaurant, he told himself next time he’d do it and he wouldn’t care who was watching.

ALAINA HAD SEEN his gaze flash to her mouth. He’d thought about kissing her, and she wished he had. Really, in front of Sara? She mentally shook herself. Stop acting like a teenage goober.

“It’s great you guys are dating,” Sara said, uncrossing her arms.

Alaina didn’t bother suppressing her wry smile. “You know about that, too?”

Sara chuckled. “There are no secrets in the Archer family. Actually, that’s not true—I think we’ve all proven we’re pretty good at hiding stuff when we want to. But once something becomes known, everybody hears about it.”

“I see. Group text messages?”

“Totally.” Sara laughed. “You don’t have siblings, do you?”

“Nope. I always wanted one. A younger brother or sister—I didn’t care which.” She’d imagined caring for them, mothering them in the way she’d never been. She certainly hadn’t expected her mother to do any of that. Which was why it was just as well that Lisa Pierce Bickford hadn’t brought any other children into the world.

“I’m sure there are plenty of benefits to being an only child.”

The only one that came readily to mind was the ability to leave home and never look back. If she’d had siblings, she couldn’t have done that. At least not without taking them with her. She wouldn’t say any of that to Sara, though. Instead, she said, “Privacy, I guess?”

“Definitely. Although, we were lucky to have our own rooms and bathrooms.”

During her self-guided tour of the house, Alaina hadn’t realized they all had their own bathrooms. The tiny bathroom in her childhood trailer had been a constant battle of mildew and faulty plumbing. “Tell me your mom has help cleaning that house.”

Sara smiled. “Yes, she uses a service now, but we had a live-in housekeeper when we were younger.”

Of course they did. The lonely, uncared-for child who still dwelled somewhere inside Alaina wanted to feel bitterness and jealousy for the way the Archers had grown up, but she couldn’t. Not when they were such nice, grounded people. They didn’t seem to take anything for granted.

Finally warm enough, Alaina unzipped her coat. “You guys were so lucky. I grew up with next to nothing. The way I live now is completely removed from my childhood experiences. I guess that’s why I feel so compelled to help kids who are struggling. In fact, I have a foundation for children in need.”

“That sounds amazing. What does it do?”

“It supports programs in rural areas, mostly. Medical, food, education.” After spending time with Evan and researching autism, she’d begun to think about early intervention for kids with special and developmental needs. She knew firsthand how hard it was for kids in the middle of nowhere to get services.

“Is there any way we can help? Archer supports a handful of organizations. We donate most of the profit from Oktoberfest to charities.”

“I didn’t know that. How cool.” Nope, they didn’t take anything for granted at all. It was official—Alaina was totally in love with this family.

“We do a big toy drive at Christmas, too. Maybe we could divert some of that to your organization.”

Alaina couldn’t keep from grinning. “That would be fantastic.”

“Hey, since you haven’t seen the Ridgeview yet, do you want me to show you?”

Alaina glanced at her boots and considered the walk to the event space down a muddy lane.

Sara laughed. “There’s gravel, so we’ll stay pretty clean.”

“Yikes, you caught me being a total diva. Sorry, I love these boots. I’m a bit of a shoe whore.”

“I get it. I’m a total jewelry whore. If I had to dredge this necklace or these bracelets through the dirt, I’d pass.” Sara grabbed her coat from a chair and slipped it on. “Let’s head down.”

Alaina zipped her coat and followed Sara from the restaurant. The morning was still cold, gray, and damp. They walked quickly across the parking lot to where the gravel lane started toward the Ridgeview.

“It must be a bummer to not be open yet,” Alaina said.

Sara nodded. “Yeah. I can’t even start booking events, and it looks like the whole summer season will pass before I can. Which sucks, since this is my job.”

“Ouch, but, uh, you don’t need to work, do you?” Alaina winced. She hadn’t meant it to sound like that. “I just meant that you aren’t going to starve without the work, right?”

“No, I won’t starve, especially since my fiancé is working. But yeah, I have money. We’re trust-fund kids, or didn’t you know that?”

She hadn’t known that, but it made sense. “Evan didn’t mention that.” He didn’t mention a lot of things, not unless prodded, and then he could very well ramble. She actually liked it when he rambled. “When are you and Dylan getting married?”

“July—in my parents’ backyard. So I’m plenty busy with that, plus I took over Oktoberfest, for this year at least.”

“Yeah, sounds like you are plenty busy.”

The building came into view—a charming craftsmanlike cottage with a stone path and patio and what looked like a fantastic garden, even in winter. In fact, crocuses were already breaking the surface along the path, and if it were sunny, Alaina thought the purple blooms would be open toward the sky.

Sara went to the front door and pulled out a key to unlock it. She pushed inside and held it open for Alaina to follow.

“This is so pretty!” Alaina moved into the large room with glass doors that looked out to a patio. Past that was a grassy area and then a breathtaking view of the valley—or she assumed it would be when it wasn’t cloaked in low clouds. Now it looked gothic and mysterious, which appealed to Alaina’s dramatic nature. She moved toward the doors. “Gorgeous view.”

“These completely open up so that you have an indoor-outdoor space. We had Derek and Chloe’s wedding here last summer. It was beautiful.”

“I bet.”

“Come on, I’ll show you the kitchen.” Sara passed a bar area across from the front door and led her to the kitchen. It was large and commercial with lots of stainless steel.

“Very impressive. You could host quite a shindig here.” Alaina ran her hand over one of the prep areas. “I can’t remember—is this being included in the TV show?”

“I think Sean has filmed over here, so yeah.”

“You may be inundated with Hollywood types. This is a great venue, and it’s far enough out of LA to be a destination but close enough to jet here and back in the same day.”

Sara laughed. “Thanks for the heads up!”

Alaina envisioned all sorts of events taking place here, everything from a raucous cocktail party to an intimate dinner. “What’s upstairs?”

“A bedroom suite designed specifically for wedding nights. It’s pretty incredible. Dylan went all out on the fixtures. Our bathroom at home is pretty sweet, but this one has the epic view to go along with it.”

A bedroom suite? Suddenly Alaina had an altogether different event in mind. One involving Evan. She’d actually been toying with an idea and wondered if Sara could help her. “Speaking of special events, I wanted to plan something for Evan, something . . . unique. I’m hoping you can provide some assistance.”

Sara leaned her hip against the counter and crossed her arms. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Just an experience I think he missed out on and I’d like to re-create for him.”

Sara’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Sounds great—tell me how I can help, and I’ll make it happen.”

Alaina grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

AFTER DISCUSSING THE mural, Sean and Tori took off while Dylan went to deal with some questions from his crew. That left Evan with Chloe. He’d made some notes in his phone but wished he’d brought a sketchbook so he could draft some ideas. Instead, he told Chloe what he was thinking.

“I love the concept of bringing in the outdoors and capitalizing on the arch. We should talk to Maggie about incorporating arches and maybe foxes into the garden spaces.”

“Good point.” Evan entered that into his phone as well. He could hardly wait to get home and start working on logo ideas and branding. And he also wanted to come up with an entirely new font. He was just bursting with energy and excitement. “Should we set a follow-up meeting, maybe next Monday or Tuesday?”

“Sure. I’m pretty open. I’m working my last shift at the pub tonight. I’m going to be too busy getting everything ready up here.”

“I’d say so. I’ll miss seeing you at The Arch and Vine though.”

“I’ll miss working there.”

“But you’re part of the family now, so you’re stuck with it.” He tried to wink at her and hoped it didn’t look cheesy. He wasn’t sure he’d ever mastered the art of the wink.

Evan’s phone vibrated in his hand. He moved over to his messaging app and saw a text from Alaina.

I’m at the Ridgeview with Sara if you want to meet me down here.

Evan glanced over at Chloe. “Anything else you can think of before I take off?”

“Nope. I’ll let you know if I think of anything.” She smiled at him. “I’m really looking forward to working with you on this.”

“Me, too.” He left, taking long strides in his eagerness to reach Alaina. He was anxious to get home so he could start work.

He walked toward the Ridgeview to meet her and in just a minute ran into her and Sara coming back.

“How’d it go?” Sara asked.

He turned and walked alongside Alaina as they made their way to the parking lot. “Great. I’m overflowing with ideas. Can’t wait to start working.”

“That’s awesome.” Sara leaned around Alaina and flashed him a smile as they reached the parking lot.

He glanced at Alaina. “Ready?”

She nodded.

“See you guys!” Sara waved and took off for the office trailer, where Sean and Tori had gone earlier.

“So you’re excited about this project?” Alaina asked.

“Yeah, more than I’ve been about anything in a long time. Maybe ever.”

“I can tell. At least, it seems that way.” She smiled and shook her head. “Sometimes I have a hard time remembering I just met you a week ago.”

Was that all it had been? “Yeah, seems much longer.”

Just then a van pulled into the parking lot. Not just any van but a news van from Portland.

“Oh my God, what is that?” Alaina asked, her voice low and wobbly. “Get me out of here.”

His car was across the lot over by the restaurant. He grabbed her hand and strode in that direction just as the van parked in the middle of the lot.

Evan focused on getting her to the car. From his peripheral vision, he saw someone step out of the driver’s side of the van. “Just keep moving,” he said.

“Hey there!” the person called out. “Are you Sean and Tori Hennessy?”

Evan increased their speed and tightened his grip on Alaina’s hand. “Don’t stop. Just ignore them.”

He pulled his keys from his pocket and remotely unlocked the doors. Screw opening Alaina’s this time. He had to get them out of there. He let go of her hand, and they circled to their respective sides.

“Hey!” The person was coming toward them, and a second person had gotten out of the van.

Evan could speed away, but he’d likely spray mud on the guy. “Put your head down.”

Alaina took her phone from her coat pocket and bent her head over it. She pulled her dark blonde hair forward to cloak the side of her face.

Satisfied that she was effectively hidden, Evan rolled down his window. “What do you need?”

The guy wore a jacket bearing the news-station logo. “Hi, I’m Jack. I’m supposed to meet Sean and Tori. Are you them?”

“Nope. Try the trailer.”

“You must be one of the other Archers,” the man said, but Evan wasn’t in the mood for his chitchat or news gathering.

“I’m late for a meeting. You might want to step back so I don’t spray you with mud.” Evan rolled up the window without waiting for a response and put the car in drive.

He drove around their van and out of the lot. “I had no idea there was a news van coming.”

“I can’t believe Sean didn’t say anything,” Alaina said. “I just reamed him via text.”

Evan glanced over at her as he drove down the hill. “You reamed him? Why?”

“Because he didn’t tell me a freaking news van was going to be up here! That’s critical intel for someone who’s hiding from the press.”

“Of course, sorry.”

Her phone pinged, and she looked down at the screen. “He apologized profusely. Apparently, the news guys got the day wrong. They were supposed to come for an interview with Sean and Kyle next Thursday, not today.” She slumped back against the seat. “Ugh, that was close. Sorry to freak out.”

If she thought that classified as a freak-out, what would she think of one of his meltdowns? Hopefully, she’d never see one. Wait, did that mean he didn’t ever expect to have another one—which was absurd—or that he didn’t expect her to be around long enough? That thought made his gut churn.

“It’s fine. You were totally justified in your concern.”

“Well thanks for rescuing me.” She turned to face him in her seat and rested her hand on his shoulder.

He’d tossed his phone onto the console between the seats, and now it vibrated with a text. “Can you see if that’s from Chloe?” Maybe she’d thought of something else.

Alaina lifted her hand from his shoulder and picked up the phone. “Who’s Michelle?”

Shit. She hadn’t texted him in a few days, and he’d hoped she’d finally gotten the message—their thing was over. “No one,” he answered.

“Whoa,” Alaina breathed. “This is quite a text.”

“Never mind. Just put the phone back down.”

“I can’t. This is just . . . Evan, she’s not no one. She says she’s in love with you.”

His vision blurred for a moment, and he clenched his hands around the steering wheel. Focus, Evan. You’re like three minutes from home.

He rubbed his palm over his forehead. “Can you please stop reading that?”

“Too late. I’m done.” She set the phone back on the console. “She accuses you of abandoning her—and her son. What the hell is that about?”

Her son? Evan had met him like four times. Okay, so the last time they’d gone for pizza at this place with a cool arcade and indoor rides. It had been a little too loud and chaotic for Evan, but the video games had been awesome. He and Jake had had a great time playing together.

“I didn’t abandon her. She was a friend. We hung out. That was in Longview.” He shrugged. “I moved back to Ribbon Ridge. End of story.”

He pulled through the gate and drove up the long driveway toward the house.

“Yet she says she’s in love with you. How does she fall in love with you if you’re just friends who hang out?”

His senses began to spin as his anxiety grew. “I don’t know. You’d have to ask her.” He shook his head. “No, please don’t. This is actually none of your business.” He opened the garage door with the remote and parked inside.

He picked up his phone but didn’t really want to read Michelle’s text. How the hell was he supposed to respond to something like that? She’d actually thrown out the love word? He hadn’t ever been in love before, but he’d like to think he’d know what it would feel like, and he was completely certain he hadn’t experienced it with her.

He got out of the car but didn’t have a chance to get around to Alaina’s door. She met him at the entrance of the garage. “Who’s Michelle? I think you owe me the truth. She says she’s in love with you. Do I need to be worried? I realize we haven’t made any promises or long-term plans, but I deserve to know if there’s someone else lurking in the background.”

She did? Hell, he didn’t have any idea what the rules were—if there even were rules.

“She was my neighbor in Longview. We were friends. She used to come over to watch movies, or I’d go to her place when her kid was at his dad’s. I didn’t even meet Jake until last fall.”

“How long were you ‘friends’?” She made air quotes when she said the last word.

Her sarcasm—if that’s what it was—put him on edge, and he was already teetering on the brink of a sensory meltdown. Maybe not full-blown, but enough to send him to the gym downstairs.

Why was she making a big deal of this? “Listen, I need to go work.” He pivoted to go to the house, but she touched his arm. The connection was light, but it felt as though her fingers might press through his coat. That was due to his agitated state.

She removed her hand and crossed her arms over her chest. “Please don’t walk away. I want to explain why this is important to me. Presumably, you were sleeping with her—” He opened his mouth to correct her, but she rushed to say, “Sorry, having sex with her, and you met her son. That’s the very definition of a big deal.”

“We’re having sex, and you just said we haven’t made any promises. So no, I don’t see how you think a sexual relationship with someone is some massive ‘thing.’ ” He borrowed her use of air quotes.

“It’s not just the sex, Evan. It’s the kid! You met her kid, and she says she’s in love with you. Clearly, she had an expectation for your relationship that you didn’t share.” She exhaled and looked at the ground for a moment. When she looked back up, her eyes were intense. “Look, I understand that you’re . . . different, that by your own admission you aren’t good at relationships. I think you owe this woman some sort of explanation or at the very least a phone call to clarify things on your end. Because you are clearly not on the same page.”

She was probably right. He’d stopped responding to Michelle’s texts a couple of weeks ago, but she’d continued to send them. “I have tried to explain. Here.” He handed her his phone. “Look at the texts. You tell me what I need to do differently.”

He stalked toward the house.

She caught up to him at the door and grabbed his arm again, but he didn’t turn. “Hey, don’t be upset. I’m . . . trying not to be.”

“Just read the messages and tell me what I did wrong. I need to work this out.” He pulled his arm from her grasp and went inside. He jogged downstairs and beelined for the gym. He tossed his coat to the floor and pulled his sweater over his head, dropping that, too.

He went to the weight-lifting bench and loaded up the barbell with a hundred pounds on each side. Thoughts collided in his brain and further churned his senses. He needed to get himself back together if he had any hope of working. And damn that pissed him off. He’d been so excited to get started, and now he had to deal with this bullshit.

He lay back and wrapped his palms around the metal, ready to push his body as hard as necessary to get back to normal. Whatever that was.

Chapter Fourteen

ALAINA LEANED BACK against the car and read the texts on Evan’s phone. She hadn’t really wanted to, but he’d asked for her help. And she thought he legitimately wanted it.

She scrolled back and read to what seemed like right after he’d moved from Longview three months ago. Wow, three months? That was a long time for this Michelle to keep texting him. Granted, at first he’d sent her things like Miss you or Too bad you’re so far away. However, her suggestions that he come up for the weekend were always answered with It’s too far for me to come or I’m busy. Alaina would’ve bought the clue, but if Michelle was really in love with him, it made sense that she wouldn’t give up.

Alaina looked at his past call log to see if Michelle had ever called him. She found a few calls, but they were all missed. He hadn’t once picked up the phone to talk to her. With any other guy, she would’ve said that was douchey—and she probably shouldn’t give Evan a pass, but he was different, right? He said he didn’t understand the nuances of a relationship, and she’d seen that firsthand.

She went back to the text messages. There were a couple from a month or so ago in which Michelle had railed at him in a lengthy diatribe about what an insensitive prick he was. Alaina cringed reading them. She could see how Michelle would think that, and honestly, she was probably justified in her anger.

Was the same true for Alaina? She’d started to get mad at him in the car after seeing the text—jealous, probably—but had slammed on the brakes because of who he was. She would’ve called their subsequent conversation an argument, except it wasn’t like any disagreement she’d ever had with a guy before. She didn’t have the sense that he’d been mad at her, like most guys would’ve been after she butted in. Then he’d actually asked for her help. What kind of guy asked the woman he was dating to help him deal with his ex? Who maybe wasn’t really his ex. Oh, who was she kidding? She was totally his ex, whether he thought of her that way or not. Ugh, poor Michelle. Even worse, poor Jake.

That right there was why she’d gone from surprise to anger after seeing the text. As someone who thought the needs of a child were paramount to anything else, she didn’t care for his cavalier attitude. But was it his fault? As Jake’s mother, it was Michelle’s responsibility to protect and only introduce him to a guy she was sure could be The One. Had she thought that about Evan? Had he somehow given her the wrong idea? It didn’t seem as though he’d felt the same. Alaina wanted to help him, but she had to talk to him first.

She closed the garage door and walked to the house, realizing she was freezing. After she went inside, she paused at the top of the stairs. What if now was a bad time? He was trying to reorganize, like he’d done the other day with the wine tasting. Was it okay to interrupt him before he was finished?

Furthermore, did she want to? She was beginning to see how being with Evan would be different from being with other men. It would require special understanding and patience. Was she up for that?

Hell yes. He’d already demonstrated he was worth it, and honestly, it wasn’t hard to be understanding or patient. She wanted to be. With him.

Slowly, she made her way downstairs and then stopped outside the door to the gym. She listened and just barely made out a grunt followed by metal hitting together. It sounded like he was lifting weights.

Just go in already!

She took a deep breath and opened the door. He was lying on the weight-lifting bench, staring at the ceiling. He’d shucked his sweater and was clad in just a heather-gray T-shirt. It pulled taut over his spectacular chest, and she wished he’d ditched that garment, too.

Tentatively, she picked her way across the gym. “Hey. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

His legs were separated, his feet planted on either side of the bench. He looked at her—really looked at her, his eyes boring into hers. She’d never seen his eyes look so deeply gray, so intense.

The eye contact didn’t last, but it stoked a flame of desire in her core. “Do you want to talk about this?” she asked.

He sat up and brought his right leg around, turning on the bench to face her. He reached up and clasped her waist, his thumbs and fingers digging into her through her clothing. “Not right now.”

He unzipped her coat and pushed it off. She helped, shrugging her shoulders out of it and tossing it aside. He unbuttoned her jeans and ripped them down her thighs, pulling a gasp from her mouth. Then her underwear followed until she was bare to him. He pressed his thumb against her clit, and the spark of lust she’d felt burst into full-blown flames of need. She moaned as he slipped his finger into her, coaxing wetness.

Because of her jeans around her knees, she couldn’t spread her legs, couldn’t open herself up to the amazing sensations he was giving her. “I don’t suppose you could take off at least one of my boots?”

He left his task to unzip her right boot. “They got really muddy.”

She laughed, simultaneously puzzled and delighted that he could note something so ridiculous when they were in the process of getting naked. Or at least partially naked.

He removed her boot and grasped the end of her jeans as she pulled her leg up and out of them—at least on that leg. On the other, she was still wearing a boot, and her jeans and underwear were sort of hanging off her. She opened her mouth to ask for help taking the rest off, but the only thing that came out was a long moan as he parted her thighs and slipped his tongue into her wet channel.

“Evan.” She twisted her fingers in his hair as he made love to her with his mouth. And then his fingers. They parted her flesh, opening her to his lips and tongue. Pleasure washed through her, and an orgasm built fast and strong.

He pulled away from her and stood, taking a condom from his pocket and then pulling his pants down, freeing his cock. “I need you.”

God, she needed him, too. She wrapped her hand around his heated flesh and closed her eyes. Desire flooded her core, and she could barely wait to feel him inside of her. “Hurry.”

He sat back down and guided her leg around his waist, easing her down onto his lap. She held his cock, stroking him until he found his way to her sheath. The head slid inside, setting off a million little shockwaves of delight. She moaned again as her orgasm threatened, but she held it off. She wasn’t ready to lose herself yet.

He splayed his hands over her ass, his thumbs wrapped around her hips, and he guided her other leg—the one with a boot still on it—over the bench so that she completely straddled him. The movement seated him fully inside of her, filling and stretching her in the most delicious way. She braced her forearms on his shoulders and felt the cotton of his T-shirt. Oh hell no, she wanted bare flesh.

She reached down and grabbed at his shirt, her nails digging into him. Up she tugged until she whisked it over his head and threw it aside. He pushed her shirt up, not bothering with the buttons, and bared her bra. He didn’t take anything off, just tugged the cups of her bra down until her breasts popped free, then he took one deep into his mouth and sucked.

She shoved her fingers into his hair and groaned as his hips began to move. It wasn’t the easiest position since she couldn’t reach the floor to push off on it, but he grasped her ass again and lifted her, then pulled her back down until he filled her once more. He did this over and over, his mouth never leaving her breast and his cock driving into her with deep, regular strokes. She closed her eyes tightly, completely focused on the sensations he was giving her. He lifted his head and latched onto her neck, his open mouth hot and wet against her fevered flesh.

He moved faster, his thrusts becoming more frenetic as he worked her up and down over his cock. She cried his name, begged him to continue, kept up a string of utter sex-induced nonsense until his thumb found her clit again and pressed against her, sending her spiraling into the most intense orgasm of her life. Darkness crashed into her, but he didn’t stop. He fucked her relentlessly, prolonging her orgasm until he joined her, his shout filling the abyss and saving her from completely falling away.

She sagged forward, dropping her head against his neck. His movements gentled and finally stilled. Their rapid breaths filled the room as they both fought their way back to reality. At least, that’s what it felt like to her.

She lifted her head and realized she hadn’t even kissed him. They’d been completely swept away. She stroked the back of his head and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He moved his head and caught her mouth, kissing her thoroughly. Joy unfurled in her chest.

When he pulled away, she smiled against his mouth. “That was . . . incredible.”

“I just . . . I just needed to do that. I hope that’s okay.”

“God yes.” She pulled back and looked at him. As usual, his gaze was fixed somewhere else, which was always most awkward when they were this close to each other. But she reminded herself that it wasn’t personal. It was Evan. “When you say you needed it—was it a sensory thing?”

“Yeah. I haven’t ever done that before. Used sex to regulate. But damn, it worked.” His gaze flashed to hers, and she saw appreciation there and maybe something else. Maybe . . . wonder.

Or maybe that was just a reflection of what she wanted him to feel, of what she was feeling herself. She had to be so careful here.

“You came down here to talk to me about Michelle.” His tone was flat, but that wasn’t unusual. Again, that was Evan.

She pulled her leg up and stood, feeling like a mess given her completely rumpled, half-dressed state. She shimmied her breasts back into her bra and pulled her flannel shirt down.

He stood up and went to the bathroom off the gym. She picked up her boot and saw that it was indeed muddy. Damn, she’d have to look and make sure she hadn’t made a mess on her way down. She’d been too focused on getting to Evan, and now she felt terrible about dirtying Emily’s house.

He came back all buttoned up but still shirtless, since he’d left the garment where she’d dropped it. “Thanks. I feel much better.”

She chuckled. “Um, good. Glad I could help. So, about Michelle. Do you really want my help with this?”

“Clearly I need help. I told you I suck at relationships. Did I completely fuck it up?”

She tried not to stare at his fabulous chest, but it was a major distraction. “Do you think you could put your shirt on? If you don’t, I might start round two.”

