Allison Gatta - Bound to Be His The Archer Fam

BOUND TO BE HIS AN ARCHER FAMILY NOVEL

ALLISON GATTA

Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Epilogue Thanks so much for reading! Sneak Peek: Sworn to be His, the final novel in the Archer Family Series About the Author Also by Allison Gatta By AE Gatta Copyright

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t is now safe to turn on electronic devices and unfasten your seatbelts. Thank you for flying Hawaiian Airways, and aloha from Oahu," the cool female voice hummed over the intercom. In seat 9B, Shay Meyers breathed a sigh of relief. After six hours spent gently nudging off the sleep-cuddler beside her, she was overdue for a crack at some fresh air and freedom, and the fact that she'd also be in Hawaii with her best friend would make the respite that much sweeter. As the plane continued to glide into the gate, she pulled her cellphone from her fireengine-red clutch and slid it out of airplane mode. Then it happened. The phone shook so many times and so violently that the woman snoozing beside her clutched Shay's bicep in her sleep and muttered something like, "No, Mommy. Make the earthquake stop." "We're here," Shay said back, but rather than jarring the woman awake, it only seemed to ease her momentary distress and send her back into another round of snores. "Good talk," Shay murmured, and then glanced down at the list of missed texts on her phone. A few were from clients—the sports publicity company she ran with her best friend had taken off in the past few months—and some were from Andy, too, wondering which gate to meet her at. But the rest... Shay's thumb hovered over one of the messages. Her stomach clenched as she tried to determine if she should read them now or wait. As soon as she opened the chat window, her mother would know that she'd read everything. And then there would be no avoiding her. No ignoring her. But then maybe it was better to just rip the Band-Aid off, handle whatever lunacy was waiting for her, and then start her vacation with a clean slate. Swallowing hard, she swiped her thumb across the screen, and a veritable slew of messages popped up in front of her. She scanned the first one quickly and then groaned.

HEY, honey. Hope your flight goes well. Listen, I know it's a little early, or maybe a lot

early, to be asking, but I was wondering if you might want to spend Christmas with me and Phillip this year? Of course, it doesn't have to be Christmas. It can be any time of year. It's just been so long since I saw you, and since you couldn't make it to the wedding —

SHAY CLOSED her eyes and stuffed the phone back into her purse. Why did her mother insist on doing this to her? Making her into the bad guy? Either she played along with the delusion that husband number seven would still be around for Christmas, or she was the one person who had to say "let's play it by ear" and then allow the conversation to spiral into the fact that she didn't, in fact, plan on getting to know yet another stepfather before he inevitably hit the bricks. She could already hear her mother practically sobbing like a sixteen-year-old. "He's different, Shay. You don't understand. He's different." Yep, Shay never understood. At least, not according to her mother. Not that being right ever left her feeling satisfied. The only difference was that now she was old enough to choose not to be around to pick up the pieces. "Momma, Momma, the rabbits," the woman next to her muttered, and then snored so loudly that a few passengers turned around to glance at her. Luckily, that was when the aisle began to fill with passengers grabbing their luggage and making their way out of the plane. "Um, excuse me," Shay tried again, and then tapped the woman's hand. She started, sending a mess of red spirals bouncing in front of her heart-shaped face. "Oh, God. I didn't—" The woman gasped, her cheeks turning the same scarlet as her hair. "It's okay. Happens to the best of us," Shay said. The woman closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm so sorry. I normally fly with my husband and he—" "Wrangles the rabbits for you?" Shay offered her a warm smile, and the woman grinned back. "Exactly. Ugh, I owe you one." "It's really okay." Shay shook her head and was saved from the woman's next apology when the line beside them began to move. "Looks like that's us." Quickly, she gathered her things and practically sprinted to the baggage claim, only stopping momentarily to text her gate number to Andy. In the brief moment that had taken, she'd spied a new message from her mother—this one undoubtedly asking why she hadn't bothered to respond to the message she'd clearly read. There was no time for that now, though. Not when she had a whole two weeks in Hawaii with her best friend, the last two weeks they'd have before Miss Andy Archer became Mrs. Andy Grant. Then there Andy was, waiting in front of the baggage claim in a casual green dress and jean jacket, her dishwater brown hair shoved into a sloppy ponytail. Shay rushed toward her, crushing the bride-to-be so hard against her that she nearly cut off her own breath in the process.

"How is it?" Shay asked. "The house, I mean. Is it everything you could ever have wanted?" "Oh my God, you're going to die. It's incredible." Andy prodded the large purple bag beside her and then said, "I've already got your bag. Ready to go?" All the way from the airport to the main road, they chattered about the trip and the decorations in Andy's new summer home—the little Hawaiian getaway that had come as a bonus along with Andy's hunk of a husband-to-be. Then, out of the blue, Andy said, "So, how is your mom?" Shay rolled her eyes. "Did she text you?" "Only once." Andy shrugged. "She was worried." "No, she wasn't," Shay said. "She was manipulating." "What did she want this time?" "She and Phillip want me to come visit." "Ah." Andy nodded but didn't meet Shay's eyes. "What?" "Well, it might be nice. It'll have to wait until after my honeymoon, but it could be good to see her." "Listen, I love you, but you have no idea what you're talking about. And I really don't want to talk about her right now. I'll send her a message when I get to your place, but that's the last I'm hearing of it for one trip, okay?" Shay cocked an eyebrow. "Fine, fine. You got it." "I want to focus on what's important. We've got one whole weekend together before the boys get here, and I intend to make the most of it. Now, I have a couple of things already lined up—" "Right. About that." Andy turned onto a street speckled with little open-air villas. All of them looked out onto a private beach where thatched umbrellas and pretty flowered trees dotted the crisp white sand. "What?" Shay asked, but when they pulled into the driveway of a little blue house, she already knew what her friend was going to say. There, running across the sand, were two men in the midst of what looked like a heated Frisbee battle. The first was tall and muscular, with a mane of shaggy black hair and eyes to match. Logan Grant, Andy's husband-to-be. With him, Andy's male counterpart, complete with freckles and sandy, brownishblond hair. Of course, instead of Andy's curvy build, Matt was lean and toned, the perfect body for a professional athlete. And for a professional pain in the ass. "They're here," Shay said blankly. "Okay, okay. They showed up last night to surprise me. I didn't know anything about it. You have to believe me." Andy offered her a pleading smile, but before Shay could answer, she spotted Matt running toward the car, his Frisbee held aloft. "Aloha," he shouted, and then bent down to Shay's window and added, "Has anyone offered you a lei yet?" Andy rolled her eyes, and Shay looked from Matt to Andy and back again. "Where is..."—she frowned at Matt—"this staying?" "Um." Andy offered her another nervous smile and Shay's jaw dropped, but then

Matt was opening the back door and lugging Shay's purple case from the seat. "Come on, lovely, I'll show you where you're staying." She watched him walk for a little bit, unable to do anything but blink after him, but then he called, "Are you coming or not?" and she scooted from the car. Andy followed one pace behind her, her eyebrows still knit together. "You promise you didn't know about this?" Shay hissed. "I swear," Andy said. "Logan thought it would be nice." "Right. That was... sweet of him." She said it For Andy's sake. From Logan’s perspective, Andy would be spending the two weeks before their wedding surrounded by the four people she loved most in the world—Shay, Logan, and her two brothers, Matt and Derrick. From Shay's perspective, however... "This is it." Matt chucked her case none too gently onto the bed. "Don't worry, if you need anything in the middle of the night, I'm right next door." "You're..." She blew out a breath. Andy let off a little nervous giggle. "Three bedrooms. Perfect, right?" "Perfect," Shay said. This was just what she needed. Not only was she hounded by her mother and dogged by her maid of honor responsibilities, but now she'd have Andy's scoundrel of a brother to manage, too. She could practically already hear him, teasing her about things going bump in the night and offering her cherry pie whenever they were in the kitchen together. Suddenly, two weeks sounded so much longer than it had before. "Okay, well, if you need me, you know where to find me." Matt strolled from the room, and when the door was safely closed behind him, Shay flopped onto the bed and stared up at her friend. "Well," she said after a pause. "I guess our plans have changed." "Yeah, I guess so." Andy scratched her head, her mouth quirking to the side. Shay sat up straight, panic suddenly seizing her heart. "What?" "What what?" Andy asked. "We've been friends for how many years and you think I don't know that look?" Shay asked. "Okay, okay. Well, I was going to wait to ask you this..."—Andy leaned back against the wall—"but, um, I sort of kind of need a favor from you." "How big a favor?" "Not colossal. But not, you know, tiny. A medium favor. A favor like—" "Will you just get on with it?" Shay cut in. "I was training my assistant before we left, but I don't think she's ready to handle all the high profile clients, so I'm wondering if you could handle the details while I'm on my honeymoon?" "So... you want me to cover Logan's case? The press coverage for the wedding?" "No, no, that's all handled. It's actually..." Andy's mouth quirked to the side again, and suddenly realization pooled in Shay's stomach like a noxious poison, dripping down and then spreading out to burn her insides. "No," she said. "Not him."

"Come on. Matt isn't that bad. I'll ask him to be on his best behavior." "Rabid raccoons have better best behavior," Shay shot back. "Okay, okay, I know. But... please?" Andy batted her eyelashes. "As a wedding gift?" "What's in it for me?" "I'll go with you as your date to your mom's next wed-ding," Andy sing-songed. "And you pay for the gift," Shay said. "Deal." "Deal." But as soon as the word was out of her mouth, Shay knew she was going to regret it.

STAGNATING IMPROVEMENT. The words burned through his mind, projected onto the table in front of him, spilled out of the mouths of the people around him instead of their actual words. Stagnating. It had been a damn year and the best his physical therapist could say was that? Matt blinked down at the steak in front of him and tried to clear his head, if only for his sister’s sake. She didn’t need to be burdened with his lack of improvement— especially not now, right before her wedding. Still, this would affect her company. He would be even more of a burden to her than he already was. And now she was giving away his case... He stabbed his steak, now doing his best to push away the memory of the conversation he’d heard through the villa’s thin walls. He was reading too much into things. Getting too turned around. His wrist would improve. It would just take time. So. Much. Time. “I think this is the quietest I’ve ever seen you,” Shay said, and he brought himself back to the present when he looked into her clear, green eyes. Damn, she was gorgeous. Shame she had such a giant stick up her ass, or she might be exactly what he needed to unwind... "I think we're all tired from our flights. The time difference alone," Andy piped in, and to emphasize her point, Andy let out a loud, fake yawn. "I could go to sleep right now." "I'm wide awake. I think I'm going to head into town and stop by a bar. Derrick invited me. Anybody want to come?" Matt raised his eyebrows at Shay. "I think we have plans." Logan grinned at Andy, and Matt's stomach flipped over in disgust. Wasn't it bad enough to have his friend banging his sister without him leering at her all the time, too? "Right. Well, how about you? Looking to unwind?" He held his hand out to Shay, and she looked from it to him. Her pert nose wrinkled. "Well, don't say I never offered you anything." He shrugged, picked up his dishes, and stowed them in the washer before heading for the door. After a quick goodbye, he was off, speeding into town just as quickly as he could go, the island music blaring from his speakers while the wind swept through his dark

blond hair. This was going to be good. It was exactly what he needed. The chance to blow off steam with the one person (besides Andy) who knew him best in the world. His brother, Derrick. When he got to the address Derrick had sent him, he had to do a double take. Unlike the little cabana and open-air patio bars crowding the city, this place was in the middle of a metropolitan-looking strip mall. The large, black windows were impossible to see into and, if he had to guess by the sign, it looked like the place hadn't been open for a good fifteen years. Still, a little cardboard cutout in the window claimed the place was open, so Matt cautiously made his way inside. It was packed. All around him, island folks crowded around tables, chattering and laughing with each other. A barman was slinging drinks just as quickly as he could, his long black dreadlocks flying as he went. And at the very end of the bar was the familiar bulky frame of his older brother. For an instant, Matt was caught off guard by the way the years had changed Derrick. Or maybe the army had done the changing for him. Still, looking at him was almost like looking at their father again with his thick, dark hair and perpetual five o'clock shadow. Shaking his head, Matt grinned and yelled, "Derrick!" The other man looked up, beaming back, and then clasped his brother in a warm embrace. "It's been too long, little brother," Derrick said, and when they broke apart, he motioned for Matt to take a seat. "I know it." Matt slid onto the stool beside him and found a frosted mug of beer already awaiting him. "What the hell is this place?" "It's where the locals go. Sort of like a Moose Lodge. Cheaper drinks. Better atmosphere." He shrugged. "I don't want to talk about this, though. I want to talk about you. And Andy, too. You're promising me this Logan guy is good enough for her?" “Cutting straight to the chase, huh?” Derrick nodded. "I promise. Logan’s perfect for her," Matt said. "And you don't hold him responsible for..." Derrick glanced at Matt's wrist, apparently unsure of how to end his sentence. It was fine, though. Matt had discussed the accident that collapsed his career enough to know how to respond to questions about it. "We've been over this," Matt said. "I know. It's just"—Derrick took a swig of his beer and then continued—"I just don't know how a guy can stamp on your pitching wrist like that, call it an accident, and have nobody blame him for it." "He didn't call it an accident. It was an accident," Matt said. "Right," Derrick said. "It was. I'm telling you." He took a deep breath and then said, "Besides, things are about to change." "That so?" "Yeah. I'm going to get back in the majors this year. I feel it," he lied, his stomach

writhing with every word. Derrick raised his eyebrows. "Andy helped you out that much already?" "She's mostly helped against my will," he said, relieved that that, at least, was true. Despite his best efforts to force his sister to drop him as a client for her sports publicity firm, she'd been pressing her nose to the grindstone for months in an effort to get him back in the public eye and—with any luck—back on a major league bench. So far, results had been meager at best. Not that she ever let on that fact to him. "That's how she rolls." Derrick nodded. "I told her not to have the wedding here, you know. I said I'd come to San Diego, but no, Andy wasn't going to inconvenience me." Derrick rolled his eyes. “There’s got to be some way to stop her when she gets like this. I remember when we were kids Dad used to try to just give her some other pet project to take on. Remember when she tried to get him to date?” Matt laughed. “That was a disaster. But yeah, I remember.” “It’s like she needs to be the one to control everything, and if she doesn’t—” Matt stopped listening. Something inside of him, deep down, had clicked. Andy had passed off his case to Shay. Shay who hated and despised him. Who wanted nothing to do with him. Who would jump at the chance to be rid of him. And that was exactly what he needed. “Hey, you here?” Derrick asked, and Matt shook his head. “Care to share with the class?” Derrick asked. Matt hedged. On one hand, he was bursting to share his newly cooking plan, but on the other... “No, sorry, just...” He shook his head again. “I just remembered something I have to do.”

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he rest of the night with Derrick passed in a rush of laughter and euphoria. It was nice, being with him again after so many years. And, of course, after the initial check-ins about baseball and Derrick's work with the army, they got to talking about old times. The pranks they used to play on Andy. The way their dad used to sing so loud in the shower that even the neighbors would complain. Before they knew it, the bartender was shouting for last call and they were both pleasantly buzzed and ready to walk home. In the morning, Matt grabbed his rental car and thought again of his sister. Or rather, what he'd overheard his sister saying. Shay was going to be taking on his case. Shay with her beautifully short temper and her passionate distaste for him. She was like a gift, all wrapped up and ready for him to open. After all, if he tried to pull one over on Andy, she'd know what he was doing—would smell it on him. But Shay? She'd be on the lookout for even the slightest reason to let him loose. Maybe he could even act up enough that she'd be able to convince Andy to let his contract lapse. Then he'd be in the clear. No Shay, no Andy, and no more guilt over ruining what could be a successful business for them. All he had to do was find his angle. When he got back to the house, he parked on the couch, flicked open a magazine, and waited. Logan and Andy had already gone out for the day—they’d left a note that they planned on fishing for their supper that night. Which, of course, left only Matt and Shay. All alone. Another gift. After only a few minutes, her door creaked open and he heard her long, fitful yawn before her footfalls slapped against the cool, tiled floors. "Good morning." Matt beamed at her, and she squinted back through bleary eyes. Apparently, Shay wasn't much of a morning person. In fact, it almost made him laugh to see her normally sleek black hair sticking out in all directions, her mascara smeared under her left eye, and her normally piercing dark eyes clouded by sleep. It almost made her seem human. Almost. Because, of course, the way her nightgown clung to unnaturally gorgeous curves was still something of a mystery. No woman should look like that—with such round, firm breasts and a bottom to match. It was one or the other; everyone knew

that. "Morning," she grumbled back, and when she picked up the carafe and tilted it, only a few droplets of coffee dripped into her mug. She frowned at him. "This is your doing?" It was more an accusation than a question. "Sorry, I thought you'd be up. Time difference." "The time changed. My need for sleep didn't. Neither did my need for coffee." She yawned again. "It's okay. There's more." Yes, there used to be... He stared down at the steaming mug on the weathered wood coffee table in front of him rather than watched the realization inevitably dawn on her face. Even now, he knew it was low-down and dirty what he'd done, but he did have a job to do. Slowly, he heard one cabinet after the other click open and then shut as Shay searched the shelves. When at last the final click sounded, she said, "This is unbelievable. I could have sworn there was more coffee in here." "Me too." He shrugged, picturing the place where he'd hidden the k-cups under the sink, just behind the dish detergent. "I guess I'm going to have to go buy some." "No can do." He clicked his tongue. "Andy and Logan have the car." "Don't you have a car I can borrow?" She raised her eyebrows. "What's the magic word?" "Please." She pushed the word through gritted teeth. "No can do. Needs an oil change. I wouldn't feel safe." He shook his head. "Then why did you just—" She huffed and then stalked back down the hall. He knew he should have turned around again and focused on his coffee, but he couldn't bring himself to look away from the way her ass swayed as she moved. "I'm getting changed. Then we've got to talk." Her speech was blunt, and punctuated by the snap of her bedroom door. Good, he was already off and running. Next, she'd come out here already irritated and try to get some work done. All he had to do was make sure that wouldn't happen. All he had to do was be himself. That always seemed to do the trick where Shay was concerned. The door whooshed open again, and when Shay reappeared, he could hardly believe she was the same person. Her black, angular bob was perfectly sleek and in place, and her long legs were accentuated by her too-short white dress. And what a dress it was. It clung to her hips, her waist, and finally cut off just below the shoulder to highlight her elegant collarbone and long, creamy neck. He blinked, wondering where her usual pair of stilettos had gone, but then pulled himself back to the present. "Looking good, slugger," he said, and then reached for his coffee and sipped it pointedly. She stared as he drank, her eyes narrowing. "Thanks, sport." Plopping onto the white leather couch across from him, she let out a deep sigh and pushed a stack of papers onto the coffee table between them. "What's this?" he asked, pointing to it. "Your new public appearance strategy. I was up half the night working on it." For a

moment, it almost seemed like she hedged, but then she added, "The last page also contains a number of therapists to see about your injury and learning to cope with the —" "No." He cut her off, all pretense forgotten. "Right, well, it's your decision." She frowned and then carried on as briskly as ever. "Anyway, since your sister has decided on such a long honeymoon, we can't afford to put everything on hold. You and I are going to have to work together—" "I like the sound of that," he said. She grimaced. "And maintain some professional civility." "As far as I remember, I've always been more than civil with you." "Even if you don't have a professional bone in your body," she shot back. "You're right, that was a very professional thing to say." He cocked an eyebrow, and color rose in her high cheekbones. "Okay, okay, you got me." She shook her head. "It's going to be an adjustment for both of us. So will you just look at the packet?" He glanced at it. From here, he could already see the names of a few familiar magazines and a few more familiar trainers. Hell, the thing even seemed to be colorcoded. She'd clearly put a lot of effort into this. For him. No, for Andy. Not that it mattered who. After all, he was looking out for Andy, too. "I don't think so. I trust you." He shrugged and then sipped his coffee. "We done?" "Definitely not," she said. "You can't just shrug it off. You need to look over it." "I don't need to do anything." "Don't you want to get back in the majors? Don't you—" She stopped suddenly, stared at the coffee and then the cabinet and finally at Matt himself. Her mouth became a very tiny "o" and then split into a wide grin. "What?" he asked. "I see what you're doing," she said. "No, you..." He ran a hand through his hair. "I mean, I'm not doing anything." "You certainly are. You're throwing this. You're going full on Red Sox." She nodded. "I'm not going Red Sox," he said. "What a stupid, dated reference." "Come on, Matt." Shay leaned back in her chair. "I've known you for as long as I've known your sister. You don't think I know when you're fucking with me?" "I would hope fucking with you—" he started, trying to steer them back on course, but Shay was determined. "Knock it off. I see what you're doing. I know you." "You do not know me. And I'm not doing anything," he repeated. "Right, right." She rolled her eyes. "So you're going to sit here and tell me that your real-life inclination is not to do everything in your power to get back into the major league? That after all your years of practicing and all your work at the physical therapy center, you're okay with letting go of that dream?" He eyed her for a moment and then said, "That's not what I'm saying." "Oh, but it is. You're saying you don't want to know about the press junket. You don't want to take all the steps you need to. You're willing to let it all go." "Shay," he said, but she shook her head.