His lips curved into a smile. “I’m tempted to leave it off, but I don’t want to torture you. At least not right now. Maybe later.” He bent to get his shirt, and she was treated to a spectacular view of his ass encased in his perfectly fitting jeans.

Yes please, later.

She mentally shook herself. “Okay, back to Michelle. It seems clear that she had one idea about your relationship and you had another. Can I ask . . . How did you feel about her?”

He pulled his shirt on and shrugged. “I don’t know. I liked hanging out with her. She made me dinner, we watched stuff on TV, we played cards, and we drank.”

“And had sex?”

“I was trying to be polite, but yes, we had sex.”

Jealousy sliced into her, but she pushed it away. He was obviously into her now, not Michelle. “What happened when you moved home? Did you talk to her about it before you left?”

“Yes, I told her I was moving.”

He was frightfully short on details, but then, he was a guy. “And what did she say?’

His brow gathered into pleats between his eyebrows. “I guess she was surprised, maybe upset. She asked if we could still see each other, but I told her that would be impossible since I’d be living seventy-five miles away.”

Okay, so he’d been clear. He’d said impossible. “So you made it clear that your thing was over. Do you think she understood?”

He flicked her a glance. “Is it bad if I say I can’t remember?”

Had Michelle understood Evan, and had she communicated with him in a way that was clear? Alaina had no way of knowing, and she didn’t think Evan knew either. “Well, whatever her expectation was then, she clearly wasn’t ready to call it quits, especially if she’s still texting you about it months later.”

“But how is this my problem? I told her I was moving and that we couldn’t continue.”

It wasn’t really his problem, put like that; however, if the communication wasn’t very clear, Alaina could understand how their expectations and emotions could conflict. “How long were you together?”

“We weren’t really together, we were just hanging out.” His hang-up on semantics probably frustrated a lot of people, but it didn’t bother Alaina. In fact, she found it kind of sweet.

“Right. How long?”

“Almost two years, I guess?”

Yikes, that was definitely more than hanging out, but she wouldn’t debate that with him. “Regardless of breaking things off with her when you moved, I think you guys had completely different perspectives on what your relationship was. I think it might be good if you acknowledged that you had a nice thing and maybe apologize that it didn’t work out.”

He stared at her, or rather, his eyes fixed somewhere next to her head. “Why should I apologize?”

“Because two years is a long time to be with someone. If I were her, I would’ve probably hoped for something more, too.” Alaina was beginning to wonder that after not even two weeks.

“Why does the time frame matter? I never even said we were dating—not like with you.”

Alaina’s heart flipped over. Later, she’d analyze that, like all women did, but now she fought to keep her focus on the topic at hand. “I understand, but she doesn’t. You need to call her—don’t text or e-mail—call her. Apologize, and say you feel bad about how things turned out but that she needs to move on.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know if I can do that. She could say a million things, and I wouldn’t know how to respond. I used to have scripts for these sorts of things. Fuck, I hate social interaction. It’s so much easier to be alone.”

She moved closer to him and laid her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat through the cotton of his shirt. She smiled up at him provocatively. “But not nearly as fun, right?”

“Only with you.” He kissed her hard and fast. “I don’t suppose you’d . . . sit with me when I make this call? Tell me what to say? I’d ask Tori—she’s helped me with stuff like this before, but you know the whole story already.”

Wow, he trusted her like he trusted one of his siblings. His family. Humility formed a lump in her throat. “Sure.” She swallowed, finding a more solid voice. “I’d be happy to.”

He exhaled in relief. “I need to go work now though. Is that okay? I have to get these ideas out.”

“Absolutely. We can call her when you’re done. Come over for salad—spinach-free—and leftover pizza later.”

“Deal.” He kissed her again, and when he stood back, he smiled. “Thanks.”

Then he picked up his sweater and coat, leaving her to stare after him and wonder how she’d found herself in this utterly unique—and dangerously endearing—situation.

EVAN PUT HIS phone on speaker and set it down on the table. He took a deep breath as the sound of Michelle’s phone ringing filled the apartment, and then glanced nervously at Alaina, who sat beside him. They’d called Michelle last night, but she hadn’t been home, so he and Alaina were trying again before heading over to Georgia’s for Evan’s celebratory dinner.

“Evan?” Michelle picked up, and her voice jarred Evan, taking him back to the time they’d spent together. Maybe Alaina was right—two years was a pretty long investment without any payoff.

“Hey, Michelle.” He looked at Alaina, who gave him an encouraging smile as she twirled a pen between her fingers. She had a notepad in front of her on the table so she could write notes if Evan got stuck. They’d rehearsed the first part, and he recalled the plan. “I, uh, I got your texts, and I wanted to call you to talk.”

“Color me shocked.” She sounded irritated enough that Evan could pick that up, even over the phone. “To what do I owe your attention at last?”

Evan looked at Alaina in question. She wrote, “I’m really sorry I didn’t call sooner. I should have. I’ve been really busy reconnecting with my family.”

Evan nodded and repeated what she’d written down.

Michelle sighed into the phone. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you apologize for anything. Your family is a good influence.”

Evan pointed at Alaina and mouthed “you,” then smiled.

Alaina’s eyes sparkled as she wrote, “Now apologize for the way things worked out.”

Okay, he could do this. He took another deep breath to forge ahead. “I’m really sorry about how things worked out between us. I think we had different expectations. I thought things were still pretty casual, and I guess you didn’t.”

“Why would I when I introduced you to Jake?” she snapped. She exhaled. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be mad at you. I still love you. I’m just hurt.”

He winced and couldn’t bring himself to look at Alaina. But then he felt her hand cover his, and his wobbly senses came back into alignment. “I didn’t realize meeting Jake signified that you were taking things to the next level. You know how I am. I didn’t get it.”

“I should’ve been more explicit,” she said. “Are you . . . Are you happy back in Ribbon Ridge?”

Evan couldn’t help looking at Alaina now. “Yes.” Alaina blushed.

There was a beat of silence before Michelle said, “I was sort of hoping you weren’t, that you missed me.”

Alaina wrote on the paper, “A part of me will always miss what we had—we had a great time together. But I just don’t feel the same way that you do. I’m so sorry, Michelle. Especially about Jake. He’s a great kid.”

That was a lot to say, Evan thought, but he powered through it.

“You sound different,” Michelle said. “More confident or, I don’t know, more talkative.”

Alaina clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. Evan mock-glared at her with a half-smile. “I admit I rehearsed a bit for this call,” he said. “It was important for me to communicate with you as clearly as possible to avoid any further misunderstandings.”

Alaina’s eyes widened, and she drew her finger over her throat to indicate he should stop. Apparently he’d said something wrong. He frowned, but Alaina shook her head and mouthed, “You’re doing great.”

“So I guess this is it, then?” Michelle asked.

“Yes. I wish you all the best.” Evan’s heart began to slow as the conversation drew to a close.

“Thanks. You, too, Evan. I won’t pretend I’m not disappointed. Brutally disappointed. I miss Which Way Wednesday. I still have the little spinner we made.”

Oh shit, please do not go into detail about the game we played regarding sexual positions. Not with Alaina sitting here. He glanced at Alaina, who was staring at him in frank curiosity.

“My favorite is still—”

“Michelle, I have to go. I have a family dinner.”

“Okay. Thanks for calling. I love you.”

“Bye, Michelle.” He cringed as he hung up, wishing she hadn’t said she loved him again in front of Alaina. He wanted to crawl out of his skin with the awkwardness of it.

“That went well!” Alaina set the pen down. “What’s Which Way Wednesday?”

“Uh, we should go.” He stood up from the table and stashed his phone in his pocket.

She also stood, and he couldn’t help but appreciate the red knit dress that hugged her curves and accentuated her breasts in an incredibly distracting way. She’d brushed her hair to the side and had it pinned in back so that it cascaded over one shoulder. He wanted to bury his face in the soft, fragrant waves and just lose himself in Alaina. Probably to banish the conversation he’d just had.

“You’re not going to answer me, are you?” she asked.

“Trust me, you don’t really want to know.” Even Evan, with his penchant for cluelessness, knew his girlfriend wouldn’t want to hear about his past sex life with the woman she’d just helped him finish breaking up with. If that’s what he could call it. Hell, he didn’t know what to call any of it. This is why relationships were not in his wheelhouse.

Alaina went to the bar and picked up her purse. “I will trust you.”

He breathed a sigh of relief as they left the apartment and went down to his car. On the way to Georgia’s, they debriefed the conversation a little bit, but Evan was anxious to put it behind him.

“Do you feel a little bit better having talked to her?” Alaina asked.

He wasn’t sure. It had felt odd, like a blast from the past even though it hadn’t been that long ago. “I guess. I’ve just moved on, so talking to her felt a little like stepping backward.” Especially hearing that she was still so attached. He did feel bad about that.

“Sometimes we have to take a small step back in order to move ahead. At least that’s been my experience. It’s always good to think about the road that led us here.”

He wasn’t sure he understood everything she said. “Is that what you do? Why?”

“Yes, because it helps me appreciate all that I have. I don’t ever want to take my life for granted. Maybe being with Michelle helped you grow emotionally and become the man you are today—even if you don’t realize it.”

He thought about that for a minute and realized Alaina was right. Just having that conversation with Michelle wasn’t something he could’ve done before. But he credited that to Alaina, not Michelle. She was the one helping him grow.

“What a cute restaurant. Love the bay window and the sparkly lights,” she said, breaking him from the deepest thoughts he’d had in a long time, as he passed the front of the repurposed house and pulled into the driveway that led them to the back parking lot.

He parked the car. “It’s not terribly impressive from back here.” He glanced up at the deck affixed to the upper floor. It sported a blooming vine in the summer as well as various pots of flowers, but in February it was dark and empty, without even the four or five tables that filled it in warmer months.

He got out and went around to open her door.

She took his hand and stepped out, her sexy boots—which she’d cleaned up from yesterday—encasing her even sexier legs. Their fingers remained twined as they walked to the back door, which he opened for her. She entered a small hallway, and almost immediately they were met by someone clad in all black with a white half-apron. “Hi, Evan. Go on upstairs. I think Carla is up there taking drink orders.”

Evan tried to remember the woman’s name but was drawing a blank. “Thanks.” Evan gestured for Alaina to precede him up the narrow staircase.

She let go of his hand and started up, then looked back at him over her shoulder. “I suppose her knowing you is just part of living in a small town?”

“Yes, and I would’ve introduced you, but I couldn’t remember her name.” His brain jarred. “Nancy, maybe? Or Susan? I don’t know, some mom-name like that.”

She laughed. “ ‘Mom-name’ is hilarious.” She waited for him at the top of the stairs. Conversation drifted toward them from the front of the house. “Is it this way?” She turned toward the sound.

“Yeah.” He put his hand on her lower back and walked with her to the doorway leading to the private dining room.

“Alaina, Evan!” Mom came toward them, a bright smile lighting up her face. She hugged Alaina and then kissed Evan’s cheek. “Congratulations.”

“You’ve already told me that.”

“So, it’s a celebration, and I’m your mother. I can say it as often as I like.” Her eyes twinkled. He liked seeing her so happy.

“Here’s the guest of honor,” Dad said, clapping him on the shoulder. “We’ve got your favorite wine poured over on the sideboard, and Georgia let me bring a pony keg of Crossbow, since that’s your favorite.”

“That was nice of her, since you refuse to let her serve it.”

“Is that right?” Alaina asked. “Why wouldn’t you want your beer poured everywhere?”

“Because I want them coming to my pub to drink it!” Dad leaned forward and kissed Alaina’s cheek. “You look lovely tonight. Thank you for joining our party.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” She curled her arm around Evan’s waist and snuggled against his side. They’d talked about tonight—not hiding their relationship status and ensuring the two people who’d be serving them would keep her identity and presence in town secret. Evan had talked to Tori about the latter, and she’d taken care of it. Right after profusely apologizing for the near miss yesterday with the news van.

Evan looked around the room to see who else was already here. Besides his parents, there were Derek and Chloe and Sean and Tori, all of whom were over at the sideboard getting drinks. He turned to Alaina. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

“I’d love one, thanks.”

He left her with Dad while he went to get wine for her and a beer for himself.

“It’s the man of the hour,” Derek said, clapping him on the back. “Chloe cannot stop talking about your artistic plans for The Alex. Sounds like you two are going to be a tour de force.”

Chloe grinned. “Definitely. I was feeling kind of uncertain, since this is my first Archer project from the ground up, but working with Evan has eliminated that. It’s good to have a partner.”

Evan agreed. He never would’ve thought so, having always preferred to work alone, but things seemed different now. Maybe he’d just finally reached a place in his life where he was ready. Like with Alaina. He glanced over at her talking to his dad and still couldn’t quite believe how things were going. Realizing that he’d taken things a step further with her than with anyone else—his conversation with Michelle had confirmed that—had forced him to open his eyes more than he ever had before.

Kyle and Maggie arrived next, and as always happened, the energy in the room changed now that Kyle was in it. He brought humor and a sense of festivity everywhere he went. It was a gift that for the first time Evan wished he had. Envy wasn’t something he typically felt—ever. But watching Kyle reminded him of Alaina. She lit up a room the same way she lit up the screen. And he preferred the background, the shadows. How could he possibly keep up with her?

“Can I get you a drink?” Sean asked Evan.

“Yeah, a glass of wine for Alaina, and I’ll take a beer.”

Sean poured the wine while Derek set down his glass to draw the beer.

“I could’ve done that,” Evan said to Derek.

“Yeah, but you’re the guest of honor. Let us wait on you and make a big deal.” He grinned as he handed Evan the beer. He raised his voice. “Everyone needs a glass so we can toast Evan.”

“But Sara and Dylan aren’t here yet,” Chloe said.

“We’re here, we’re here!” Sara jumped into the room with Dylan right behind her. “Sorry, Dylan got stuck at the site. As usual.”

“True,” Dylan said with a half-smile. “Did someone say something about glasses? Because I’m in desperate need of a beer.”

“Dude, there’s Crossbow.” Kyle had come over to get drinks for himself and Maggie. “And Evan’s favorite pinot, natch.”

Evan took Alaina her wine. She slipped her hand around his waist again and gave him a squeeze. He was glad to have her here with him. He felt less overwhelmed than ever before in this big of a group. In fact, he didn’t really feel overwhelmed at all. He had to credit Alaina and the way she made him feel—grounded, confident, secure.

Once again, deep thoughts—like that old Saturday Night Live skit they used to watch as kids—overtook him, which was odd in itself. He wasn’t typically prone to reflection, but it seemed like things were changing. He was changing.

When everyone had their drinks, Dad cleared his throat. “I’d like to propose a toast to Evan. We’re so lucky to have the best creative director around working for Archer. He’s going to launch us into the next exciting phase of Archer Enterprises. To Evan.”

“To Evan,” everyone said, raising their glasses.

“To Evan,” came a singular voice from the doorway. Liam stood at the threshold, his left arm in a sling. “I’d toast you, brother, but I don’t have a beverage.”

“Liam!” Mom rushed over and hugged him. He wrapped his free arm around her and kissed her cheek. She pulled back. “Why didn’t you say you were coming?” She turned to look at the room at large. “Did any of you know he was coming?”

“I didn’t,” Evan murmured, and the general consensus was that no one had.

Liam cut through the room and shook Evan’s hand. “Congratulations.” He leaned forward and said quietly, “I’d say I’m surprised, but I’m not.”

Evan looked at him curiously but didn’t say anything.

Liam let go of Evan and transferred his attention to Alaina. “So this is the girl who’s finally caught my little brother’s eye.” He leaned toward Evan again, and this time his tone was more stage whisper than private comment. “Good choice.”

Alaina took her arm from Evan’s waist and shook Liam’s proffered hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“For now. Once you get to know me, you might think I’m a bit of an ass. Most women do.” He flashed a brilliant smile, one that ought to have made him as much money as Alaina’s did.

Alaina cocked a brow at him. “Then it’s a good thing I have extensive experience with assholes. Comes with my job.”

Liam laughed, and others joined with him. It was the sort of conversation that moved at a thousand miles an hour, and Evan could almost never keep up.

And that’s how it went for the next little while. Everyone chitchatting, Evan glued to Alaina’s side and trying desperately to stay engaged. Where Kyle was the fun in a room, Liam was the hustle. He worked a crowd better than anyone, including his own family. A measure of the overstimulation Evan typically experienced in a group this size began to creep in.

He leaned down and whispered in Alaina’s ear. “Will you be okay for a minute while I grab some fresh air?”

She lightly touched his chest, and just that simple gesture gave him comfort. “Sure. Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I’m good. I’ll be right back.”

He wove through the room, and no one stopped him. They all knew what he needed to do to regulate.

He crossed the narrow hallway to the small dining area at the back of the house and threaded through the handful of tables to the door that led to the deck. Letting himself outside, he took a deep breath. A faint mist fell, so he kept to the overhang of the house.

After a few minutes, his equilibrium was restored for another go-round. He pushed away from the exterior of the house just as the door opened. Liam came outside.

“Hey, feeling better?” he asked. He’d pinned his wineglass between his injured arm and his chest to open the door and now freed it. “I would’ve brought you another beer, but I’m out of hands.”

“I see that. How is it?”

“Better now. Hurt like a bitch for a few days, but I’m off the oxy now. Just a steady dose of ibuprofen and maybe a hit of good weed now and then.” He chuckled. “One of the nice things about living in Denver.”

“It’s legal here now, too, not that it would induce you to move back home. I know you’re not a big pot smoker.”

“No, and even if I were, it wouldn’t get me back here.” He sipped his wine. “I’m surprised you came back. I thought you were pretty happy with your little niche up in Longview. Great job, nice apartment, no-strings friendship with benefits . . . Why’d you leave that?” It sounded like a casual question, but he watched Evan intently.

“I was just ready for a change. I wanted to come back and help with The Alex.”

“And take his job.”

Liam wasn’t known to mince words. Like he said, he was also known to be an asshole—and unlike he said, not just with women. “You always know just what to say to be a prick.”

“I know. It’s a gift. But I’m actually not trying to be in this case. You did the right thing. You’re already better at this job than Alex was, and that’s completely okay. Do not let that stop you from going after what you want. Or who you want.”

“What does that mean?”

Liam paused in lifting his wineglass to his mouth. His eyebrows arched. “Alaina Pierce? Dude, she’s out of my league.”

Evan snorted. “Hardly. You’ve dated more than one supermodel, if memory serves.”

“I don’t know that they were actual supermodels. Okay, one of them was in Sports Illustrated.” He took a drink of wine. “Still, Alaina freaking Pierce. You’re a total stud.”

Evan didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t.

“What’s the plan if you guys get serious? You just moved home. Would you consider moving to LA with her? I guess you could split your time and do your job remotely.”

“Why are you planning my long-term relationship when you can’t even sustain one?”

“Ouch. If you can’t do it, coach, right?” He turned toward Evan. “Maybe you’ve already talked to Tori about this, I don’t know. I’m just big-brothering you. She seems like exactly the wrong fit for you. I can’t see you going to Hollywood events with her, strolling on the red carpet with all that noise. And the paparazzi . . . ” He shook his head. “I just want to know that you’re thinking about all of this. Hey, if you’ve already thought it through or this relationship is nowhere near that stage, just tell me to eff off.”

He hadn’t thought about it. Why would he? He had no idea what her life was really like. Hearing Liam talk about it gave him a sick, hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“Sure, bro. You ready to head back in?”

“Yep. Let me get the door for you.” He held it open and glanced at Liam’s sling. “Heli-skiing, huh? What’s next on your adrenaline-rush tour?”

Liam flashed him a smile. “Nothing for a while, thanks to this, but I’ll be back in the saddle soon.”

Evan closed the door behind them and followed Liam back to the dining room. His earlier good mood had evaporated, crushed by the reality Liam had painted. Sure, she made him feel good, but what the hell was he doing with Alaina? He thought he knew, but he didn’t. Not really. He had no idea where this was going, and for Evan, that was not a good thing.

Chapter Fifteen

ALAINA FINISHED HER plate of hors d’oeuvres and looked at the empty doorway for the umpteenth time, waiting for Evan to get back. Liam had left, too, and she wondered if they were together. She’d spoken to him only briefly but already had his number. He was an alpha male stud used to commanding a room with an ease and self-confidence that most people never achieved. He’d be a total shark in Hollywood, she had no doubt.

He was also classically good-looking, though not as tall as Evan, and she’d bet his abs couldn’t hold a candle to Evan’s. But then, no one’s could.

Tori came over to join her by the front windows. “Looking for Evan?”

“I think he’s with Liam.”

“Probably.” Tori flashed a look at the door. “I was going to go check on him, but Liam beat me to it.”

“Do you guys always do that?”

“Not necessarily. At least not anymore. When he was younger, I spent a lot of time sitting with him at parties or whatever.”

She pictured a young Tori looking out for her brother. Emily had told her that of all her kids, Tori was the one who had assumed the role of caretaker. The general consensus was that Tori would be the first to have a baby. “That’s really nice of you.”

Tori shrugged. “It’s what we do. We sort of had a buddy system growing up. Kyle looked out for Sara, I looked out for Evan, and Liam kept an eye on Alex.”

She noticed Hayden didn’t seem to fit anywhere in that mix but didn’t ask about it. She didn’t want to stir anything up. “I guess since Alex is gone, Liam maybe needs something to do?”

Tori’s eyes narrowed briefly, and she laughed. “Very astute of you. Yeah, I’m sure that’s part of it. I’m really surprised he came home, but maybe Mom guilted him because of his injury. I hope maybe now he’ll stop being such a thrill seeker.”

She remembered the phrase death wish being used with regard to Liam, albeit sarcastically. Or maybe it hadn’t been all that sarcastic. “This is a recurring thing, then?”

“Totally. And heli-skiing is pretty tame. He’s climbed mountains, jumped out of planes—and then learned to fly them. I keep wondering if he’s going to try BASE jumping, but I think even he isn’t that stupid.”

“Your mom must be worried sick.”

“She is, but she’s also learned to accept it. Or at least worry more quietly.” Tori sipped her wine. “So, can I ask how long you plan to stay in Ribbon Ridge?”

“I’m not sure.” Crystal had called earlier and asked the same question. Again.

“It seems like the press about you is dying down,” Tori said tentatively. “Not that I’m monitoring it or anything, but you’re not trending on Facebook anymore at least.” She offered a weak smile.

Alaina laughed. “That’s a relief. I admit I haven’t been on social media all week. It’s such a treacherous pit. Lots of positive things, of course, but almost as many negative, especially after something like that goes viral.”

“That has to be awful to live with. I’m so sorry.” Tori gave her a heartfelt smile. “You could always retire from public life and move to Ribbon Ridge. I’m sure Evan would like that.”

“Do you think so?” They hadn’t discussed it. She’d known him barely more than a week; how could they plan something so . . . permanent? Except she had been thinking about finding a place in Ribbon Ridge. The area was too lovely, the Archers too welcoming for her not to idealize the entire place.

As if summoned by their conversation, Evan finally reappeared. Alaina’s chest constricted as he came into view, his gray eyes scanning the room until they landed on her. She smiled at him, but he didn’t respond. Don’t overthink that, Lainie. He doesn’t always respond the way you’d expect, and it doesn’t mean a thing.

He came toward her, and her heart turned over at how attractive he was in an indigo button-down shirt. Liam might walk the walk of a major player, but Evan was the heartbreaker with the subtle vulnerability lurking in his eyes and the air of casual nonchalance he carried.

Tori moved away without a word, leaving them alone.

Alaina turned toward him and found his hand, weaving her fingers through his. “Feeling better?”

He nodded. “Did you eat something?”

“Yes, they brought some shrimp and some crostini with pâté. It’s delicious. Do you want a plate?”

“I’ll get it.” He turned from her and went to the table where the food was laid out.

She watched him go with a slight frown. He’d been in such a great mood earlier, but now he seemed deflated. Had something happened when he was with Liam? Or was he just unsettled by the event? Some might find it odd for a person to be unbalanced with their family around, but Alaina understood that all too well. Spending an evening with her mother could practically send her into a panic attack.

Alaina looked around for Liam. He was over by the drink table talking with Derek. If he’d somehow upset Evan, she’d find a way to return the favor. The ferocity with which she wanted to protect and avenge Evan startled her. How deep was this thing getting?

When Evan didn’t come back, she started to grow concerned. Except now he was talking to Sara and his mom. She couldn’t be mad at that.

Sean came over and asked the same thing Tori had—how long was she staying?—and then they started discussing postproduction for the show he was filming with Kyle.

A few minutes later, the servers came in with dinner, and everyone found seats around the table. Rob Archer sat at the head and Kyle guided Evan to sit at the other end. Sean held out the chair on Evan’s left for Alaina to sit.

Evan was quiet through dinner, but that wasn’t surprising to her, and no one else seemed to notice or mind. He appeared somewhat engaged in the conversation around him, answering when spoken to but not initiating anything.

After dessert and coffee, the evening began to wind down. Evan put his hand up to stifle a yawn.

“Do you want to go?” Alaina asked softly.

“Would you mind? I’m tired.”

“Not at all.” She wanted to ask him to spend the night with her but was afraid the answer would be negative again. Had he ever slept with Michelle? No, he’d corrected her before when she’d used the word “sleep.” She’d bet everything she owned that he hadn’t.

She stood from the table, and he jumped up to pull her chair back. They said their good-byes and were shortly in his car on their way back to the Archer estate. “I had a great time,” she said. “It was good to meet Liam.”

“I’m surprised he came. Glad, but surprised.”

“What did you talk about when you left?”

“You, actually.”

Uh-oh.

There went her cynicism again, automatically assuming it wasn’t flattering. “Really? What did he say?”

“He was pretty surprised that we’re dating.”

Surprised could mean that he was a jerk about it. Or not. Stop it, Alaina! “Why?”

Evan drove up the road toward the gate. “He just wanted to make sure I wasn’t in over my head.”

She wanted to ask for more details, but it didn’t really matter. What mattered was that they were okay. “You don’t feel like you are—do you? Over your head, I mean.”

“No.” He pulled the car through the porte cochere and into the garage.

She waited for him to open her door because he liked that. He offered his hand to help her out. She tucked her fingers in his and stood. But then he let go far sooner than she would’ve liked.

He escorted her from the garage and to the door to the stairway up to the apartment.

“Are you coming up?” She tried not to sound too hopeful.

“No, I’m wiped out after tonight.”

She swallowed her disappointment and forced a bright smile, feeling like the girl who’d asked the guy to the dance but had been rejected. Which reminded her . . . “Can we get together tomorrow night? I had something fun in mind.”

“What is it?”

She shivered as a cold wind whipped between the buildings, and she wrapped her arms around herself. “Can it be a surprise?”

“Okay. What time?”

She couldn’t tell if he was truly interested in what she had planned. He didn’t seem like it, but that was the way he was sometimes. Plus, he was tired. She told herself again to not read too much into it. “Just be ready at six, and dress nicely.”

“Like a tie nice?”

She smiled. “No, like this.” She touched his shirt collar, longing to pull him against her and change his mind about coming upstairs. “Maybe a jacket.”

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Good night.” He opened the door behind her and held it open while she went inside.

Grudgingly, she climbed the stairs alone, and by the time she reached the top, he was gone. As she went into the apartment, she told herself that he really was just tired. Probably exhausted from having to be “on” all night. Not that he’d been on, but she knew it took an effort for him to make it through a social event like that.

Tomorrow night would be better. Tomorrow night it would be just the two of them.

She hoped he liked what she had planned. If he didn’t, well, that could be a disaster.

EVAN SPENT ALL of Saturday working—first on Archer stuff, then on the book. His siblings and their significant others had all left early in the morning for the family cabin on Mt. Hood for a weekend of skiing, or in Liam’s case, a day of hanging at the lodge. They’d invited Alaina last night, saying it would be easy to go incognito with a ski mask, goggles, and a helmet, but she’d laughingly declined. Presumably because she’d made plans for them tonight.

He wondered what she’d organized and why he had to wear a jacket. He checked his appearance one last time, having just showered and gotten ready. Glancing at the time on his phone, he realized he needed to get over to the apartment.

He jogged downstairs and across the main floor to the back door and hesitated, wondering if he needed a coat. It wasn’t raining, and besides, he had a jacket on. He’d be fine. As soon as he opened the door, he stopped cold.

Parked in the space between the garages was a black stretch limo.

He blinked, wondering where they could possibly go in a limo. Anywhere, dumbass. Everyone rented limos for wine tasting around here. Except it was too late for that. All the tasting rooms were closed by now.

The driver stood at the door to the apartment stairs. Evan waited, unsure of what to do. The driver opened the door, and framed in the threshold was the movie star Alaina Pierce.

She wore a dark blue—like midnight—dress that clung to every curve and plane of her body. It covered one shoulder and terminated just below her knee. On her feet were silver sandals with a ridiculously high heel. All he could think was that her toes must be cold.

She came toward him, and the light from the sconces on the garages caught her diamond earrings. Her hair was swept up into an elegant style so that the earrings sparkled unimpeded, and the shimmer seemed to make her skin glow.

“Hi, Evan,” she said. “You look amazing.” Her gaze swept over him, and her lips curved into a sexy smile.

He didn’t know what she had planned for the evening, but he absolutely knew how he wanted it to end.

“You’re gorgeous.” He wanted to say more, but he sucked at words, at conveying what he felt. That she went to such an awesome extent to look like this for him . . . He couldn’t think of what to say. So his mouth spewed forth the one thing that formed in his brain. “Aren’t your feet cold?”

She laughed softly, like a wind chime barely stirring in the breeze. “Not yet, but let’s be on our way before that happens.”

The driver held the limo door open. Evan offered Alaina his arm and led her to the car. She ducked inside, and Evan followed her in.

The door closed behind them, and a moment later they were on their way. The privacy screen was up between them and the front seat, so they were effectively alone.

“Where are we going?” Evan asked, settling back against the seat but not really feeling settled. On the contrary, his senses were on high alert—but in the best possible way. He itched to touch Alaina, to taste her. She smelled like clove and vanilla, a musky, thoroughly intoxicating scent.

“Is it okay if I still keep it a surprise? If it’s going to bother you, let me know.”

“This is an incredible surprise. I don’t remember the last time I rode in a limo. Maybe after college? We did a family wine-tasting tour—Archers only. It was a blast.”

“Sounds fun. When I come back sometime, when I’m not hiding out, you’ll have to take me on a tour like that.”

When she came back. Meaning she wasn’t staying here indefinitely. Had he expected that? Not really. But he also hadn’t given it much thought, and now it was burning into his brain. He didn’t want her to leave.

He shoved the thoughts away and focused on her beside him. He scooted over until her thigh was snug against his, and he could feel her heat. “You look like you’re going to one of those awards shows.”

“I wore this to the Golden Globes last year.”

“And you just happened to bring it with you to Ribbon Ridge while hiding out?”

She smoothed her hand over thigh, her fingertips grazing his pant leg. “Of course. I never travel without a cocktail dress and diamond earrings or four-inch Louboutins.”

“What are Louboutins?”

She giggled as she lifted her foot. “My shoes. I had my assistant overnight everything.”

So tonight was very special. He hoped he didn’t screw it up.

They didn’t turn toward Ribbon Ridge proper but headed west. Where were they going?

“What did you do today?” she asked.

“Not much, just work. I’d ask what you did today, but I’m guessing it involved hair and makeup.”

She cocked her head to the side. “How long do you think it takes me to get ready? Don’t answer that. Longer than you think, especially when I’m on my own. I even had to paint my own toenails. This is much easier when you have a team.” She chuckled. “Wow, do I sound like a pampered princess or what?”

“You sound like an A-list movie star who’s used to things a certain way. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. “You are the least judgmental person I know. It’s one of the things I like most about you.”

He’d never been good at judging people—for better or for worse. He’d been horribly taken advantage of in his youth on a few occasions. Thankfully he’d had his siblings to step in and protect him from assholes.

They continued to drive west, and his curiosity over their destination grew. “I’m trying to think of where we’re going, and I’m drawing a blank.”

“It’s not exactly an obvious place for a date. At least not at our age.”

Now he was really confused. The limo turned left off the highway and followed the country road for a few miles. They were headed toward another small town southwest of Ribbon Ridge, but there was nothing there, save an Elks Lodge, a tiny, family-owned diner, and a lavender farm. Oh, and the high school that served all of the small towns in this part of the valley.

Just as he thought that, the limo turned up the road leading to West Valley High School. “Are we going to my high school?”

They pulled into the parking lot, so clearly, yes, they were. The limo stopped in front of the gym. The driver opened the right-hand door and helped Alaina out. Evan watched her long legs unfold as she stood on the curb. He liked her in heels. Unbelievably sexy.

He climbed out, and she took his hand. He followed her toward the door to the gym. “What about the driver?”

“He’ll wait.”

Mesmerized by the sway of her hips, he trailed her until she reached the door. He stepped around her and pulled it open. “It’s unlocked.”

She looked up at him, her lips curved. “It’s all part of the surprise. Come inside.” She stepped over the threshold and then to the side to allow him to move beside her.

The door clanged shut behind him, and he felt as though he’d stepped into another world. A world he’d seen in a high-school yearbook but had never experienced for himself.

The gym was awash in twinkling white lights, pale blue and white streamers, and more balloons than he’d ever seen in his life.

“How?” He didn’t get the rest of the question out. Couldn’t.

He headed farther inside, his eyes moving quickly from one detail to another. There was a pergola strung with lights on one wall. In front of it was a camera on a tripod. There was a table with a punch bowl and two glasses. Another table sported all sorts of candy set up in intricate displays—licorice sticks, a cascade of colored candies, even a chocolate fountain. A disco ball hung over the far end of the gym, and at the other was a small, rectangular table with candles and covered plates.

“It looks like a high-school dance. All except the champagne chilling next to the table.” Assuming that was champagne and not sparkling cider. “I’ll be really disappointed if that’s some lame nonalcoholic beverage.”

She laughed. “It’s not.”

“How did you do this?” He shook his head and turned toward her. “No, why did you do this?”

“You said you never went to prom. I did, and mine was stupid. I barely stayed fifteen minutes. I thought we both deserved a nice memory of something we hadn’t done. Something we could share together.”

He couldn’t come up with words at all. No one had ever done anything like this for him. Oh, fuck words anyway. They were completely overrated. He clasped her waist and drew her hard and fast against him, his mouth sweeping down to claim hers. He poured all of the things he couldn’t think to say into the kiss, thanking her, appreciating her, loving her.

Loving her?

Is this what love felt like? He didn’t know, but he didn’t want the feeling to end.

She stretched her body against his and curled her fingers into his nape, tugging on his hair and meeting the thrust of his tongue with hard, delicious strokes. She moved her hands forward and cupped his face before pulling back. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving. But not for food.”

“Later. There’s dinner, and we have to dance. It is a dance, after all.”

He’d been so focused on all the visuals that he’d missed the music piping through the sound system. He wasn’t certain of the song, but it was Kelly Clarkson, and it was definitely from his high-school era. “You thought of everything, even the music. I’m pretty sure this is from my senior year.”

“Yep. I graduated two years ahead of you, so the playlist spans a few years.” She took his hand again and led him to the table.

“That’s right. I’m dating an older woman. But I guess that’s my MO.”

She looked at him over her bare shoulder. Damn, that was one sexy dress. “I thought you hadn’t really dated anyone before.”

Her tone seemed playful—at least he thought so. He was beginning to read her the way he was able to read his family. “True. But I typically only hang with older women. I hadn’t put that together until now.” Michelle was in her early thirties, and the girl he’d hooked up with in college had been a grad student who’d also been on the spectrum.

She laughed softly. “It’s good to know my age is working for me in some way.”

They arrived at the table, and he held out her chair, then gently scooted her forward. “What do you mean?”

The wine had already been uncorked—someone or maybe several someones had to be working behind the scenes here—so he pulled it from the ice bucket and filled the flutes on the table. He looked at the label and recognized it as one of the best sparkling wines from Oregon. “Great choice,” he said.

“It came highly recommended. To answer your question, I meant that my age isn’t usually my best selling point at this stage of my career. I’m past the ingénue period, and right now Hollywood can’t figure out what to do with me.”

“Hollywood is stupid. I know exactly what to do with you.”

She arched a brow at him as she picked up her glass. “What’s that?”

“In keeping with the Hollywood theme, do you want the PG version or the R-rated one?”

“Definitely R, and maybe later you can show me X.” She lifted her glass. “To X-rated fantasies coming true.”

He stared at her mouth and came up with about fifty new fantasies right there.

“Aren’t you going to drink?” she asked.

He swiped up his glass and took a long swig, barely tasting it.

The music switched to “This Love” by Maroon 5. He tapped his foot. “I still have this on rotation on my iPod.”

“I love Maroon 5. Adam is the nicest guy—funny, too.”

“You know Adam Levine? Of course you do. You met Leonard Nimoy, for crying out loud.”

She nodded. “Guilty. It’s weird, right? But we’re just normal people.” She pulled the lid off her plate to reveal ribeye steak with a loaded baked potato and steamed veggies. “Hope you like dinner.”

He set his lid aside, and his stomach growled. “I forgot to eat lunch. This is my favorite meal.”

She grinned. “I know.”

He picked up his utensils and cut into his perfectly prepared steak. “How’d you pull all this off?”

“I had help—Sara mostly—with the setup and decorations and all that.”

“Makes sense, since that’s what she does.”

“Kyle had a friend of his make the dinner in the school kitchen, if you can believe that.”

“I can’t. I can’t believe you got the school to cooperate.” He took a bite of steak—it was so damn good. A thought occurred to him as he swallowed. “You did get the school to cooperate, right?”

She laughed between bites of dinner. “Yes. We’re here on the up and up, I promise. Sara helped me work it out with the school district, though I’m kind of cheating with the champagne, so don’t tell anyone. We have full access to the gym.” She lowered her voice. “Although, that doesn’t mean we can’t go exploring if you want to show me around.”

“I honestly can’t think of why I’d do that. High school doesn’t hold fond memories for me.”

Her brow furrowed, and she took a drink of wine. “I’m sorry. Was it that bad?”

“It wasn’t bad or good. It just was. I got through it, thanks to my brothers and sisters. But I wasn’t into it like they were. Kyle was quarterback. Liam was student-body president and track star. Tori ran the yearbook and started a girls engineering club.”

“What about Sara and Alex?”

“They were more like me, though Sara sang in the choir and had a few parts in the musicals. And it’s not that I did nothing. I was in the engineering club and the chess club. I played basketball my freshman year, but I didn’t like it enough to continue, much to the coach’s disappointment.”

“I bet. Were you this tall back then?”

He nodded. “Six-one by the time I hit ninth grade. I towered over most other guys. Which only made me feel more awkward.”

She reached across the table and touched his hand. “I hate that you felt awkward.”

“Didn’t everyone?” He’d forgotten who he was talking to. “Scratch that. I’m pretty sure you’ve never had an awkward day in your life.”

She made a sound like a game-show buzzer. “Wrong.” She took a bite of potato and washed it back with some water. “I was tall for my age, too, and, uh, endowed.”

His gaze dropped to her breasts, which he knew firsthand to be absolutely magnificent. “How is that awkward? You were probably the most popular girl in school.”

“Not quite, but anyway, for the wrong reasons. Girls don’t want to be known for their boobs or any other physical attribute.” She sounded irritated.

“Sorry, I didn’t think about it like that, but I get it.” He scooped up a spoonful of potato. “So you felt weird?”

“I didn’t like receiving attention for something I had no control over and about which I felt incredibly uncomfortable.”

He set his spoon down and stared at her. “That’s how I felt to a T.”

Her features relaxed, and she smiled softly. “I thought you might understand.”

Beyoncé blasted over the speakers as they finished up their meals. “This is really incredible,” he said. “Do you want more wine?”

“Sure.” She held up her glass for him to pour. “Sorry there isn’t anyone serving us. I preferred us to be alone.”

So they could be especially naughty in the high school if they wanted. He’d heard stories about people having sex in the orchestra pit under the stage in the auditorium and was pretty sure Liam had been one of them. He slid Alaina a glance, wondering if she’d be game. But she looked so beautiful, so perfect, like a decorated dessert you hated to ruin by eating. He didn’t want to mess her up. He just wanted to stare at her all night.

God, if he said any of this nonsense out loud, she’d think he was the biggest tool. Thank God he’d learned to keep his mouth shut from time to time.

A slower song came on, and she scooted back in her chair. “Come on, it’s dancing time.”

He hadn’t quite finished his dinner, but he didn’t care. He’d meant it when he’d said he wasn’t starving for food.

She twined her fingers through his and led him to the disco ball. It spun slowly, raining glistening lights over the walls and floor.

He circled his arm around her waist. “This is where I tell you I’ve never danced in my life.”

Her jaw dropped. “No way.”

“Way. Do I take your hand?”

“You can, or we can do it old school and I’ll just put my arms around your neck like this.” Her breasts pressed against his chest in this position, and their hips were separated by a mere inch.

He put his other hand around her waist and pulled her closer to eliminate that inch. “I think I prefer old school.”

She tipped her hips back and forth to the slow reggae beat. Her pelvis ground lightly against his, coaxing his cock to full attention.

“If you don’t stop that, we’re going to be doing something other than dancing,” he said.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Things we probably shouldn’t do in a high school.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m sure it’s all been done before.” She pulled his head down and kissed him.

When they came up for air a moment later, he was painfully aware of his raging erection and the feel of her ass in his hands.

“We already had the champagne, which we weren’t supposed to do.” She giggled. “I suppose we could find . . . someplace. Although, I have a pretty killer after-party planned.”

“Now. Let’s go now.”

“But this is your dance!” The music changed and sped up a bit. She held on to his neck and tipped her head back. “We should stay awhile.”

He leaned forward and nuzzled her neck before kissing along her collarbone to her bare shoulder. “God you taste amazing.”

She sighed as she dug her fingers into his neck. “Evan.”

“We’re not staying. Tell me the driver’s waiting outside.” He licked her flesh and kissed her.

“He is.”

“And tell me we don’t have to worry about anything here.” He brought his hand up her back and around her rib cage to cup her breast through the dress.

“We don’t.”

“Now tell me your after-party is close.” He flicked his thumb over her nipple and licked along her collarbone.

“Uh . . . ”

He nipped at her, eliciting a gasp from her throat and pressure on his neck from her hands. “Wrong answer,” he said just before he kissed her savagely, driving his tongue into her mouth. She clutched at his hair and kissed him back, meeting his intensity with her own.

He abruptly pulled away and strode to the table. He downed the rest of both of their wine, clinked the glasses together between his fingers, and picked up the bottle. “I assume there’s one of these—” he gestured to the ice bucket “—in the limo?”

“Probably.”

“Good.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door. “Because I want this to stay nice and cold before I drink it from your navel.”

Chapter Sixteen

AS SOON AS they were ensconced in the back of the limo, Evan pulled her onto his lap and kissed her. His cock was hard and thick beneath her ass, and now she was cursing the proximity of her stupid after-party. It was back in Ribbon Ridge—just outside actually—but the wait to get there would be worth it.

She ran her hands down the lapel of his black jacket and pulled back, pushing against his chest. He looked so hot tonight in a black shirt and the black jacket. The look was very Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock Holmes. In a word: scrumptious.

“Any chance we can torture ourselves and wait until we get to our destination?” she asked.

“You’re evil,” he said. “I need more wine if you’re going to expect me to be patient.”

She slid from his lap and poured wine into a flute and handed it to him. “It’ll be worth it. I promise.”

Even though he wasn’t looking right at her, his gaze smoldered nonetheless. “I don’t doubt it.”

“Could you look at me for just a second?” He did as she asked, and she felt the brunt of that smolder. Heat bloomed between her thighs, and she was sorely tempted to throw her plans out the window. “Never mind. Look away now. Please.”

He laughed, and it was deep and throaty. Utterly sexy, and unlike any sound he’d ever made. He seemed to have reached a new level of comfort with her tonight. She’d never seen him so self-assured, so loose.

“The one time I look directly at you, and you can’t handle it. Maybe there’s a reason I suck at eye contact.”

“What, you don’t know the power of your own fuck-me eyes?” She couldn’t contain her laughter over the absolute absurdity of this conversation.

“Maybe. I actually like that. I can’t look directly at people without them falling in thrall.”

She had to put the bottle back in the bucket before she spilled it because she was laughing so hard.

He took her glass. “Let me.”

“Oh, screw it.” She snatched the empty glass from his hand and dropped it to the floor. Then she snaked her hands around his neck and pushed him back against the seat. She hiked up her skirt and straddled his thighs, grinding her pelvis down against his. He clasped her waist and held her tight as he arched up, pressing his cock into her heat.

She nipped his lower lip as she left his mouth and moved down to his neck, where she kissed and licked at him. He smelled fabulous. He was wearing cologne, which was a first in her experience with him. It only added to his off-the-charts fuckability factor tonight.

“Fuckability factor?” he asked.

“Did I say that out loud?” she muttered against his flesh as she flicked open the topmost closed button on his shirt. She traveled to the next one and pushed the cotton apart to expose his delicious chest. “You are so hot. Why do you not have women drooling after you in long swathes?”

“What, like some pied piper of sex?”

“Dude, you’re on a roll.” She opened her mouth and kissed his flesh, dragging her tongue in a wide whirl.

“Holy shit, Alaina. If you don’t knock that off, we’re having the after-party right here.”

“I decided I’m impatient.” She lifted her head and kissed him again, mouth open and greedy.

He emitted a low, primal grunt from deep in his throat just before he thrust his hands up under the hem of her dress and pushed it up to her waist. His fingers dug into her hips and ass as he kneaded her flesh. They ground against each other in helpless abandon.

He sucked on her tongue and slipped his hands into her underwear until he palmed her bare ass. Damn, this was not the slow, romantic seduction she’d planned.

She ripped her mouth from his and flung herself backward, landing on the rear-facing seat. She wiped the edge of her mouth, panting from their kisses and her excitement.

“Why did you stop?” The question was husky and low, full of masculine demand.

She pulled her dress down, shimmying her hips to help it descend. “We’ll be there in a minute.” Please drive faster, she mentally urged the driver.

“Where are we going?”

“Ribbon Ridge-ish.”

“That’s not terribly helpful. I’d like to know how long you expect me to suffer this agony.”

She looked at the bulge in his pants and licked her lips.

“Alaina,” he growled. “Stop looking at me like that and licking your damned lips.”

She turned and knocked on the glass separating them from the driver. It slowly descended. “Hi. How long until we arrive?”

He glanced at the navigation system in the dash. “Five minutes.”

“Thank you,” she said sweetly, and the glass went back up.

Evan tossed back his wine. “That’s an eternity.” He leaned forward and poured more into the glass, but she took it from him before he could drink.

“I need a hit of this, sorry.” She downed what he’d poured and went for the bottle again.

“Hey, I need some of that for later.”

She gave him a saucy look. “There’s more of it where we’re going.”

At last, the limo started climbing.

“We’re going to the monastery,” he said.

“The Ridgeview, actually. And more accurately, the upstairs suite.”

“You thought of absolutely everything.”

“I hope so.” She’d started planning it several days ago—the prom part. And after touring the Ridgeview with Sara, the after-party had taken shape.

The limo pulled into the dirt and gravel lot and then took them down the lane to the cottage. A moment later, the driver opened the door. Evan nabbed the nearly empty wine bottle and jumped out, then held out his hand for her. She grasped it, and the electrical current of lust nearly made her stumble.

“Will there be anything else?” the driver asked.

“No, thank you.” Alaina had already taken care of paying him, including tip.

Evan pulled her next to him. “How are we getting home?”

She didn’t intend to leave until the morning but wasn’t going to say that. She hoped to get him to sleep with her, but she didn’t want to scare him off. “Your car’s over there.” She pointed to the other side of the lane.

The driver nodded at them and then got back into the limo. Alaina turned to Evan. “Sara left a key under the mat.”

“She knew we were coming here?”

“Yes, does that bother you?”

“Not at all, and of all my siblings, she’s the most trustworthy one you could ask.”

Alaina laughed. “I thought so. I’m getting to know you Archers pretty well.”

“But I also have a key.” He took his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. “Sara knows that. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.”

“She did, but we planned for every contingency.”

He pushed the door open and set the wine bottle down on the floor next to the wall. He turned, swept her into his arms, and carried her over the threshold. Maybe this was going to be the romantic evening she’d planned, after all.

She locked her hands behind his neck and kissed him just beneath his ear. “Leave the wine. There’s more upstairs.”

He tightened his hold on her and bore her to the staircase at the back of the cottage. He carried her up the stairs like she weighed nothing, but then, she’d seen what he could bench-press. The stairs opened up to a landing with two doors. She knew one led to a closet and the other to the suite.