"I know you. Know you well enough to know when you're being stupid and prideful. Andy wants you as a client for more reasons than just being your sibling. Do you honestly think I would have signed my reputation to somebody who would take on a pity case?" "Is that your twisted way of saying you like me?" he asked. "Only if that's your twisted way of admitting that I'm right." She smiled. "Read the damn packet." He looked from it to her and back again. If he reached for it, he'd be signing on again —be letting himself up from what could turn out to be the biggest letdown of his career since the accident. But if he didn't at least try... He couldn't think about the alternative. "Did you include my rider?" he asked, leaning in to pluck the stack of papers from the table. "Only divas have riders." She rolled her eyes and then leaned in and grabbed his coffee from the table. "And this now belongs to me." She took a sip and then got back to her feet and smoothed her skirt with her free hand. "Okay, tell me if you have any questions. The fun stuff starts next week. Don't mess it up." "When have you ever known me to mess anything up?" he asked. In response, she only quirked her eyebrow and walked away.

WHEN SHAY STEPPED through the little patch of grass and onto the sandy shore that night, it was with one goal in mind—to clear her head. The salty ocean breeze whipped her black hair around her face, and she breathed deeply, careful to take in every last drop of the serenity. Exhaling, she started off toward the sunset, watching the orange fade into red and purple in the sky as she got closer and closer to the horizon. This was the sort of thing she should have been focusing on. The nature surrounding her, the beauty of the little white blossoms of the trees along the shore. After all, how often was a girl in Hawaii? Still, even as she tried with all her might to force her mind in one path, it veered off again. Wondering how she'd never noticed that Matt's eyes were exactly the same color as grass. Wondering if she ever really noticed just how broad his shoulders were before today. She shook her head. Come on, sunset. Look at the sunset. The sunset that was exactly the same scarlet of Matt's old uniform. Damn, could he fill out a uniform. She swore internally, and her walk became something more akin to a march as long, purposeful strides carried her along the shore. Just when she was about to stop, she spotted two silhouettes in the distance and, noticing the familiar wave of Andy's brown mane, she made her way over. The closer she got, though, the more she realized that Andy and, as it turned out, Derrick did not want to be overheard. The two were standing only inches apart, taking turns muttering in low voices and

glancing over their shoulders to check for intruders. When it was Derrick's turn to look, Shay panicked and jumped behind a huge, flowering bush so quickly that she shook half the petals from the plant. At first, she was sure she'd given herself up, but then Derrick turned back to his sister, and nodded thoughtfully. Great. Just great. She glanced through the bushes at the pair and silently wondered how she'd talk herself out of this one. If the tug on her scalp was any indication, she likely had a full-on bird’s nest in her hair, and a sting on her knee let her know that wasn't her only problem. Still, if she popped out of the bushes, they'd know she was listening. Except she wasn't. Or at least she hadn't been. "I know what you're saying." Derrick's deep rumble carried further than his sister's quiet, careful tones. "I just think... I don't know. You know and I know. Why shouldn't Matt?" Shay stiffened. This was wrong. She shouldn't be listening. But then... She focused harder, willing her ears to catch the lilt of Andy's voice in the wind. "He's going to try to find her. You know it and I know it. We're all better off without that happening, don't you think?" Her? Who was her? She racked her brain, trying to remember any tidbit about lost love or old girlfriends, but as far as she could recall, Matt had never settled down with anyone long enough to plant any emotional roots. He was more of a tumbleweed. A slutty, slutty tumbleweed. "That's not up to us. She's his mother, too," Derrick answered, and Shay's heart stopped beating. Mother. They—Andy and Derrick, that was—knew where their mother was? And they were keeping it from Matt? For some odd reason, angry betrayal coursed hot and hard through her veins, running up the back of her neck. The Archers, as far as she'd been told, had never had much of a mother. Even when Evelyn Archer had been around, it was never for more than a catatonic bout on the couch or in bed. The birth of Andy had been the last straw. When she was only a week old, her mother up and split in the middle of the night, never to be seen or heard from again. Or so Shay thought. Andy covered her mouth with her fist and then said something Shay couldn't understand. Still, she caught herself leaning closer. If she moved even a hair out of place, she knew they'd find her out, but it was too much to bear. She had to know more. "Because she contacted me. Again." Derrick answered the unheard question. "She wants to see us." "I still don't understand how she found you," Andy said, but her brother only sighed. "What does it matter? She knows. About me and you and Matt, too. If I don't see her, she's going to try to find you and Matt next." "Tell her not to," Andy said. "She would have no reason to listen. Andy—"

"Don't. I'm not having this conversation again. If you don't remember what happened with Oregon—" "Of course I remember. That was hard for all of us." "One little tip and we spent a whole summer looking for her. I can't see Matt like that again. I thought he'd never—" "But he's not a teenager anymore. He can handle it. You don't have to protect him." For the first time, Shay spotted Derrick's military edge, understood why men would fall into line when they heard his command. That was men, though. And Andy Archer wasn't a man. "Give it time," Andy insisted. "We can talk about it again in a couple of days. Let me think on it." Without waiting for his answer, Andy started back toward the house, and Derrick followed fast on her heels. Based on the lighter, friendlier tone in her voice, she'd decided to change the subject. When they'd once again become specs on the horizon, Shay climbed from her shrub and dusted herself off, her mind whirring at a mile a minute. Andy and Derrick knew where their mother was. After all these years. And Matt... She pictured him the way he'd been earlier in the day, the laughing gleam in his eyes. She could see why Andy wouldn't want to take it from him. Even Shay, with all her prejudice, knew how much the guy had suffered in the last year. Adding something like this may just break the poor guy. But then... She shook her head. It wasn't her place to meddle in family affairs. She never should have hid in the first place. Stupid spontaneous reactions. She should have stayed in plain sight. Should have been upfront and honest. Because now what was she going to do when she saw Matt in the morning?

CHAPT ER 3

S hay slid into the driver's seat of Andy's rental car and laid her head against the steering wheel. For the whole of the morning, she'd been wracking her brain, trying to find a way of getting Andy alone and wheedling out some details about what she'd heard on the beach last night. Considering Andy didn't even know she'd been overheard, Shay thought it would have been an easy enough task. But no. She'd been so wrong that it was laughable. In fact, it was almost like Andy was avoiding her on purpose. Whenever Shay zigged, Andy zagged. And if by some miracle they did manage to end up alone for one minute, one of the boys would come crashing in and ruin everything. So much for her long, relaxing vacation. Slowly, Shay settled back into her seat and clicked the radio on before shoving the keys in the ignition. A little retail therapy—and some time to formulate a new foolproof plan—was what she needed. Yep, she'd get some fresh air, some supplies, and some much needed peace and— "Hey." Matt, looking nonchalant as ever, slid into the seat beside her and closed the door. Shay blinked at him, not sure what to say. After all, she hadn't just spent her morning trying to corner Andy--she'd spent it hiding from Matt, too. Like, if she spent time alone with him, he'd be able to read the big, fat secret etched on her face. Apparently, though, that concern was unfounded, because he only pointed at the radio and grimaced. "Mind if I change this? I like Jewel as much as the next guy, but I have to tell you that still equates to not liking her at all." Shay blinked again, and he turned the knob on the console until some hair metal started pouring through the speakers. "What are you doing?" she finally managed, and then it was Matt's turn to look blankly at her. "You were just going to leave me here with the soon-to-be newlyweds? I love them both, but their love makes me uncomfortable. I prefer your... your—" "Total derision?" she tried. He quirked one corner of his mouth in that classic, heart-melting Archer smile. "I guess so."

"Well, sorry to break it to you, but you're not invited. I have to—" "Get stuff for the bachelorette party. Andy told me." Matt nodded. "Right, so unless you plan on spending the afternoon picking out plastic penises—" "I've done worse." Matt shrugged. "Besides, I'm the best man. I've got some bachelor party shopping to do, too. Looks like we can kill two birds with one stone. Three if you want to start working on making me America's darling, or whatever your plan is." "My plan is not to make you an American sweetheart. Even PR people understand the limitations of what is and isn't possible." Matt grinned again. "You don't think America would be charmed by our trip to the dirty party store? Or my witty repartee?" "I can't speak for America, but I know I like you best when you're seen and not heard." "Ah, so you do like to see me," he coaxed. Shay sighed and then turned the radio back to Jewel and started the engine. "I knew you'd see things my way," he shot back. "I just don't have the energy. Or the patience. Or the—" She stopped speaking in order to swat his hand away from the radio, but Bret Michaels was already crooning about basements and talking dirty again. "Do you mean to tell me this is better than Jewel?" Shay crooked an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you rather listen to music about sneaking around when you were a teenager and getting lucky as opposed to breaking up with someone who was supposed to love you?" Objectively, Shay guessed it was a profound kind of question, but Matt asked it the same way he asked everything else—like it and the answer to it didn't matter to him in the slightest. Like it was an afterthought. Still, Shay considered for a minute. "I don't know. I don't have a lot of experience with either." "A woman who looks like you?" It wasn't a come-on. He seemed genuinely shocked. A warm rush settled over her skin, but she pushed it away as she turned onto the main highway toward Honolulu. "I'm not saying I've never had a boyfriend. I'm just saying—" "You never snuck around and got lucky?" "I wasn't really the sneaking around kind. Or, really, I never had to sneak around." She shrugged. "My mom was the one who did the sneaking." Suddenly, she stopped. This was a dangerous area. Mothers. She had to change the subject before— "And let me guess—nobody ever broke up with you either? You were always the heartbreaker." "I was always the one who knew when to call things quits. Not heartbreak, per se. Besides, I can't say that I remember you ever being too torn up over anyone." "Hey, I've had my moments," Matt shot back. "When that foreign exchange student went back to Russia, I was devastated." "That foreign exchange student? Don't you remember her name?" "I think it was Olga or Ina or... It was something like that. She didn't have the best command of English." Matt shook his head. "She knew how to get a message across,

though. I can tell you—" "I'm sure your point has been made. In fact..." Shay turned the dial on the radio until a twanging low melody burst through the speakers. "Ugh, Sarah McLaughlin?" He moaned. She rolled her eyes and hummed along with the tune. Luckily, she was saved from another bout of defending herself when the party store came into view on their right, and she swerved into the parking lot. When they'd parked, Matt ambled from the car and grabbed a cart and then led her through the automatic doors. The place was cold, and she ran her hands over her uncovered biceps. Why any place in Hawaii would be air-conditioned, she had no idea. Every day was a perfect eighty degrees as far as she could tell. Matt eyed her for a moment, glanced down at his windbreaker, and then said, "You want to borrow my jacket?" "No, no, I'm fine. Really." She rubbed her shoulders one more time, but just when she was about to release her grip, she felt something warm and soft nudging her arm. She looked down to find Matt’s navy coat in his outstretched hand. “I said—” she started, but he shook his head. “Don’t be stupid.” He bumped the coat against her arm again, and she took it with uneasy hands. “Thanks,” she murmured, and shrugged it on. The inside was lined with fleece, perfect for all the evening or high altitude games he’d had to play on the road. It was more comfortable than she might have expected, and it smelled musky and manly, like crisp autumn leaves and clove. A scent that belonged entirely to Matt. She breathed deeply without thinking about it, and then, quick to divert his attention, led him down an aisle filled with wedding favors toward the back of the store. "Damn, you are walking with some serious purpose." "Lots of practice." She shook her head and did her best to focus on the task at hand. Considering she'd thrown her first bachelorette party at the age of sixteen and had given ten more since then—the vast majority of which had been for her own mother— she was all too familiar with the layout of party stores. Hell, she was pretty sure she could have given an itemized inventory of the place before they'd so much as stepped through the door. "Right," Matt said, and then stopped in front of a huge rhinestone-encrusted goblet. The jewels on the glass surface read "pimp goblet." "I need this." Matt picked up the cup and stared at it like he’d never seen anything more beautiful. "This will endear me to America." "That will endear you to nobody." She rolled her eyes. "Now come on, we don't have all day." "Oh, but we do. We could be here for as long as we like, with me spending most of that time convincing you that a pimp goblet is exactly what I need." She motioned silently to the cart, and he dropped it in. "I knew you'd see things my way." He grinned, and for the tiniest fraction of an instant, she had to fight the urge to grin back. "Okay, now, we need to get this thing going." She started off again, listening carefully

all the while to make sure the roll of the cart's wheels behind her didn't halt suddenly. In the darkest corner of the store, far away from everything else, they found the bachelor and bachelorette party supplies. Shay surveyed them quickly, mentally taking stock of the things people had and hadn't liked when she’d planned parties before. She grabbed a scavenger hunt kit from the wall and tossed it into the cart, and then, with a quick glance at Matt, she took some phallic straws from the shelf and tossed them in, too. Apparently, though, despite his pimp goblet obsession, he'd been paying closer attention than he'd let on, because he shook his head and pulled them from the cart. "Nope. No. I won't allow it." "You won't allow it?" She cocked her eyebrow. "This is my little sister's party. I'm not going to let her drink out of—" "She's your little sister by two years. That’s hardly anything. I don't think you have the right to weigh in. It's just some stupid fun." Shay rolled her eyes. "You're just jealous because you can't get, I don't know, vagina lollipops or something for Logan." "Actually..." Matt pointed to one of the lower rows on the shelf, and Shay grimaced. There they were. Vagina pops. Of course, the product's actual name was a little more vulgar. She shook her head, biting back the urge to wonder aloud what they must taste like, and then grabbed the biggest, sparkly-est tiara from the shelf and tossed it into the cart. "That's not going to work, either," Matt said. "Look, do you know how many bachelorette parties I've thrown in my life? There's always a tiara." "Maybe so, but you've never thrown one for my sister. Can you honestly picture Andy in a tiara?" Shay frowned. In all the years she'd known Andy Archer, she was never the kind of girl you'd picture in a tiara. Riding a mechanical bull or fixing a tire on the side of the road? Yes. Tiara? Not so much. In fact, she'd never even seen Andy in shoes besides sneakers before her little makeover the year before. "Okay," Shay conceded. "Not a tiara. But then what? There has to be a veil." Matt grabbed a tiny white cowgirl hat from one of the upper shelves. A sparkly white veil hung from the hem of the Stetson, just long enough to cover Andy's hair. "That's perfect," Shay said. "Thanks. I get that a lot." He winked and tossed the hat into the buggy. "Just when you go and start being charming, you ruin it," Shay grumbled. "I'm always charming. You just pick and choose when you want to be charmed." She frowned, but only because she thought there might actually be something to that. She grabbed a few more things from the shelf—blinking rings and glow sticks, necklaces with shot glasses, and a package of flashing buttons. "Okay, okay. Now leave me in peace. Find some stuff for Logan, why don't you?" When the rest of the girls arrived the following week, they were going to be a glowing, flashing seizure risk, but Shay didn't care. Unlike her mother, Andy was only going to get married once. She just knew it.

"None of this stuff seems very Logan to me," Matt said, poking a boob-shaped cake pan. Shay grinned. "No, I guess it doesn't. Maybe just stick with the basics. A T-shirt and a shot glass. Maybe a silly hat." "You think Logan is going to wear a silly hat?" Matt raised an eyebrow. Shay pictured him, all square-jawed with his shaggy black hair poking out from under a whimsical purple top hat. Even in her imagination, she couldn't get Logan to smile. She guessed that was one of his failings. He wasn't the kind of guy who could laugh at himself. Not that she'd ever tell Andy, but Shay couldn't imagine spending all her time with someone so serious. For instance, if she gave Matt a fez or something to wear, he'd... he'd... She cleared her head. What did Matt have to do with anything? "I think I might just stick with my pimp goblet," Matt said. "Good choice." Shay nodded. "So... um, I guess we'd better get going, then." They checked out quickly enough, and then they loaded up the car and headed back out onto the street. For the first few minutes, the ride back was silent. Then, out of nowhere, Matt asked, "Exactly how many times has your mother gotten married?" Shay let out a sigh. "This last one was number seven." "Don't you have a ton of step-siblings, then?" "Thankfully, no. She tends to go for men who are able to lavish all their attention on her. She has an obsession with being an obsession." Shay winced, remembering one particularly touchy break-up when husband number four had called her out on this need. Her mother had not taken that well. Not at all. "Didn't you ever get close with any of the guys your mom married? I mean, that many divorces..." he trailed off. "I'm sorry. I guess that's a little too personal." She supposed it was, but for some reason, it hadn’t caught her off guard. "No, no, it's okay, really. I was close with my father. He was husband number one, but he died when I was five. I liked the next couple of guys okay, but by the time I was a teenager, I'd learned not to get too attached. You learn quickly in a situation like that, you know." She shrugged. "This new one seems nice enough. It'll be sad when he's gone." "You don't have any hope that it'll work out?" She guffawed. "None. I mean, the odds of finding the one person on earth who will love you all the time and never get sick of you? It's crazy." "But you don't think Andy is crazy." It wasn’t a question. Shay paused. "No, I don't think Andy is crazy." She couldn't lie; it was a thought that had plagued her ever since Andy's engagement. Because, even in all ten weddings she'd been part of, she'd always had some lurking sense of doom. A feeling that it would never work, that it simply never happened that way. But it wasn't so with Andy. When she looked at Andy and Logan, all she felt was peace. Happiness, even. "It's one in a million," she said, weighing each word, "but I think Andy really did find her soul mate... or, you know, whatever that cosmic stuff is. He just happened to be your best friend." Shay tacked the last part on playfully, and Matt smiled at her.

"I'm glad for the way it turned out. I couldn't really imagine them together at first, but now I can hardly picture them with anyone else. Love is funny that way. You know, you see these two people who seem like they'd never fit together. Who seem like they'd hate each other. Those are always the people who fall in love, you know?" "I guess." Shay frowned. "Maybe." She pulled into the driveway of the villa and then sidled from the car without another word. Love wasn't something she wanted to talk about. Hell, it wasn't even something she wanted to think about. Least of all with Matt Archer. "It's nice. People who find love. Who start fresh," Matt said quietly. Shay blinked and looked at him, reminded with a sudden sharp pang about his mother. Her new family. Her new beginning. "I guess so. I'm not sure some people deserve it," Shay said. Matt's thoughtful expression shifted into something more like pensiveness. "You don't think your mom deserves a fresh start?" "Do you think yours does?" she asked. Not that she'd meant to. Lately it seemed like nothing turned out the way she meant it to. Still, there it was, hanging between them. "I do," Matt said. "I really do. But I'm not talking about me. I'm talking about you. And you did have the benefit of being raised with a mother, even if she was less than what you'd hoped for." "Yeah," Shay hummed, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "People can really surprise you sometimes."

CHAPT ER 4

F

or the next few days, Shay was nothing but anxious. First were the wedding plans. Of course, being a maid of honor was never a piece of cake, but when it came to planning a wedding on an island and managing every single guest, it was practically a nightmare. Not only did she have to make sure Aunt Frieda and Uncle Joel stayed in separate (but equally nice) hotels, but she also had to take on all the business responsibilities Andy couldn't manage at the moment. Then there was the matter of Andy herself. Lately she'd been so elusive that Shay had trouble finding her in the same room, let alone getting her cornered. Which, of course, she needed to do. Ever since her chat with Matt, she simply couldn't get the idea of the mysterious Archer mother out of her head. She needed to get Andy to spill her guts. Come clean. Because then, Shay might just be able to tackle her biggest worry of all. Matt. It wasn't that his case was tricky. In fact, in the few days since their trip to the party store, he'd practically been a dream to work with. She'd heard him on the phone, charming reporters and joking around about his career-ending accident like it was just another part of his life. Which, she guessed, it was. It still baffled her, though, the ease with which he handled all the stresses of his life. When he'd spoken about his mother, he'd been so calm, so self-assured. It was almost like he was talking about someone other than himself. Something that couldn't hurt him. Which, naturally, only made Shay all the more curious. So, when Friday morning finally rolled around and Matt was on the phone with yet another journalist, Shay creeped into the kitchen and caught Andy unawares. Well, Andy and Logan, that was. The two were drinking their morning coffee and murmuring to each other in the way that newlyweds did. Like they were the only two people on the planet. Shay cleared her throat, and they both started and then turned toward her. "Morning," she said, and then fixed herself her own mug of joe. "You guys have plans today?" "I've got to go do some press stuff," Logan said. "The old slave driver won't let me off because of my own wedding, if you can believe it." "You should fire her," Shay said, and Andy glared at her playfully.