He knew which was which and carried her into the suite. The room was aglow with candles—battery-operated, like at the high school, so that she could have everything set and ready without worrying about burning something down. Music played softly in the background. She’d chosen instrumental with a bit of a Celtic hint. She liked the beat because it was primal and heavy. Sexual.

He lowered her to the floor, and she slipped her arms from his neck. “Where are you going?” he rasped.

She perched on the edge of the four-poster bed. “I was going to take off my shoes, if you want to help.”

He squatted down and lifted her foot. With deft fingers, he unbuckled the slender strap and slid the shoe off. “These can’t be very comfortable.”

“Not particularly, but they look fantastic, right?”

He moved to the other shoe. “They’re without question the sexiest shoes I’ve ever seen. On the sexiest legs to ever walk this earth.” He ran his hand up her calf and cupped the back of her knee.

She jerked, giggling. “I’m ticklish there.”

“Are you?” He slid his other palm up her other leg and drew a fingertip into the cavity behind her knee. “Like that?”

She squealed and pulled her leg away. “Stop it!”

He sobered. “Sorry. I hate to be tickled. I shouldn’t have done that.”

She stood from the bed, eager to banish any discomfort. She wanted tonight to be perfect. And it had been going so well. She’d never seen him so comfortable, so easily witty and carefree. It was intoxicating.

She pressed her palms against his chest and slipped them under his jacket, pushing it from his shoulders. He arched his back and let the garment fall behind him. “Do you want more wine?” she asked.

“Not right now.” He fingered one of her earrings. “These look expensive.”

“They were a birthday gift from a producer I’ve worked with a bunch of times. And yeah, I think they’re worth about fifteen grand.”

He blew out a breath. “I hope you don’t expect me to buy you a present like that.”

She reached up and took them off. “I thought you said you had a trust fund. If you don’t, I might have to rethink this relationship.” She set the earrings on the nightstand, and when she turned back, he was staring at the bed. “Evan?” She touched his arm. “I was kidding. I don’t care about your trust fund.”

“I know. But you said . . . relationship. Is that what this is?”

She took his hands in hers but didn’t ask him to look at her again. “I think so. Are you okay with that? We don’t really have to call it anything. I’m happy with you, are you happy with me?”

“Yes. And I don’t care what you call it either.” He cupped her face and kissed her. Where their connection had been intense and rough in the limo, now it was soft and gentle. Sweet. “How does your dress come off?”

She smiled against his mouth. “There’s a zipper on the side, underneath my arm. Here.” She lifted her shoulder and reached over with her other hand to slide the zipper down. The dress gapped open, and as she shrugged to dislodge the one shoulder of the dress, her breasts fell out. His gaze dropped to them. “Fancy built-in bra with this dress—it was made for me by the designer.”

“Fucking brilliant. Every single dress should be this easy.” He lifted her breasts in his hands, weighing them almost reverently. “I have zero experience with fake tits, but I’m guessing these are real.”

“Completely.”

“Your maker was incredibly good to you. And by extension me.”

She laughed again, unable to suppress the joy cartwheeling inside of her. “Lucky us.” She shimmied her hips, and the dress fell to the floor. Without waiting for him to ask or touch her, she slipped her underwear down and kicked them aside. Standing naked before him, she looked up into his face.

He’d let go of her breasts and was staring at her hair. “Can I take it down? I almost don’t want to. You look so perfect. Like a fancy cake.”

She began to pull the pins out one by one, and gradually her hair cascaded down her back until it became too heavy and the mass fell before she was finished. She managed to find the last few pins and dumped them next to her earrings.

He touched her mouth with the tip of his finger, and she sucked it into her mouth. His indrawn breath spread heat outward from her belly. “No one’s ever done that to me before.”

She continued to suckle him, drawing him deeper into her mouth. He gripped her waist and closed his eyes briefly. Then he pulled his finger out and trailed it down her chin and along the front of her throat. He slowly dragged it down between her breasts, leaving a path of trembling want.

He splayed his hand flat against her belly, his touch light and oh so arousing. Her pulse sped as he moved to her side, skimming his palm over her heated flesh as he went.

“Are you really mine?” He caressed her ass as he circled around her, pausing to brush his fingers up and down her flesh and drawing a needy sigh from her lips.

“Yes.” But her answer was to so much more than that simple question. Yes, I’m yours. Yes, touch me. Yes, make love to me. Yes, never let me go.

Yes.

He slipped his hand between her legs from behind and found her core. She was wet and hot and so ready. She gripped the bedpost to her right and held on as he stroked his finger into her. “Oh God.”

He withdrew, then surged forward again. And again. He pushed her hair to the side, and most of it fell over her shoulder and grazed the top of her breast. His breath whispered against her neck a moment before his lips pressed down. His tongue, all velvety softness, brushed along her spine. All the while, his finger kept up its relentless invasion.

His other hand came around her and cupped her breast, squeezing her flesh lightly and then pulling on her nipple until she gasped. She widened her stance and arched back against him, wanting more. “Please,” she begged.

He moved his hand around to her front and slipped his finger in that way. No, fingers, this was fuller, better. She cast her head back against his shoulder as he tugged her nipple and latched his mouth onto her neck.

She moaned, rotating her hips, seeking release as her orgasm built. He pressed his hand flat, then found her clit, grazing it with swift, delightful strokes. Then his fingers were inside her again, and he kept his hand flush against her clit as he pumped hard and fast.

“Come, Alaina,” he whispered in her ear. He tweaked her nipple, and the floodgates opened. She cried out as pleasure slammed into her, weakening her legs. If not for him behind her, holding her, she would’ve collapsed to the floor.

He didn’t stop until she sagged against him. With an artful pivot, he swept her into his arms and laid her carefully on the bed. Her entire body trembled, her breasts and thighs tingling with satisfaction. She watched him as he undressed, his fingers moving fast over the buttons of his shirt and stripping it away before her hungry gaze.

The rest of his clothes followed until he was unabashedly, magnificently nude. He really did have a model’s body. Perfectly sculpted, engineered almost. Yes, their maker had been more than generous to both of them.

He had one of his ever-present condoms in his hand and made short work of rolling it on before settling himself between her thighs. She tipped her pelvis up, urging him to find his way home.

He brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her, his mouth hot and wet. He guided himself into her, and she moaned into his mouth. Her flesh, still sensitive from her orgasm, quivered around him. He plunged slow but deep, filling her. He braced a hand next to her head and began to move. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clutched his back.

She would’ve been content to do this forever. Listening to him breathe, feeling his body work, tasting his need—a need that mirrored her own.

He broke away from her mouth and picked up speed. She closed her eyes and listened to the music. The beat of the drums matched the thrum in her veins. She let the rhythm overtake her as he pumped into her. She rose up and met his thrusts, pressing his ass into her with her heels.

She opened her mouth on his neck, kissing and licking and nipping at his flesh. He moved even faster, his hips twitching in perfect time. Another orgasm built and quickly cascaded over her. She reached for his ass, grabbing him just above her feet and squeezing as she came.

He shouted her name and fisted her hair. His cock filled her again and again as his orgasm rocked through him. It felt different from before, for some reason. Better.

He gradually slowed and then slumped, his breathing hard and fast, as if he’d run the track. But then, she sounded exactly the same. She smiled, feeling utterly sated and complete.

He kissed her cheek, and she turned her head to capture his lips with hers. Their tongues danced briefly before he sat up. “Give me a sec.”

He withdrew from her and rolled off the bed. “Well, shit.”

The alarm in his tone set off warning bells in her brain. She sat up. “What is it?”

“I think the condom broke.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was bad. She was pretty sure she’d ovulated a couple days ago, but wasn’t she still fertile? And wasn’t she on fucking Clomid?

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Calm down, Lainie.

She reached down and felt between her thighs. Yeah, the condom had definitely broken. That was what had been different.

She opened her eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s okay.” It might not be, but what was the point in freaking out now? She’d learned a long time ago not to jump to conclusions. Bad shit happened when you made assumptions.

His eyes were narrowed, his mouth hard. “It isn’t really, not unless you’re on some other kind of birth control. And I hope you are, because kids are the last thing I want.”

She’d never heard him speak with such derision. In fact, she hadn’t thought he was capable of that. “Ever?”

“Ever.” He strode toward the bathroom. “I’m not ever having kids, and I’ll never change my mind.”

Alaina’s shoulders drooped as the bathroom door closed. Anything she’d planned to say about what she wanted died on her lips.

EVAN CLEANED UP in the bathroom, but his heart was still racing. The thought of getting Alaina pregnant made him break out in a cold sweat. He knew there was no solid evidence that autism was hereditary, but there was no chance he was willingly having a kid who might be born with this or, even worse, with the bipolar depression that had driven both his grandfather and his brother to kill themselves.

He splashed cold water on his face, then braced his hands on either side of the sink and looked in the mirror. There was a red mark where she’d kissed his neck. It wasn’t a hickey—it would be gone soon, like her.

Relationship? What the hell kind of relationship could he give her? Great sex? A good time? Nothing more. They’d said nothing permanent, and he still meant it. He had to.

He took a quick shower to rinse off and hurriedly toweled dry. He wrapped the towel around his waist before leaving the bathroom to grab his clothes.

He opened the door to find her sitting up in bed, her hair in a ponytail. She’d thrown on a sweatshirt and yoga pants, which she must’ve stashed here earlier.

She pointed to the floor next to the bathroom door. “There’s a bag for you over there. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Thanks.” He picked up the bag and went back into the bathroom. She’d packed toiletries, clothing, even his meds, which he took every morning. She’d intended them to spend the night together. And since there was only one bed, she’d meant for him to sleep with her. He told her he didn’t do that. He didn’t care how into her he was, he didn’t do that.

Irritation, something he didn’t encounter on a regular basis, threaded through his body and set him on edge. He got dressed quickly and went back into the bedroom.

“I’m not spending the night here. Are you ready to go, or do you want to shower?”

She fidgeted with the sheet. “You seem angry.”

“Yeah, kind of.”

She got up from the bed and walked toward him but stopped before she got too close. Good, because he didn’t think he wanted to be touched right now. His mind and body had gone from total bliss to practically shorting out.

“Because of the condom, or because I was hoping we’d spend the night together?”

“Both.” He moved the bag to his other hand. “I’d rather not talk about it right now.”

She pursed her lips briefly, then crossed her arms. “Why not?”

He kept his gaze fixed on the headboard, but he could see her reactions from his peripheral vision. “Because I don’t want to have a meltdown in front of you.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” She uncrossed her arms and took a step closer. “Really. I care about you so much. You can be yourself with me, your complete, uninhibited self.”

“If I can not have a meltdown, it’s better for me. Do you understand that?”

She flinched, and he realized he must’ve said that more sharply than he realized. Once again, his communication skills were circling the toilet. “I’ll be just a minute,” she said.

She grabbed her bag from the corner and went into the bathroom. He heard the lock turn. As if he would’ve tried to go in. He was a mess. Or at least bordering on a mess.

He went to the cushioned bench at the foot of the bed and sat. How had the night gone from the best of his life to complete disaster? Because the stupid condom had broken and put his entire brain out of whack. Logically, he knew he ought to be able to acknowledge the chances of pregnancy were low. However, they weren’t nonexistent, so emotionally he was fucked.

He got up and plucked his clothes from the floor. His phone was still in the pocket of his pants. He pulled it out and stuffed everything else into the bag.

He stared at the screen for a moment before searching for his meditation app. He brought it up and began a ten-minute relaxation exercise.

By the time Alaina came out of the bathroom, he was done, but he was still lying on the floor on his back. He slowly opened his eyes and glanced at her standing near the door.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Meditating.” He plucked his phone off his chest and got up. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

He scanned the room. She’d picked up all of her things—her clothes, her jewelry—while he’d been in the bathroom. “Do we just leave everything like this? I don’t remember if there’s a cleaning crew or something.”

She crossed the room, passing him without getting close enough to touch. “Sara said it would be taken care of.”

He nodded and moved to open the bedroom door for her to precede him down the stairs. He let her outside and then turned to lock the door behind them. It was late—nearly midnight—and the sky had completely cleared. That also meant it was cold, and neither one of them had coats.

“I guess we forgot it was February,” he said.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

He dropped his bag behind the car on his way to open her door. Then he took her bag and waited for her to get situated before closing it firmly. He stowed both bags in the trunk before climbing in the driver side. He fired up the engine, and more importantly the heater and heated seats, and pulled down the lane.

“Are you feeling better after meditating?” she asked.

“Yes, it typically helps.” Physically, he felt great, but mentally, there was a still a kernel of annoyance at the back of his mind. He didn’t know how to make it go away. Hopefully tomorrow he’d feel better.

“I’m glad.” She went quiet, as if she were hesitating. She smoothed her hand over her thigh, drawing his attention to her familiar shape. “Can we talk about what happened now?”

He wasn’t sure but thought he probably owed it to her to at least try. “We can give it a shot, but I can’t promise I won’t ask you to table it for another time.”

“Fair enough. So, you don’t ever want any kids at all? I mean, you said that, but I just wanted to be sure.”

“You heard it right. No kids. Ever.”

“Why?”

“Hereditary issues. Too much garbage in my genes I’d rather not pass on.”

“What about adopting? Would you feel the same if there wasn’t any chance of the child inheriting your ‘garbage’?”

“I hadn’t thought about it.” And why would he have? He’d yet to experience a relationship that made him think about tomorrow, let alone forever, and children just didn’t figure into the conversation until you were ready for that level of commitment. “To be honest with you, I’ve never seen myself getting married or even being in a long-term relationship, so the whole kid thing is moot.”

She shifted in the seat, turning toward him. “Really? You expected to spend your life . . . alone?”

He shrugged. “I’m never really alone. You’ve met my family, right?”

“Sure, but they aren’t your partner, your best friend, your lover.”

She had him there. “So far I haven’t missed those things. I’ve managed to do just fine.”

She settled back in her seat and folded her arms across her chest. “Because you had a fuck buddy who you kept at arm’s length.”

He winced at her description but couldn’t find fault with it. He also couldn’t quite bring himself to feel guilty. He’d been honest with Alaina. “I told you I suck at relationships and that I wasn’t interested in anything long-term. I told Michelle the same thing. I can’t help it if she forgot or chose to ignore what I said.” Shit, was the same thing happening with Alaina? Was she starting to expect more from him?

He turned his neck from side to side as his senses started to sway again. He’d wondered earlier if he might be feeling something for Alaina, something he’d never felt before. Something he’d never expected.

He pulled up the drive toward the house, glad that they were almost home and he could retreat to his solitude, where he felt utterly safe and in control.

“Sometimes people can’t help the way they feel,” she said quietly.

He couldn’t quite detect the emotion behind her statement, and spending a bunch of energy worrying about it would likely put him over the edge. He pulled into the garage and shut the car off.

She opened her door and jumped out. He followed suit and met her at the back. When he pulled out their bags, she took hers from his grasp. Their fingers touched, and he felt a pang of longing. He reached for her other hand, but she turned and started toward the apartment.

He grabbed his bag and shut the trunk, hurrying to close the garage door and catch up to her. “Do you want me to carry that upstairs for you?”

“No, I’ve got it.” She paused at the door. “I hope you had fun tonight. We didn’t even do everything at the dance. I meant for us to at least take our picture.”

Was that a twinge of regret in her voice? He wanted to turn back the clock and take that picture—and use a different condom. “I did. I had an amazing time until . . . you know.”

“Until a life you never wanted flashed before your eyes? I get it.” She opened the door and stepped inside.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked. “It’s Sunday dinner, unless everybody scared you off last week.”

She turned to look at him, but her face was completely in shadow, so he couldn’t see her expression. Not that he would’ve done a very good job of interpreting it. Right now, he had no idea what she was thinking or feeling. As in so many situations, he was helplessly, frustratingly blind.

“They didn’t scare me off. I’ll think about it. Good night.” She turned, and he watched her go up. He stood in the doorway, registering the cold but not caring about it, until she’d closed and bolted the door at the top of the stairs.

He wanted to say something, to repair the damage that had been done. Okay, apparently he wasn’t completely blind. He knew she was upset. He just wasn’t certain why. Had he freaked her out with his talk of meltdowns? No, she’d said she could handle it, pretty much said she wanted to handle it.

It had to be that he wouldn’t spend the night with her. She’d gone to all of this effort to create the perfect evening, and he’d pissed all over the climactic ending.

No wonder she was mad.

He closed the door and walked over to the house. He’d make it up to her tomorrow. Right after he asked his sister how in the hell to do that.

Chapter Seventeen

ALAINA’S PHONE VIBRATED on the nightstand, waking her from a deep sleep in which she nursed a baby contentedly until she realized it was fake and that it was just a movie role. She reached for the phone and squinted at the display. Four thirteen in the morning. Crystal better have a good reason for calling at this hour.

She slid her finger across the screen. “What.”

“Sorry to bother you, but I just got a frantic phone call from the producer of the Academy Awards. They are desperate, and since he knows you, he’s begging. Jeff’s a good guy. You should do him the favor. You know how things come back around in this town.”

Yes, she did. She fell back against the pillows and closed her eyes. “The whole point of my getting out of town was to lay low. If I come back and do this, I’ll be on the red carpet and people will ask stupid questions. I’ll throat punch them, get arrested, and, well, disaster.”

“The story’s died back. And you know you can skip the red carpet entirely. Just go on stage to hand out the award. So what’s the deal? Do you just not want to leave this guy you met?”

She would’ve said yes, until last night. She’d lain awake until probably two thinking about how a relationship with Evan would work out. How could she think about a future with a guy who basically didn’t see himself as boyfriend, let alone husband material, and for whom kids were completely off the table?

“No, I could come back. Is this still best costume? I thought they got Reese Witherspoon to do it.”

“They did. This is for best picture.”

Wow. That was usually saved for legends. And she wasn’t a legend. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Would I call you at four in the morning for anything less than best picture?”

Alaina smiled. “Good point.”

“There is something else, actually. I didn’t want to interrupt your whatever last night.” Since she’d shipped Alaina’s things, she’d known about the date, but her questions about specifics had gone unanswered.

Alaina heard Crystal’s disappointment and felt bad for keeping her in the dark. “It was just a date.”

“Just a date in a Golden Globes dress, your favorite diamond earrings, and those Louboutins I covet.”

“I was trying to knock his socks off.”

“And did you?”

“Yes.” And everything else, too. She’d also scared the crap out of him with her plan to spend the night together, and while she was upset about it, she couldn’t be upset with him. He’d been clear from the start—just like he’d said—and she was the one who was trying to change the rules. “So what was the something else?”

“Isaac called me with a rumor, but his intel is pretty reliable. It sounds like Christopher Nolan’s sending you a script.”

Alaina sat up in bed, and her eyes shot open as all vestiges of drowsiness fled. “Shut up.” Nolan was her dream director. Every actor had one, but so few actually got to work with them. She’d worked with some huge names, but Nolan was the golden ring. If it was a science-fiction or fantasy script—like Inception or Interstellar—she would die.

“So I should book you a jet?”

Alaina’s pulse raced. “When’s the script arriving?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a rumor, but it came from the studio, so I’d say it’s a pretty good bet. You just might want to be here in case, you know, he wants to meet or something.”

For a brief moment, she wondered if she should stay, but why? Evan had been very clear about where he stood. “Let me know when I need to be at the airport.”

“Will do. I’ll get everything set for tomorrow. Isaac has a handful of designers on speed dial.”

Shit, the Oscars weren’t tomorrow, they were today. In like twelve or so hours. “That jet better get here fast.”

“I’ll text you with details.”

“Great. See you in a bit.” Alaina disconnected and tossed the phone on the bed.

Christopher Freaking Nolan. She squealed and kicked her feet under the covers.

This could change everything. Her decision to take a year or two off. Most importantly, the baby. And of course Evan. But she suspected there wasn’t anything there anyway. They’d had a great time the past ten or so days, and it was time to exit the bubble and step back into reality.

What was her problem? She loved her life. She’d worked her ass off to get here, and it was exactly what she wanted.

Except her reality felt different now. Incomplete. And not just because her biological clock was ticking louder than a hurricane.

Like Evan, she’d expected to be alone given her track record with guys. Finding a husband hadn’t worked out very well, which was why she was doing in vitro.

But now she’d had a glimpse of someone she could’ve spent forever with. Too bad there was no way he would’ve felt the same.

“HEY, EVAN,” KYLE called out as Evan came down the back stairs at six for dinner. “We’re eating downstairs so we can watch the Oscars. It’s already on, and I’ve got a pasta bar set up. I’m just grabbing the garlic bread.” He wore mitts on his hands and opened the oven to pull out two foil-covered loaves.

Evan had actually wanted to avoid dinner with his family tonight, but that was hard since it was Sunday and he lived in the house. Plus, he was starving. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, when he’d gotten Alaina’s text: I’m headed back to LA. Something came up unexpectedly—sorry. I’ll see you soon.

It had been vague, which was very unlike Alaina. It had also ruined his appetite for the rest of the day, as well as his creative mojo. He’d spent a good part of the afternoon in the gym.

“Where’s Alaina? We haven’t seen her yet,” Kyle said as he unwrapped the bread and set the already-cut pieces into a huge basket lined with a cloth.

“She’s, uh, back in LA. She had a thing.”

Kyle looked up at him, his hands stilling. “Everything okay?”

Evan shrugged. “Fine. Do you need help carrying anything down?”

“No, we got everything.” Kyle looked at him another moment, and Evan worried he was going to ask about Alaina. When he didn’t, Evan exhaled in relief. “I’m heading down, you coming?” Kyle asked.

Why not? He could grab dinner, then head back upstairs. He needed to get some work done, not think about Alaina and whether her leaving was really because something had come up or if he’d driven her away with his freak-out.

As he walked to the stairs, Sean and Tori came in the back door. It was raining, and they both peeled off their wet coats. Tori hung hers on her hook and went to Evan. “Hey, I heard Alaina left. You okay?”

Is this how it was going to be tonight? Everyone fawning all over him because Alaina had gone back home? “I’m fine, and I’d appreciate it if you and everybody else stopped acting like Alaina and I are a couple or somehow joined at the hip.”

“Aren’t you a couple?” Sean asked, joining them.

Tori cast her husband a narrow-eyed stare and whispered something Evan couldn’t hear. He didn’t want to hear it either. He wanted to grab his food and get back to the quiet solitude of his room.

Except as soon as he got downstairs and his eyes landed on the television screen, he was mesmerized. They were showing a montage of movies that had come out in the past year, including one in which Alaina had starred. Her hair was pale blonde in the clip, her face overdone with makeup. She was playing a mother with two young children, and she was struggling with some sort of problem—alcohol or drug addiction or some sort of mental illness.

He couldn’t help but think of her as a mother to a child they might have created, and for a fleeting moment, warmth filled his chest. But then he thought of what kind of father he might be, and a chill overtook him. Still, he couldn’t look away from her luminous face. Then it was gone from the screen, and everyone erupted into applause and commentary since they now knew the famous actress.

He turned and went to where Kyle had laid out the food and began to dish up his dinner.

Tori came up beside him. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem subdued—even for you.”

“I’m just busy with work.”

She tugged on his arm so he’d look at her for a moment. Her mouth was doing that little frowny thing that wasn’t quite a frown. “Don’t be dismissive. This is important. Alaina’s important. I’ve never seen you like you were with her. You were so on—you know, engaged . . . happy.”

He knew what she meant. “Yeah, so?”

“So, did you have feelings for her?”

He should’ve expected this would come up eventually, but that would mean he understood emotion and relationships, and he really didn’t. “I liked her a lot. I liked spending time with her.” Understatement of the century, asshole. He’d loved spending time with her. But had he loved her? He honestly didn’t know.

Her brow furrowed. “Could it have been more?”

“I don’t know. Tori, I don’t . . . I don’t do that. I don’t look for connections or relationships. If I get along with someone and stuff . . . happens, well, it just happens.”

Tori picked up a pasta bowl. “And what ‘happened’ with Alaina? You guys seemed pretty close. You actually copped to dating her, for crying out loud.”

He smiled faintly. “I guess that does make her sort of unique.”

“Completely.” Tori pressed her lips together. “Is she coming back? Do you have plans? I really think you could make a go of things.”

“In what universe?” He thought about his conversation with Liam at Georgia’s. “How does a guy like me even function in her world?”

Tori flinched. “I don’t know, but you could figure it out.” She looked at him earnestly. “I wasted almost a year of my life trying to fight Fate. I didn’t think Sean and I could work at all—not with what had happened, with how we’d started out. But things changed. I changed. And what I thought was impossible wasn’t just possible, it was critically important to my happiness.” She grinned. “And sanity.”

She was talking about the funk she’d existed in as a result of Alex’s death. Or what Kyle referred to as her “spiral of doom.” Sean had saved her—or as Sara said, love had saved her. But, contrary to Internet memes, love wasn’t an answer.

“I’ll stop pummeling you with questions. I just hope you have plans, that you’ll see each other again. Things seemed too special for you both to just go your separate ways.”

Evan spooned marinara sauce onto his pasta. “I suppose.”

“Your excitement is overwhelming.” Her sarcasm provoked him to smile. “Sean has to fly to LA next week for a meeting. He’ll be there overnight. Why don’t you go with him and take Alaina out for dinner?”

Shit, how would that go? Random nobody takes mega movie star out in Hollywood. Think people would notice? Maybe she could disguise herself again. Or maybe they could just get takeout at her house. His body quickened at the thought of seeing her—physically, mentally, and yes, emotionally. He missed her, and it had only been a day. He’d never missed anyone except his family, not for more than a few hours at best.

“I’ll think about it.”

The show came back on, and the room quieted. Jon Stewart was hosting, and Evan appreciated his dry, self-deprecating wit. Maybe he’d stay and watch a little bit.

The only place to sit was on the couch on which he’d made love to Alaina. Try not to think about that. Just be in the here and now and focus on your family.

He fought the urge to laugh, as he’d never really had to work at being in the present before. It was the other stuff, like dwelling on Alaina and their “relationship,” that typically took effort.

Before he knew it, he’d watched almost the entire show, and now they were down to the last award of the night—best picture. The presenter was a surprise guest, touted as one of Hollywood’s brightest stars and an Academy Award winner herself. His gut clenched as he wondered if it could be her . . .

Then Alaina’s name was announced, and she walked onstage. She looked breathtaking in an aqua gown with a deep V-neck, a massive diamond nestled between her breasts. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back and cascaded down her spine in artful waves. She wore the same earrings she’d had on last night.

Had that only been last night? It felt like a lifetime ago.

Her toes—the nails already a different color than they’d been on their prom date—peeked from the hem of her gown and the strap of those Louboutins she’d worn. Everything about her was both familiar and foreign—she looked ethereal and utterly untouchable on the screen. The movie star was an Alaina he didn’t know, an Alaina he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Her life was so complicated, so public. In a word: a nightmare.

The room erupted again as everyone commented on how she looked and how cool but weird it was to see her on TV after having her as a guest. Sara turned to look at Evan. “Did you know she was going to be on?”

He shook his head. Would he have watched the show if he’d known? Would he have been able to stop himself? He had a hard time reconciling the woman on the screen with the woman he’d come to know.

Suddenly he didn’t think he could go with Sean to LA. That was her world, and it was about as far from Evan as a person could get.

Chapter Eighteen

ALAINA WALKED INTO her kitchen just as Crystal was taking something out of the fridge. “I thought you said you were bringing dinner.”

Crystal set the container on the counter and went to turn the oven on. “Yeah, well, there was a line at the restaurant you asked me to stop at, so I texted Maya, and she said she had a pasta thing in here that I could throw in the oven.”

“Great, carbs,” Alaina muttered.

Crystal snapped her a frustrated glance. “Excuse me?”

Alaina flopped down onto one of the barstools at the granite island. “Sorry, I’m just grumpy.”

“Uh-oh, what happened at the doctor?” Crystal winced. “I was going to open wine, but maybe I should go for the Patrón instead. Or maybe you can’t drink anything alcoholic?”

“Nope, bring on the tequila. The test was negative.” Alaina had gone to the fertility clinic that afternoon under heavy disguise to see if last weekend’s condom mishap had resulted in disaster. It hadn’t.

Crystal breathed out a heavy sigh. “Good news. Wine, then?”

“Actually, I think I’d rather go for a margarita. Maya made some mixer yesterday—it’s in the door of the fridge.”

Crystal retrieved the plastic pitcher. “Your personal chef is awesome.”

Yes, she was, but Alaina found herself missing Kyle’s cooking. And just about everything else to do with Ribbon Ridge.

Crystal went to the liquor cabinet to fetch the Patrón, then set about making the drinks. “Why are you grumpy, then? Unless—” she sent Alaina a sharp look “—unless you’re disappointed by the result?”

“I’m not.” She was disappointed, however. Even though the situation wasn’t ideal, she still wanted a baby, and going from maybe I’m pregnant to definitely not pregnant was a letdown. Worse than that, however, was how she felt about leaving Evan and the stilted text conversations they’d had the past few days. They went something like this:

Alaina: Hey! Just thinking about you and hoping you’re well.

Evan: Good, thanks.

Or

Evan: I saw you on the Oscars. You looked great.

Alaina: Thanks!

Or

Alaina: Good morning! How was your workout?

Evan: Great, thanks. How was yours?

Alaina: Really good.

She winced. They were both to blame for the complete lack of communication. She longed to talk to him, to see him, to touch him. But she didn’t know where to start. How about with “I’m not pregnant”?

“Spill,” Crystal said, stirring the margaritas on the rocks before handing one to Alaina. “Not the drink—I did a really good job on these.”

Alaina cracked a smile at her stupid joke. “I would never spill one of your margaritas.”

Crystal picked up her glass and clacked it against Alaina’s. “To drinking with your best friend.” She took a drink, set the glass on the counter, then leaned forward. “It’s Evan, isn’t it?”

Alaina sipped her drink and then took a longer pull before setting it down. “I’m that transparent?”

“Only to me. But I have to say that I haven’t seen you this hung up on a guy since . . . since forever. This is the point when you bail—but maybe that’s what you did by leaving on Sunday.”

Alaina tossed her a glare. “I had to come back, or don’t you remember calling me at four in the morning about the Academy Awards?”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me. I didn’t hold a gun to your head or anything.”

Alaina stuck her finger into her drink to push down an ice cube that was sticking up. “Sorry, I’m not mad at you.” No, she was mad at herself for being in a funk. And maybe, just maybe, she was mad that Crystal was right. This was the most hung up she’d ever been on a guy. And lucky for her, he just happened be the one guy who couldn’t tolerate her lifestyle and career and had no interest in sharing her dream of a family. She sure knew how to pick ’em.

She licked her finger and took another drink of the margarita. “Might need another one of these.”

Crystal watched her intently for a moment. “So this guy’s different. Why is that a bad thing?”

Alaina hadn’t told her anything beyond the condom-breaking fiasco. Crystal didn’t even know that he was on the autism spectrum. “What if I told you the guy I was seeing—”

“Evan? Saying his name isn’t going to jinx anything or make the situation worse. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Evan’s autistic.”

Crystal blinked. “Like Rain Man autistic?”

Alaina exhaled sharply. “No! Don’t stereotype!”

Crystal held up her hands. “Hey, I have zero experience with this. So tell me about him.”

“His brain works differently than ours. He has trouble processing sensory information and communicating in a typical manner. He’s mostly fine.” She shook her head. “No, he’s totally fine. He’s just different. He’s honest in a way most guys can’t possibly be. When he says or does something, you know it’s true and real. There are no games, no uncertainty. What you see is absolutely what you get.” For better or for worse, since he didn’t sugarcoat anything.

“That sounds pretty awesome actually.”

It was, but because there was no such thing as perfect, there was more to it. “He’s socially unaware, sucks at relationships by his own admission, and has these sensory meltdowns if he gets overwhelmed. Social situations, even with his own family, can aggravate him. And he doesn’t ever want children.” She looked over at Crystal with a sad smile. “See how we’re a match made in hell?”

Crystal came around the island and sat beside her. “I’m sorry, Lainie. That sucks. Why doesn’t he want kids?”

“He says it’s because he’s worried about genetic stuff, but I suspect he doesn’t think he can be a good dad with his . . . I don’t know what to call it. Disability, I guess, but he doesn’t seem disabled. So many of the things that make him quirky are the things I like most about him. His ability to cut through all of the bullshit and just be in the moment. I’ve never met a guy like that.”

“I know,” Crystal said softly. “They’re all too hung up on Alaina Pierce, gorgeous movie star.”

“Exactly. Evan doesn’t do that. I’m not even sure he sees me like that at all. When I got all dressed up in the outfit you sent, he seemed a little shocked.” She smiled at the memory of his appreciative gaze when he’d seen her step out of the limo.

“You’re smiling. That must be a good thing,” Crystal said.

“Just thinking about last weekend with Evan.” She turned to look at Crystal. “He is pretty special.”

“Then tell him so. Shouldn’t you call him about the test anyway?”

“I will. After dinner.”

“Then we shouldn’t drink too much more. Unless you want to drunk dial.” She grinned at Alaina, who rolled her eyes in response.

“Good point. I’ll go call him now.” Her insides wobbled with uncertainty. “But first, tell me about your call with Nolan’s assistant.”

Crystal reached for her glass and took another drink. “It was good—short. We set up a lunch meeting for Monday afternoon at one. She’s sending the script over on Friday so you can take a read beforehand.”

“And it’s sci-fi fantasy?”

Crystal smiled. “Yep, just what you’ve always wanted.” Her grin faded. “But, Alaina, if you do this movie, you have to delay your plans. The movie won’t come out for at least eighteen or twenty months—award season of next year. The promo tour will take weeks, then there’s all the awards shows.”

She’d be thirty-two before she could even get pregnant, maybe thirty-three before she had the baby. If she was lucky enough to get pregnant. Given her total fail over the weekend just a few days after ovulating and on Clomid, she had to assume it might not be in the cards for her. And that disappointed her maybe even more than losing Evan.

“I see the wheels turning in your head,” Crystal said. “You don’t have to do this movie. Focus on Rainy Day. You’re so excited about this pilot you and Sean are vetting.”

That was true. She loved working with Sean and steering her own ship. Still, the Nolan movie could be the pinnacle of her career, and wouldn’t that be a great way to go out? “I am, but I can’t ignore Christopher Nolan. I don’t want to. So I put my dream off a little longer. I’m not canceling it, just postponing.”

Crystal lifted her glass and gave her a skeptical look over the rim. “Don’t be surprised if something else gets in your way.”

Alaina glared at her. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means maybe you don’t really want to have a baby right now. Or maybe you shouldn’t. I don’t know.” She shrugged. “You think your career is on a downward turn, but you’re still super bankable, and you’ve never been better. Are you sure you really want to walk away?”

“Yes. There’s more to life than this.” Like love and family. She’d seen the Archers, and damn it, she wanted that. Crystal wouldn’t understand because she had that. “There has to be more than this.”

“Even more reason for you to figure out a way to make this work with Evan. You’re obviously in love with him—at least it seems obvious to me.”

Was it possible? Yes, but she hadn’t let herself entertain the idea, not after the way things had gone. She’d nailed it when she’d said they were a match made in hell.

She polished off the rest of her margarita and stood. “Do you mind dealing with dinner while I go call Evan?”

“Not at all. You could call from here, that way I’ll hear half the conversation and you’ll only have to tell me what he said.”

Alaina laughed. “Nice try.” She strolled from the kitchen.

“Hey, you used to tell me everything. I want the full story. I deserve the full story!”

She did, and Alaina would give it to her. She only hoped it would be worth telling.

THE BUZZING OF his phone drew Evan from his computer screen. He rubbed his hands over his eyes and blinked. He glanced at the time and realized he’d been writing for five hours straight. He’d been doing a lot of that since Alaina had left. The words just seemed to flow, and he was actually nearing the end, something he hadn’t thought possible just a few short weeks ago.

He looked over at his phone, and his chest caught. It was Alaina. If he didn’t pick up in a second, it would go to voice mail. He snatched it up and swiped his thumb over the screen.

“Alaina?”

“Hi.”

God, he’d missed the sound of her voice. He’d watched some interviews with her online this past week, but it wasn’t the same. She sounded different when she was in publicity mode. Or actress mode. Or whatever mode she was in when she wasn’t with him in Ribbon Ridge. Maybe that was a mode, and he didn’t know the real her at all.

He pushed that fear down and told himself to focus on the moment. Again, the irony of that wheedled through his mind.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“Fine. Busy.”

She blew a breath into the phone, and he imagined her next to him. Her lips against his cheek, his jaw, his throat. He could almost feel her. Taste her.

“Can we not pretend we’re strangers?” she asked. “I called to tell you something important. I had a pregnancy test today.” She didn’t really hesitate, but the gap of time between that statement and her next words felt like an eternity during which Evan’s guts twisted into knots and his blood roared through his ears. He felt like he was about to take a swan dive off the world’s tallest building into an unknown abyss.

“It was negative,” she said.

Relief cascaded through him. “Thank God.”

“Yeah, good news.”

It sounded like that was maybe the end of the conversation, but he didn’t want it to be. He’d avoided calling her, had been reserved in their texting, but with this baby thing resolved, he felt enormously better. And he wanted to see her again. “Any chance you’re coming up to Ribbon Ridge soon?”

“I don’t know. I have some stuff here—an important meeting on Monday.”

“Is that with Sean? I know he has to be in LA on Monday.” Evan hadn’t talked to him about it after Tori’s suggestion, but it made sense that Alaina would be involved, since they owned the production company together. “Maybe you could come up here for the meeting instead?”

“Actually, it’s not with Sean. He’s meeting with someone else about Kyle’s show. I think we’ve found a home for it on the Travel Channel. We’re pretty stoked.”

Disappointment curdled through Evan’s chest. “That’s too bad—about not coming here, I mean. That’s great about the show.”

“Thanks. Maybe you could come down here with Sean?” she asked.

Had she and Tori been talking? Evan didn’t want to know if they had, but he couldn’t see Tori doing that behind his back. “Maybe.”

“I’d love it if you did. You could see where I live.”

He heard the hope in her voice, felt it echoing inside him. “I’ll talk to Sean.”

“Great. Let me know what you decide. You can stay here if you want—I have a couple of guest rooms.” So he wouldn’t have to sleep with her.

“Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

“Okay. Bye.” She sounded hesitant, like she didn’t want to end the call. He didn’t really either, but there was nothing else to say. He just had to decide if he wanted to visit her. Doing that seemed like a commitment, like he was agreeing to something . . . more. He wasn’t sure he wanted that. He wanted her, but that wasn’t the same thing.

“Bye.” He hung up and went downstairs for a snack, because his head had been completely pulled out of the book.

Oddly enough, he ran into Sean in the kitchen. “Hey, what brings you here?” Evan asked, though he quickly guessed as he took in Sean’s brightly colored cycling outfit.

Sean finished filling his water bottle from the front of the fridge. “Just getting a refill before I head home. Rob and I took an evening ride around the property.”

Dad was an avid cyclist, and he was thrilled that his son-in-law’s passion for cycling nearly matched his own.

“I’m glad I ran into you like this—just us guys,” Sean said, turning from the fridge. “Tori said you might want to come to LA with me. To see Alaina.”

Evan wanted to be irritated with Tori for telling Sean, but he knew she was just trying to be helpful. He couldn’t fault her for that. “I was thinking about it.”

Sean rested his hand on the island. “I know we don’t know each other all that well, but I’m here if you want to talk. Especially about Alaina, since I know her so well. I’d like to be here for you—I know how close you are to my wife.”

His wife. Sometimes it was hard to think of Tori as married when she’d only ever been Evan’s sister, his protector. “Thanks. I appreciate that. I’m not a great talker.”

Sean chuckled. “I know, but we guys often aren’t. I’m a special case, since I’m English.”

Evan arched a brow at him. “More chatty?”

“My mother’s influence, I’m afraid.” He took a hit off his water bottle. “I’m leaving Sunday afternoon, if you want to come. Heading back Monday afternoon. It’s a short trip, so if things don’t go well, you can get the hell out of there. Or if they do, you can always stay.”

The thought of flying filled Evan with dread. “Think I can get a first-class seat?”

“Probably. That’s what Tori booked for me the other day. She insisted.” He glanced down before inching toward Evan. “Listen, I don’t want to butt my nose in where it doesn’t belong, but I hope things work out with you and Alaina. I’ve seen her date other guys, and she’s never been this comfortable, for lack of a better word. She’s usually on her guard. She keeps herself and her feelings close to the vest, if you know what I mean.”

Evan knew exactly what he meant. It’s how he typically operated, too. “I’m different?”

Sean nodded. “Seems like it to me. If there’s any chance you have feelings for her, I’d tell you to go after them. You might not find that again.”

Evan hadn’t expected to find it ever. He still didn’t know if this was love, but he didn’t doubt that his chances of finding whatever it was again were pretty slim.

He thought of Alaina’s offer to stay with her. Suddenly the idea of sleeping with her seemed possible. At least, he wanted to try. If he didn’t, he’d never know if he could. Evan was a lot of things, but scared wasn’t one of them. He was logical, and logically he didn’t want to miss an opportunity he might regret.

Worst-case scenario he could evacuate to another room. His mind began to churn with possibility, with plans that involved tomorrow—or actually several days from now. A future that wasn’t what he anticipated. And that didn’t fill him with fear—it filled him with excitement.

“Would you ask Tori to book me the seat next to you?”

Sean grinned before clapping him on the shoulder. “You got it. And hey, if it ends up being a boys’ getaway, so be it. I’ve got your back—Alaina’s my friend, but we’re family.”

Evan began to wonder if Alaina might be family, too, at least to him.

Chapter Nineteen

THE DOORBELL RANG, startling Alaina from her pacing. Evan had buzzed the intercom at the gate, and Alaina had spent the last several minutes waiting for him to come up the drive and park.

She looked up at the video screen by the door out of habit and smiled at the image of Evan in his black leather jacket holding flowers. Her heart tripped over itself.

She opened the door. “Hi. You didn’t have trouble finding the house, did you?”

He stepped inside. “No, but the crowd of paparazzi outside your gate made it easy.”

Her reaction to his presence was almost visceral. The scent of his cologne, the baritone of his voice, the sight of his chiseled cheekbones and strong, sensual mouth set her pulse to thundering. “There’s a crowd?” she asked, a bit surprised she could still find her voice.

“Like four or five. I guess that’s not really a crowd.” He shrugged, and she realized just how much she’d missed him. “To me, one is too many.”

She wanted to hug him, to touch him at least, but didn’t want to overwhelm him. “Me, too.”

He handed her the flowers. “I brought these for you.”

She took them and sniffed the rose-like fragrance. “You remembered I love peonies.” Her heart skipped again. “They’re gorgeous. Let me put them in water.” She turned and headed toward the kitchen. When she didn’t hear him following, she looked back over her shoulder. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Sure.” He seemed hesitant but came forward.

In the kitchen she looked under the sink for a vase. She thought there might be one or two down there but honestly didn’t know for sure. Thankfully she was right. She pulled one out and filled it with water. “Thank you for the flowers. That was really thoughtful of you. How’s everything going with The Alex?”

“Good. The mural at the hotel is coming along nicely. I helped Chloe paint some of it yesterday.”

She hadn’t realized he could paint, too, but wasn’t surprised. He was incredibly artistic. “Really? I can’t wait to see it.”

“Does that mean you’ll come back to Ribbon Ridge?”

“I’d like to. I really loved it there.”

He nodded. “I’m glad to hear that. I wasn’t sure. You seemed pretty upset, and then you were gone.”

“I was upset. You said some things that made this—us—seem impossible. You pretty much said you couldn’t see a future with me.” And then there was the whole kid thing . . . But she didn’t say that. One thing at a time. If he couldn’t handle her, there was no point discussing anyone else.

He came forward and pressed his palms against the marble counter. “I couldn’t, but I don’t want to regret not trying. You aren’t at all what I expected in my life, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t want what I want or need.”

Her adrenaline spiked. “And what do you want?”

He came around the counter and stood in front of her. His eye contact was still sketchy, but she knew it didn’t mean anything when it came to sincerity from him. “I want you. I . . . need you.”

His words burrowed into her heart like a cat hunkering down in a soft blanket for a nap. But she wanted to be absolutely clear about what they were doing. “Tell me what this means. I’m not sure how to do this. I live here. You live in Ribbon Ridge.”

“I was sort of hoping we could make that work. I’m used to being alone—I like it, in fact—so when you need to be here or on location, I’ll be in Ribbon Ridge. When you’re not working, you can come be with me.”

She could see that happening but wasn’t sure how much she’d like being away from him. She’d missed him in the last week. “How will that look? We’ll sleep in separate rooms at our house or wherever, or maybe separate beds, like on an old sitcom.”

His brow wrinkled. “Is that what they did?” Understanding lit his eyes. “I think I remember that on I Love Lucy reruns.” His mouth curved up at the corner. “Actually, I thought we might try sharing a bed.”

“For the whole night?”

He looked her straight in the eye, summoning butterflies to her stomach. “For the whole night. I’m ready tonight. I brought a bag.” His eye contact faltered. “It’s in the car. I left it there in case you said no.”

She laid her palms on his chest. “No way would I say no.” She stood on her toes and kissed him. Maybe, just maybe, they could make this work.

EVAN OPENED HIS eyes abruptly. The bed felt different. Because it wasn’t his. He took a deep breath and rolled to his back. Alaina had a king-sized bed, which is what he had at home. He typically liked to sprawl and assumed he’d bump into her all night long. Except he’d slept like the dead.

Which wasn’t hard to believe, given how long they’d had sex; they’d been making up for lost time, apparently.

He picked up his phone on the nightstand and looked at the time. Not yet eight. He turned his head and looked for Alaina. She was over on the opposite edge of the bed, her back to him. Had he driven her over there with his movements? This is why he didn’t like sleeping with people—as much for their comfort as his.

He scooted closer to her, then planted his elbow in the mattress to rest his chin on his hand so he could look down at her profile in sleep. She was so pretty. Her long lashes curved against her buttermilk skin, and her dark honey-gold hair tangled against the arch of her neck. Her mouth was closed, her lips plump and pink, ready to be kissed.

He liked this. Waking up next to her. It seemed the experiment had worked. Not only could he sleep with someone, he’d liked it. No, not just someone—Alaina.

He moved closer and spooned her from behind. She sighed softly and nuzzled backward against him, her ass perfectly hitting his half-stiff cock and driving it immediately to full arousal.

He ought to let her sleep. He knew she had an important meeting later this morning, but he couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. She wore a tank top and loose-fitting pajama bottoms. He had on boxers, but he was doing his best to bust out of them at present. Maybe he should take a cold shower . . .

Her touch on his thigh startled him, driving all thoughts of a shower from his brain. She massaged him through his shorts, then found his cock. She tucked her hand inside of the half-open flap and found the base. Curling her fingers around his shaft, she stroked him. Up. Down. Back. Forth. He closed his eyes and let ecstasy take over.

“Get a condom,” she said, her voice deep and throaty with sleep or lust or both.

He rolled away from her and grabbed a condom from the nightstand. He shucked his shorts and slipped the latex over his cock. When he returned to her and saw she hadn’t moved, he worried he might’ve dreamed her response. But that was absurd.

Then she pushed her ass—which was now nude—back toward him, and he knew it was real. He slid his hand between her thighs and found her soft, wet heat. She was more than ready, and so was he. He lifted her leg and positioned himself at her opening, then thrust into her. Her muscles stretched and gripped him tightly as he moved. He closed his eyes in sheer bliss.

She bent her upper leg, and he pushed his knee up over her bottom leg. She rocked with him, thrusting her hips back and forth in gentle waves. He reached around her and found her breast, tweaking her nipple through the ribbed cotton of her tank. But it wasn’t enough, so he pushed the fabric up, baring her flesh. He cupped her breast, squeezing its soft fullness and relishing her answering moan.

She pushed back. He thrust forward. He felt her orgasm start with the clenching of her muscles around him and heard it from the sounds emanating from her throat. She reached behind her and clutched his thigh, digging her fingers into his flesh.

He drove into her faster, and her cries increased. When she next pressed back against him, reality splintered away from him as he came. Light and sound ceased to exist. He didn’t know where he ended and she began, and he didn’t care.

As he came back to earth, he was most aware of an incredible sensation of lightness, of utter happiness. He didn’t know if it was love, but he hoped it was. Yes, he hoped love felt just like this.

She rolled to her back, her shoulder butting up against his chest as they caught their breath. “I could wake up like this every day. How did you sleep?”

“Great. Surprisingly.” He loved the way her face brightened when she smiled in response. He felt like the most important person in the world when she looked at him like that.

She touched his cheek. “I’m so glad.”

“Did I drive you over to the edge of the bed? I can be a bed hog.”