"Don't you dare," Andy said. "She'd deserve it. I'm telling you, I've never had to work this hard in my life." "And you still don't work half as hard as most people," Andy shot back. Logan offered her a deadpan stare. "Anyway, since you do mention it, I've got to get to the gym. You know if Matt's around to join?" Shay shook her head. "He's got his own press homework to do." "The pair of you," Logan said. "Slave drivers." Still, he smiled and grabbed a small gym bag from the corner of the room. Swinging it over his shoulder, he said, "I'll be back." And then he disappeared through the sliding glass doors. "You have big plans today?" Andy asked. "Only if you do. I've missed you." A little twinge of guilt coiled through her at the words. It was true; she had missed Andy's company in the few days since she'd been on the island, but not as much as she might have hoped. Even with Andy so preoccupied by Logan and the wedding, Shay had found herself more than distracted enough to keep her busy. Then, of course, there was the fact that Matt kept her busy enough for two people on top of that. "I'm glad to hear it," Andy said. "I've got wedding favors to make, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather have helping me." Andy stood from the couch, stretched her arms over her head in a yawn, and started back toward the pantry. From one of the shelves, she pulled a crate of tiny wine bottles. "Jeez, the booze." Shay blinked. She'd never seen so much alcohol in her life. And she had been in a sorority in college. "Yeah, I went a little overboard. What can I say? I want to have a fun wedding." Andy plopped the crate down on the table. "We're just putting stickers over the labels. Nothing too complicated.” Joining her at the table, Shay watched as Andy showed her what to do, and then followed suit as her friend worked on one bottle after the next, like an assembly line in her precision. "So what else is going on?" Shay asked, ignoring the second pang of guilt. "I've barely seen you. How is Derrick?" Andy grinned at the mention of her brother. "He's good old Derrick. I think he's having some trouble adjusting to life outside of combat, but other than that." Andy shrugged. "Same old Derrick." Shay accidentally sighed, and then tried to disguise it as a yawn. Apparently getting Andy to come clean about her mother was going to be harder than she'd expected. Hell, for all Shay knew, Andy could have forgotten the whole thing by now. After all, she hardly ever spoke about her childhood except to mention all the wonderful things her father had done. It wasn't like discussing her mother would have been normal. "How are the wedding guests doing?" Shay tried, her cheeks aching against the strain of her smile. Andy sighed. "Good for the most part. I think everyone loves the island. I'm surprised by how many people came, really. I thought the wedding would mostly be the four of us." Andy sipped her coffee and then looked thoughtful for a moment. "It is odd, though. Seeing my mom and dad's families in one place. That's never really happened before that I can remember."

Shay's heart flipped over. "No?" "No. I mean, my dad was always really good about making sure we got to know my mom's family. It's just..." Andy let out a long breath and then leaned over in the seat to glance down the hallway. She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Can you keep a secret?" "With the best of them," Shay breathed. "Only one of my mom's relatives came. My aunt Judy. She's a very sweet old woman, and she was my gran's best friend when she was still alive." "Okay." Shay nodded. "So, Aunt Judy feels really strongly about something, and she's sort of giving me a hard time about it." The beat of Shay's heart thundered in her ears. "What is it?" "You promise you can—" "Yes, yes," Shay cut her off. Andy frowned. "Okay. Well, as it happens, my mother is on this island somewhere." "What?" Shay did her best to feign surprise, but it was a high-school-play-worthy performance at best. Still, Andy didn't seem to notice. "Yeah. She's got this whole new family. She's even got a new set of twins, if you can believe it." "So what's the problem?" Shay asked. "Aunt Judy wants me to invite my mother to the wedding. She says my gran would have wanted it and that it's a show of good faith." "And you don't want her there?" Shay asked. "It's not so much that." Andy sipped her coffee again and then stared down at the mug for a long moment. "I don't want my wedding to be a day about seeing her again." "That's understandable," Shay said. "I think so, too." Andy nodded. "But it's more than that. I don't think we should see her at all." "And your brothers agree?" Andy pursed her lips. "Derrick does. Sort of." "And Matt?" "Matt..." She sighed. "Matt doesn't know she's here." "Why not?" Her heart was pounding along like a stallion’s gallop now. They were finally here. The answer to her question. "I don't think it would be good for him." "Why?" Andy was silent for a minute and then picked up a new bottle and got back to work. "Did you ever have something happen in your life that sort of defined you from that moment on?" Shay thought of her father's death. The somber funeral and her mother's blank staring face. Then all the boyfriends. The first wedding afterward. That first divorce. "I think I can understand that," she said slowly, but then she pictured Matt's accident the way it had been on Sports Center. The gore of it. The devastation. Suddenly, she thought she knew someone who might have an even better idea of that than she did. "Well, when we graduated high school, Matt decided to drive Derrick and me out to

Oregon. We used to do a lot of camping with our dad, so we didn't think it was any kind of big deal, but then we got there and he springs on us that we're actually there to find our mother." "What?" Shay spluttered. She'd wondered, of course, about what Oregon had meant ever since that first time she'd heard it in the bushes, but she never would have dreamed, never would have imagined... "Yeah." "That took some stones." "Big ones." Andy nodded. "How did you guys react?" "Well, I wasn't happy at first. I never really wanted to see her, you know? But I think Matt... you know, he had a year longer with her than I did. He had memories. He had unresolved issues. So, for his sake, I think we both went along with it." "But how did he know to go to Oregon of all places?" "He hired a private investigator, as it turns out." Andy shook her head. "He was determined. The PI found a marriage certificate in her name from Portland, so Matt was determined to find her." "And did you?" she asked. "Nope." Andy sipped her coffee again. "We spent weeks looking, of course. The address the PI had was an old one. The people didn't have a forwarding address. We thought we might have found the bakery where she worked one day, but Matt had seen pictures and he told us it wasn't her." "Wow," Shay said. "Yeah." Andy shook her head. "It was devastating for him, I think. Hard to get over. Like, for one shining moment, he could have had this one thing he always dreamed about, and then just as quickly, it was gone. How could I do that to him again? What if she says she'll come and doesn't show up? Or it could be even worse." "Could it?" "Yeah. I mean, what if she comes and she's a total letdown? What if after all these years of picturing who she might have been, she's nothing but a miserable phony?" Shay considered for a moment. "But wouldn't you want the chance to find out for yourself? Wouldn't you want the chance to meet your siblings?" Before Andy could answer, a door creaked open at the end of the hall and then Matt's footfall sounded against the tile. "So, anyway, I told them that they had to remove the sleeves, and they were livid," Andy said, and then let out the fakest laugh Shay had ever heard. Still, she followed along, faking a grin as Matt trudged toward the coffee pot. For the rest of the morning, she was forced to finish the favors while they made idle chit chat and gossiped about which publicist had done what to which celebrity. The normal hallmarks of their conversations, really. But deep underneath, she knew that Andy, like her, was stewing over what they'd discussed. Was wondering what the right thing to do really was. Was hoping she'd made the right choice. But unlike Andy, Shay also had to worry about her place in all this. And, unlike Andy, she wasn't torn about the choice. Matt had a right to know about his mother. He needed to have the chance to heal

and to grow. He deserved to know that he might have more brothers and sisters. But whether it was her place to tell him? Well, that was less certain.

THAT NIGHT, Matt stared down at the text from his personal trainer and then chucked his phone onto his bedside table without responding. It was a courtesy note—one of many he'd received in the last month—letting him know that the physical therapy part of his training would soon be coming to an end. Of course, to the trainer, this was always cause for saying things like "congratulations" and "new chapter," but hell if Matt saw it that way. Once this training was over and he was a normal athlete again, there'd be nothing keeping him from majors but his own stupid drive. He wanted it, too. Wanted it even worse than he had the first time because now he knew what it was like to be a pro. What it was like to belong on a team and hear the crowd shouting his name. He missed it. Needed it. But that didn't change the way his wrist felt. He rolled it once, waiting to hear the tiny "click" that always sounded when he'd moved it full circle. It was like hearing his own heart break every time. He picked up the phone again, hovered his thumb over the little digital keyboard, but stopped short when he heard the muffle of Shay's voice through the wall. "Hey," she'd said. No, it wasn't a muffle this time. It was clear. So clear that it felt like he was practically in the room with her. He should probably leave. Go to the living room and let her have her conversation in private. But then... what if she was talking to someone about his career? He deserved to hear that kind of call, didn't he? "No, no, I've been trying to get back to you," she said. Then, with a slight twinge of exasperation, and she added, "I promise." There was a long pause, and Matt moved from beneath his sheets in order to press his ear to the wall, tossing his phone onto the mattress, forgotten. "No, it's nothing like that. You have to trust me." Damn, did this woman only speak in vaguenesses? How was anyone supposed to get a good eavesdropping in? "I'm sure he is." He strained his ears. She said he. That could be him. Was probably— "I never had a problem with Steven. I barely knew him." Steven? Matt's gut twisted. Who the hell was Steven? Maybe some other client. Or maybe, just maybe, she was on the phone with a girlfriend, chatting about some one night stand or another. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility, after all. Men flocked to Shay Meyers wherever she went, and with good reason. She was incredible from head to toe. The kind of woman who ate men up and spit them out without a second thought. A real ball buster. "I think you're not being completely honest with me, either." A small pause and

then, "No, I think you're lonesome. I know how you sound. I know how that goes—" Apparently, the person cut her off, because Shay's voice stopped short. And then, "Mom, I'm not avoiding, I swear. I'm just really busy." Mom. She was on the phone with her mom. He slid back down onto the bed. He should have felt relieved, really. The less calls Shay was on about his fate, the better. Still, he wasn't completely settled. There was something in Shay's voice that had him on edge, wondering what exactly was going on on the other side of the phone. He'd never heard her like this before. Sure, he'd seen her exasperated, bemused, and every shade of pissed-off in the book, but never... concerned. Never wary. And by the sound of it, she was more than just a little wary. "I don't want to talk about this right now." Her voice cracked through the air again, and Matt got up from his bed, determined to leave the room and give her some privacy. Creeping away, he tried to tune out the rest of her speech, but it was difficult not to hear the quavering of her voice as she said, "I guess we'll just have to see what the future holds." In all, it had been a vague conversation. Besides her mom and someone named Steven, he had basically no facts about their conversation. Still, he felt for her. Knew how hard it was to tackle something you weren't ready to deal with and have people force it on you time and again. If her tone was any indication, that was exactly what was happening. Sidling to the fridge, Matt grabbed a beer out of the crisper drawer, and when he clicked it closed again, he was greeted by the snap of another door at the end of the hall. Shay. He straightened, trying to act casual, and popped the top off his bottle. "Hey," she said when she rounded the corner into the kitchen. "Fancy finding you here." "Fancy that." He sipped the cool, crisp liquid, but barely tasted it. In truth, he wasn't much in the mood for a drink, but it was something to do. Something to distract him. "Is midnight your prime drinking hour?" She cocked an eyebrow. "Only on Tuesdays," he offered back. "I made an exception for tonight." "Good to know." If he didn't know better, he might have thought she smiled. Skirting past him, she opened the fridge and got her own beer—one of the orangeflavored shandies Logan had picked up for the girls on their way from the airport. She took a slug and then set it on the counter, swirling the bottle in a tiny circle with her hand. "Ah, a co-conspirator," he said, and then clinked his glass with hers. "Unfortunately. Sometimes you just need one." She rolled her eyes and then took another healthy gulp. "Any reason in particular?" he asked. He shouldn't have. He knew that. It was an invasion, after all. Like baiting a bear in their very own cave. But she looked so distraught and so in need of someone to talk to, he couldn't help himself. He wanted to help.

“My mother is impossible.” She sighed, and her gaze was far away for a long moment until she finally seemed to find his eyes again. “I should really be used to it, but.” She shrugged. “Family.” “Family.” He clinked his beer to her’s again and sipped, debating whether or not to ask her more. It was, after all, the closest thing to a normal conversation they’d ever had. Why ruin it by reminding her of the fact that she hated him? Luckily, she saved him from coming up with something to say when she said, “Do you ever wish you could just live a life without consequences the way some people do?” “And what, like, rob a bank?” He laughed. “No, I mean just…” She bit her bottom lip. “Some people can do anything they want and nothing bad ever happens to them. They just flit from one thing to the next. If I could do that…” She shook her head. “I don’t even know what I’d do.” “Sure you do. Think about it.” “I’d…I don’t know. I’d swim naked.” She smiled and sipped her beer. “I’m not going to stop you from doing that.” It was all he could do not to rake his gaze over her, imagining what she’d look like with droplets of water coating her exposed skin. “Ha ha.” She rolled her eyes. “Fat chance.” “Stranger things have happened.” He shrugged. “Oh yeah? What would you do if nothing bad could happen? If there were no consequences?” He thought about that for a long moment. He’d call up the league and tell them to go fuck themselves for putting him in the minors. He’d buy a big house beside the ocean. He’d… He glanced at Shay from the corner of his eye, her mouth pouting as she studied him. What would he do if there were no consequences? If Andy and work and nothing else mattered? “Let me show you.” He closed the space between them quickly, taking her bottom lip between his and kissing her. He expected her to put a hand between them, for her to push him away, and though she tensed at first there was no denying that she was giving in to the kiss. Her mouth relaxed and she let him in, welcoming him with her tongue. He met hers, pushing inside her mouth and tasting the sweet tang of orange and beer on her breath. With one hand, he threaded his fingers through her locks and she pressed her breasts against his chest, willing him further, letting him push his luck to the limit. It was like a magnetic pulse held them there, playing off of each other back and forth and leaving nothing but the insistent need for more. He wanted to pull back, to trail his kisses down her neck and lower. To grip the hem of her shirt and—

CHAPT ER 5

S hay stepped back, her hand to her mouth, and for a moment, he thought she was going to turn on her heel and hightail it back to her room. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. After all, what was there to say? He damn sure wasn't going to apologize. That kiss, whatever had just happened between them... he couldn't think of anything he'd ever felt less sorry about. Her mouth was just as warm and full as he'd thought it would be, but it wasn't just the way she kissed him. No, it was the tingle that spread through him like a warm, steady fire from the second he touched her skin. He could feel her in his blood, racing through his veins and pumping through his heart, and God only knew what he might have done if she hadn't stepped back and broken the kiss. "Electric shock," she murmured, but it was so low he could hardly hear. "What?" "Electric... I think you shocked me. When, um." She didn't finish. She didn't need to. The flush spreading over the apples of her cheeks, the sudden darkness in her eyes, told him all he needed to know. She'd liked it. And based on the way her gaze kept flicking to his lips? She wanted to go for a second try. "I don't think it was electric shock. I think you're confused by my pure masculine charm." He grinned and took another step toward her. She didn't back away. She did, however, roll her eyes. "I'm sure that's what it was." "You want to double check?" He stooped down just enough to hear the second when her breath caught. Then his lips were on hers again, soft and warm and... willing? He placed his hands on her hips, testing the limits, but instead of backing away, she arched into him, practically rubbing herself against the hard outline of his now-straining cock. This was the right Shay, wasn't it? The Shay who slapped his hand away from the radio? The Shay who rolled her eyes at nearly every breath he took? He wanted to pull back and check, but he'd be damned if he was going to take this moment for granted. Because if this really was Shay Meyers?

Well, he knew exactly what he was going to do with her. Keeping one arm encircled around her waist, he pushed her up onto the countertop, and she gasped beneath his lips. When he lifted her, his wrist let out a little pang, but he didn't give a shit. It was like a flea bite compared to the coursing, overpowering desire that was pouring in harder and faster with every second he spent with his mouth on hers. He tangled one hand in her sleek black hair. It was just as smooth as he'd imagined. Like strands of silk pooling in his palm. He tugged the strands gently, and she nibbled at his bottom lip, seemingly in invitation. He tugged again, a little harder this time, and she let out a hum of pleasure so low and tantalizing that it was all he could do not to fuck her right there and then. He was having a hard enough time containing himself as it was, because with every passing moment, his mind was inventing new ways to pleasure her. New ways to make her moan longer and louder. New ways to make her say his name while she— "Fuck," he groaned, his cock pressing so tightly to his zipper that he could hardly focus on anything else. With another pang of his wrist, he lifted her from the counter, tossed her over his shoulder, and sprinted to his bedroom as quickly as he could, kicking the door open with no small dose of force. "You're so fucking sexy," he said, and then laid her on the bed as gently as he could. She still bounced when her body met the springs, and her breasts moved with every bounce, enhancing the already incredible view of her cleavage. Fuck me. She was staring up at him, her mouth red and swollen from the intensity of his kiss. Another rush of blood surged to his cock when he thought of exactly how red and pouty her lips might get if she took him into her mouth. He could twine his fingers between those strands of soft hair and guide her up and down, up and down... He slammed the door shut, never taking his eyes from Shay's greedy, desperate expression. How many times had he secretly imagined her like this? Never, he supposed. Because in his fantasies, she was always splayed out so he could see every inch of her perfect body, and she was never, ever wearing anything at all. "What are we—?" she asked, and his heart panged. The hunger in her eyes was dulling, and he knew if he didn't act now—and fast—she'd be gone. She'd think better of it. He just had to make sure she didn't. He pulled his shirt over his head, and her jaw ticked before she swallowed hard. "Wow," she said, and he looked down at himself quickly before crossing the room to join her in the bed. "It's only fair that we match, don't you think?" he asked, and then, placing himself between the slight part of her supple thighs, he slid his hand over her stomach and pulled up until she lifted her arms and he had a full view of her creamy flat stomach and her emerald lace bra. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you wore that for me. I can't wait to find out if your panties match." He flicked his wrist, and then she was laid bare to him, the bra falling to

the floor alongside her shirt. God, she was gorgeous. It was impossible to decide whether to stare at her stunning, dark eyes or the full swell of her breasts. The tight peaks of her pink nipples. He took one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the little circle before flicking it over the tip over and over again. She arched beneath his touch, inviting him again, and he grabbed a lock of her hair and tugged until— "Matt, God." It was breathy and needy and everything a woman's voice should be, and in that moment, he knew he'd never wanted anyone more than he wanted Shay Meyers. Still, he couldn't give in. There was beyond enough reason to think that, given her way, Shay was going to change her mind. Hell, for all he knew, she might alter her choice in the next five seconds. But if she didn't? He wanted to get to know as much of her body as he could. To explore her. To taste her. To fulfill her. He released her nipple with a little pop, and she groaned again before he raked his nails under the curve of her breast. When she shivered, it was like winning the goddamn World Series. He sucked the other nipple harder and then backed away, blowing hot air and then cool air until her shivering become writhing, and her writhing became something like bucking. She gripped his shoulders, trying to pull her to his mouth again, but he wouldn't allow it. Not until he was done. "I need, I need," she moaned, but that was as far as she could manage. He smiled and then ran his nails down either side of her ribs as she shook again and spread her knees wider for him. When she did, he finally had his answer—the panties were the exact same shade of scarlet. Sexy as hell. "I know what you need," he said at last, and then he slid her skirt and panties down in one move until she was just as he'd imagined her. Except she was so much better. Her breasts were fuller, her stomach was flatter, and her pussy... "Fuck," he murmured. It was the most beautiful pussy he'd ever seen, pink and shining with her need. Her clit was swollen and ready for him. All he had to do was duck his head, and she'd be there, all his. "What's wrong?" she asked, and when he looked up at her face, all he could do was dive for her mouth and grind his hard cock against her slick center. "Ah, ah," she murmured while he moved. "Please." He dropped between her legs and licked the space there so greedily that he had to hold her thighs in place to keep her from bucking against his mouth. "Matt, Matt, God," she moaned, and with every moan, he swirled his tongue around her clit, rewarding her. He pushed two fingers inside her pussy and closed his eyes to keep himself from exploding. Not only did she have the most gorgeous pussy he'd ever seen, but she was so tight that he could hardly move. God, what would his cock feel like inside her as she ached and quaked around him? Another rush of need shot through him at the thought alone. "I want you to fuck me. I need you to," she said, and her voice shook with every

word. "I'll fuck you when I want to fuck you. Until then." He trailed his tongue from her clit all the way down to her opening. "You'll have to be patient." She reached for his shoulder and pulled. "I don't want to be patient. I want you. I want to." He grabbed each of her wrists and pinned them to her side, and he fucked her with his mouth, harder and faster. "You're going to be patient," he said again, and this time he was met with no protest. He couldn't control her forever, though. In fact, he was having a hard enough time controlling himself, so after another moment of writhing and squirming, he pulled back, unzipped his pants, and pulled them down alongside his boxers. When he did, she gasped. "You..." she said, but that was the whole of it. She stared transfixed to the place where his cock jutted out, hard and swollen and waiting for her. "I want to fuck you now. Spread your legs for me," he rasped, and she lay back obediently, waiting for him. He crawled between her legs and then grabbed each of her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand. "Are you ready for me, baby?" he asked. She nodded. That was all he needed. Gripping himself with his free hand, he pushed inside of her inch by inch and let out a slow, steady groan of, "Fuuuuuuuck." If he'd thought he was hard before, it was nothing compared to the pounding, insistent need he felt as soon as he buried himself to the hilt. Then? He was lost.

WHEN SHAY WOKE up the next morning, her heart plunged into her stomach and she tossed in bed, hoping to find an empty space beside her. That maybe, just maybe, it had all been a dream and she hadn't really spent the evening moaning in Matt Archer's embrace. His strong, warm embrace... She shook her head, blinked her eyes open, and stared at the exact empty space she'd hoped to see. She blinked again. There was a tiny note on the pillow beside her, and she picked it up cautiously before scanning the sloppily penned words. Shay— Thought it might not be a good idea to come out of the same bedroom in the morning. Hope you understand. Matt She leaned back against the pillows and crumpled the note in her fist. Okay, there was no way of changing the past. Even if she didn't understand the lunacy of why the hell she'd given in. Why the hell she'd melted under his touch like she'd never been with a man before. Like he was water and she had been dying of thirst.