She laughed softly. “I wouldn’t know if you were. I’m an edge sleeper. I think it’s because I was always ready to jump out of bed at a moment’s notice when I was younger. Our trailer caught on fire while I was sleeping when I was six, and I’m not sure I slept very soundly after that.”

“What happened?”

She looked at him curiously. “Most people freak out when I mention that, but you barely batted an eye. Actually, no eyes were batted at all.”

He winced. “Is that bad? I don’t always react the right way, sorry. But why would I freak out? You’re obviously fine.” He looked at the far wall. “God, I’m so bad at this.”

She leaned up and kissed him. “You are not. I was just making an observation, not a criticism. It was a fire in the kitchen, and our neighbor, who was far less inebriated than my mother at the time, responded quickly with a fire extinguisher. It wasn’t terribly traumatizing, but it was a valuable lesson in self-preservation when it came to living with my mother. She’s not the most aware person.”

“Are you sure she’s not on the spectrum?”

She laughed, and her eyes danced. “I don’t know. She has a host of issues, but I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Honestly, everyone has a trait or two that looks like autism, it’s just the combination, intensity, and consistency that forces a diagnosis.”

“I see. I’ve wondered . . . How do you feel being different?”

“That’s such a tough question to answer, especially to a neurotypical person.” He threw the covers back and scooted off the other side of the bed. “Let me clean up for a second before I try to tackle that.” He made his way toward the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

“Are you hungry?” she called after him. “I’m starved, and I’d love to take you to my favorite breakfast place.”

“Sure. I’ll get dressed.”

Ten minutes later, they were both garbed in extremely casual clothes—him in athletic shorts and her in yoga pants. She wore an oversized sweatshirt, and her hair was scraped into a ponytail. She’d dabbed on a little bit of makeup and grabbed her purse from the top of the dresser. “Ready?”

He nodded, following her downstairs and through her elegantly appointed house to a four-car garage, which housed two cars—a sedan and an SUV. “Which one are we taking?”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “I was going to take the Jag, unless you’d rather take the Highlander?”

“It’s a hybrid?” he asked.

She nodded. “I just got it a couple of months ago, and I love it.” She dug in her purse and tossed him the keys. “You drive.”

He opened her door, and she flashed him a smile. “I’ll never get tired of that,” she said.

Good, because he’d never get tired of doing it for her, not when she lit up like that.

As he climbed in, she pushed a button to remotely open the garage. “Just drive out the gate and take a left.” She glanced up and down the street before he turned out.

“What are you looking for?”

“Just checking to see how many paparazzi are here. It’s early, but they’ve been pretty hard-core the past few weeks.”

“Since that story about you broke?”

“Yeah. Oh, there’s Ronnie.” She pointed toward a beat-up red Fiat. “He spends most of his time stalking me.”

Evan turned left onto the street and glanced at the rearview mirror. “What a jerk. Why doesn’t he get a real job?”

Ronnie followed them, but Alaina wasn’t concerned. “He’s not so bad. He’s pretty decent about what he sells to the tabloids.” She laughed. “He doesn’t give them anything where I look bad.”

“You know who takes what pictures and what they sell?”

She nodded. “Pretty much. But I have no clue who got that shot of me leaving the clinic. I just know it wasn’t Ronnie.”

She gave Evan directions to the diner, which was only ten minutes away. She was taking a bit of a chance going out in public with Evan, but Ronnie would keep a respectable distance and only tourists approached her for autographs.

She directed Evan to park in the tiny lot behind the diner. “It says ‘no parking,’ but I get special treatment.”

He smiled faintly. “Of course you do.”

“We can go in the back and get a table away from the window. The owner of the place doesn’t let paparazzi inside, so we won’t be disturbed.”

She waited for him to open her door, then took his hand as they walked across the lot to the back door. She went inside and had to let go as they entered a narrow corridor. She paused at a doorway to a small kitchen. “Morning, Jose. I brought a friend along.”

A small Latino man came to the doorway. He grinned at her and nodded up at Evan. “Morning, Alaina. You want your regular?”

“Yes, please.” She turned to Evan. “Jose’s huevos rancheros are to die for. Seriously. I’d pit him against Kyle any day.”

“Sounds good,” Evan said. “I’ll have the same.”

“Who’s Kyle?” Jose asked, wiping his hands on his apron.

“My brother. He’s a chef.”

“And soon to be famous, as he’s about to be splashed all over the Travel Channel,” Alaina said.

“Have a seat, and I’ll send Isa out with some water and coffee.”

“Thanks, Jose.” Alaina turned and led Evan into the small dining room and over to a table nestled in the corner.

Evan looked around the space. It held maybe fifteen tables, two-thirds of which were occupied by patrons. Immediately a few heads turned and registered their presence—rather, Alaina’s presence—with whispered comments and a couple of pointed fingers. One woman, maybe in her forties, lifted her cell phone and tried to surreptitiously take Alaina’s picture.

“Do they really think they’re being secretive?” He didn’t bother keeping his voice down as he glared at the offender.

Alaina touched his hand. “It’s not a big deal.”

He dragged his gaze away from them and tried to focus on Alaina. His shoulder twitched. He didn’t like this kind of scrutiny.

She twined her fingers with his. “Hey, are you okay? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

He didn’t want to be uncomfortable either. Come on, he could do this. He could have breakfast with his girlfriend, for crying out loud. Girlfriend? “Are you my girlfriend?” he blurted.

Her eyes widened briefly, then she laughed. “Yeah, I think so. I think that’s what we kind of decided last night.”

“Just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”

A middle-aged Latina woman arrived with two glasses of water and a pot of coffee. “It’s good to see you, Alaina. It’s been a little while.” She poured coffee into Alaina’s mug and looked at Evan. “Coffee for you?”

He nodded.

“Isa, this is Evan. Evan, this is Isa. She’s Jose’s sister. They run the restaurant together.”

“Nice to meet you,” Evan said.

She smiled broadly at him, displaying a gap between her front teeth. “Same. Do you want cream?”

“No thanks.” He sampled the coffee. It wasn’t as good as what he drank at home, but then, most things were better at home, in his opinion.

“Back in a bit with your food,” she said before heading to another table to take an order.

The woman who’d taken the picture with her cell phone approached their table. Evan tensed.

The woman all but ignored him as she smiled tentatively at Alaina. “I’m sorry to bother you when you’re out to breakfast, but could I trouble you for an autograph? I’m such a fan, and it’s my first time in Los Angeles. I just couldn’t go back to Utah and say that I saw you without telling you how much I love your movies. Really. You’re amazing.”

Alaina smiled, and Evan realized it was just a bit different from the way she smiled at him. All this time he’d been comparing her to what he was used to in the movies, and he’d even wondered if the Alaina he knew had been real. Now he knew. Real-life, genuine Alaina was completely different. And she was his. His shoulders, which had gone completely stiff, relaxed.

“Thank you so much,” Alaina said. “What do you want me to sign?”

“Here, I had this envelope in my purse.” She laid it on the table along with a pen.

“And what’s your name?” Alaina asked, picking up the pen.

Evan occasionally had OCD tendencies, and right now all he could think was whether that pen was sanitary. Hell, for all they knew, this woman was trying to poison Alaina with a tainted writing instrument.

Paranoid much?

“Holly,” she answered.

The pen scratched over the paper as Alaina wrote something and signed her name. She handed it back. “Here you go.”

“Thanks. I don’t suppose I could take a picture with you? Maybe your friend could do the honors?” She glanced at Evan, and his tension immediately ratcheted up again.

Alaina seemed to notice because she said, “Actually, we have a very short amount of time for our breakfast this morning, so I’d like to get back to that. Thanks for understanding.”

Holly opened her mouth, then snapped it closed again. She nodded and went back to her table. Once there, she began yammering at the man at the table and darting glances toward Alaina.

“She looks irritated,” Evan said.

Alaina glanced at the table, but kept it quick. “Yeah, I think she’s peeved, but whatever. You looked like you’d rather light yourself on fire than take a picture of us, so there was no way I was going to put you through that.”

“I would’ve done it.” He might not have liked touching the stranger’s phone, but he would’ve. For Alaina.

The corner of her mouth lifted. “You are so sweet.”

Breakfast came a moment later, and she’d been right in her assessment of Jose’s huevos rancheros—they were fantastic.

“Great eggs,” Evan said. “How’d you find this place? It looks like a hole in the wall from outside, though those are usually the best places.”

“I concur. I met a director here a few years ago, and I was hooked.”

He scooped up a bite of eggs and salsa from his plate. “Very Hollywood—power breakfasts and lunches, right?”

She laughed. “As it happens, I have a lunch this afternoon. I’m actually kind of nervous about this one. It’s a big movie with a huge director.”

“Like Spielberg-big?”

“I’m not sure anyone’s Spielberg-big, but this guy’s pretty amazing. I know you’ve seen a bunch of his films.”

“Are you not mentioning his name because it’s a secret?”

She swallowed the bite she’d just taken and shook her head. “It is hush-hush—I like to keep everything I’m mulling on the down-low until it’s official—but not from you. It’s Christopher Nolan, and he’s my dream director.”

“Wow, he is amazing.” They discussed the script she’d just read yesterday in low tones for a few minutes. He could feel her excitement. It was the way he felt about his job now.

“When would you start shooting?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but I’d guess this summer.”

He thought about his summer plans—Sara’s wedding, beer festivals they were working on, the Ribbon Ridge Festival. If Alaina was off filming, she’d miss all of that. Wait, was he planning a summer with her? Last night, they’d only discussed her next trip to Ribbon Ridge this coming weekend.

They finished their breakfast, and she insisted on picking up the tab. As they prepared to leave, she said, “We forgot to go back to the question I asked you earlier in bed. About feeling different.”

Yeah, he’d totally forgotten, but it wasn’t unusual for him to lose the thread of a conversation, especially in an environment or situation that could overstimulate him. “It’s obviously more pronounced when I’m out in public, which is maybe why I’m such a homebody. Situations can be tough to navigate—like that woman asking for your autograph. It should be no big deal, right?”

“Not necessarily. Lots of people wouldn’t want to be bothered with that.” She got up from the table, and he joined her. “In fact, I’ve been with some people who get downright pissed off.”

“I don’t think I’d do that, but I suppose I could have a meltdown.”

“Like when I whispered in your ear at the wine tasting?” she asked.

“More intense than that. If that had been a full-on meltdown, I wouldn’t have come back.” He followed her down the back hallway to the exit. “There was a time when we were doing the reality show that was particularly bad—it was much worse when I was younger. We were at the zoo up in Portland, and someone recognized us. It turned into a mob of people wanting to take pictures and get our autographs. I actually took a swing at this one kid who got too close. My dad had to pick me up—and I was already huge—and carry me away.”

She turned and hugged him, catching him off guard. “I’m so sorry. Are you sure you’re okay?”

He thought again of what Liam had said to him. “Yes, just don’t expect me to walk the red carpet with you.”

She tucked her hand in his. “Deal, but I won’t lie—I sort of looked forward to that.”

He led her across the parking lot. “Why?”

“Because you’re amazing—and gorgeous—and I want everyone in the world to see how great I scored.”

His stomach flipped. She sounded . . . proud. He loved the way that made him feel. He loved her. He glanced at her dark blonde head as she bent and fished her sunglasses from her purse. Yeah, he was pretty sure he did.

Just as she put her sunglasses on, he cupped her face and kissed her. She leaned into him, sighing into his mouth as she clutched his shirtfront.

A clicking sound drew them apart.

“Shit.” She glanced at the photographers clogging the driveway. It was like an invisible barrier kept them from coming into the lot. She looked up at him, her gaze apologetic. “Sorry, I’m pretty sure we’re going to be on the home page of TMZ in about ten minutes.”

Fucking fantastic. He ushered her into the car and quickly jumped in. The driveway to the lot was choked with paparazzi, but they slowly moved out of the way as he drove out. Probably fifteen cameras snapped at them as they made their escape.

“Is that normal?” he asked.

She frowned. “Not really. Someone told them we were there, and they came to wait for us.”

“Who would do that? The guy who followed us here? I saw him in the group.”

“I saw him, too, but no, I don’t think it was him.” She tightened her ponytail. “I hope it wasn’t that woman in the restaurant. Sometimes fans get pissed if you don’t give them what they want, and they’ll sic paparazzi on you.”

“That’s evil.”

She shrugged. “It’s also part of the game.”

Evan didn’t like this game and wasn’t sure he wanted to play it. When they arrived at her house, there were a few more photographers waiting.

“And these assholes got the call but decided to wait here to catch a photo instead of fighting for real estate with the ones back at the restaurant.”

Evan gripped the steering wheel. “Can I run them over?”

She laughed. “I wish! That sort of behavior hasn’t worked too well in the past. Ask Sean Penn or Alec Baldwin.”

She opened the gate with a remote. Evan worried the paparazzi would follow them in, but they didn’t. At least they seemed to follow some sort of rule book.

He drove into the garage and shut the car off. “How do you put up with that?”

“I just do. Though lately it’s been bothering me more than normal.”

He looked over at her. “What’s going to happen when I leave now? I have to meet up with Sean and catch our flight back to Portland.”

“Just drive straight out. They’ll take pictures, but they’ll get out of your way.”

“I can’t promise I won’t accidentally run over one of their toes.”

She leaned over and kissed him. “Be careful.” She pulled back and looked at him intently. “I’m so glad you came. I’ll see you this weekend.” He felt much better about seeing her at home, without all this nonsense.

She pulled her phone from her sweatshirt pocket and read a text message. “Crystal says she’s getting calls asking who you are.” She looked up at him. “What do you want her to say?”

He ran his hand through his hair. He had no clue. “Is ‘no comment’ still a thing?”

“It can be, but they’re going to find you online somehow. Somewhere someone is already looking for your image or trying to piece together who you might be.”

She looked back down at her phone. “They’re calling you my boyfriend.”

Because he’d kissed her without thinking. Shit, was he going to have to scrutinize everything he did with her in public? Because if that was the case, he didn’t think he could. He was barely capable of censoring things he said and did as it was. Impulse control was a ferocious beast to someone like him.

He needed to get out of here before his senses spun out of control. “I need to get my stuff and pick Sean up at his hotel.” He jumped out of the car.

She met him around the front and grabbed his wrist. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“No, but I will be. I just need to get out of here.”

She flinched and let go of him. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” But she couldn’t change who she was. And right now he wasn’t sure if he could handle that—at least not here. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you Friday.”

Things would be better when they were back in Ribbon Ridge.

Chapter Twenty

EVAN PICKED ALAINA up at the airport Friday afternoon, and they spent the evening having dinner at The Arch and Vine with Tori, Sean, Dylan, and Sara. Alaina hadn’t gone to any trouble to disguise herself, nor had they sat behind a screen. Much to her surprise—and delight—no one had approached her. They’d been left completely alone. Like normal people. If she wasn’t already in love with Ribbon Ridge, she would’ve fallen like a rock.

Today, they’d started the day wine tasting with all of the Archer kids who were in town, and they’d just finished a fabulous picnic lunch prepared by Kyle and eaten on a covered patio at one of the wineries.

Kyle stood up with his glass of sparkling wine, which they’d picked up at the last winery, and yelled for everyone to be quiet. “I’m glad you were all available today—especially you, Alaina.” He smiled at her before directing his next comment to the entire group. “It’s our good fortune to share our news with you.”

Sara gasped and covered her mouth. Kyle grinned. Then he held his hand out to Maggie, who sat beside him. She fished something out of her pocket and slipped it on her finger. The shouts and cheers nearly overwhelmed Kyle, but he merely raised his voice. “Luckily for me, Maggie has foolishly agreed to become my wife. So it looks like we’re going to have another wedding to look forward to. That said, we’re not waiting as long as some of you other people. But we’re not scrambling to Vegas either.” He looked directly at Tori and Sean as he said this, and Tori stuck her tongue out at him.

Sean yelled, “Why not? Worked out great for me.” He put his arm around Tori and pulled her close to kiss her cheek.

Tori smiled from ear to ear, and the joy surrounding Alaina was practically a living, breathing thing.

“So when are you getting married?” asked Sara.

“September, if you think you’ll have time to put it together. We’d like to have it in the gardens that Maggie’s designing at The Alex, assuming we’re able to open the damned place.”

“You could still have the wedding there and probably get away with it,” Derek said. “You’re actually an Archer.”

Alaina leaned close to Evan. “What does he mean?”

“Derek and Chloe got married up there last summer before the zoning was finalized, and we were fined for having a commercial event. We’re appealing the fine on the basis that it was a family event, but since Derek isn’t legally family, it could go either way.”

“That’s lame.”

Sara jumped out of her chair and circled the table to hug first Kyle and then Maggie. “I’m so happy for you!”

Everyone else followed suit, and wineglasses were refilled. Alaina congratulated them both. Part of her wondered if she’d still be in the picture to attend the wedding, but it depended on her shooting schedule. She hoped it would work that she could come. Provided she and Evan were still together.

She looked at him askance as he hugged Kyle. He’d seemed pretty relaxed since she’d arrived yesterday, but they hadn’t directly discussed him being outed as her probable boyfriend. The press had figured out his identity and publicized that he was both a former reality TV star and that he was on the autism spectrum. So far no one had tried to contact him, and Alaina’s camp had declined to comment. But they could only deflect for so long. Then what would happen?

It was just so frustrating. Other actors had been able to successfully withdraw from the microscope, but it was far easier when they moved out of Los Angeles. It was time for her to get serious about relocating, and she would—after this movie.

A wave of unease swept over her, making her feel slightly dizzy. She’d been carsick on the winding roads leading to the three wineries they’d visited so far, something she was prone to, especially on dull, gray days like this one. Even though they were outside, they were under a cover with two walled sides. She wanted to feel a breeze to regain her equilibrium.

She turned to Evan, who’d just finished hugging Maggie. “I’m going to take a walk for a few minutes. Clear my head a bit.”

He looked at her with concern. “Are you still feeling carsick?”

She shook her head. “I’m better since I ate. I just want to stretch my legs.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“I don’t want to take you away from your family.”

He laced his fingers through hers. “You’re as important to me as they are. Come on.” He tugged her along the path toward the fountain. His words sunk into her chest and fed her soul. She’d thought a lot about their future and hoped they’d be able to make it work. She was afraid she’d be devastated if they couldn’t.

“I’m so happy for Kyle and Maggie,” she said.

“I shouldn’t be surprised, since they’ve been together since last summer, but I didn’t think Kyle would ever get married. I always assumed he, Liam, and I would be permanent bachelors.”

She slid him a sideways glance as they neared the fountain. “Do you still think that about yourself?”

He flashed her a quick look. “I don’t know. You’ve completely turned my world upside down, Alaina Pierce.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the back. “I think so.”

She was so happy that things seemed to be on track between them. She just tried not to think about the baby situation—now that she was about to sign on for the role of a lifetime and postpone her plans, she saw no rush to discuss a future that far out. She was more concerned about the present and Evan’s ability to handle her fame. “Even with the whole world knowing—or at least suspecting—you’re my boyfriend?”

His shoulder twitched, but that was the only indication that her question maybe tweaked his senses. “It’s weird, but nobody bothers me here in Ribbon Ridge.” He smiled at her. “So far, I’m good.”

They moved past the fountain, and the path circled around to a short set of stairs that led to an expansive deck, which in turn would take them back to the patio situated next to the tasting room.

They walked up the stairs, and he pivoted. “Check out the view from here.”

She slipped her arm around his waist as he draped his arm around her shoulders. “It’s so pretty. I could really see myself living here.” She hadn’t meant to bring that up now; she’d been planning to broach the topic tonight when they were alone. She wanted to tell him how much he meant to her, how much she’d come to care for his family and his home.

Footsteps on the deck followed by a familiar clicking sound spun them around toward the tasting room. A photographer she didn’t recognize snapped several pictures before coming forward. “Afternoon, Miss Pierce. I wonder if you and your boyfriend wouldn’t mind posing for a picture. That’s a great backdrop, even with the gray sky.”

Anger fired through Alaina. “You’re intruding on a family event.”

The paparazzo frowned. He wore glasses and pushed them up his nose. “This is a public space.”

“Don’t be a jerk,” Alaina said. “You got your pictures. Just go.”

“I’m hoping for more than that.” He took a few steps toward them, and Alaina moved closer to Evan, who put his hand against her lower back. “You never said what you were doing at that clinic a few weeks back. Are you guys having a baby together? I understand you’re taking fertility treatments.”

Alaina went absolutely cold. “How do you know about that?”

The photographer shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, but I know it’s true. Boyfriend doesn’t look too happy about that, though. In fact, he looks surprised.” He snapped more pictures of Evan.

Alaina turned to look at him—his eyes looked dazed. She wanted to haul off and deck the photographer.

“What the hell is going on?” Kyle strode onto the scene, followed by pretty much everyone else.

The paparazzo took a step back. “Just doing my job. I think I’m done here.”

Kyle scowled at him. “You bet you are. Take off. Unless you need us to help you.”

The asshole lifted a hand. “Nah, I’m good.” He had the gall to flash Alaina a grin. “Thanks for your time.”

“Screw you,” she said, trembling.

Evan withdrew his hand from her back and stepped away.

She turned and moved toward him. “Evan. Can we talk about this?”

His gaze didn’t even come close to finding hers before he simply turned and stalked away.

EVAN’S INSIDES WERE in absolute turmoil. He wanted to shout and put his fist through the photographer’s face, but mostly he wanted to know why Alaina hadn’t told him the truth about the clinic, especially since she knew his stance on children.

He walked away from the tasting room to the adjoining building that housed the winery. He sensed she was following him, so he turned. “I need to be alone.”

She looked upset, her face pale, but he couldn’t worry about her. He needed to keep his shit together. He saw Tori rush forward to intercept her and turned to continue on his way.

Once inside, he went down a flight of stairs to the winery’s business offices. No one was around on Saturday, so he dropped to the floor and did push-ups. He didn’t know how many he finished before he saw Alaina’s boots in front of him.

“Go away,” he growled.

“No. Tori told me not to bother you, but I’m tired of playing the part of an observer. If we’re going to be together, I want to be here for you. I’m committed to this, Evan. I’m committed to you.”

He jumped up and glared at her briefly before averting his gaze. “Not committed enough to be honest.”

“I deserve that. I should’ve told you the truth. But it’s private, and I didn’t know you very well. When I did want to tell you, after we’d grown close, you told me you didn’t want kids. How could I tell you then?”

He couldn’t answer her. He was having a hard enough time thinking coherently as he went into survival mode. “I don’t want children. Ever.”

“You might change your mind. I didn’t think I wanted children—not after the shitfest I grew up in. But I hit twenty-eight, and all of a sudden it was almost all I could think about.”

He went to the wall, splayed his hands against the concrete, and began doing vertical push-ups.

She moved to his side. “We can talk about this all you want. Now, later, whenever, but I won’t let you shut me out.”

“I’m not shutting you out, I’m dealing with my shit!” His voice sounded loud, even to his ears, but he couldn’t modulate it. Not right now. “I am not going to change my mind about being a dad.” He pushed back from the wall and rounded on her, shouting, “I am not father material. I’m an Aspie with ADHD. I like to be alone. I’m uncomfortable in crowds, sometimes even in my own family, and I hate the limelight. I’d be a shitty father, and more importantly, I’d be a shitty father to your kid.”

She put her hand to her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.” She fled up the stairs, and he stared after her, pretty sure that was the end of his one—and probably only—attempt at a relationship.

Hands shaking, he pulled out his phone and brought up his meditation app. He found a five-minute exercise and worked his way through it. When he was done, he felt better, but tension still stretched his muscles tight.

He went up the stairs and tried to think of what to say to Alaina. And everyone else. Had they heard what the photographer had said? It didn’t matter, since it would be plastered all over the Internet in a matter of hours, if not minutes.

Kyle was waiting for him just outside. His blond hair was damp, as a light mist had started. “You okay?” he asked.

Evan glanced around. “Where’s Alaina?”

“Maggie took her back to the apartment. Can I catch a ride with you?”

“Sure.”

Everyone was packing up from the picnic, and the mood had become subdued. That shift, particularly on the heels of Kyle’s tremendous announcement, only added to Evan’s discomfort. He stopped short. “Can we go now? Will anyone mind?”

“You know they won’t. Go on ahead. I’ll be there in a sec.” Kyle jogged over and told everyone they were leaving.

Evan went to his car and fired up the engine. His mind felt numb.

Kyle climbed into the passenger side. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Evan pulled out of the winery parking lot. “Not really. But when have you ever known me to want to do that?”

Kyle’s lips curved into a wry smile. “Good point. I heard what that prick said about some fertility business. Is that true?” He shook his head. “I had no idea you two were that serious.”

“We’re not. I didn’t even know about that.” He hated that she hadn’t told him. She’d gone on and on about how honest and transparent he was, how much she loved that. All while she’d been lying to him. “I feel like I’ve been duped.”

“Was she trying to get pregnant with you?”

His brain went to the broken condom. That had been an accident. The condom had come from a box he’d bought, and it had been on his person the entire time. “I don’t think so. We always use a condom. I don’t really know what she was doing before we met.” Because he hadn’t asked her. She’d wanted to talk to him back at the winery, and he’d bitten her head off. He cringed.

“What?” Kyle asked.

“I . . . I don’t know.” Evan massaged his forehead. “I don’t want kids, Kyle. I never even thought I’d get married. Now look at you. If you can succumb, where does that leave me?”

Kyle laughed. “Surrender is underrated, bro.”

Evan gripped the steering wheel tightly. “I’m serious. I had plans. Expectations. Alaina is not part of them.”

“How do you feel about her? I get that you didn’t expect to meet her or . . . what? Are you in love with her?”

Evan knocked his head back against the seat. “I don’t know. I think so. I think about her more than I’ve ever thought of anyone. I like to be with her—even more than I like to be alone. I even sleep with her.” They’d spent all of last night together at the apartment.

“Sounds like you’ve got it bad.”

And when Evan thought about the way she looked at him, the way he felt when he looked at her . . . His heart threatened to beat out of his chest. “Yes, I love her. I never imagined I would, but I do. I also never imagined I’d have kids, and I don’t want them. Can you imagine what kind of dad I’d be?”

“A pretty good one.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

Kyle cast him a glance, his expression serious. “I know nothing of the sort. You love Alaina, and I’m pretty damn sure she loves you, too. We can all see it. You’re a terrific brother, and the qualities that make you terrific—your kindness, your generosity, your capacity for love—are what will make you an excellent father.”

Evan tried to digest what Kyle said.

“Are you sure you really don’t want kids, or are you just afraid of the idea?”

Afraid? Not of them, but maybe of the idea . . . the concept he’d outlined in his off-kilter mind. “I really didn’t want kids. I think. Hell, I don’t know anymore. I’m completely turned around.”

“You should talk to Dad,” Kyle suggested. “After all, he’s been there, done that.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” He also had to talk to Alaina. He couldn’t let her go back to LA, like she’d done last time, without having a discussion. Which meant he’d better figure out what in the hell to say. In turn, that meant figuring out how he felt about the entire situation.

He knew he loved her, but would that solve anything? He didn’t have a clue.

Chapter Twenty-One

“THANKS FOR DRIVING me.” Alaina gripped the handle of the door as another wave of nausea threatened. “Would you mind stopping in town at the Pillbox so I can pick up some Dramamine?”

Maggie looked over at her in concern. “Absolutely. I’m so sorry you’re carsick. I’m trying to take the turns as easy as possible.”

Alaina might be carsick, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t the only—or even worst—culprit behind her queasiness. She did the math in her head. The condom had broken three weeks ago. She’d had a pregnancy test not quite a week after that. The clinic had said the test was negative, but no test was infallible and no technician was perfect. She should’ve started her period by now, and part of this entire process had meant tracking her cycle to the nth degree. That she hadn’t put two and two together before now pissed her off. She’d been drinking wine all day, for crying out loud!

Keep it together, Lainie. At least until you’re back at the apartment.

“If you ever want to talk about anything, I’m a good listener,” Maggie said. “I used to be a therapist.”

Evan had mentioned that. “Why don’t you practice anymore?”

“Abridged version? I wasn’t very good at it.” She laughed. “That may not encourage you to talk to me! I was a good therapist. I just wasn’t good at keeping it separate from my own life. I am a good listener, but I do better with people I’m emotionally invested in. Like my friends and family.” She shot Alaina a warm smile. “I consider you in that category.”

Tears burned Alaina’s eyes. The family she’d always wanted was right here. Too bad she’d completely blown it with the member of that family she was in love with. The lump in her throat doubled in size as she acknowledged just how much she loved Evan. His quirkiness, his transparency, his wit and charm. He was everything she could hope for, and she’d screwed it up.

“I think I might’ve ruined things with Evan. I wasn’t . . . totally honest with him about something. I just didn’t know how to tell him.”

Maggie pulled onto the highway that would take them into Ribbon Ridge—and away from the winding hillside roads. “It’s good that you left the winery. Knowing Evan, he just needs time to process. You’ll talk to him later and tell him everything. He won’t hold a grudge against you or harbor anger—he’s not wired like that.”

Alaina knew that, and she was incredibly grateful. “That doesn’t alleviate my guilt. I’m wired to feel like shit when I’ve let someone down.” Particularly the man I love and whose child I’m probably carrying.

How was he going to react to that? She’d seen a partial meltdown—or maybe a full meltdown, she didn’t really know. She just knew she wanted to be there for him. And she’d tell him the truth as soon as possible, even if it was the hardest thing she’d ever done. How did you tell a man who vehemently declared he never wanted children that he was going to have a baby?

She’d managed to keep hold of her stomach so far, but the urge to toss up her lunch was stronger than ever. Thankfully they were nearly to the drugstore.

The Pillbox was located on the main street, and Maggie parked in a spot on the same block. As she shut the engine off, Alaina summoned every ounce of her acting ability and gave Maggie a warm smile. “You don’t need to come with me, I’ll just be a second.”

Maggie nodded, and Alaina dashed from the car. Though it was still overcast, she took her sunglasses from her purse and put them on. Then she fluffed out her hair and pulled it forward so that it would sort of mask her face.

Out of habit, she scanned the area for paparazzi. She could just imagine the fervor that would follow a picture of her buying a pregnancy test.

Satisfied that no one had followed them or was lurking anywhere, she went inside and found the aisle she was looking for. The irony of condoms and pregnancy tests stocked next to each other nearly made her laugh, but it also made her want to cry. Hell, everything right now made her want to cry.

She had to be pregnant.

Grabbing two two-packs, because she knew one test wouldn’t satisfy her considering one had probably been wrong already, she hurried to the checkout. She hoped the clerk wouldn’t recognize her.

She swiped her credit card and stuffed the tests into her purse, glad she hadn’t brought a wristlet. She rushed back to the car, and they were on their way.

As Maggie drove back out of town and up to the Archer estate, Alaina’s mind spun. What the hell was she going to tell Christopher Nolan? Would you mind if I sported a baby bump in this incredibly physical and demanding role? No? How about pushing production back about six months? No problem, right?

The tears were so close she could taste them. She couldn’t have this baby and do the movie. And there was no question which one she’d choose.

Maggie turned into the driveway. “You have my number, right? If you want to talk.”

“I think so, yes.” They’d all exchanged numbers last time she was in town—at the dinner for Evan at Georgia’s.

Maggie parked on the paved area between the garages. Alaina instantly jumped out of the car. “Thanks again for driving me. See you later.” She didn’t care if she seemed short or rude. She had to know for certain. Furthermore, she actually—conveniently—had to pee.

She flew up the stairs and let herself into the apartment. She dropped her purse on the table and pulled out one of the packages. Tearing it open, she withdrew the directions and quickly scanned them.

Results in one minute. One minute until her life irrevocably changed. Who was she kidding? Her life had changed the minute she’d come to Ribbon Ridge. From the moment she’d met Evan Archer, she’d gone down a path that had led her to this point. This glorious, heart-stopping crossroads.

Don’t be a coward, Lainie. You know what you want.

She went into the bathroom and did the deed. It was followed by the longest minute of her life. Or not. It actually happened rather quickly. The plus sign formed almost immediately, pink and bold. Pink—did that mean it was a girl?

No, silly, they’re all pink! And just to be sure, she peed on the other three.

All pink plus signs. She was going to be a mother. The question now became, would the baby have a father?

She sat down on the bathroom floor and cried.

WHEN EVAN ARRIVED at home, Kyle’s car—which was actually Hayden’s car, since Kyle was living in Hayden’s house and driving his car while he was in France—was parked by the back door. That meant Maggie and Alaina were here. Was Alaina in the house or the apartment? His muscles locked up for a second. He didn’t want to see her, not yet. He wanted to talk to Dad first.

He parked the car in the garage and walked inside with Kyle. Maggie met them in the kitchen.

She smiled warmly. “Hey, Evan. Alaina’s up at the apartment.”

Evan nodded. “I’m actually looking for Dad.” He hoped he was even home. He and Mom had opted out of the wine tasting because Dad had wanted to take a bike ride and Mom had some project she was finishing in the office.

“Try his den maybe,” Kyle said, sliding his arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “We’ll leave you to it.”

Evan didn’t watch them go. He left the kitchen and headed to Dad’s office at the front of the house. He stopped short at the threshold. He and Mom sat at the work table situated in the bay window, their heads bent over some papers spread before them.

Evan shifted his weight, causing the floor to creak, and Dad looked up.

“You’re back.” He smiled as he sat back in his chair and took his reading glasses off, setting them on the table. “How was the wine tasting?”

Mom’s face lit up, and she also took off her glasses, but they were on a chain around her neck. “More importantly, what did everyone think of Kyle’s news?”

Evan had to shift gears in his brain. His and Maggie’s engagement, right. “It’s great. We were all surprised but happy, of course. Everyone’s getting married, it seems.” A knot formed in his stomach.

“It does seem that way, doesn’t it?” Mom said. “And you’re with Alaina. I love seeing my children so happy.”

“Yeah, about that . . . I was actually hoping to talk to Dad.”

Mom and Dad exchanged glances, and Mom stood up from the window seat behind the table. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

“Actually, why don’t you stay? I can use all the perspective I can get.” Evan walked into the office and sat in the other chair at the table. “I don’t know what to do about Alaina.”

Dad folded his hands on the table. “Why do you have to do anything? You’re just dating, right?”

“Yes, but it’s . . . It’s more than that. I’m not sure it’s going to work out.”

“Oh dear.” Mom reached over and laid her hand over his. “You don’t feel the same way about each other?”

“No, it’s not that.” Actually, he didn’t know how she felt, but for now he’d go with what Kyle said and presume they were both in love with each other. The knot in his stomach grew. “She has different plans than I do. She wants to have kids. I can barely get my head around being with her and her fame. I never expected this.” He looked at Mom. “Did you ever expect this for me?”

Mom blinked back tears and dashed a fingertip over her eye. “I don’t know if I expected it, but I hoped and prayed for it. I knew it was possible. It just took the right woman, and from what I can tell, Alaina might just be that woman.”

Evan was beginning to think so, too. A woman he never imagined existed. Someone who not only understood him but also valued him for exactly who he was. “But I don’t want kids.”

Mom’s brow gathered with lines. “Why not?”

Evan shot a glance at Dad, who was watching him intently, his arms now crossed over his chest. “I don’t think I’d be a very good father. I’m not engaged enough. I think it might be . . . too hard.”

“Of course it is,” Dad said. “It’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do. It’s also the best. Fear about the unknown is perfectly normal, Evan.”

“Sure, but I’m not you, Dad. I don’t have the same toolbox as everyone else. How can I put a kid first when sometimes I’m just not capable of doing that?”

“I think you’ll be surprised,” Dad said. “I believe life gives us what we can handle, what we’re meant to achieve in our time. And I only learned that recently—since Alex died.” He uncrossed his arms and sat forward, leaning his elbows on the table. “I thought it was the cruelest, most terrible thing that could ever happen. And I still do. However, I know that Alex was a gift, even if he wasn’t meant to be here as long as I’d expected. He taught me so many things about patience and compassion—things you’ve taught me, too. I couldn’t be prouder of every single one of my children, for different reasons, of course. But I have to say, son, that I’m proudest of you.”

Evan shifted in his chair. The knot in his gut lost a little of its volume but was still lodged firmly. “Why?”

“You know Alex wrote me a letter before he died. In it, he talked about a lot of things, and one of them was you. He pointed out that you were the true success story in the family because you’d defied odds and stepped outside your comfort zone, like Sara, but for you it was an even bigger leap of faith.” Dad moved his elbows out and laid his palms flat in front of him. “Seeing you in this new position at Archer makes me realize just how successful you’ve become—not just because you’re good at what you do, but because you went after what you wanted. Yes, you stepped outside your comfort zone when you left Ribbon Ridge, but I think it was even more courageous for you to come back and find your voice here, in this crazy, amazing family of ours. I’m so, so proud of you, Evan. And I think you’d be an incredible father. You have it in you. You just have to decide if that’s another leap you want to take. Don’t fault yourself if you don’t. Only you know what’s best for you.”

Dad’s words raced around his brain, some of them sinking in immediately, others taking a roundabout way to understanding. Mom stroked his hand, and they just sat there in silence for a minute. They knew he needed to process. They understood him so well. He knew without a doubt that Alaina understood him like that and that her understanding would only deepen over time. He loved her so much, wanted so badly to see what a future with her held, but could he accept that children had to be a part of that future for her?

Evan cleared his throat. “There’s one more thing. I’m . . . nervous that I’ll pass on my challenges to a child. Or that he or she will inherit the bipolar disorder that affected Alex and Granddad.”

Dad inhaled sharply, but it was Mom who answered. “That’s a legitimate fear. I can’t tell you that won’t happen. We don’t know. Like your dad was saying, life is a giant leap of faith, and the best rewards often come when we face our biggest fear. There are no guarantees, but only you can decide if chasing the dream is worth the risk.”

He abruptly stood from the table.

“Are you all right?” Mom asked.

“Yeah, I think so. I just need to think for a bit.” He looked at both of them. “Thanks. This helped a lot. You’re great parents.”

They both smiled. “We try—and, Evan, that’s all you can do. Wanting to succeed, putting your heart and soul into something, usually means you do,” Dad said.

Evan nodded and left. He made his way downstairs to the gym, intending to lift some weights. The knot in his stomach shrunk with each step. He knew what he wanted to do. He just wasn’t sure he was ready to do it. He needed a minute. Or an hour. Or a day. He had to wrap his mind around this. And hope his head didn’t explode.

ALAINA PULLED HERSELF off the floor and washed her face. Her skin still looked splotchy and red, and her eyes were puffy. She sniffed and turned from the mirror, then left the bathroom.

She pulled her phone from her purse and froze just before she dialed Crystal’s number. It seemed natural to want to talk to her oldest and best friend, especially when it came to the photographer who’d shown up today armed with accurate information about the reason Alaina had gone to the clinic. The fact that she didn’t have any texts from Crystal meant the story hadn’t gone out yet, but it would.

No, the damage control she most needed to address was Evan. He was the father of her baby and the man she was in love with. She set her phone on the table and left the apartment, hoping he’d be in the house.

She went into the kitchen, but it was empty. Next, she strolled through the living room and came out into the oval entry. There, she heard voices coming from Rob’s office. She tiptoed forward and saw Evan sitting with his parents. No way was she interrupting that—or eavesdropping—so she went upstairs to Evan’s bedroom, hoping he’d come up there next.

She opened the door to his room, feeling a bit intrusive, but she wanted to talk to him as soon as possible. Needed to.

His bedroom was huge as far as bedrooms went—more the size of a master than something a kid would have. But he also used the space. Aside from his king-size bed, there was a massive corner desk, a dresser, a comfy chair with a footstool, and a rotating swing attached to the ceiling in another corner, which he used to regulate his sensory processing.

The desk supported three monitors and was covered in paperwork. He’d moved back here to work instead of going all the way to the little cabin near the homestead. She loved that cabin and the homestead. A part of her wanted to help them convert it into the museum they’d discussed, but an even bigger part of her just wanted to live there. She imagined a warm, happy home with Evan and their child running around. Emotion welled in her chest.

She took a deep breath and shook her head. She looked at his desk, and her eye caught a stack of papers that looked like a manuscript. Was that the book Alex had started and Evan was finishing? He’d told her a little of the plot. The main character had Asperger’s, like Evan, and his brother, a nonverbal autistic, had died in an accident. Though the brother had been nonverbal, he and the main character had been able to communicate quite well. In fact, the main character understood him better than anyone and after losing his brother had decided to do the things his brother had wanted to but never would.

She picked up the pages and began to read. A nudge against her leg drew her to look down. “Hey, Jean-Luc.” She bent and stroked the cat’s head for a minute. She loved a purring cat.

She sat in the desk chair, and Jean-Luc leapt into her lap. He snuggled down and butted her with his head. “Okay, okay.” She continued to pet him as she read.

The pages that were out didn’t start at the beginning of the story. She wasn’t sure which brother had written these words, but as she read further, it became clear. It was Evan. It had to be Evan.

The character in the story—his name was Charlie—was contemplating the toughest goal of all that his brother would never realize: falling in love. He’d met a girl but wasn’t sure he could trust her to really understand him. They spent time together, and she made him feel comfortable, special. They had amazing chemistry—Alaina couldn’t help smiling at this. Things seemed to be going well, but Charlie couldn’t shake the sense that he’d never be able to be the man she needed or deserved. She was outgoing, effervescent, charming, and he was intensely uncomfortable in social situations. But he loved her and wanted to find a way to make it work. She was a beacon of light and hope in the wake of soul-shattering grief. Charlie believed she was a gift from his brother, that in his quest to honor his brother’s memory, he’d also found his own happiness.

The door opened, startling Alaina. She set the pages on the desk and wiped her hand over her cheek, where a tear had fallen.

Evan stood in the doorway, his shirt in his hand and his chest bare. She was momentarily speechless at his beauty and by the sheer wave of emotion that threatened to consume her.

He came inside and closed the door. “I was going to shower. I hit the gym.” He glanced down at his jeans. “Wasn’t exactly dressed for it.”

She grinned at the inanity of his comments, loving his ability to just live in the here and now. “I can see that. I came to talk to you. Do you want to shower first?” Her heart was racing, but she didn’t want to rush him. She would demand that he listen to her, if necessary, but she preferred him to want to.

“No, that’s okay. If you don’t mind me a little sweaty.” He strode into the room and tossed his shirt on the bed. Then he sat and pulled off his shoes—black calf-height boots tucked beneath the hem of his jeans.

“I’ll take you any way I can.” She spun the chair toward him. “I found your book on the desk. I read part of it. I hope you don’t mind.”

He flinched, and she worried she’d overstepped. “No,” he said slowly, stretching the word out. “What did you think?”

“It’s beautiful.” She stood and walked to the bed, gingerly perching on the edge maybe a foot away from him. “Is it . . . Is it about me?”

He looked at her—fleetingly, but intensely enough that she felt it. “Probably. Yes.”

“Can you maybe look at me for another second? I’ll make it quick, I promise.” Her heart rose in her throat, and she massaged her palms down her thighs. He raised his gaze to hers, and her anxiety melted. “I love you, Evan. I know you don’t want children, but I’m . . . ” The anxiety roared back. “I’m pregnant after all.”

His eyes widened, and he leapt to his feet. He walked in a circle and then to the swing, which he dropped onto and immediately began to turn. “I don’t understand. You said you weren’t.”

She twisted her hands together. “I had a test done at the clinic—they were monitoring me closely because of the in vitro I’d planned—and it was negative. It was wrong. I have symptoms—lots of symptoms—and I just took four tests. They were all positive. They’re at the apartment if you want to see them.”

He paused in his swinging. “Four?”

A nervous laugh bubbled into her throat. “Yes. I hope you know I didn’t plan for this to happen.”

“You were taking fertility treatments, right? That sort of indicates you did plan for it to happen.”

She cringed—he was technically right. “Well, yes, but not with you. I’d been taking Clomid in preparation for in vitro fertilization.”

“Why?”

How did she explain the sudden need she’d felt to have a baby? “It’s hard to explain, but have you ever heard of a woman’s biological clock ticking?”

He pushed off with his feet and started swinging again. “Sure, but that’s an idiom.”

“It is, but it’s fairly accurate, at least for me. I hit twenty-eight, and I began to want a child. Not in the ‘Oh, I’d like to have kids someday’ vein, but like ‘Oh my God, I have to have a baby as soon as possible!’ I desperately want to be a mother, Evan.” She wrung her hands as anxiety coursed through her. She couldn’t read him at all as he rotated on the swing. “I’d actually decided to put the in vitro fertilization off.”

He swung in a circle. “Because of the movie you just agreed to do.”

She tried to follow his movements, but it was making her queasy, so she averted her gaze. “In part, but also because I’d met you. I wanted time to be in this relationship—to see where we were headed.”

Disappointment wedged into her chest. She knew better than to expect an answer to her “I love you” declaration, but she’d hoped . . .

He planted his feet on the floor and vaulted out of the swing. He walked to the bed and kneeled in front of her. “The book is about you. And me. You weren’t my dream. I didn’t expect to fall in love with you. The idea never occurred to me. Then you were there, and you began to fill my thoughts. Suddenly I had that dream. And now I can’t imagine my life without it. I don’t know about the kid thing. I’m . . . scared. You get that, right?”

She stared at him and nodded. He’d looked her straight in the eye throughout his entire speech. It was more than he typically ever said at one time, and the fact that he was looking directly into her soul provoked a crest of emotion. Tears rose in her eyes again. “Stupid hormones!”

He blinked at her. “What?”

“Sorry. I was going to cry. Again. I rarely cry. I’m blaming the pregnancy hormones.”

He smiled. “I get it now. You had a real Evan moment there with the non sequitur.”

She laughed. “I guess you’re rubbing off on me. I’m glad. Please don’t stop.”

He looked away from her at last, but his gaze darted back and forth to hers as he spoke. “So, we love each other.” She nodded, and a tear escaped her eye anyway, damn it. “How do we go from here? What about your movie? Your career? I’m willing to try this baby thing.” He shook his head. “That came out wrong. I want to be this baby’s father. I am this baby’s father. I’m good with that. Or I will be after I’ve had time to adjust.”

It was everything she’d ever hoped for. “I can’t have the baby and do the movie.”

His gaze snapped to hers, and she saw alarm for a brief second replaced by a tinge of uncertainty. “You’re giving up the movie?”

“Yes. I want this baby more than anything. I had such a terrible childhood. Having my own child means so much to me . . . But having your child means even more.”

He cupped her neck and drew her to him, meeting her halfway to kiss her. His lips were soft and gentle, the kiss unbearably tender. After a minute, he left her mouth but didn’t move away. “I love you so much.”

She put her hands on his neck and rested her forehead against his. “I love you, too. I’m going to retire, I think. Or at least take a lot of time off. I’d like to live here.”

“Thank God, because I don’t think I could handle living in LA.”

Loving each other and wanting to be together didn’t solve the problem of her fishbowl life and his extreme discomfort with it. “The paparazzi will follow me here, like they did today. It will die down, I think, as I bow out of the limelight, but it may take time.”

“I think I can manage that, especially if I’m here in my comfort zone.” His fingertips stroked the back of her neck. “I definitely want to try.”

His words warmed every corner of her soul.

He smiled against her lips. “So I guess we should get married. Or not. I guess that isn’t really required in the twenty-first century.”

She stroked her fingers along his neck. “I think I’d like to be your wife. If that’s okay with you.”

He pulled his head back from hers but kept his hands at the base of her neck. “Sure, but I guarantee I’m going to make a ton of mistakes. Like this proposal. It has to be the worst one ever. I will frustrate you, and there will be times when I just have to be alone. Are you okay with that?”

“We’ll build you your own special man cave, and I will never bother you there unless you ask me to.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

She smiled, knowing he loved plans. Plans meant expectation. Expectation fostered routine. “So we have a plan?”

“We have a plan.” He kissed her again, this time pushing her back onto his mattress and climbing in bed next to her. He raised his head up and gave her a sheepish look. “I forgot I was supposed to shower.”

She tugged him back down. “Kiss me again, and I’ll shower with you.”

He kissed her, but they didn’t make it to the shower for quite some time.

Epilogue

“I CAN’T BELIEVE you agreed to a honeymoon.” Liam handed Evan a beer. The small wedding reception was in full swing. Evan’s gaze kept finding his bride. She was absolutely stunning in a designer gown and her favorite diamond earrings. Her belly was still flat, but everything he’d read about pregnancy indicated it would start to curve soon. She suffered intermittent bouts of nausea, but overall she felt pretty good, if tired.

He, on the other hand, had never felt better in his life.

Evan held up two fingers. “Two words: private jet. Followed by two more: private island.”

“I thought it was a resort.”

“Okay, mostly private. We have our own peninsula or something. Anyway, we’ll be alone.” Just the way he liked it. Well, alone with Alaina. That was the way he liked it now.