The image of his sculpted, naked chest drifted through her mind, and she caught herself smiling. Shit. No. This was Matt Archer. He was a client. Andy's brother. Her sworn nemesis. She needed to get back to that. Needed to focus on their professional relationship. She needed to... needed to... She needed to get the hell out of her own head was what she needed. Quickly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and jumped to her feet. After dressing in yoga shorts and a tank top, she slipped quietly from the room and then out the sliding door off the living room, out onto the beach. She'd go for a run, let the cool ocean air fill her lungs, and clear her head. That was just the ticket. Humming "Eye of the Tiger" to herself, she started jogging along the coast, letting the water lap at her naked feet. She closed her eyes, let herself focus on the grit of the sand between her toes, the arch of her feet, as her weight swung from one leg to the other. She'd tell Matt that last night couldn't happen again. It was a one off. There was no use analyzing it or trying to figure out why it had happened. The simple fact was that it wouldn't happen again, and that would have to be good enough for her. Better than good enough. "Hey." A deep voice rumbled beside her, and her heart flipped over in her chest. "Holy shit." She gasped. "Sorry to interrupt your training montage." Matt sprinted right alongside her, matching her beat for beat. He looked just as he had last night, with his trunk-like forearms bulging at his sides, his angular jaw fixed as he half-smiled at her. She took a deep breath. "You surprised me, that's all." "Well, I'm not shocked. Who runs around a place like this with their eyes closed?" He gestured toward the ocean and then to the rows of pretty flowering trees and thatched umbrellas. "You must be crazy." "Call it temporary insanity." She hedged for a moment, and then went on. "Speaking of which, I think we need to clear some things up." "Oh?" Matt raised his eyebrows but didn't have the decency to look concerned. "Yeah. Last night. It was a mistake." "Was it?" His nonchalance, rather than calming her, made her heart beat faster. Maybe he wasn't hearing her right. "Yeah. Look, as far as I'm concerned, it never happened." "That's fine." He shrugged. She frowned. "That's it?" It was a childish reaction, she knew that. It wasn't like she needed him to beg for her to change her mind or anything. But it might have been nice if he cared. At all. "Yeah, I mean, just because you decided it didn't happen doesn't mean it won't happen again." "That's exactly what it means," she shot back. This time it was his turn to frown. "I'm pretty sure it's not. I mean, you can't resist me." "I most certainly can."

"You couldn't last night. And, given how hard I made you come, I think it'll be a hell of a lot harder to work with me without all those old memories coming up. Maybe some curiosity, too. I doubt you've ever been with someone better." "You're a cocky bastard," she said, but he only grinned. "Only when I know I'm right." He winked. Winked. Like he was in on some kind of joke. Her heart pounded in a way that had nothing to do with her run. "Matt—" "Tell me, have you ever been with anyone better than me?" She blinked. To be honest, she'd barely been with anyone besides him. The few sexual experiences she had had were fleeting and far less satisfying. After last night, it felt like she had a whole new meaning for sex all together. Like it could be something deep and powerful and... She shook her head. "That's not the point." "I think it is." He shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, I liked being with you, too. You're good in bed. The way you wrapped your legs around me—" Awareness shot between her thighs at the thought. "Stop. We're professionals. Even if the sex was fun, that's not the point. It can't happen again. We work together." "Plenty of people work together and have sex." He shrugged. "Not me. I don't mix business and pleasure." "Ah, so you admit that I pleasured you?" She rolled her eyes and then stopped short, clutching at a stitch in her side. He halted alongside her. "Look, I got the message. It never happened and you're not ready for it to happen again," Matt said, and then turning on his heel, he added, "Just know that I'm going to be here for when you are ready." And just like that, he strode off toward the villa, never once bothering to look back at her while he went.

CHAPT ER 6

F

or the rest of the week, Matt made good on his promise. He acted like nothing had happened between them. Hell, if anything, he was nicer than he'd ever been before. And, apparently by coincidence, much less clothed than usual. Every day, the whole group of them would head out to the beach, oftentimes with Andy and Shay lagging behind, their arms laden with binders full of work or wedding information. Then, they'd lay out their stuff, lie back, and take in the sun. It should have been soothing, relaxing. Productive, even. Instead, it was an exercise in torture. No matter how hard Shay tried to focus on work, Matt's low rumble of a laugh would distract her from across the way. He and Logan would be playing Frisbee or surfing on the waves, and she'd catch herself staring at him. Or worse, licking her lips as she watched the beads of water glistening against his broad, hard chest. Thank God Andy was so busy with the wedding, otherwise Shay would have had some serious explaining to do. And if Matt noticed? He sure as hell didn't let on to it. He treated her like she was just some woman now. Just some friend of his sister's. He didn't ask her questions about whether or not she'd gotten "leied" yet while she was on the island, or any other lewd questions poised to set her off. He was civil. Decent. Which, of course, made things that much worse. She never realized how she'd grown to kind of sort of like his teasing, his constant attention. And without it? She didn't know what to do. Where to go. So, when the night of the bachelorette party finally rolled around, Shay thanked God for the opportunity to get out of the house, out of her head, and most of all, out of view of Matt Archer. Shay ushered an uncomfortable Andy through the crowd of half-dressed men, and tried to ignore the hoots and hollers coming from the crowd of older ladies they'd brought along with them. Nearly every woman who'd been invited to the wedding decided to tag along for the bachelorette party, and while Shay was happy to have plenty of help urging Andy to act a fool, she was starting to worry that Aunt Frieda and her cronies might just snag all the hot guys before Andy got the chance.

Still, Shay sat her in the very center of the catwalk and waited while the lights lowered and a new guy strutted onto the stage to the tune of "Dude Looks Like a Lady." "This is a... confusing choice of song," Andy grumbled while the dude, who had hair down to his shoulders and did, indeed, look like a lady, began to grind his ass against the pole. "I'm sure it'll get better." Shay plucked two drinks from the tray of a nearby waiter and dropped the payment in their stead, and then watched as Andy gaped at the gyrating man in front of her. "What's the big shock? Logan doesn't do this at home?" Shay giggled. "Can you imagine?" Andy shook her head. "You know, his fraternity had one of those bachelor auctions once and he and Matt both threatened to do something like this." Shay felt her smile flicker, but she did her best to hold it in place. Matt. Why could she not get away from that guy? Talking about him. Thinking about him. And what exactly he'd look like if he got up there and showed the world what he was working with. "You're kidding." Shay forced her grin a little more. "Nope. Logan chickened out, but you know Matt." Andy rolled her eyes. "He got up there in a cop uniform and made more money than all of the guys combined." Shay had no doubt of that. Matt in his baseball uniform was one thing. But him in a police uniform? She could just picture his muscles rippling under the black dress shirt, the badge pinned to his broad chest, and the handcuffs... God, what he could probably do with those handcuffs. "He's a hoot," Shay said, and then wanted to thunk her forehead with her palm. He was a hoot? What else was he, the bee's knees? The cat's pajamas? "He's something all right," Andy said, apparently ignoring Shay's momentary lapse. "I hope he's not giving you too hard of a time. I know he can be a pain in the balls when he wants to be." "He usually wants to be," Shay offered. Andy sipped her drink and nodded. "That's my dear old brother." Mercifully, the subject shifted, and as they watched more dancers gyrate and grind on stage, Andy really started to enjoy herself whilst progressively drinking every cocktail a little bit faster. At least as far as Shay could make out between the slurred edges of her words. Andy shouted along with the music and then shoved a dollar onto the stage in front of her. Shay laughed, and Andy beamed back at her. "Thanks for taking me out tonight. You're a good friend." "Don't mention it," Shay said. "What are maids of honor for?" "I guess you're right. Cheers." Andy clinked her glass to Shay's. They both drank—thankfully by now they'd switched to beer, and Shay watched her friend from the corner of her eye. All night, Andy had been grinning, talking about Logan and the wedding, chatting about all the amazing hopes and dreams she had for the future. It was the happiest Andy had ever been in all the years they'd known each other,

and Shay had known her for a very long time. Still, as overjoyed as she was for her friend, a part of her stung with jealousy every time she took in Andy's smiling face. Shay wanted to feel that way, too. To have a reason for privately laughing to herself or getting lost in memories of a torrid love affair. Or, one very specific torrid love affair. "How long has it been since Matt had a serious girlfriend?" Shay asked, hoping the buzz of alcohol would dull the suddenness of her question. Andy let out a long whistle. "Probably never." "Never? Not one?" Shay raised her eyebrows. "Who are you to judge? I can't say that I remember seeing you with anybody serious in all the time I've known you." "I..." Shay swallowed. That couldn't be right. She'd dated, after all. She'd dated plenty. There was John and Paul and... and... George and Ringo? She had nothing. Because as many dates as she'd been on over the years, not one of them seemed to have staying power in her memory. There was one guy, she guessed, back when Andy still couldn't admit she was into Logan, but that too had been another fling. Another distraction from what she was slowly realizing she'd known for a long time now. "I guess I have sort of played the field." "You guess? You two are a match made in heaven," Andy said, and Shay stared back at her friend blankly. "What's that supposed to mean?" Shay asked. "Come on, the girl who doesn't believe in love and the guy who doesn't commit? That practically writes itself." "What are you—" "Then add to that the disenfranchised youth. The mother problems—" "Andy—" Andy let out a long breath. "I'm just saying you could do worse. And if you think I don't see the way you look at him, then you're really fooling yourself." "I think you mean the way he looks at me," Shay shot back, mostly because it was all she could grasp hold of to say. Andy couldn't be serious. After all this time, all the careful planning and avoidance—Andy knew? "The way you look at each other, more like." "What happened to my shy, lovesick friend?" Shay asked. Andy's mouth tilted into a smile as she sipped her beer, and then she said, "She got tired of watching you avoid the one thing you've always been meant for." "That's a little dramatic, don't you think?" "No," Andy said simply. "But if you think it is, that's fine." "So... you're what? Giving me your blessing?" "Honestly, I can't think of what else to do. I tried to foist his case on you to get you two to realize—"

"You what?" Shay nearly sprayed her beer across the stage. Andy only rolled her eyes. "Don't be so shocked. I only did it because I asked myself what you would do in my shoes. Remember how you were with Logan?" "I remember saying you should give it a try, but I never—" "You forced me to go to that photoshoot. You forced me to face the facts," Andy cut her off. "What if the facts are that I don't want anything serious? Did you ever think of that?" "Fine, then don't do anything serious. Just do something." Shay surveyed her friend for a long minute and then thought over the way Matt had been for the past few days. The way he ignored her. The way he barely looked at her. "What if he's not interested anymore?" she nearly whispered. "Only one way to find out." Andy waggled her eyebrows.

LOGAN'S BACHELOR party was not the usual fare. Then again, Logan wasn't a usual kind of guy. Instead of the crowd of men chugging back drinks and sticking dollar bills down G-strings, Matt had opted to take his friend to the one place his sister had insisted he'd like. It had taken a lot of doing, of course, but to see the way Logan's face lit up when they walked through the stadium doors had totally been worth it. Now, an hour later, Matt was huddled in the dugout with his older brother and Logan, shooting the shit while they all stared out into the lit-up field. It was perfectly green, just like the rest of the state, but had the benefit of hardly ever being used, and each of the men looked at the AstroTurf like a country desperately in need of conquest. Logan slugged down the last of his beer and then rubbed his hands together. "When are you two finally going to join me on the field? Or are you scared?" Derrick guffawed. "How do you plan on scaring me?" Matt smiled. His brother was wearing his best Army-of-One scowl as he surveyed Logan, and Logan said tentatively, "Okay, well, maybe not you. But how about you, Matt? You game?" "Damn straight." He grabbed his mitt and a ball from the crate they'd brought along, and then jogged onto the mound. "How about some batting practice? I'll pitch, you hit, Derrick catches." "I don't know. Can Derrick run that far?" Logan offered them a cocky smile, and Derrick's jaw ticked. Logan cleared his throat. "Right, good. I'm sure you'll be great. I tend toward the right, so—" "Tend?" Matt guffawed. "Hey, nobody asked for input from the peanut gallery," Logan called over his shoulder while all three men took their places on the green. As he walked, Matt popped the ball into the air and caught it over and over again, just like he'd done in physical therapy. Just like before... He shook his head. He didn't need to think about any of that, least of all right now. Logan took his stance, and Matt wound up, stopped, and straightened out his stance. He wound up again and then said, "I wonder how the girls are holding up."

"If you're trying to break my concentration, it's not going to work." "No, of course not. I'm just wondering, you know, if Andy liked the strip club." "You could try pitching, you know," Logan shot back, and this time Matt complied. He threw a speed ball right down the center of the plate, a beauty of a pitch if ever he'd thrown one, and when Logan swung, he was met with nothing but the whoosh of air. "What's the matter, Logan? Distracted?" Derrick called from the outfield, and Matt laughed. "Just warming up." He grabbed the ball from where it'd landed by the gate and threw it back to Matt. Matt turned the ball in his hand, trying to focus on what to throw next, but instead wondered about Shay. How her night had been. If she'd had a lap dance from some guy who'd put his hands all over her... He chucked the ball, and it was so fast and outside the mark that Logan had to jump back to avoid getting hit. "I'm starting to think you're the one who's distracted," Logan said. "Dream on," Matt said, but he straightened his stance a little more firmly all the same. There was no doubting Shay had an effect on him, but he had to ignore it. Hopefully, if he did that long enough, it would go away altogether. Then he could focus on the important things. Like how weird it was to be in a major league stadium again. There were no signs for local businesses here. No, here it was Coca-Cola and Coors and— "That's a ball from a mile away," Derrick called as Matt let another throw soar over Logan's head. "You know, you don't have to take it easy on me. I'm a big boy," Logan said. Matt rolled his eyes and snagged the ball out of the air when Logan threw it back to him. "Sorry, just a little out of practice, I guess." He focused again, pushing Shay from his mind and instead becoming one with the stadium. The way it felt to be surrounded by the huge luxury bleachers. Remembering how it felt to hear the roar of the crowd when he struck out one batter after the next. He threw, and Logan's swing met with nothing but air. It hadn't been so long ago that that had been his life. It wouldn't be too long until it was again. And then, when it happened, Shay would be there in the VIP section, maybe wearing all the team pride swag she could, her dark hair hidden until a baseball cap. She'd jump up and down and chant along with the crowd. Rooting just for him and— "Ball!" Derrick shouted as Matt's last throw landed just outside the plate. "Count's loaded. What you going to do?" Logan grinned and choked up on his bat, and then stepped outside of the bat to practice his swing. This was it, one last chance to redeem himself. He rolled the ball inside his mitt, took a deep breath, loosed it, and— "Fuuuuuuuuck." A pain so intense shot through his wrist that he doubled over. He hardly heard the crack of the ball on the bat as it connected. Instead, he held his injury with a firm grip and bit down hard on his bottom lip, his cheek, anything to distract him

from the pain and get the guys to ignore his reaction. It didn't work, though. Instead of heading for the plate, Logan was sprinting toward the mound, along with Matt, both of their brows knit in concern. "You okay, man? We need to go to the hospital?" Logan asked. "Let me see it." Derrick held out his hand, and Matt allowed him to survey the damage. Still, the hurt was already ebbing away. He must have just moved it wrong, got part of the bone that was still healing from the bruise. "It's fine, okay? Let's just get back to what we were doing." "I don't think so. After you reinjured yourself last year—" Derrick started, but Matt pulled his arm away. "I'm already feeling better. Look, I don't want anybody to baby me. I was hurt, but I'm not dead. Everything is going to be okay." "Let's just go back to the dugout and drink for a bit. We'll get back on the field a little bit later," Logan offered. "I'm telling you I can do it." "And I'm telling you I'm not willing to take that kind of risk. Not with you. Not again," Logan said, and because it was his bachelor party, Matt conceded. The rest of the night carried on without incident, but Matt could still feel the injury hanging over his head like the black cloud it always was in his life. They killed a twelve pack of beer and then headed back onto the field, and though nothing happened, he could still feel the tension in his brother and Logan. Could see all the swings and catches they'd missed that they wouldn't have if they'd been on their game. Dammit. This was just like his injury to ruin a perfectly good evening. To ruin a perfectly good career. By the time it was Matt's turn up to bat, Logan got a drunk call from his bride-to-be and everything was on hold. "I'm glad you're having a good time," he was saying, and Derrick and Matt looked at each other while they listened to the thunder of their sister's slurring from the receiver. "You're on your way home?" he asked, and then made a gesture for the guys to pack up. When he hung up, he said, "Sorry, Matt. We'll hit the batting cages soon. I have a feeling the rest of the night is going to involve holding back hair." He grinned. "And that's the girl you want to marry?" Derrick asked. "Hell yeah it is." Logan grinned. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

CHAPT ER 7

T

hat night, Matt lay on his bed, opening and closing his palm and waiting for the last of the pain to subside. In the old days, when the injury was fresh, this kind of pain was something he could only dream about—manageable, workable. But now? Every pang sent his mind whirring back to the phone. The texts from his physical therapist. The call for the majors that he still hadn't gotten. He rolled over, careful not to put any weight on his hand, and got to his feet. He'd never paced before, but this seemed like the time for it—when he had a problem that couldn't be solved. And when Shay still wasn't home... He pushed that thought away, too. What should it matter to him whether or not Shay got home at a reasonable time? It was a bachelorette party. They should be out all night, and they'd deserve it if they were. Just so long as it was just the two of them... He shook his head and turned on his heel. Yes, pacing was good. Pacing at least made him feel like he was doing something instead of just sitting there staring at the ceiling. At least while he was moving he could— The door burst open and then, just as quick, slammed shut with Shay now leaning against the white door. "Okay, so we need a couple ground rules." She huffed a strand of her dark hair out of her face. "Um... hello to you, too?" He stopped short and surveyed her, trying to determine if she was drunk. She wasn't swaying; her eyes weren't glassy or half-lidded. Her hair was a little haphazard, but it was nothing unmanageable. In fact, if it wasn't for the red glow on her cheeks, she might have looked completely normal. Normal, of course, in the way that Shay was normal—her slender body wrapped in the slinkiest black dress he'd ever seen. The collar dipped just low enough for him to catch a trace of her cleavage, but then— He internally shook his head again. Impassive. That was the new stance. Whatever she did, he was impassive. No matter how fuckable she looked in her shiny red heels. "We... I'm not sure where to start."

"Probably with an aspirin. Are you drunk?" he asked. She shook her head furiously. "I stopped drinking hours ago when I finally decided that..." She trailed off again and then took a deep breath and said, "I just poured Andy into bed. Logan was already asleep." "Okay." He nodded. "They're both pretty knocked out. It's just you and me." The huskiness in her voice gave him pause, but he said, "Good, if we play Yahtzee, I'll know I can yell." "No. Listen. I... We need some rules." "Like not barging into my bedroom?" The corner of his mouth quirked up, and she rolled her eyes. "Don't make me change my mind." "That's a big ask when I don't know what the hell you're talking about," he said. She nodded. "Right, right. Well... look, I've been thinking. This thing between us. It's not going away. I don't think it's going to, and I think it's been there for a lot longer than either of us will admit." He stayed silent, unsure whether to trust whether she really meant what he thought she meant. And if she did... His gaze flicked to the messy tangle of his sheets. "What are you saying?" "I'm saying we need some rules." "What, like Pretty Woman? No kissing?" "How the hell do you know the rule in Pretty Woman?" "I'm a man. I'm not dead." She shook her head. "Right. Not important. Rules. We need to, I don't know, agree that whatever we do is confined to our bedrooms. No PDA. We're not a couple." "So... you want me as your booty call?" "Yes, I guess. My very secret, temporary booty call." "How temporary?" "Just until we're off the island. By then, we'll have all this out of our systems and we can find people we're more compatible with without wondering, you know—" "What would have happened if we'd slept together more than we already have?" "Right." "You know you're crazy, right?" She nodded. "Yup. Now take off your pants."