“I would’ve flown you myself, but I’ve never gone that far.”

“What about your arm?” Evan asked.

Liam flexed the shoulder he’d dislocated two months before. “It’s much better. I’ve even been cleared for my regular activities.” He flashed a grin. “Hey, I see someone I need to talk to. Catch up with you in a bit.”

Evan looked around the great room, amazed at the variety of people who’d come to see him and Alaina get married in the little historic church in Ribbon Ridge. His gaze caught Alaina’s mother over near the windows, a glass of champagne in her hand. Lisa was loud and brash and unapologetically proud of her daughter. She also liked to drink a lot, as evidenced by her passing out in the car ride back from last night’s rehearsal dinner at The Arch and Vine, which they’d closed down for the event. It was frustrating to not be able to hold anything at The Alex, but they were still waiting on the damned zoning issue.

He scanned the crowd looking for their attorney, Aubrey Tallinger, but didn’t see her. He did, however, see a handful of Hollywood’s elite and had to wonder for the millionth time how he’d ended up married to one of the world’s most famous actresses. Hell, he kept wondering how he’d ended up married.

But when his gaze landed on Alaina in her sparkly white gown, he realized it wasn’t hard to believe at all. They were, quite simply, meant for each other. At least, that’s how they saw it.

Mom came up beside him and brushed something off his sleeve. “Alaina is just glowing.”

They’d kept her pregnancy under wraps from the press, but the fact that she would be toasting with sparkling cider instead of champagne might tip a few of their guests off. Not that Evan cared. His discomfort with her high-profile life had nothing to do with what people thought or said and everything to do with idiots who tried to invade his space.

There were paparazzi all over Ribbon Ridge right now, but the security detail Alaina had hired was doing a good job of keeping them out of everyone’s hair. Like Alaina had said, he doubted they would stay for the long haul. The residents of Ribbon Ridge wouldn’t put up with their nonsense, and Evan expected any stragglers would be run out of town. By the time he and Alaina returned from their two-week honeymoon in the South Pacific, he expected things would have mostly settled back to normal.

Sara approached him and Mom, smiling. She’d put together the rehearsal dinner, wedding, and reception in record time. “We’re about ready for the best man’s toast, and I’ve already got Hayden on Skype, so he can join in from France.”

“I’m so sorry he couldn’t be here,” Mom said.

Hayden hadn’t been able to get away from his internship on such short notice. And when pressed about whether he’d be coming home at the end of next month as originally planned, he’d avoided answering.

Evan scanned the room again, but his height advantage wasn’t doing him any favors. “I’m not sure where Liam went. He was just here.” Choosing which brother would be his best man had been tough. In the end, since he hadn’t been able to pick Alex, Evan had gone with Alex’s identical twin.

“I’ll see if I can find him,” Sara said. “Can you let Alaina know it’s time? And it looks like Crystal is with her. She can do her speech first.”

“I’ll help you look for Liam,” Mom said, heading toward the dining room, where the buffet was being laid out.

As Sara took off in search of Liam, Evan made his way to Alaina. She turned as he came toward her, smiling. His mom was right, she was glowing.

He kissed her cheek. “It’s time for the speeches. Are you ready, Crystal?” He glanced at Alaina’s maid of honor.

“Yep. Got my speech right here.” She flashed a scrap of paper between her fingers.

Sara came back with Liam in tow. He looked a little flushed. Maybe he’d run up the stairs or something. He was also smoothing his hair down.

Sara motioned for a waiter to bring the drinks. There was champagne for Crystal, Liam, and Evan and cider for Alaina. Liam whistled loudly to gain everyone’s attention, then gestured toward Crystal with a smile.

Evan slipped his arm around Alaina’s waist and pulled her against him.

Crystal cleared her throat. She clutched her speech in one hand and her champagne flute in the other. “After years of listening to Alaina accept awards—and always thank me—it’s about time I get to give a speech.” Everyone laughed. “I’ve known Alaina since we were ten. I’ve watched her bloom and grow into a confident and talented woman, someone who truly conquered the world. I’ve never known anyone with more tenacity or more compassion. That she found someone who values who she is as a person and not the image of who people think they see makes me so happy.” She looked at Alaina and sniffed. “No one deserves a happily-ever-after more than my best friend, and I couldn’t have picked a better person for her to spend it with. Evan, you’ve made Alaina shine even brighter, which I would’ve sworn wasn’t possible. I wish you both every happiness. And thank God Alaina’s leaving Hollywood for a while. Maybe now I can find a guy! To Evan and Alaina!” Crystal and Alaina hugged each other tightly as everyone applauded.

Then it was Liam’s turn.

He stepped next to Evan. “I’m going to keep this short. Evan is a man of few words, so why should I need more than that?” He flashed Evan a smile. “Courageous. Unique. Kind. Generous. Those are only a few words, but they describe Evan to perfection.” He turned to look directly at Evan. “I know it hasn’t always been an easy road, but you’ve made it. Some might say I’m successful, lucky . . . But standing here next to you, I’ve got nothing that compares to this. You deserve the happiness of this day multiplied to infinity, and looking at you and Alaina together, I know you’ll get it.

He raised his glass. “To my little brother and his beautiful bride.”

Everyone joined in saying, “To Evan and Alaina!”

“Now I’m supposed to tell you that the buffet is open!” Liam said before downing half of his champagne. He clapped Evan on the back. “Congrats, bro.”

Evan watched him go as Alaina snuggled up to him. “Liam seemed a little choked up.”

“Did he? You know how badly I suck at gauging emotions.”

“I don’t know.” She narrowed her eyes at him playfully. “You’ve done pretty well with gauging mine.”

“I blame the baby. It’s much easier to tell what you’re feeling when your hormones are dialed up to eleven.”

She laughed. “You can blame the baby all you like, but it’s because you know me. I know it’s crazy, but you know me.”

He knew what she meant. They often talked about how strange and wonderful it was that they’d clicked so quickly and that their love felt so right. But sometimes life handed you a gift, and Evan still couldn’t believe he’d been given Alaina.

“You ready to eat?” he asked. “I think we’re supposed to start the buffet.”

She nodded. “Thankfully I’m having a starvation moment as opposed to a nausea moment. But wait, we have a quiet second here while everyone’s focused on their champagne and finding the dining room. I wanted to thank you.”

He looked at her in confusion, wondering what he’d done. “Why?”

“You’ve given me so much—this love, this family, this home. I never imagined it was possible, that I’d feel like such a part of something.” She kissed him softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He’d never felt so happy, so at peace. He liked it here outside his comfort zone. He liked it so much, he thought he’d stay awhile.

He planned to stay forever.

The end

Liam Archer is the brother everyone loves to hate, but there’s more to his adrenaline-junkie, bad-boy exterior than meets the eye and one woman in Ribbon Ridge is about to bring him to his knees . . .

Preorder Ribbon Ridge Book Five today!

WHEN WE KISS

Coming January 2016

He may not be one of the famous Archer sextuplets, but their youngest brother, Hayden, is still looking for love . . . and she’s been right in front of him for years!

Don’t miss his story . . .

YOU’RE STILL THE ONE

Coming April 2016

Acknowledgments

I ENDED UP finishing this book under extreme duress—my mother had foot surgery, my kids were finishing school, my husband was out of town, my car was being towed to the dealership for a new battery . . . In short, I felt like I was living in my own novel! Thank you to my family for being so supportive and awesome as I sprinted to The End.

I am so fortunate to have such a great team with my agent, Jim McCarthy, and my editor, Nicole Fischer, both of whom I met in person for the first time at RWA this summer. Thank you, Jim, for the gift that was Hamilton, and thank you, Nicole, for a fun night of lemon drops and photo-booth silliness. Thank you also to Maria Silva, an absolutely amazeballs publicist.

Special thanks to my local pals for our writing sessions: Lynda Aicher and Jenna Bayley-Burke. And thanks to my not-so-local pals for our online word wars, which really aren’t wars, but more like support extravaganzas: Elisabeth Naughton and Rachel Grant. Thanks also to Elisabeth for super-fun wine country plot lunches!

I have to give a shout-out to my very dear writing friends. Thank you Erica Ridley, Emma Locke, and Morgan Edens for a fantastic night out in New York. Hugs to Inara Scott—seeing you was a highlight of my summer—and Lila DiPasqua, one of the strongest and most inspiring women I know. Thank you to Joan Swan just because—and I miss your face SO MUCH!

Finally, I want to honor every parent, sibling, grandparent, aunt, uncle, teacher, friend, caregiver, medical professional, therapist, etc. who supports and loves someone with autism. To parents especially, I want to hug each and every one of you and say, “I’m with you.” Autism is such a strange impairment (I struggle with using the right word, but as the parent of a child on the spectrum, this one works for us), and one I think we’re only beginning to truly understand. It embraces such a wide range of abilities, and like neurotypical people, no two on the spectrum are alike. We all have so many similarities as well as differences, and I hope more people will celebrate uniqueness and be open to things and people they don’t necessarily understand.

Thank you!

Thank you for reading The Idea of You! I have so much fun writing about the Archers. They feel like family to me, and I hope to you, too. I’m so excited about the next book, which is Liam’s story, When We Kiss. I hope to see you back in Ribbon Ridge when it releases in January 2016!

Ribbon Ridge is a fictional town based on several cities and towns dotting the Willamette Valley between Portland and the Oregon Coast. It’s pinot noir wine country, very beautiful and picturesque—and a short drive from where I live. My brother actually dwells right in the heart of it in a tiny town with no gas station or grocery store (he recently informed me they now have a smallish grocery store/carniceria). There is, however, an amazing antique mall in a historic schoolhouse.

Reviews help readers find books that are right for them. I hope you’ll consider leaving an honest one on your preferred social media or review site.

Be sure to visit my Facebook page for the latest information and to say “hi,” follow me on Twitter (@darcyburke), check out images of the northern Willamette Valley and other things that inspired this series on Pinterest, and sign up for my newsletter so you’ll know exactly when my next book is available.

Thank you again for reading and for your support!

About the Author

DARCY BURKE is the USA Today best-selling author of hot, action-packed historical and sexy, emotional, contemporary romance. Darcy wrote her first book at age eleven, a happily-ever-after about a swan addicted to magic and the female swan that loved him, with exceedingly poor illustrations.

A native Oregonian, Darcy lives on the edge of wine country with her guitar-strumming husband, their two hilarious kids who seem to have inherited the writing gene, and three Bengal cats. In her “spare” time, Darcy is a serial volunteer enrolled in a twelve-step program where one learns to say “no,” but she keeps having to start over. She’s also a fair-weather runner, and her happy places are Disneyland and Labor Day weekend at the Gorge.

Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

By Darcy Burke

CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

Ribbon Ridge

Where the Heart Is (a prequel novella)

Only in My Dreams

Yours to Hold

When Love Happens

The Idea of You

Coming soon:

When We Kiss

You’re Still the One

HISTORICAL ROMANCE

Secrets and Scandals

Her Wicked Ways

His Wicked Heart

To Seduce a Scoundrel

To Love a Thief (a novella)

Never Love a Scoundrel

Scoundrel Ever After

Regency Treasure Hunters

The de Valery Code

Romancing the Earl

Give in to your Impulses . . .

Continue reading for excerpts from

our newest Avon Impulse books.

Available now wherever e-books are sold.

MONTANA HEARTS: HER WEEKEND WRANGLER

By Darlene Panzera

I NEED A HERO

A MEN IN UNIFORM NOVELLA

By Codi Gary

BLUE BLOODED

A BENEDICTION NOVEL

By Shelly Bell

BEST WORST MISTAKE

A BRIGHTWATER NOVEL

By Lia Riley

An Excerpt from

MONTANA HEARTS: HER WEEKEND WRANGLER

by Darlene Panzera

Darlene Panzera returns with a sweet new Western series perfect for fans of Debbie Macomber’s heartwarming romances.

Bree Collins has finally come home to Fox Creek, Montana, to manage her family’s guest ranch. She knows she can handle any challenges that come her way, but when the infuriating Ryan Tanner reappears in her life, Bree suddenly has doubts about her ability to stay professional—and away from the handsome cowboy.

Bree stayed a few more minutes to watch them sway in time to the music, then spun around to search for the three CEOs and collided straight into a hard, chiseled chest. A soothing warmth spread over her entire body as she glanced up into Ryan’s handsome face and gasped. “You’re here.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

She leaned to the side and glanced at the three men behind him. “And you brought your brothers!”

“Yeah, they’re the reason I’m late. They didn’t want to come but I knew how much it meant to you, and why,” he said, giving her a mischievous grin. “So I had to negotiate a deal to get them here.”

Bree smiled because of the way his mouth twitched when he grinned, because of the excitement in his eyes when he looked at her, and because of the way his dark navy blue dress shirt and jeans clung to his splendid physique. Whoa, girl! Remember to keep it casual. Recollecting her thoughts, she met his gaze and asked, “What kind of deal?”

Ryan placed a hand on either side of her waist, his touch firm and . . . pleasantly possessive. “I had to trade them my earnings from working your ranch so they can buy a set of new tires for their quad.”

He did that for her?

“Which means,” he continued, flashing her another pulse-kicking grin, “I’m a little short on money and I’d be willing to be your weekend wrangler for the rest of the summer, if you’ll have me.”

Stunned, Bree sucked in her breath and stared at him, unable to speak, unable to process exactly what this would mean for her family, unable to think of anything except that Ryan Tanner was absolutely, undeniably, the very, very best! With a little hop, she squealed, unable to hold back her delight, and with her heart taking the lead, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him.

It was a quick kiss, over before she even realized what she had done, but when Bree pulled back she didn’t know who was more surprised, she or Ryan.

His gaze locked with hers for several long, breathless moments, then he cupped her cheek with his hand and drew her back toward him . . . and this time he kissed her.

His mouth was warm, tender, and soft against her own and filled with such passion she blocked out every sound around them, every presence, everything except the fact that Ryan Tanner, the guy she’d wanted to dance with since high school, held her in his arms.

An Excerpt from

I NEED A HERO

A Men in Uniform Novella

by Codi Gary

Sergeant Oliver Martinez joined the military to serve his country—not plan parties. But after a run-in with his commanding officer, Oliver is suddenly responsible for an upcoming canine charity event. Worse, he’s got to work with the bossiest, sexiest woman he’s ever met—who just happens to be the general’s daughter. When tempers flare and a scorching kiss turns into so much more, Oliver and Eve will have to decide if this attraction is forever . . . or just for now.

The dog bounded to her, wiggling and licking wherever he could. She held her hand behind her, and Oliver gave her the leash. Once she had it hooked onto Beast’s collar, she stood up with a mischievous smile. “I don’t know why he gives you so much trouble.”

“Oh, I’m sure Best put him up to it,” Oliver grumbled.

“Ah, and he gets a kick out of messing with you, huh?”

“That’s just because I’ve let it go until now, but the dude owes me a sofa and chair.”

Eve laughed and held the leash out to him. “I wonder if maybe you two just got off on the wrong foot. Perhaps you should open your mind to the possibility that Beast has issues and this is his way of dealing with them.”

Oliver took her advice with a healthy dose of skepticism. “What makes you think he has issues?”

“Well, for starters, he came from the animal shelter, so he’s got to have some baggage. The question is, was he turned in because he has behavioral problems and his previous owners just couldn’t deal? Or were the owners jackasses who just didn’t want him anymore?” Her tone was sad as she added, “If he was loved, it’s easy to assume that he is confused and misses it.”

Oliver studied Eve. Her dreamy, sweet expression tugged at his heart and he wondered who she was thinking about. A loved one she missed? A past lover? A bitter rush of jealousy churned in his stomach. He didn’t want to think about another man having even a sliver of Evelyn’s affections. Not when he wanted them all to himself.

“How is it you seem to know so much about what he’s feeling? Are you an event planner by day and dog psychic by night?” He had been trying to make a joke, but one look at her face told him he’d insulted her.

“I’m just making an observation,” she said curtly.

“Hey.” He reached out and touched her arm, turning her toward him. “I was just teasing you.”

She remained silent, and he took her chin in his hand, tilting her gaze up to meet his. “Why does it always seem like I can never say the right thing to you?”

A small smile played across those bee-stung lips. “Maybe I make you nervous.”

Oliver rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip and her sharp, warm breath spread over his skin. “Oh, you definitely make me nervous.”

“I do?” Her breathless question stirred his cock to life.

“Yeah, you do. I can’t relax around you, not with the way you make me feel,” he said.

“How is that?” Her tone was soft, and Oliver dipped his head, his mouth hovering over hers.

“Like I’m standing in the sunshine every time I’m near you,” he said.

“Oh.”

Oliver didn’t give her a chance to escape this time and covered her mouth with his, groaning as the sweet taste of her overwhelmed him. His hands slid back to cradle the back of her head, sliding his fingers into her hair and loosening her ponytail. A tiny sigh escaped her and he took advantage, slipping his tongue between her parted lips, coming undone when her tongue tangled with his. He felt her hands grip his waist, pulling him tighter against her body and he wanted more. Never had he gotten so caught up in one kiss. And never had he ignored every warning bell for a woman, but with Evelyn, it was like common sense went out the window and was replaced by uncontrolled passion.

Oliver felt something pushing between them and opened his eyes to look down at Beast, who was trying to use his giant head to separate them. Ignoring him, Oliver maneuvered them toward the couch, tumbling Eve down onto the mangled leather.

The kiss broke long enough for Eve’s eyes to pop open and she giggled. “Somehow, I never imagined making out on a cloud of couch stuffing.”

Oliver grinned down at her. “What can I say? I’m an original.”

“You’re definitely different,” she said.

“Is that a compliment?” His lips found the pulse point behind her ear and he felt her heart race against his mouth.

“I think so.”

“You don’t sound sure,” he murmured against her jaw.

“Probably ’cause I can’t think while you’re kissing me,” she whispered.

His mouth brushed hers. “Want me to stop?”

“God, no.”

An Excerpt from

BLUE BLOODED

A Benediction Novel

by Shelly Bell

In the next sexy and suspenseful novel from Shelly Bell, an investigative reporter and an ex-military Dom witness a murder outside of the sex club, Benediction, and uncover a deadly political conspiracy while trying to clear their names . . .

An Avon Red Impulse Novel

Puffing on his Cuban cigar, the Senator reclined in his chair, a tumbler of scotch on the rocks in front of him. He stared down the two men sitting on the other side of his desk, daring them to repeat the words that had just been uttered.

Sweating profusely, FBI Agent Seymour Fink tugged on his tie, his Adam’s apple bobbing above the buttoned collar of his shirt.

For a moment, the Senator considered retrieving his gun from his desk drawer and shooting the agent in the head, but he couldn’t risk getting blood or splatters of brain matter on his tuxedo. After all, he had an important dinner to attend in an hour and didn’t want to disappoint his wife.

He downed the rest of his drink, then shook the ice in the glass the way he’d like to shake the mobster who was fucking with him. “Tell me what you’re going to do to fix the problem,” he said calmly, unwilling to allow this minor bump in the road to waylay his plans.

“Do, sir?” Using the sleeve of his suit jacket, Agent Fink wiped the sweat from his brow, cigar smoke circling around his head like a boa constrictor. “I’m not certain we should do—”

“You listen to me, you little prick. There is nothing that will stand in my way.” The Senator hurled his tumbler against the wall above the fireplace, shattering the glass into a million tiny pieces. “Do you understand me? I’ve got your balls in a vise underneath my blade, so let’s try this again. What are you going to do to fix the problem?”

Seymour swallowed convulsively. “No one was supposed to get hurt.”

“Don’t pull that bullshit now. You knew when I approached you that lives would be lost for the greater good,” the Senator said. He handed off his cigar and nodded to the other agent, a bruiser of a man who he’d chosen not only for his twenty years of service to this country, but for his lack of empathy. Agent Richard Evans understood the risks involved in his job, the three bullets he’d taken in the chest a testament to that fact.

Evans pinched the fat cigar between his fingers and in a flash, locked his partner’s head under his arm, pinning Fink’s hands to the table and singeing the top of one with the foot of the cigar. Fink screamed, his smaller body thrashing wildly as he fruitlessly tried to escape from his partner and the pain he was inflicting.

The acrid scent of burnt flesh overpowered the cigar’s sweet one, a smell he would forever more attribute to power.

By the time Evans released him, Fink’s skin had turned pasty white, his shirt completely drenched from his sweat. He breathed heavily, nodding. “Consider the problem solved, sir. By this time tomorrow night, Rinaldi will be dead.”

The Senator leaned back in his chair and smiled.

God bless the USA.

Touring the dungeon located in the basement of a private mansion, Rachel Dawson ignored the decadent sights and sounds of sex going on all around her and kept her eye on the prize. After working her ass off to gain entrance into Benediction, the prestigious sex club owned by Cole DeMarco, she was finally here.

Although it was early in the evening and most of the upstairs fantasy rooms were still vacant, she’d gotten to play the role of voyeur as she’d observed two different scenes. The “teacher” bending the “schoolgirl” over his desk and smacking her with a ruler had titillated her, but Rachel had remained a removed observer, her body not engaged by the fantasy.

Then she remembered she wasn’t at Benediction to fulfill her fantasies or to act as voyeur. She was there to do a story about BDSM and for that, she needed to go to the dungeon.

Unlike the fantasy rooms, the dungeon was packed. In here, the sights, smells, and sounds of passion and pain seduced her senses. The potent scents of leather, musk, and sweat teased her with the promise of sex. Everywhere Rachel looked, people indulged in their kinks without judgment or recrimination.

Her mouth grew dry at the sight of a naked woman suspended from the ceiling by rope and flowing white sheets, twirling as if she was an acrobat in a circus act.

Who had bound that woman? Was he here tonight?

An Excerpt from

BEST WORST MISTAKE

A Brightwater Novel

by Lia Riley

Sometimes the worst mistakes turn out to be the best . . .

Smoke jumper Wilder Kane once reveled in the rush from putting out dangerous wildfires. But after a tragic accident, he’s cut himself off from the world, refusing to leave his isolated cabin. When a headstrong beauty bursts in, Wilder finds himself craving the fire she ignites in him, but letting anyone near his darkness would be a mistake.

Quinn unzipped her jacket, pausing halfway. “You don’t mind, do you? Seeing as I’m staying, at least for a while.”

“No.” Yes. Because the minute she slid out of that white, puffy coat, her breathtaking body was on full display. Those snug-fitting jeans weren’t overtly sexy, but the way the denim contoured to the slight flare of her narrow thighs made him swallow. Hard.

It had been awhile since he’d been in the company of any woman who wasn’t a medical professional or intimately involved with his brothers. Also, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he had a type and this forward, strong-looking woman fit it right down to that thick wavy brown hair pulled back at the nape of her long, sexy neck.

Necks were underrated female geography. He loved how they tasted when he kissed them there, how they smelled as he nuzzled.

Equally fascinating was her lush mouth, how the corner remained quirked on one side despite the natural pout, as if in perpetual secret amusement.

This woman was bright, spunky, and happy, despite her father’s miserable situation. His heart sank. He had nothing to offer someone like her, not when his whole world had burned to cinder.

He shook himself inwardly, not moving a muscle. No point succumbing to the ugly truth, however true. Maybe he could pretend to be a normal guy for the night. Normal except for the scars, the missing leg, and the fact that he hadn’t spoken to a living soul since Sawyer dropped off his groceries six days ago, and was tongue-tied around strangers at the best of times.

Shit.

What would Archer do? His younger brother was good with people, especially the ladies. He’d navigate this situation like a pro.

She gave him a tentative smile, probably because he was staring at her like a loon.

Compliments. Women like compliments.

“Your teeth are real white,” Wilder blurted. God damn it, the words hung over them like a comic strip balloon. He wished for a string to grab on to, stuff the idiocy back into his mouth, swallow it down.

“Excuse me?” Her shoulders jerked as her lips clamped, clearly not anticipating the awkward flattery.

At least he hadn’t said how much he liked her neck. Yet.

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

Excerpt from Montana Hearts: Her Weekend Wrangler copyright © 2015 by Darlene Panzera.

Excerpt from Blue Blooded copyright © 2015 by Shelly Bell.

Excerpt from I Need a Hero copyright © 2015 by Codi Gary.

Excerpt from Best Worst Mistake copyright © 2015 by Lia Riley.

THE IDEA OF YOU. Copyright © 2015 by Darcy Burke. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

EPub Edition NOVEMBER 2015 ISBN: 9780062443366

Print Edition ISBN: 9780062443373

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