MATT LAUGHED, and stared at her, though he did loop his thumbs through his belt loops hopefully. She couldn’t be serious, though. Not really. What woman just barged into a man’s room and demanded to have her way with him? No, it was more likely that she was trying to get back at him for something—was trying to get him to strip down and then, when he was totally naked, she’d leave him there and laugh on her way out. “Well, what are you waiting for?” she asked. "The end of the joke," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm not joking. Take off your pants." "Are you sure you're not drunk?" He laughed. Seh sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine, if it's so hard to believe, I'll go first." Then, incredibly, she reached behind her and started on her zipper. He listened to the gentle zip as it slid down and then the whoosh of flop of fabric as she pulled it over her head and dropped it on the floor. Then there she was. Shay Meyers in nothing but her bra and panties. Her hair nearly as mussed as the last time he'd laid her down and-"What happened to this never happening again?" he asked, though he was amazed he could bring himself to speak with the whole of her gorgeous body at his disposal. He bra was one of those push-up things that cinched in the middle with tiny gems beading the hem to show off just how supple the swell of her chest was. The clasp was in the middle, too. All he had to do was walk toward her and flick his wrist and she'd be all his. He could watch her pretty pink nipples tighten as he took each of them in his mouth and sucked... "Is now really the time for questions?" She asked, but she was half smiling. "Now, either take off your pants or I'm going to do it for you." "I'd like to see you try that." He smiled, but the grin died away as soon as she glanced down at his crotch and her tongue flicked across her upper lip. Jesus, she was really going to... But he didn't have time to think about what she was going to do. She was already doing it, walking toward him with those long legs of hers. So close that the wave of her perfume hit him full force and he breathed in deep, remembering how it had tasted on her skin. Like lavender and coconut. Soothing and sweet and-She sank to her knees in front of him and then, slowly, unbuckled his belt and whipped it off. "Give me that," he said. "Why?" He held out his hand and he tossed it on the bed behind him as she took his zipper between her teeth and undid it while she gripped his jeans and boxers in one and pulled them down until his length jutted out in front of her. Again, she licked her lips as she studied him, this time greedier than the last. "You're so big," she whispered, and he was about to reply when she took him in her hand with a firm grip and then circled his head with the tip of her tongue. As she went, she glanced up at him, her green eyes dilated to the point of nearly being black. A faint smile tilted her mouth, teasing and coy. Like she knew what he wanted. Like she knew exactly how this tormented him. He threaded his fingers through her hair and she hummed her contentment, though she didn't take him into her mouth. Not yet. Instead, she licked his shaft, lapping him like an ice cream cone that was just about to drip onto the sidewalk. Up and down she went, slowly at first, then faster until her tits bounced along with the movement and he gripped her hair harder if only to maintain his composure.

"Damn," He groaned, and that teasing smile lit her face again before she took one ball into her mouth and sucked gently, swirling her tongue around him over and over again. "Fucking shit," He ground out, and he was nearly to the point of demanding her mouth when she finally gave it to him. Not slowly and gently like everything else, but this time full and warm and wet. She took him in until she couldn't take any more, but he was too large for her and she worked the rest of him with her hand as she bobbed and sucked. "Fuck Shay," he rasped and she moaned, her vibrations making his balls draw up. He closed his eyes and let himself focus on the warmth of her mouth, the way her tongue teased his delicate skin, the way his cock throbbed inside of her with desperate, aching need. And still it felt so good. Too good. Better than he'd ever had. This wasn't the obligatory blowjob of a woman who knew what was expected of her. No, Shay looked like she savored every minute of her work, like she wanted nothing more than to be on her knees taking his cock. And for that she deserved a reward. "Get up," he growled, but she ignored him, instead bobbing deep again him and lapping at his shaft. He pulled her hair gently, "Get up, Shay," She pulled away, her mouth red and swollen, a thin line of saliva still connecting her mouth to his aching length. He took each of her shoulders in hand and lifted her up, then turned her around until he was pressed against the seam of her ass. "You liked sucking my cock, didn't you?" he whispered and she nodded, her hair bristling against his face. "I want to hear you say it," he urged. "I loved sucking your cock," she whispered back in a deep husky voice he'd only heard once before. "Good," He snaked an arm around her middle then walked his fingers down to the space he knew was wet and waiting for him. Dipping his hand under the soft, thin fabric, he brushed against her mound and found the spot he knew she wanted him to touch. "Oh," She gasped. "Now tell me you want me to fuck you," he said. "You can fuck me when I'm finished sucking your cock." She tried to sink to her knees again, but he caught her and twisted her around to face him. When their lips were only inches apart, he said, "Good thing you're not the one who makes the rules tonight." He led her back until her back met with the wall, then pushed her panties aside and thrust hard and deep inside. He was done with the slow, gentle back and forth. Done with the cat and mouse game. He grabbed her hair and pulled, shoving himself inside her over and over until she slammed against the wall and made the pictures shake. If she minded, it wasn’t clear to him. Instead, she whimpered and gasped, the tiny noises in the back of her throat

begging him for more. He gripped her leg and raised it higher, wrapping it around his waist so that he could push even deeper, even harder. “Yeah, Shay,” he said, and she moaned back in response. With his free hand, he pushed his fingers down the front of her panties again and rubbed her hard, swollen clit until her little moans of “oh” became long, protracted cries of need. He forgot about his sister, his friend, hell, he forgot about the rest of the world. All he wanted right now was Shay. The sound of Shay in his ears. The smell of Shay on the air. The feel of her wet pussy around his cock and then the taste of her lavender skin as he sucked her neck and fucked her harder still. But even with her consuming him, even with every part of him wrapped up in her, it wasn’t enough. He need more, more, so much more. Needed to feel her walls quaking around his cock tighter and tighter. Wanted to reach the part of her he’d never seen before and stay there. Wanted to spend himself inside her and feel every little quake of her body while he moved. “Condom,” she whispered so softly he hardly heard her at first. “What?” “Condom,” she gasped, “we need a…” “Shit, right,” He held her hips and slid away, then led her back toward the bed. “Take off your panties.” It wasn’t a question, and she knew better than to treat it like one. She pulled the little blue fabric off and dropped it on the floor, then spread her legs wide enough for him to see every detail of her perfect pink pussy. “Do you want to watch me?” she breathed, and before he answered she licked her fingers and stroked herself in tiny, rapid circles. She arched back, closing her eyes and he rolled the condom on while he watched her work toward her ecstasy, already impossibly harder than he’d been before. “Fuck yeah, baby,” he said, and he wanted to stand there and watch her longer, to study the way she played with herself, but it was too much to hold back. He needed to feel her again. Needed to feel her pussy constrict around his aching need. “Don’t stop,” he said and she heeded the command as he pushed inside her again, watching as his shaft pistoned in and out of her warm, wet center. As her slickness coated him and made him want and want and want. “You’re fucking perfect,” he groaned, and though he hadn’t meant to say it, she smiled all the same. “I’m going to come,” she warned, and he dug his fingers into her hips and pushed still deeper, with quick greedy thrusts that had her gasping and moaning so hard she forgot to touch herself. Now, though, he could only focus on her face. On the way her lips twisted and opened, then closed again. And finally on the small “o” that spread wider and wider while her walls shuddered around him and she gripped the comforter with all her strength. Now was the moment, Shay Meyers was coming around him. So he flicked the clasp on her bra and watched her breasts tumble free while he fucked her into oblivion.

“Ma…” she said, but that was as far as she got before she moaned lower and she reached for him as he followed her, losing himself in the feeling of his balls drawing up and the hard coil of need low in his belly finally expanding and loosening all at once. “Fuuuck,” he said, as he came, and he grasped her breasts, kneading them as the heady feeling of release washed over him until he collapsed on top of her chest. They lay there for a long moment, not speaking. Then, at last, Shay whispered, “Matt?” “Yeah?” “What’s the belt for?” He smiled. “Round two.”

CHAPT ER 8

B zzzz. Bzzzz. The muffled vibration hummed against her pillow, and Shay blinked awake only to have the light of her smartphone blind her. Shit. What time was it? She slid her thumb across the screen, all too aware of Matt's low, steady snores on the other side of her. The heat of his chest against her back. His hard erection pressed to her ass. She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and then smiled, because no matter how much panic and turmoil swirled in her stomach at the idea that she'd slept with him—a client, her best friend's brother—again, it was nothing compared to the joy she felt at realizing that he'd stayed. He hadn't slinked off in the middle of the night. He'd wanted to be here. With her. Silently, she opened her eyes again and let them adjust to the light of her screen. Then she scanned the too-tiny script.

SHAY,

JUST WANTED to let you know, we're in final negotiations with the Matt Archer case. The reporters are like vultures over here, but I'll try to send word before they pluck the story.

LOU .

SHE GLANCED AT THE TIME. Six a.m. Then, she read the message over again. She knew it was nothing more than a formality. This way, if the news broke about Matt's move from the minors to the majors before she was notified, Lou would have something to fall back on. A classic case of CYOA: Cover Your Own Ass. Still, her heart tightened at the idea of Matt finally making it.

Once he was in the majors again, he could have everything he ever wanted again. Everything except... She rolled over and looked at him, studied the way he smiled vaguely up at the ceiling while he slept. He was cute this way, docile. And it was only fitting that even in his sleep, Matt Archer seemed to be laughing. This was a good man. He was kind and gentle and fun. He deserved the best in life. And most of all, he deserved to know the truth. No matter who it came from. Slowly, she gripped his shoulder and then shook gently, once, twice, until he let out a long groan. "Why?" "Get up, lazybones," she said. "Lazybones?" He crooked his eyebrow, and already his bleary eyes began to fill with their usual mirth. "Seriously?" "Well, do you have another word for you?" "I do"—he gripped her waist—"but I'd rather show you how I'm feeling." He pulled her against him until his rigid cock was flush against her stomach. Her core ached just at the feel of it, and though her mind clouded, she struggled to keep her composure. "No, not that." Shay shook her head. "Don't tell me you woke me up just because you changed your mind about last night. I've gotta tell you, I'm not as keen on cat and mouse games the second time around." "It's not that either," she whispered, breathless. Not because she was turned on, though that certainly didn't help. She just couldn't seem to find her breath. Like every time she went to inhale, it simply came up short. "Okay, then, shoot." "I need to tell you something important." "You're pregnant?" he asked. "Don't be stupid." "I'm pregnant?" He smiled, and she groaned. "Matt, I need you to be serious. This isn't an easy thing." His smile fell and he nodded, though thankfully he didn't bother to say anything else. "I found out some information. Not all of it, but some," she said. He didn't speak, only watched her, bemused. "I found something out. It doesn’t matter how or anything. But it’s important. And it’s about, uh," She tried again for a breath that wouldn't come. "About your mom." Matt looked like he was about to wince, but stopped midway and returned to his regular, immovable expression. "She's here, Matt. Somewhere on the island. I guess she must have remarried and—" "I'll stop you there," Matt said. "There's no need to get yourself all worked up over this." "But... but it's huge. I mean, your mom—" "I already knew," he said simply. "You already..." If she thought she couldn't breathe before, now it was a struggle to even remember what breath was, what breathing felt like.

"Yeah. For a while now." "But..." "When you're a celebrity, people have a way of finding out how to contact you." He shrugged, almost like he was talking about the weather. "H-how long?" "Have I known about her?" He looked past her for a minute and then said, "Probably two years or so." "Two years? Two years and you didn't tell Derrick or Andy?" "Why would I?" "Because she's your mother. Because they're your siblings." "Yeah." He shrugged. "But after...well, let's just say I knew how they felt about seeing her. Telling them would not have helped anything." "So, have you seen her?" Shay asked. "Look, it's still early. Why don't you go back to sleep? I'm going to hit the gym, and maybe we can talk all this over tonight." "But.." Her protest died on her tongue once she saw the look on his face. He hadn't been asking her a question, not really. So all she could do was nod and say, "Yeah, okay. Sounds good." And just like that, he grabbed his pile of clothes from the floor and slunk from the room. She watched him go, still struggling for words, but when the door clicked shut behind him, she lay back on her pillows, stared at the ceiling, and lost herself in her thoughts.

THE GYM WAS SHIT. Not only did half the machines not work, but it seemed like Matt couldn't get fired up enough to use any of the few he could use to their full potential. Instead, he kept thinking of Shay. Shay and the way she'd looked, all torn up inside about whether or not he knew about Sharon Archer. No, not Sharon Archer. Sharon Scott. A whole new shiny person. Not for the first time, he wondered what it must have been like for her to pick up and reinvent herself. To decide to start all over again. Because, he supposed, the first try simply wasn't good enough. He frowned, thinking again of Shay. Maybe that's what it had been like with her mother, too. Like every new marriage was a fresh start. The only difference was that Shay had been dragged along for the ride. Hell if he knew which of them had had it worse, though. Groaning, he dropped his weights and made his way to the locker room. After washing his face and getting his stuff together, he headed back to the rental car and tried to make a mental plan for his day. After all, there was no telling how Shay was going to act once she saw him again. She'd barely been able to hold it together the first time they'd slept together. Now that she had to keep it secret from Andy, she'd probably be bursting at the seams. Then add to that the thing with his mother … An image flashed through his mind. Shay with her dark hair tousled, her dark eyes

gleaming in the darkness. "Have you seen her?" she'd asked. She'd looked so sincere, so concerned. The same way she had when they'd first talked about her after the trip to the party store. The same way she'd looked when she poured out her heart and soul to him about all her mother's marriages and remarriages. It had taken balls for her to be so honest with him. Didn't he owe her the same? Sure, it wasn't some long-term love affair, but she was still his friend. She still cared. He pulled into the villa's driveway, surprised to find that Andy and Logan's rental had already cleared out for the day, and then let himself into the little house. Shay was sitting on the couch, reading some article in a magazine while sipping her coffee. On the glossy page in her hand, his own image smiled back up at him. "So you're obsessed with me?" he asked. "You missed me so much you had to read about me while I was gone?" "You caught me." She rolled her eyes, the faintest hint of a smile tinting her lips. "I just can't get enough." "Who could blame you?" "Nobody reading this." She lifted up the magazine. "This interview is incredible. The best you've ever done." He shrugged. "I was just my normal charming self." "Let's not get ahead of ourselves." She grinned. At that grin, he faltered. There it was again, that sincerity. That affection. And seeing it, he knew what he had to do. "Hey, you wanna come with me on a little trip?" he asked, trying his best to sound nonchalant despite the sudden pounding of his heart. "Sure. Where we going?" "It's a surprise," he said, and to his surprise, she didn't bother asking any follow-up questions. Maybe the slight edge in his voice told her all she needed to know. Whatever the reason, he was grateful for it. When they were in the car, he blasted his music, and she didn't touch the knob. He glanced at her, but when he saw her mouth moving, miming every word to the Aerosmith song, all he could do was smile. When the song wound to a close, he checked the time and then pulled into the parking lot of a tiny, tropical park. Underneath a massive group of palm trees, there was a playset complete with swings and a slide, some bouncing horses, and a set of monkey bars. And there, on the monkey bars, was a little girl with dirty blonde hair, swinging back and forth while a woman with the same dark blonde mane cheered her on. He cut the engine and then sat there, staring at the pair while Shay glanced from the woman to Matt and back again. "You had an urge to hit the swing set?" she asked. "That's my mother," he answered simply, and then tilted his head to the woman. "That's …” Shay stared after her, and Matt took in every detail along with her. He remembered the first time he'd seen her, too. Remembered how shocked he'd been at how normal she looked. She wasn't some drum-banging hippy or strung-out smoker. She wasn't thin, but she wasn't fat either. She wore a ponytail and tennis shoes. Jeans and a T-shirt.

In short, she looked like a mom. And now she was one. For real this time. "And that's…?" Shay said, but he knew the end to the question. "My half-sister." Matt nodded. "Yep, they call her Jay. Her name is Jacqueline." "And you know all this because…." "She asked me to meet them here once—when I was here on tour with the team. She had both the kids with her that day. There's a boy, too. His name is Nick." Shay let the silence hang between them, so Matt went on. "I never ended up walking over to them, but I watched. Just for a little while. To see what she was like." "Right," Shay whispered. "So, when I didn't show, she wrote me another letter letting me know that they came here every Sunday afternoon and that she knew it would be hard, but she'd love to see me. That was that." "That was that," Shay repeated. The whole time he'd been speaking, she stared at the woman in front of them with no attempt at hiding the stare. Maybe she was shocked by how normal she was, too. "The twins are nine now," he added. "They seem like good kids." As he said it, the little girl dropped from the bars and ran toward her mother, her arms outstretched. "I'm glad that they have this. I always…well, I always sort of wondered what it would be like. Having a mother." He watched as Jay enveloped her mother in a hug. "I'm not going to lie. Sometimes I see how nice Jay's clothes are or how well she's dressed and I get angry. I wish Andy had had that. A mother. Someone to look after her." "And what about you?" Shay asked. He shrugged. "I had my dad." Shay was quiet, her mouth contorted strangely for a minute before her impassive expression returned. Shit, he thought. "Sorry. I know..." he tried, but he didn't know how to finish. "No, no, it's fine. It's not like my dad chose to die." She turned her gaze to him for the first time since they'd parked. "You know, they all mean well. Even all the stepfathers I've had. They all mean for things to work and to make a perfect little family. I think they just don't realize how hard that is." "No, they don't realize a perfect family doesn't exist." Matt guffawed. "I think yours is about as close as it gets." A smile tugged on the corner of his lips. "I definitely got lucky. You know, my dad never said anything about her." He nodded toward the woman now leading her daughter toward the slide. "No?" "I think he didn't want to remind us of what we were missing. But I never felt like I was missing anything. Not really. He read to us at night, helped with our homework, coached us in sports." Matt shrugged. "When I made it to the majors, I never once wished my mom was there to see what I'd done. I was just glad my dad could see it." "That's really optimistic of you," she said. "Nope, that's just the way I feel."

"Then why didn't you tell Andy and Derrick when she contacted you?" "Because the way I feel isn't the way they feel. See, we went on this big trip to Oregon once. Andy probably told you about it." Shay nodded. "Well, when that trip was over, that was the first time I saw her." "You... but Andy said—" "I never told them. We had a note that said she worked in this bakery, and we thought we'd gotten the information wrong, but we didn't. She was just going by a different name then. It was before she stopped trying to hide from us." "Oh?" He nodded. "I stopped back there before our flight on the last day and there she was. She'd dyed her hair black, but that only made her look like Derrick. It was impossible not to recognize her. I guess it was just harder for her to recognize me." He thought back, remembering the rush that came over him in that first instant of recognition. Remembering her sad, lost eyes as she stocked muffins into the little display window. "I bought a muffin and left. She didn't recognize me." "That must have been hard." Matt frowned. "No, not really. It was a relief, really." He turned his feelings over, trying to find some way of describing how freeing that moment had been. Luckily, he knew it wouldn't be hard for Shay to understand. After all, she knew abandonment, too. And loneliness. She knew heartbreak where family was concerned. "It's like..." he started, paused, and then began again. "It's like in that moment something sort of clicked. I could be standing ten feet from this woman and she wouldn't feel a thing, just like I didn't feel a thing. Sure, she gave birth to me, but that doesn't mean there's some special bond between us. There might have been once, but she gave it up. There was no reason I should tie myself up with the string she left behind." "And that's why you haven't spoken to her?" "Not in person. We had a brief email correspondence, but when it came to actually looking her in the eyes…I haven't spoken to her because I don't need to. I'm already at peace. So is Andy, I think. And Derrick, in his way. She's the one who feels abandoned now. Maybe one day I'll take mercy on that fact and let her say her piece, but it's not today." Shay watched him silently. Then, straightening in her seat, she said, "So, what now?" "Now I guess I thank you." "Thank me? For what?" "Listening," he said, and a pang of awkwardness shot through his gut. "Oh, you don't have to thank me for that," Shay said, and to his surprise, a slight tinge of pink colored her cheeks. "I do, though. You're a good listener. And it's good, you know. To talk to someone who understands." Shay nodded, and he started the engine up and then pulled back onto the street. For a while, they drove on in silence, neither of them acknowledging the strange current between them. Still, it was everywhere, clinging to every breath he took. He

was aware of her in a way he never had been before. Like somehow, without realizing it, he'd made things serious and deep. And for some odd reason, that only made him want her more. Then, when they were nearly to the house, Shay broke the silence. "Why me?" she asked quietly. So quietly that he almost didn't hear her over the radio. "What do you mean?" "You... you didn't tell Andy or Derrick about your mother. Why would you tell me?" "I knew you'd understand in a way they wouldn't." The truth slipped out before he'd thought it over. He didn't know why or how, not really. There was just some unshakable knowledge inside him that Shay Meyers knew what it was like to have the weight of responsibility on her shoulders. That she knew what it was like to try and protect the people she loved from a terrible truth. "Thank you," she said, and with the words, that current between them rushed stronger still, swirling all around him and thickening the air until it was impossible to breathe. "You're welcome," he said, and when he pulled into the driveway of the house, it was all he could do not to sweep Shay into his arms and carry her inside.

CHAPT ER 9

M att stared out the window, watching Shay as she sat on the edge of the waves, the ocean wind whipping her hair around her heart-shaped face. From this angle of the window, he could just make out the curve of her lips in the moonlight, the shape of her chin, but there was little else to tell him how she was feeling. What she was thinking. She spent most of the afternoon after they'd gotten back in her bedroom, on the phone with one magazine or another trying to sort things out for him. All the while, he tried to stay out of his room, tried not to eavesdrop, but then he headed into his bedroom to grab his computer and caught another snatch of her voice on the phone. This time, it had been less professional and measured than the other calls. Instead, she was almost shrill. "It's been less than a year," she was saying. "You can't be serious." He paused, glanced at his computer, and then sat down on his bed. He felt guilty, beyond guilty, really, but he had to know what was going on. Wanted to know the things he knew she'd never tell him aloud. "No, it's not. It's not okay. You're just giving up." There was a long pause, and then nothing else. With every passing moment, the surge of guilt rose inside him, and when it finally reached a fever pitch, he gripped his computer and headed for the door. After that, he hadn't seen Shay for the rest of the night. She hadn't even come out for dinner. Instead, she stayed in her bedroom, doing God only knew what, while Andy went to check on her every couple of hours. Now it was ten and the moon was high in the sky while the waves crashed out beyond the rocks, and Shay sat on the sand with her legs stretched out in front of her, staring at the stars and doing nothing. "You can go talk to her, you know." He nearly jumped at the sound of his sister's voice. "I think she wants to be alone." "You never know until you ask." "Didn't you ask?" "Yes." "And what did she say?"

"That she wants to be alone. But that doesn't mean she always knows what's best for her. I think she's sick of hearing the same talk from me. You could probably be a nice fresh voice for her." "I don't know." He stared out the window again, studying the angular curve of her jaw. "Well, there's only one way to find out." Andy shrugged. "I'm going to bed. I'll see you later." She trotted off through the kitchen and down the hall, and once he heard her bedroom door close, he started off toward the sliding door. It was hard to say why he did it. Maybe because she'd been there for him today when she didn't even know it, but he wanted—no, needed—to help. Needed to help her bear some of her burden. When he was a few feet away from her, he stopped and said, "Hey." Slowly, she turned and he noticed the little smudges of tears streaking her face. She ran the back of her hand over her cheeks, sniffed, and said, "Hey." "You want to be alone?" he asked. "I'm sick of being alone." She patted the sand beside her, and the wind whipped the chiffon of her skirt over her knees and swung her hair in front of her face. He joined her on the ground and stared out at the ocean for a long moment, letting the crashing of the waves and the saltiness of the wind envelope them, along with the darkness of the sky and the light of the stars. It was a beautiful night, and despite the breeze, the water was calm. He could see why she'd come here to soothe herself. Even in the few seconds he'd been here, a part of him was loosening and relaxing, too. "She's an idiot, you know?" Shay asked, and Matt didn't have to ask who she meant. "What happened?" "She's starting to see the cracks in this relationship she's in. You know, I don't even think I'm mad at her. I think I'm mad at me. No matter how many times we go through this, there's some stupid small sliver of me that hopes and dreams of things really being different this time. Just like she promised. Just like she always said..." She let out a little gasp and stopped herself, shaking her head. "Why do you need it to work so badly?" he asked gently. "I..." She pursed her lips, tilted her head to the side, and then said, "You know when you were a kid and you woke up on Christmas morning and you and Andy and Derrick all ran down the stairs together and opened your gifts in front of your dad?" Matt nodded, and the look in Shay's eyes when she met his nearly broke his heart in two. "I don't know what that feels like. Do you know what it's like to go your whole life and not remember what it's like to feel the stability of a tradition? The safety of a family? One year, one stepfather would make Christmas breakfast, the next we'd go out to eat, the next I'd go to some strange grandparent's house who I was bound to never see again." The ocean crashed behind her as she shook her head again. "It's silly. It's stupid. But when it's your whole life... I just want to know what it's like to feel stable. To have something you can count on. Andy has that with Logan. Why is it so hard for everyone else? Why does everything have to be so hard?" "It doesn't have to be." He brushed a strand of hair from her face, and then their

eyes met again, sending a wave of pure heat through his body. Slowly, she lifted her hand to meet his and held it to her cheek, nuzzling it slowly. "Thank you," she murmured, just low enough for him to hear her above the current. "Any time," he said, and his voice was lower and needier than he would have liked. This was wrong. Wrong to want her right now when she was baring her soul to him. Still, there was a part of him that wanted to lay her down and hold her, just hold her, so she could feel secure somewhere. So she would know warmth and stability, even if it was only with him. And the idea of her stability coming from him did nothing to curb his need for her. "Do you want to go for a swim?" she asked, and he blinked. Even at this time of night, he knew the water wouldn't be cold, but... "A swim?" "I think it could be relaxing." Without warning, she pulled the hem of her shirt over her head and left it in the sand, and the ample swell of her breasts in her light pink bra was too much to tear his gaze from. "I don't have swim trunks on. I can go get them—" "Just swim in your boxers. Where's your sense of adventure?" He swallowed, and she pulled her skirt down to reveal matching tiny pink panties. The second she got wet, her underwear would be completely see through. Hell, even now he could see the straining buds of her nipples through the thin fabric of her bra. His cock surged hot and hard against his zipper, and he knew if he took his pants off now, she would see the evidence of his need. Then again, he remembered the look on her face when she'd first seen his length. The way she licked her lips before she'd taken him into her mouth just the other day... He unbuckled his belt and slid his jeans off quickly, and then his shirt, and she stood, dusting the sand from her bottom while she waited for him to finish undressing. It was like she did it just for him. The display of her perfect bottom in those incredibly tiny panties. He wanted to nibble her cheek, to bend her over and lick her up and down over and over until he fucked her right here on the sand. The tent of his erection flicked, and he ran into the water ahead of her if only to have a moment of relief from his need. It was no use, though. As soon as he turned around to see her splashing through the waves toward him, he knew he was a goner. She was just too beautiful, her eyes shining in the moonlight while the pink of her bra dampened until it was transparent. He glanced from her breasts to her face, and when she smiled at him, he knew—this was what she'd wanted. And if this was what she wanted? He was damn sure going to make sure she got it.

FOR A MOMENT, she didn’t walk toward him. Instead, she stood in the current, watching him as he waded through the water, his boxers dampening with each step. His pecks were unbelievable, speckled with droplets, and she wondered if his body would be warm from the heat, or if the water would have cooled him. What would that water

feel like she traced his rippled muscles? What would it taste like as she kissed his neck? Maybe it was wrong to want him like this. After all, she was vulnerable and needy. Normally, this was when she'd break out the rocky road and her favorite movie. Thinking about that, though, left her feeling hollow and sad. No, she didn't want that. Didn’t want anything but him. And for once in her life, she was going to get exactly what she wanted. "Come with me," she said, and then she swam further out into the water untill she'd reached the mouth of a grotto not far off from a wooded area. When she got to the rocks, she waded in the water, waiting for him to join her, but it didn't take long. Within seconds, he reappeared, his dark blond hair made black by the salty water, and he was walking toward her again, making her breath come in shallow little gasps. It was like something out of a movie, watching him move toward her with the whole of the island and the beautiful night skyline behind him, and still he was the center of it all, the most beautiful part of the scene. His light green eyes met hers and her lips parted, thinking of the times she'd felt him on top of her. Of all the times the heat of his lips had scorched her. He'd always been so in command when they'd been together, so forceful. But now? Now she had led him here and she was in charge. If only just for tonight. "Matt, I--" she started, but then he was there, his arms wrapped around her, and her brain short circuited. "Before anything happens, I want you to tell me what you want," he said. "I want to hear you say this is what you want." "I want you. I want this." She nuzzled his neck, but he pulled back again, tucking one finger under her chin to tilt her head toward him. "I want you, too. All of you." His free hand dipped beneath the water and she felt him brush against her panties, finding her center. "I want to taste you," he said, lower and hungrier than before. "I want to have you and then in the morning I want to have you over again. As many times as I can. I want you to be my woman." She blinked, unsure what to say. Unsure what to do about the thrill that shot through her at the words "My woman." "I want you to say you're my woman." He slipped his hand beneath her bra and tweaked one nipple until it was as hard and aching as the rest of her. As needy. "I..." she tried, but then he pushed aside her panties and thrust two fingers inside. She gasped, but he never broke eye contact. Never said a word. With his thumb, he rubbed the delicate bundle of nerves that was waiting for him. "I'm yours," she said at last, but then he pulled away and she was left bereft and hungry. "That's not what I asked," he said, gripping her hips and driving her back against the rocks. A chill ran through her as her back connected with the cool stone of the grotto, but it was extinguished just as quickly by the feel of his hot, rock hard skin against hers. “Say it,” he breathed. “I’m your woman.” “You’re damn right you are,” he answered, and then his lips crushed against hers before he pulled her panties aside and pushed inside.

CHAPT ER 10

"S o, you and Matt have been... cozy." Andy waggled her brows as she lifted the head of her Kitchen Aid mixer and surveyed the consistency of her batter. Apparently satisfied, she stuck one finger in and then licked it clean. Shay decided to ignore the comment. "What kind of bride makes her own wedding cake?" "The kind of bride who is saving for a honeymoon." "Why do you have to save for a honeymoon when you already have a house in Hawaii? Oh yeah, and a millionaire for a husband. And—" "Hey, there's nothing wrong with being frugal." Andy unfastened the bowl from the mixer and carried it to her pre-greased pans. "Besides, I can't help but notice how you're not answering my question." "It wasn't a question. It was a statement, and I'm choosing to ignore it." "Just like I chose to ignore you two on the beach the other night?" Shay’s cheeks heated up, and she stared at her iPad again, willing it to guide her through the fondant baseball she'd been failing to make for the past hour now. "I don't know what you're talking about." "Or how about how you stumbled out of his room this morning? Or when he—" "Okay, okay. I guess we're not as sly as we thought." "So you are boning." "Ew, don't call it that." "You're getting busy with my brother. My best friend and my sibling." "Now you know how Matt feels." Shay rolled her eyes. "Except you have the guarantee that we're not about to get married." "I just can't believe you finally went through with it. I mean, I feel like I've been waiting forever and now—" "All right, all right. I get it. Don't get your panties in a twist over it. It's just for while we're on the island, and then things go back to being nice and platonic." "Oh yes, I'm sure they will." Andy poured the batter into their pans and jiggled them to even them out. "Cut it out." Shay rolled her eyes. "I just hope my brother is treating you right." "Are you asking if he's a generous lover?" Shay waggled her eyebrows back.

"Ew, God, now it's my turn to be creeped out." "Serves you right." Shay grinned, and then her iPad lit up with a message. She turned her attention to the screen and flicked her finger across it. "New email from Lou," she told Andy, and Andy scuttled over to read over Shay's shoulder. Instantly, Shay regretted the decision to tell her what was going on.

SHAY,

JUST GOT BACK from the last contract meeting. Looks like there's too many stars coming out of the colleges right now to take the chance, especially since there's already been a relapse. Next year we'll try again, but for now, the Sharks have agreed to take Matt on for another season.

SPEAK SOON.

LOU .

SHE SET the iPad down and blinked. Matt was in the minors. Again. A whole new season without the major league backing he'd been working so hard for. She tried to imagine his face when she told him, but she couldn't come up with what Matt would look like when he was sad or disappointed. She couldn't even imagine Matt angry. Matt was just... Matt. Which, somehow, only made her feel worse. "You want me to handle it?" Andy asked softly. Shay shook her head. "I'm the lead on the case, I should take care of it. But I think I'll wait until after the wedding. There's too much going on." "I don't know, Shay. He's waiting for that call. If it has come, I think he deserves to know about it. Rip the Band-Aid off and let the wound heal. Or something like that." "The timing just isn't right. If I had to tell him now..." His smile would fade. She wouldn't get to laugh and play with him, to let him help her forget about her troubles. If she shared this burden with him, the reality of their relationship would sink in. They'd share a hardship. They'd be... committed. And that wasn't what she'd signed on for. Not now, not ever. "Shay—" Andy tried. Shay held up a hand. "Look, I'll think about it. Everything is going to be okay. But for right now, let's focus on this cake, okay?" They set back to work, and for the rest of the afternoon, they went on in

companionable silence. All the while, Shay's mind was whirring, thinking over all the reasons to tell Matt or to avoid telling him. Really, it was six of one and half a dozen of the other. But in the end, she kept coming back to the image of his smile faltering. And whenever she thought of that? Her heart broke just the tiniest bit.

BZZZ. Bzzz. Matt groaned but didn't move from Shay's earlobe. He'd had her tangled in his sheets for the better part of the morning, and despite all her protests about needing to get ready for the wedding, he was pretty sure he finally had her where he wanted her—right between her— Bzzz. Bzzz. "Can't you turn that damn thing off?" he asked, and made to shove the phone from where it buzzed against the bedside table, but Shay caught his wrist in midair. "Just ignore it," she murmured, and then, stiffening, she added, "You know what, you're right. I should get up and answer it and—" "Don't you dare." He pressed her onto her back and slid between her partially parted thighs. He loved this, to feel her naked skin still exposed from the night before, to kiss her sleep-warmed skin. He snaked beneath the blanket, ready to start her engine purring, and then—

BZZZ. Bzzz. "Goddammit," he said. She stroked his hair and then pulled his face back up to her own. Reluctantly, he followed. "We can't do this," she said. "You keep saying that. Last night was the first time I've had you in a week. And I didn't get to cover all my bases—" He tried to duck beneath the covers again, but she scooted out from under him and closed her knees. She even pulled them up to her chest so that he could only see the smooth, sleek lines of her arms and legs; the swell of her breasts denied him. "You can cover your bases after the wedding." "I thought we were done after the wedding?" He quirked his eyebrow, but a little corner of his heart beat faster. He knew it. Knew she felt the connection, too. He'd been waiting until after the wedding to say something, but when she was already here and warm and staring at him with those perfectly almond-shaped green eyes. "There's two more days on the island after the wedding." She shrugged, and then she swung her legs over the side of the bed, and he watched with a throbbing need as she bent over and grabbed his shirt off the floor. "Please, baby, come back to bed."

"Baby? It's baby now?" she asked. "What, you don't like it?" "It's not that. It's just—" The buzzing of the phone on the counter apparently broke her concentration, and she reached for it just in time for Matt to snatch it away again. "No. Come on, talk to me. Come back to bed." He pulled the sheet back to reveal his waiting length, and she stared down at him with dark, hungry eyes. "Maybe..." she said. "But first there's something I think I should—" The phone buzzed in his hand, and he glanced down at it, reminding himself not to throw it across the room. Shay shook her head. "Look, I'm getting in the shower, and you are too." "I'll take it." Matt grinned. "Separately." She stared him down. "Not fun," he complained. "It doesn't have to be fun, it just has to happen. We need to be on the beach in less than five hours. I need to help Andy get ready." "Okay, even with all of that, I see a solid four hours and thirty minutes for us to fuuu"—he glanced down at the shaking screen again, and the vibrations sent a tingle up his arm—"uuuck this phone." "Go get your clothes together. I'll see you when I get out of the shower." Shay grinned and then disappeared behind the bathroom door. God, what he wouldn't give to be on the other side of that door. Hell, at this point, he'd take it if he simply got to watch her undress. Or if he stood outside the door while she described undressing. Maybe if he asked politely... The spray of the shower sounded on the other side of the door, and he leaned back on the bed. Fuck. He had a decision to make. Apparently, Shay still hadn't felt the pull between them that he had. Or, if she did, she was doing a pretty fucking great job of hiding it. That, of course, left him with two options—to stick to their arrangement and never see her again, or to man up and tell her that he wanted more than just a fling. The odds of her taking him seriously were slim, and the odds of her going along with his plan were even more scant than that. But, well, what could he do? Could he really go back to San Diego and work with her after he'd been with her this way? Could he ever be in the same room with her again without picturing her splayed out naked and beneath him, moaning along with his every command? Not a fucking chance. Then again, if he went back to the majors, he'd be touring a lot. Distance made the heart grow a lot less fond in his experience, and where Shay was concerned, he couldn't think of anything else that might dull his need to pin her up against any sturdy object and have his way with her. "Shit." He groaned, and then pulled himself out of bed and made to get dressed. His suit was hanging on the back of the bathroom door, and he put it on with only half his concentration.

If he got drafted to the minors... He buttoned and then shook his head. He couldn't think like that. Even if his improvement had stagnated, that didn't mean it couldn't skyrocket again with the right incentive. They'd know that, the coaches and the owners. They'd be willing to take the chance. He was worth the chance. He straightened his vest and then glanced at himself in the mirror. Stop kidding yourself, he thought. There is no choice to make. After the wedding, he was going to tell Shay the truth. And that truth was... Shit. He could hardly bring himself to think it. How the hell did he expect himself to say it out loud to her? I'll just pretend she's here, that's all. I'll look her in the eyes, and then I'll say, "Shay, I love you." The shower dripped to silence, and then Matt grabbed his phone off the bed and made for the door.

CHAPT ER 11

I t was the most beautiful wedding Matt had ever been to. It wasn't saying much, of course, since he'd only attended a handful of them, but there was just something about the simplicity of the beach, of Andy's dress, or the crowd that made it feel like nothing would ever be quite so beautiful again. Then again, the company may also have had something to do with it. He glanced from the corner of his eye at Shay in her lavender bridesmaid gown and smiled while his sister pledged her love to Logan. Shay met his gaze for a fraction of an instant and then turned away, focusing on the couple in front of him. Was it his imagination, or was there a tear in her eye? Weddings. You never knew how people were going to react. When it came time for the reception, he followed the throng into the tiny white tent just beside the reception area and made for the head table. Logan and Andy had opted against big entries and announcements—they figured there would be enough of them in the paper to last them a lifetime. And, based on the number of flashes and journalists swarming around the happy couple, they were right. "Do weddings have to be like this for celebrities?" he mumbled, and apparently Shay heard him because she shrugged. "It's easy work. You're going to have the party and look good anyway. May as well." "I guess." Matt studied his sister, clinging to her husband and grinning like she'd been born to do it. Like she was comfortable in front of the cameras now. And maybe she was. After all, it wasn't like their courtship and engagement had been a quiet affair. Between the accident, their dates, and then their engagement, the media had been almost as much a part of Andy and Logan's relationship as themselves. Still, they were happy. They made it work. "I wouldn't want that," he said. "Why not? Andy looks—" "I know, I know. Andy looks happy. But you know Andy as well as I do. She hates this crap." "But she does it for Logan." Shay shrugged. "Unfair, don’t you think?" "I don't know. Life isn't fair. Why should love be?" The music started to swirl overhead, a low, soft fifties tune that had been a favorite

of their father's. Matt smiled. "You look great in that dress, by the way. Did I mention that?" "Three times." She nodded and then stiffened and said, "Hey, uh, I'm going to grab a drink. Want anything?" "Old Fashioned," he said, and she disappeared into the crowd. Wading through the sea of photographers, Matt took his seat at last and was met within moments by a grinning Logan. "Let's get a picture of you two," one of the photographers called to them, and Matt shook his head. "Please, today is about my sister." "How does it feel to know your sister married the man who ruined your career?" Matt opened his mouth and then closed it. A pang shot through his heart. He would have thought he'd be used to that question, especially since it was such a natural one. But the part that intrigued them—that his best friend had married his sister, that that same man had also been the cause of the most catastrophic event of his life, didn't faze him. It was that last part that always felt like a sucker punch to the gut. Ruined his career. Like he was already done. Finished. Logan's grin vanished. "This is a private event. I'll remind you that you can be dismissed at any time." He practically spat at the reporters, and Andy, apparently sensing the tension, rounded on them with a too bright smile stretched across her face. "You guys only have a few more minutes," she told the journalists. "Why don't I show you to the cake? I think you'll find it makes a great feature." She led the crowd away and left Logan and Matt alone at last. "Sorry about that," Logan said, and then slugged a beer Matt hadn't noticed until now. "Hey, if I'm not used to that, then I have no business being a baseball player." Matt shrugged. "You aren't... you know, bothered by this, are you?" "Little late now, don't you think?" Matt nodded to Logan's shining golden ring. Logan offered him half a smile. "Yeah, guess so. Still—" "No, I've said it before. You and Andy were meant to be." "Like you and Shay." Logan cocked his head toward Shay. Her slender hip was jutted up against the bar, and her sleek black hair was pulled into a little knot at the top of her head. Even with the bride so close by her, she was still the most beautiful woman in the room. "Yeah," he said. "Like me and Shay." "Finally he admits it. And hey, this thing with the minors is only going to be a small setback. One more year and you'll be up there again with me. I can't even believe they're—" Every drop of blood in Matt's body froze over. "What?" "I said it's just a setback. Look, I know you went through the physical therapy, but I think you need a more rigorous trainer. I'll give you some numbers and—" "What are you talking about?" Matt said, his voice gruffer than he'd meant for it to sound. "I..." Logan glanced over to Shay, and Matt followed his gaze, seeing her now in a

whole different light. He saw the worry lines around her mouth. The way her shoulders were hitched up nearly to her earlobes. And how, even with her hip so casually jutted out, there was a rigidity to her body that had never been there before. "I was drafted to the minors again," Matt said, and he knew it was the truth even before he saw the look on Logan's face. "I thought you knew. Andy told me last night." "Last night? So this has been..." He shook his head. He couldn't think about how long Shay had known, how long she'd kept it from him. Fuck, had she known that night? That day they'd gone to see his mother? Had she known when she'd made love to him? Had it just been a pity fuck? His stomach twisted, and he scanned the room for his sister. She was standing beside the baseball-themed wedding cake, gesturing wildly for the reporters. Shit, the reporters. They were going to ask him about the draft. About his reaction. He had to get the fuck out of here. "How long before the best man speech?" he asked Logan. Logan shrugged. "It's cocktail hour. You've probably got some time." "Okay, good. Don't let them start dinner without me. I need some air." "But—" Logan started, but Matt ignored him as he shoved out of his chair and went through the fabric encasement of the tent. He needed to be away from people for a while. Needed some time to think and to shake off this hovering, all-consuming ache of disappointment and regret. Before long, he knew the thoughts would set in. The regrets, all the things he should have done differently. The wish that he'd never been in that goddamn accident to begin with. But most of all, he needed to be away from Shay. Shay, who had known all this time and hadn't told him. Who'd allowed him to walk into a snake den without so much as a word of warning. Shay, who he'd thought... No, it didn't matter what he thought. She'd made her intentions clear, and he should have listened to them. Business and personal were separate as far as she was concerned. It was just a matter of coincidence that she'd fucked him on both accounts.

"WHERE'S MATT?" Shay sat the Old Fashioned down in front of the best man's empty place setting, but Logan only blinked up at her, his mouth contorting between a grimace and a frown and back. "What?" she asked again. "How long have you known about the draft to the minors?" he asked. She blinked. "I... about a week." "A week. And you didn't think to tell him before the wedding?" Logan snapped. She'd never seen this side of him before. So defensive, so angry. "I thought it would be better to wait. Look, can you just tell me where he is?" "No, he left. I have no idea where he is, and if my wife finds out he's gone—" "He's gone? But what about his speech? What about—"

"My question exactly." "I have to find him." "Losing the maid of honor on top of the best man is the last thing we need right now." "But if I can just explain to him—" "Shay, I'm telling you. Stay." "No. I have to find him." Cursing herself with every passing moment, she shoved through the fabric flap of the tent, kicked off her flip-flops, and sprinted through the sand, searching front and back for any spec of a person in the distance. She had no idea how much time he had on her, or where he might have gone. Hell, for all she knew, he could have gotten in his car and headed back to the house. Still, she had to find him. If she could just spot him, if she could just explain— Then there he was. A faint silhouette in the distance, walking so close to the waves that they were probably lapping at the edges of his tan suit. "Matt!" she shouted, and the figure turned and then walked away, faster and faster. Her jog became a full-on run, and soon she was out of breath, her hair falling free around her face from the force of the wind. "Matt! Stop!" He didn't, but it didn't matter. She was gaining on him too quickly for him to outpace her now, and when she finally reached him, she gripped the collar of his suit jacket and yanked him to a halt. Panting, she doubled over and said, "We need to talk." "I don't want to," he said, and the usual edge of laughter in his voice was gone. Abandoned for something icier. "If you'll just let me explain—" "I said no." "Matt—" "Why does this have to be on your terms? Why do you have to be in control?" "I—" "No, do you know what this is like? What it's like to work your entire life for something and have it ripped away from you because of something you can't control? Then have little threads of that control pulled away from you bit by bit like you're some fucking cat playing with yarn? You don't know." "I do. Growing up—" "Fuck that. Your situation changed a lot. Sorry. It happened. You didn't work for that and have it mean nothing. You didn't have everything taken away from you." "I can't change what happened!" she rasped. "No, you can't, but you could have warned me. If you cared about me, you would have told me. You would have let me be prepared." "I didn't want it hanging over your head at the wedding." "No, you just didn't want to deal with it. You wanted to wait until the wedding was over and then I was my sister's problem again. Plus, you'd still get to fuck me before I found out. Pretty convenient there, Shay." "That wasn't it at all." "Well, it looks a hell of a lot like that from where I'm sitting, and the best part is, for once, I'm in control. We're not fucking talking about this. Not now. Not ever."

He turned on his heel and headed back for the tent, leaving her there speechless. "You're going to behave as though nothing happened," he said. "My sister deserves as much on her wedding day. Don't come near me." Then he was a spec on the beach again, getting smaller and smaller while she watched him walk away from her. Forever.

THE REST of the wedding went beautifully. Andy was the perfect bride—gracious and fun-loving, while Logan was the ideal groom—by her side all night long. Which, of course, left a hell of a lot of leeway for Matt to "run into" Shay. Over and over and over again. He'd go for a drink and she'd be leaning against the bar, or he'd walk outside the tent for a cigar and find her there with her hair in the breeze. It was no wonder he'd fallen for her, she was practically omnipresent. No, not fallen for her. That was too strong. Untrue. Besides, it didn't matter how he felt now. They were over. Within the next two days, they'd both be heading home. He'd be back in the minors, and she'd be able to go on focusing on her more important clients. Which was what he'd wanted in the very beginning, right? He wanted to fall off her radar? Wanted to be invisible? By the time the reception ended, Matt was sick of running into Shay that he couldn't even bring himself to go back to the beach house. Instead, he sat on the bluffs overlooking the ocean and leaned back, thinking of all the games he'd play this year. All the teams who could have drafted him and hadn't. His career was over. His whatever-it-had-been with Shay was over. And now? The wedding was over too. He reached into his pocket for the flask Logan had given him before the wedding, but found something square and thin and flat there instead. He pulled it out and looked it over in the moonlight. Shit, Shay's phone. He clicked the tiny button, more out of habit than curiosity, and noticed that the entire screen had been clouded out by little white lettering. Even without reading it, Matt could sense the utter panic behind every word, and he slid his thumb across to take the messages in.

SHAY. Answer me. Shay, why isn't Andy telling you I called? Did you two come up with some scheme? Shay, sweetheart, I need you. Please, now more than ever. Why won't you be here for me when I need you? You always do this. You're so selfish, you know that? Always avoiding things so that you don't have to deal with the unpleasantness.

This is life, young lady. This is your family. Your responsibility.

MATT BLINKED at the messages and then at the one that stood out to him most.

YOU ALWAYS DO THIS. You're selfish... Always avoiding things so that you don't have to deal with the unpleasantness.

HADN'T he said nearly the exact same thing to her before he'd turned her away? He had, he guessed, but that was different. He wasn't Shay's mother. He hadn't asked and asked and asked until she had nothing left to give. All he'd wanted was some honesty. Some decency. Some respect. And she hadn't bothered to give it to him. Hadn't trusted him with it. Which, of course, meant she pitied him just as much as everyone else. She wasn't different. Not where it mattered. He shook his head. He read over the messages again.

YOU ALWAYS DO THIS. You're so selfish, you know that? Always avoiding—

HE CLICKED THE SCREEN OFF . Shay's mother would know they'd been read, he supposed. And if Andy was in on it, then it wouldn't be long before Shay knew the truth. But... He turned the phone over between his thumb and forefinger, and then allowed it to slip between his fingers and land in the ocean with a little plunk. There, he'd done his due diligence. She was free and so was he. If she wanted to pity him, she was more than welcome to. But him? He was going to live with his head held high. Even if every other part of his body felt like it was slowly withering away.

CHAPT ER 12

M att Archer woke to the feeling of something soft smothering him and rubbing the coarse hairs on his forehead into his skin. "What—" he tried, but his words were muffled by the pillow, and one down feather fell into his mouth. "Morning, sunshine." His brother's voice greeted him loud and clear from the other side of the pillow, and then the darkness was replaced with blinding light and a crisp, cool wash of air. "What the hell was that for?" Matt asked, slowly getting his bearings. He was on Derrick's couch, had crashed there after finally leaving the beach somewhere in the region of two in the morning. At that point, he hadn't known where to go. He couldn't go back to the villa, to face Shay. Couldn't face his sister—his poker face wouldn't hold up much longer. And he couldn't be near Logan. Couldn't see the pity and shame that always etched his friend's face when the injury came up. Which left only one place to go. So, he'd gathered up his things and made his way into the city, to the little place he'd only visited once before. "Old time’s sake." "Gee, thanks." Matt speared a hand through his hair and looked around. Even in the two years since his last visit, though, nothing much had changed about Derrick's apartment aside from the food in the fridge—and some part of Matt wondered if that had even changed all that much, either. It was plain. The walls were still the standard cream they'd probably been when Derrick had first moved in, and the tile floors were the same shade of terracotta. Other than that, nearly everything in the room matched in shades of beige and khaki and taupe—all second-hand or remainders from their old family home. Matt put his feet up on the coffee table, and it nearly buckled. "You got coffee?" Matt asked. "Making it, you lazy bum. You stay on a guy's couch and don't even bother to make him breakfast? What kind of cheap date do you think I am?" "The generous kind." "Didn't you have a date of your own?" Derrick raised his eyebrows. "Or are you

going to tell me why you two spent the whole night avoiding each other like the plague." "We didn't—" "You did." Derrick nodded as the coffee began to percolate behind him. Matt got up and made his way over to the fridge, and then pulled out a carton of eggs. "Want some scrambled?" "Only if you're washing up after," Derrick said. "Lazy," Matt said, but searched around for the skillet, anyway. "Don't change the subject." Derrick plopped two pieces of toast into a toaster that looked like it had come straight out of 1960. Matt was shocked the thing didn't have a hand crank to operate it. "I'm not changing the subject. You said I should make you breakfast. You're the one who—" "Cut the shit." Derrick pulled two mugs from the cabinet above his sink, skirting silently past Matt. "Look, it's nothing. Our little thing was just for while we were on the island. We leave tomorrow. It's over." "No, it's not." "I'm telling you, it's over." "I saw the paper, Matt. You might be saying it's over, and you might be right, but there's more to this story than you're letting on and we both know it." "What does the paper have to do with anything? And how did you already get today's paper?" "It's called an iPad. And we're almost to spring training. They released the line-ups." "They..." Matt's voice drifted off. "You weren't on them." "No," Matt said flatly. "I'm sorry, man." Derrick made to put his hand on Matt's shoulder, but he ducked out of the way. "No reason to be sorry. I'm still playing ball. What's one more year?" "Don't come into my house and pull that bullshit with me." The words were soft, but Matt knew his brother better than to take them that way. "I'm not pulling anything. Don't you remember what Dad used to say? Every year I get to play is a blessing, right?" "He didn't mean you had to be thrilled about every setback, though," Derrick said. "I really don't want to talk about this." "Okay, then we won't. You don't want to talk about Shay, either. You don't want to talk about Logan. What do you want to talk about, Matt? You're running out of options." "I'm..." He shook his head and then cracked an egg into the pan. "You wanted scrambled, right? I can do over easy, too." "Scrambled is fine." Derrick frowned and then turned and poured their coffee into mugs. Silently, he sat one cup beside the oven and then made his way to the little breakfast bar. "We do need to talk," Derrick said, and though it had only been a moment since either man had spoken, it felt like a thousand-pound weight had

dropped onto Matt's shoulders in that time. Why could nobody understand that he didn't want to talk? That talking made it worse? That talking made it real. "Derrick, look—" "I'm not going to bother you about work or Shay or any of that." Derrick held up his hand in surrender. "But we still need to talk." "What about?" Matt scrambled the eggs in the pan and then reached for the salt and pepper shakers. "Mom." Matt stopped short and then slowly turned his gaze to his brother's heavy, knitted brow. "What about her?" Matt asked. "She's here, in Hawaii. I wanted to tell you, but Andy—" "Andy knows too?" Matt's jaw slackened. Derrick nodded. "We didn't want to keep it from you, not forever. We just thought —" “How did you find out?” Matt asked. “She sent me a letter. What does it matter? Look, we need to—" "I knew. I knew, though," Matt said, more to himself than to his brother. "I knew she was here and she promised me. She promised me she would never contact you." "Wait, you—?" "I have to go." Matt moved the skillet from the burner to the oven mitt on the counter and sprinted for the door. "I'm sorry. We can talk about this later, but I've got to go right now." When he got to the park, he realized that she still wouldn't be there for another hour, but he was too anxious, too pent-up to wait in the car. Instead, he stalked out and paced the yard, waiting for her blue minivan to pull up, all the time stewing over what he could possibly say to a woman he should have known better than to trust. They'd made a deal, and a good one. He was going to give her money every month, and then she was going to keep her damned mouth shut about her whereabouts. She wasn't going to bother his siblings. She was going to be a decent human being for once in her life. Somehow, she couldn't even manage that. Figured. When her car finally did appear, it took all his inner strength not to rush to the driver’s seat and start screaming at the top of his lungs. He still didn't even know what he'd scream, but he knew it wouldn't be good. And since she'd likely brought her kids with her, it wasn't a scene he was willing to make. So he waited as the twins got out of the car and scuttled toward the swing sets, and then he folded his arms over his chest as Sharon ambled from the car and onto the turf. When she saw him, she blinked once and then had the nerve to smile. "Matt, I was wondering if we'd ever meet." "We've met," he said through gritted teeth, but she seemed to ignore the hostility. She swept across the ground, a book in her hand and that stupid fake smile still plastered on her face. "Yes, sorry, I know that. Insensitive of me. I just meant, well, in all these years I've never seen you."

"You probably never wanted to, either." "Excuse me?" She raised her eyebrows, but her warm, jovial tone still hadn't changed. She still hadn't so much as acknowledged Matt's towered rage. "You are in this for the money. What, does your husband not make enough? You needed to extort the only other family—" She raised her hand. "Matt, I don't know where this is coming from, but I'd like it very much if you could start at the beginning." "You lied to me," he practically spat. "I... lied to you?" "You made me a promise. So long as I kept paying you—" "Ah, that." She nodded knowingly as if she herself had meant to bring this point up and he'd beaten her to it. "Well, I had a good think about it, and I decided that I couldn't allow you to determine whether or not the other kids knew about me. I'm their mother, and—" "You're not their mother. And I know what's good for them a hell of a lot more than you." "Now, Matt, honey, I know you're upset—" "Upset? Upset?" He was practically shaking but somehow managed to keep his voice down. A quick glance at the kids proved that, while confused, they weren't alarmed. Good. At least that was one thing going in his favor. "Well, with Andy getting married, I thought she might like the option of having me attend—" "You would have that right? You would ask that of her? Or was it just because she's another source of cash for you?" "I don't understand this obsession with the money." "You had a good long think and decided you'd tell Andy and Derrick where you are, but you wouldn't deny my checks?" He raised his eyebrows. "Well, honey, I read the paper. I've been keeping up on you. I know you won't be able to afford to—" "Keep you silent?" He shook his head. "You are unbelievable. I was right to have never spoken to you." "You—" "No, no, I'm talking now. You are despicable. Don't come near me or my family. Not ever again, you understand?" He made for his car, got behind the wheel, and sped off as quickly as he could. He didn't know what he was doing or where he was going, all he knew was the flood of release that washed over him as soon as he saw her stricken face. He'd been right on one count—this woman was not and never had been his mother. But talking to her? That was the best decision he'd made. All the feelings, all the hurt that he'd bottled up and hid away had finally come out, finally loosed themselves. It was like a weight had been lifted from his chest, his shoulders, and for the first time in years, he could breathe properly again. His phone rang in his pocket, and he pulled it out to find Derrick on the line. "Are you okay?" he asked in his low grumble. "I'm good, yeah."

"Good, you asshole. I've been calling all morning, and you haven't bothered to answer. What the hell happened this morning?" "Something that should have happened a long time ago," Matt said. "So you told Shay you love her, then?" Fuck. Shay. "Not quite," Matt said, and then parked on a side road. He glanced around. There was an AT&T store, an ice cream shop, a convenience store. His gaze narrowed on one of them, and he did his best to focus. "I think you might have been right," Matt said at last. "About what? What the hell—" "I've got to talk. About some shit. And, you know, I should probably... the thing with Shay..." "Well, fuck, man, don't tell me, tell her. I'm not going to Dr. Phil you." Matt laughed. "Okay, cool. And... you know, thanks." "No problem. Call me back when you're lucid." The call ended with a click, and Matt stared down at it for a second before he realized he had another missed message.

SHAY GOT her flight moved up. Thought you might want to know.

HE READ the words over again and then frantically texted his sister back for details. What did she mean getting her flight moved up? What did she mean just leaving like that? And who didn't give details for a message like that? Still, as he waited, no answer came, and he knew he only had one thing left to do.

A GENTLE KNOCK sounded on Shay's bedroom door, and she nodded for Andy to step inside. She'd been packing her bag on and off for the whole of the morning. Really, she only had one thing left to pack—Matt's jacket, the one he'd lent her in the party store. God, how could something that happened so recently already feel like it had happened a lifetime ago? She shook her head at the thought and zippered her case closed. "Did I thank you for having me enough times?" she asked Andy. Andy smiled. "More than enough." "And you had a good time at your wedding?" "Perfect." "And my speech—" "Was amazing." Andy nodded. "Yesterday was a beautiful day. It was everything I could have ever wanted. But I don't want to talk about yesterday." "Hey, have you seen my phone?" Shay patted her pocket. "I can't remember the last time I saw it." "No, but that does explain some things." Andy flopped onto the bed next to Shay's case. "Why didn't you tell me about the divorce?"

"On your wedding day?" "You didn't find out on my wedding day." It was a matter-of-fact statement. "No, but it's okay. What else is there to say? She's getting divorced. Again. I'll just replay the tape of the last six times we talked about this." "Shay—" "Really, Andy, I'm okay. I don't need a pep talk. My mom is a grown woman. I don't even live with her anymore. I don't need to get invested in her life." "Good, because that's not what I came to talk to you about." "No?" Shay asked, but she couldn't bring herself to meet Andy's gaze. Andy shook her head. "Matt slept at Derrick's last night." "Good," Shay said, and then decided to unzip her suitcase and check her jeans pockets for her cell. "Good?" "I'm glad he's safe. I was worried about him." "Worried about him because..." "Because he's a human being and he didn't come home?" "Because you love him?" Andy shot back, and Shay stalked across the room to check inside the dresser drawers. "So you're not denying it?" Andy asked. "What do you want me to say?" Shay said at last. "It was a temporary agreement that's come to an end. Yes, I have feelings for him. Who knows what the hell they are. They could go away at any time. I'm not going to get myself tied up in knots over them, especially not over a man who, I'll remind you, currently hates my guts." "Do you find yourself smiling when you think about him?" "What?" Shay asked, and then shook her head. "I'm not playing this game with you." She got down on her knees and searched for the phone underneath the bed. "Come on, just for fun." "Just for torture, you mean." "For me, then. As a wedding present." Shay sighed. "I guess yeah, I do smile when I think about him sometimes." "And do you feel protective of him?" She thought about the call from Lou, and her gut twisted. She'd worried about him, sure. And a fat lot of good it had done her, too. "Yeah, I worry about him." She nodded. "And you like spending time with him? Even if you're doing nothing?" She thought of their night on the beach, staring out at the crashing waves. Of their mornings entwined in bed, simply lying together as their chests rose and fell in unison. "Yeah. He's fun." Shay shrugged. "But look, this isn't making anything better. Matt was clear about how he feels. He doesn't want to see me." "Matt doesn't know what he wants." "He knows a hell of a lot better than I do," Shay burst out, and though she hadn't meant to say it, she knew the words were true. "Look, Andy, if this is love, I'm in it. But that doesn't mean anything. I'm not you and he's not Logan. For normal people, love fades just like everything else and then you're left flat on your ass with nothing but the memories of the bad times. This feeling doesn't stay. It's not real. It's just... it's just—"

"Stop it. You might not be me, but you're not your mother, either," Andy said, and Shay stared at her. She'd never heard her friend sound so fierce before, so confident. "I didn't say—" "You didn't have to. Don't think I don't know where all this is coming from, and you know what, you're right. Love will fade if you let it. Love can die just like anything else. The trick is to find two people who are stubborn enough to work on it every day to make sure that fire never dims or goes out. You may be a lot of things, but I know stubborn is one of them. You can do this; you just have to let yourself believe you can," Andy said. "It doesn't matter now. I'm leaving in an hour, and we don't even know when Matt will be here. I don't have my phone. Maybe we just need some time to think things over. I'll see him in San Diego. It'll be fine." "Shay, I'm telling you: don't get on that plane without telling him how you feel." Andy was practically begging. "We'll see what happens, okay?" Shay offered a little smile, but inside her heart was curling up into a little ball and cowering. She knew Matt wouldn't be here in time to say goodbye. She was counting on it. Because then? She wouldn't have to say goodbye, either.

CHAPT ER 13

S hay wasn't sure what she'd been expecting when she got to the airport, but with every passing step he couldn't shake the deep, insistent urge to look behind her. Like maybe, just maybe, Matt had come to his senses and run after her like someone out of a movie. Not that that was plausible. Even if he'd tried, he had roughly thirty minutes to find her before she went through the security gate and out of his life. No, she reminded herself, not out of his life. This is just a redefinition. It was what they'd agreed to. It was what she wanted. The lady at the security window scanned her boarding pass and yawned while she eyed Shay's ID before finally waving her off into the early evening line of bankers and businessmen taking off their shoes and hauling out their laptops for screening. Again, she glanced behind her, but instead of Matt she found a familiar red headed stranger. "Oh, hey," Shay said and the woman blinked at her curiously for an instant before the realization clicked into place. "Hello. You'll be glad to know I'm not sitting next to you this time. I've got my rabbit wrangler." She nodded to a tall, balding man standing in the bag check line. "Glad to hear it." Shay smiled, then glanced at the line of people that very clearly was not going to move. Good, it shouldn't move. The longer I'm here, the longer... She rattled her mind internally. She just had to distract herself. Keep herself from staring at the revolving door and wishing that Matt Archer would come traipsing through it. "How was your trip?" Andy asked the woman, her mind still focused on the unmoving door and the unmoving line and the unmoving hands of time. "It was great, actually. Phillip was a little late with work, but we managed. It was a nice anniversary." "Oh, anniversary." There was a celebration she hadn't been part of often. "How long have you guys been together?" "Ten years." The redheaded woman beamed at the gawky man who was clearly arguing about something with a disinterested looking customer service member.

"That's sweet. What line of business is he in?" "Oh, he never lets me tell anyone." The other woman rolled her eyes. "What, is he a secret agent or something?" "May as well be. Half of what he says is Greek to me." She shot her husband another look, then shrugged and said, "I don't see how it could hurt, and I do owe you one." Dropping her voice, the other woman went on, "He's in entertainment. Nothing big, but sports casting. For some reason people always seem to want--" "Favors." Shay nodded, knowingly. "Yeah, but only because he's such good friends with the team's owner. It's amazing how people can just come out and ask you for anything. They don't even have to know you." She shook her head, "What's the world coming to?" The line in front of them budged a fraction, but Shay stayed where she was, glancing from the redhead to her husband and weighing her options. The woman had said she owed her one, hadn't she? "Which team is he--you know what, no, it's too personal. I wouldn't want you to think--" "No, no, it's quite all right. He works in San Diego." Phillip was walking toward them now and his wife made a little motion as if to say "you didn't hear anything from me." Following the other woman's lead, Shay turned around and stuffed her belongings in a tray before turning on her heel and saying, "Phil, so good to meet you. Your wife and I rode here together on the plane." He smiled, if somewhat confused, and took her outstretched hand. "Nice to meet you--" "Shay Meyers. A & M Publicity." She grinned wider and the redhead did her best to look impassive. "Right, well, like I said. Nice to meet you--" "Wait!" A loud, deep voice rumbled through the security line and then she saw him-tall and blond and sprinting. In the airport. "Matt, don't--" she shouted, but it was too late. The security detail was swarming him from every direction and soon she could hardly see him through the fog of uniforms and stern faces. "Sir, you're going to need to come with us to answer a few questions," one of the men said. “Wait, no, there’s a simple explanation.” Shay jogged out of the security line, leaving all her belongings in her wake. A beefy security guard had tackled Matt to the ground and was now? laying on top of him like they’d just gone on a particularly successful first date. “We’ll be the judge of that, ma’am.” Another officer nodded toward her while they hoisted Matt up and guided him none-too gently to a back room. “Shit,” she murmured, then grabbed her things. But before she sprinted off after them, she pulled a card from her purse and handed it to a very confused-looking Phillip. “Was that Matt Archer?” he asked. She nodded. “Yep. And if you want the rest of the story, call me at this number.” Not

waiting for his response, she took off after the last straggling guard.

THEY DETAINED him for three hours. Three hours of watching the clock while they went through everything on his person, asked him every question they could think of, and then, eventually gave up. The whole while, all he could do was stare at the clock and wonder if Shay had gotten on the plane. Not that it was much of a question. The likeliness of her hanging around for a guy who'd gotten tackled in the airport, after all, wasn't very good. "So you're telling me you just thought it was a good idea to 'wait' and run into the airport?" the fifth security officer, a ginger man with a huge mustache and beard , asked on a sigh. "Yeah," he said. "Right. Well, you're free to go. Just...be more careful next time, okay buddy?" The guard opened the door and he walked out with slumped shoulders, his hands in his pockets. He couldn't even call her. He'd just have to wait until-"Matt." He turned to find her sitting just outside the room, her laptop perched on top of the bench beside her. "Shay, I..." He speared a hand through his hair. "I guess my big gesture didn't go off exactly the way I'd hoped." She laughed. "Guess not." They stood there, staring at each other for a long moment, and then she said, "Look, I've had a lot of time to think about this. Especially while I was sitting here. I should have--" "No, no. I don't want your apologies. I know why you did it. It wasn't meant to hurt me. I overreacted and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for everything I said and most of all I'm sorry for ever agreeing to your terms in the first place." "You're..." Her smile fell. "Oh. Right." "I never should have let you tell me that we could only be together for these past couple of weeks. I should have known even then that it wouldn't be enough. That I would need more time with you." "Matt--" "No, let me finish. I need you in my life. I don't care if it scares you. Hell, we don't even have to call it a commitment if that's too much for you, but I want to be near you. I want you to be my woman. Always." She swallowed hard, and nodded. "I do, too. But you have to let me apologize. I should have trusted you with the news. I knew how strong you were with your mom and I should have trusted you to be strong with this, too. You were right. I was being selfish. I just wanted to be with you, but now I know that I'll always want that, no matter how good or bad things get. I can make the commitment. I can be yours." "Good. Because there's something else I have to tell you." "What?" she asked. "I destroyed your phone." "You..." She blinked. "I took it accidentally and then I read your texts from your mom. It was an accident

and I shouldn't have, but I thought it would be better off if she didn't think you ignored her. I even called to tell her what happened." "You called my mother?" "I did." He nodded. "I hope I didn't overstep." "No, no. I mean, thank you. That was...good of you." "Well, I got you this to make up for it." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a brand new phone complete with a case. She looked it over, then turned it in her hand. "This case has your number on it." "Of course it does. You're my woman, remember?" She smiled. "I am." He walked toward her, leaned down, but then stopped. "Oh, and one more thing." "What's that?" "I gave your mom my number. If she wants to bother someone about you, it should be me." "You're asking for trouble there." "No more than I deserve." He grinned, and then finally closed the space between their lips.

EPILOGUE

"A

t least the anniversary will be easy to remember," Shay murmured, sidling past pew after pew of relatives while making her way to her seat in the front row. Luckily, her mother had opted not to have a bridal party this time, so Shay got to sit back and enjoy the wedding the same as everyone else. "You remembered to call your sister and congratulate her, didn't you?" Shay nudged Matt, who had apparently zoned out while taking in their surroundings. "Yeah, I called her. This is a nice place, don't you think?" "It's beautiful." Shay nodded. It was simpler, too, in comparison to all the other elaborate affairs her mother had hosted over the years. The church was bare save for a small sprinkle of red rose petals on either side of the aisle and an archway of twinkle lights under which her new stepfather, Blake, was already standing. "What do you think the over under is on this one?" Matt asked. "I think it could work this time." Shay surveyed the man under the arch, and a slight smile tilted her lips. This time, he really was different from the kinds of guys her mom usually chose. He was a widower, father of two, and sturdy. Not in the way that he could take a punch (though he probably could considering his military background), but there was a dependability about him that Shay could sense even within the first few minutes of meeting him. Maybe that's why her mother seemed so different now, too. More grounded, more secure. Shay glanced at Matt. Of course, the rose-colored glasses she'd worn for the past year could just as likely be the reason for her sudden optimism. Somehow, though, she didn't think it was. "Do you think our wedding would be like this?" Matt asked, almost absentmindedly. "Our wedding?" Shay cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah. When I make an honest woman of you." He grinned. "I didn't know that was in the cards." A secret thrill shot through her just at the idea. "Only if you answer my question," he shot back. "Fine. No, I don't think it'll be like this." "You want one like Andy's?" he asked.

"No, I want one that's like you and me." "Dysfunctional and fun?" She nodded. "In a way. I don't know, I always sort of had this idea that we'd get married on a baseball field." "Oh, you always had that idea?" "Well, I—" "Oh no, tell me. How long have you been scrawling Mrs. Shay Archer in your notebooks? Since the second you met me or did you wait a couple of minutes?" She rolled her eyes. "You know what I meant." "You meant that you've been thinking about marrying me." "Maybe I have. So what?" she said. "So... I can probably arrange a wedding on the field, if that's what you really want. Hell, for you I can do it during the seventh inning stretch." Shay grinned. It was always so nice to see the sparkle in Matt's eye when he talked about baseball. At the end of the previous season, there'd been a bidding war for his contract, but he'd opted to stay in San Diego with her. Not that he said it was for her. He didn't have to. She knew. The bridal march began, and Shay watched as her mother joined with husband number eight, grinning from ear to ear the whole time. Then when they were at last pronounced and introduced, she walked back down the aisle with Matt's hand in hers. "We might have to get married sooner than we planned." She swallowed hard. This was the moment—every part of her mind screamed it at her—but she was still beside herself with nerves. And with excitement. "Why? You just can't wait any longer?" Matt grinned. "Something like that." She smiled. "I just think my dress size is going to change too much to do it nine months from now." "Nine..." His voice trailed off, and then he glanced from Shay's face to her stomach and back again. "Are you sure?" She nodded, and then he grinned so broadly that she was forced to beam back. Not caring about all the parishioners behind them, he enveloped her in a hug so tight that for a moment she struggled to breathe. When the little old ladies behind them started to grumble, Matt set her back on her feet and asked. "How long have you known?" "Only a week. I wanted to make it special, but I just couldn't hold it in anymore." "I couldn't imagine being any happier about it than I am right now," he said, and then he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into the coat closet just off the church's foyer. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a tiny velvet box and sank to one knee. "Oh my God," she murmured, and her heart, which had already been beating double time, thudded so fast that she worried it might just beat out of her chest. "I wanted to wait, too, but I can't imagine a more perfect moment than this. I know you're going to be the perfect mother to my child, and I hope I can be just as good of a husband to you." She stared at the ring, dumbstruck. The tiny facets of the princess cut glimmered even in the low light of the room, and she plucked the ring from the box without thinking twice. "Of course I'll marry you. I'll marry you right now if you want."

"Then it's settled, we're going to Vegas. Tonight." He grinned, but she could tell he was only half kidding. In truth, she was, too. Because she would take any chance she had at a life with Matt Archer she could take. She always would have. They were bound to be together. She was bound to be his. It just took her a while to realize it. So she pulled him to his feet and tried to thank him for his love in the only way she knew how. Crushing her mouth to his, she lost herself in his strong, warm embrace and thanked every star in the sky for this. For family. Their very own family.

The End

T H A N K Y O U S O MU C H F O R REA D I N G MY S T O RY !

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SN EAK PEEK : SWOR N T O BE HIS, T HE F IN AL N OVEL IN T HE AR C HER F AMILY SER IES

Chirp. Chirp. Chirp. Jade Lockhart gripped the down pillow and shoved it over her ears. Stupid birds. Didn't they know she'd only just fallen asleep? All she needed was a few more precious moments of beauty rest and then— She sat up in bed, holding her breath while she stared around for her cell phone. "I should never fall asleep with that damned thing." She grumbled, then shook out the sheets and tossed all the pillows from the bed. The phone flopped onto the floor with a dull clunk and she snatched it up and pressed the power button. Nothing happened. "Shit," she hissed, then pulled on a pair of slacks that had been laying on top of her dresser from the laundry she still hadn't gotten around to putting away. After she shoved on a reasonably work-ready blouse from her closet, she sprinted down the hall, toward the kitchen and— "Double shit." The neon green numbers on the oven flashed 8:00. She was late. Again. "Okay, okay, okay," She scurried into the living room, grabbed her sidearm from the hook near the wall, and shoved her cell phone into her pocket. She'd just have to charge it when she got to the station. If she hurried, she'd still be on time to catch the meeting, and once she got there— The damned speech was on her phone. The reason she'd been up half the night was lost in the ether of her notepad app and she was left with nothing. All those beautifully

worded arguments. Poof. Gone. She slipped on her shoes and pulled her blond hair into a messy knot on top of her head. "How am I gonna fix this?" She glanced at her cat, Lisa, who rolled over as if to say: "not my problem." "Very helpful. Right," Jade said, then dropped some cat food into Lisa's bowl before fumbling through her cluttered living room and out her front door. "Keys," she reminded herself, then grabbed them from the table beside the door and headed out again. "Okay. Okay. I can totally do this." She squinted in the early morning sunlight then slid into her not-so-glamorous, yet inconspicuous 2010 Camry. That was the one thing people never warned other people about being a detective—the chances of getting a car you'd actually be proud to drive were slim at best. She just counted herself lucky that her car had actually been manufactured within the last ten years. "Maybe if I think really hard, I can remember what I was going to say," she said. "Okay. New Badges. I was going to say..." She tried to recall the polite wording for the fact that the rainbow on their new Hawaii State Criminal Investigations Unit Badges looked, well, like a multicolored dildo. Of course, the two little clouds at the base did nothing to help that impression. Honestly, didn't the police have enough problems without walking around sporting big old d— "Hey!" She honked her horn as someone cut her off on the interstate into Honolulu. She should pull them over and show them just... No, she didn't have time for that. She had to come up with a plan for what she was going to say. How she was going to say it. And, of course, how she was going to convince the unit supervisor that she was not, in fact, an hour late for work but rather fashionably tardy. "Yep, that's gonna be an easy one." She shook her head. "Okay. The badge. I'll just walk in there and say 'ladies and gentlemen, I've put a great deal of thought into this case and I feel there are a number of pros and cons to this badge situation. While I understand we're all busy, we need to band together to rectify—" But could she say rectify? Didn't that sound a little too much like “erection” given the circumstances? "No, what about...When you get to the bones of it—" Nope, that wouldn't work either. Maybe the best option was just to blow the thing up and outline the problem area. Like a little crime scene unto itself. She pulled into the lot and parked, barely taking the time to lock her car before sprinting into the building and making for the elevator. When she got to the third floor, she summoned her courage, stepped out, and headed for the conference room. Through the slats on the wide, glass wall, she could already tell that Supervisor Sanders was detailing something or another, some other unfamiliar outline was standing beside him. "Okay. Here goes nothing," she mumbled, and then she pushed the door open. "Supervisor, I'm so sorry I'm late, but I have a pressing matter to discuss that cannot—" Her gaze fell on the man beside the already boiling supervisor, and she lost her

ability to speak. And think. And possibly to breathe. He was here. Right here in her unit standing in front of all her coworkers. Staring back at her. And why shouldn't he stare? She was probably gaping at him like he had three heads. That had always been the problem with him. She could never keep herself from falling apart whenever she took in his lean, toned muscles and his sleek chestnut hair. Like James Marsden and James Dean rolled into one. "Detective Lockhart," The supervisor practically chewed on the word. "I was just thinking it was blissfully quiet in here. I should have known why." She did her best to concentrate on the older man whose hair looked especially white now that his plump cheeks were growing redder with every second. Oops. "Yep, I'm here." She let out a frail little laugh and someone at the conference table covered their face with one hand. Derrick. She could only see his thick, dark hair now. Well, that and the fact that he was shaking his head at her. "Well, could your very pressing matter wait until after I've finished introducing Detective Flynn to our unit? Or is it really that urgent?" The old man's mouth pursed so hard she knew which answer he expected. "Nope, I can, uh, wait. I guess." She chanced a glance at "Detective Flynn" then skirted around the table to drop into the empty seat beside Derrick. As soon as she sat, he scrawled a message on the legal pad in front of him Smooth. She pulled another pad toward her snatched a pen, then wrote back Ha ha. What did I miss? Derrick shrugged. Nothing much. I may have pointed out that the new badge looks like a dick and balls. Jade blinked. Of course he did. "As I was saying," The supervisor pressed on with a very pointed glance at Jade. "We're pleased to welcome Zac Flynn to the department. He's an expert in mafia behavior and he's agreed to come on with us to help build our case against Paulo Scaglietti." "Hey." Zac raised a hand and offered them all a dazzlingly white smile. Jade crossed her legs, all too aware of the heat rushing to her cheeks. She still couldn't believe it. After all this time. Here he was. Right here. Ready to help with a case she was working on. Need a tissue for your drool? She glanced at Derrick's note and rolled her eyes. Oh please. He's a coworker. Derrick eyed her and gave a little shake of his head, but she ignored him. She was going to focus on Zac. Zac Flynn. Their new coworker and her high school crush. Dreams really did come true.

"Thank you, Detective Flynn. You can take a seat. Unfortunately, we're getting you started on the Scaglietti case even sooner than we'd anticipated. Last night, we apprehended a suspect whom we believe to be connected to Scaglietti. He was discovered not long after a robbery in a nearby restaurant. Flynn, while you're

debriefing yourself on the case, I'll need Detective..." The old man scanned the table, pausing briefly on Derrick and Jade before moving along and saying, "Fitzsimmons to interview the perp. Archer, Lockhart—you two can interview the witnesses." Derrick gritted his teeth. It was obvious by the other man's tone that this was bound to be some kind of punishment. Odds were that the witnesses were Looney Tunes themselves or otherwise impossible to work with. Whatever the case, he could be sure that his work would be cut out for him. He grabbed his pen, about to write as much to Jade, when the new guy cleared his throat and started to speak. "Excuse me, sir, but if we have this person apprehended, I should be able to review the file in time for an interview this afternoon. We don't need to bother Detective Fitzsimmons—" Fitzsimmons, a balding red headed man, shot Flynn a nasty look that everyone at the table was apparently deciding to ignore, including the supervisor. The old man shook his head and said, "No, no. We've been working this case for months. We need you to study up, not rush it. With any luck, you'll have plenty more chances." He let out a rusty laugh and everyone offered their fakest half smiles in return. Not Derrick, though. He was focused on Flynn. There was something about the guy that he couldn't place. Or maybe it was just that he'd never learned to trust a man who intentionally used hair gel. Before Jade came in, the supervisor had been praising all Flynn's military training and awards. Apparently he'd been a Navy man. It figured, too. A guy like that would be in the Navy instead of the Army. Oh well, just so long as he didn't intend on swapping war stories, Derrick could manage. He flicked another sidelong glance at Jade. She was staring at Flynn, her blue eyes glazed over with something that looked dopey and strange on her square, serious face. You know this guy or something? He scrawled the message while the supervisor moved on to overviewing what each detective would be working on that day. Him? That was it? All she had to write? No, the other new guy She rolled her eyes. We went to high school together. High school. He always forgot Jade was from Hawaii. He always assumed that everyone around was an implant like him, using their military experience to get a leg up in their detective training. But no, she'd gone and done things the old fashioned way. So this guy was from Hawaii, too? Interesting. She didn't bother to respond, and for the rest of the meeting he watched as her expression dipped in and out of dreaminess while she stared at Flynn. Or, more accurately, poorly concealed her efforts not to stare at Flynn. She was unusually, quiet, too. She didn't even mouth off when Fitzsimmons made a crack about female detectives.

He wanted to reach over and shake her, ask what was wrong with her. He'd never seen her this way before, and in the year they'd worked together that was really saying something. When the meeting was over, the other detectives slowly filtered out of the room with the supervisor leading the charge, but Derrick hung back and grabbed a donut from the box on the counter, then poured himself a cup of coffee and stirred. Eventually, there was nobody in the room but Flynn and Jade, the later of whom was scrawling absentmindedly on a notepad and trying her best to look important. She was failing. Staying in the corner, he took a bite of his donut and pretended not to pay attention. "Long time no see," Flynn said to her and she let out a little gasping sound. "Oh my gosh, yeah, sorry, I was just—" Derrick rolled his eyes. She couldn't do better than that? "No, no problem. That was quite an entrance you made. I don't think Supervisor Sanders ever let you say what you came in here on fire about." "Oh it was nothing. Just, you know, some...reforms. For a children's shelter. That...caught on fire." Derrick nearly choked on his coffee. "Wow, sounds important. I hope he lets you talk about it soon." Derrick chanced a glance behind him and caught Flynn beaming down on a clearly flustered Jade. "Yeah, it's my passion. Helping the less fortunate." She bit her bottom lip. "I remember," Flynn said. "Oh, right, duh. You totally would." An awkward silence fell between them, and then Flynn knocked his knuckles against the wooden conference table and said, "You know, I should probably start in on that case file. By the looks of it, this unit moves fast." "Super fast. So fast you might not even notice how...fast it is." She finished lamely and Derrick closed his eyes, a coil of embarrassment slithering through his stomach on her behalf. "Right, well, I hope we can catch up later." Flynn nodded, then headed out the beige office door. Derrick waited until the other man as gone to turn and face his friend, but as soon as their eyes met she hissed the word, "Don't." "Don't what?" Derrick had to restrain his laughter. "Just don't." "I'm sure I don't know what you mean. Or maybe you're just talking so fast I didn't even notice how fast you were going." He grinned, and she shuddered. "Okay, that was bad." "Very. Very bad." Derrick nodded. "It's not my fault!" Jade hid her face in her hands, then glanced up at him between her fingers. "Did he say what time the witnesses are supposed to come in? Do I have enough time to drown myself in my shame?" "I don't think there's enough time in the world for that one." She made a sound that was something like a cross between a gurgle and a cat dying. "Look at it this way," Derrick offered, "At least you'll have a whole bunch of time to

get used to him being around. There's so many more occasions when you'll talk to him and—" "Ugh, you are so not making this better." "Oh, that was never my intention." Derrick raised his hands in mock innocence. "Why are you the worst?" "It's a gift." He shrugged. "Now come on, you should probably prep before the interview. When we're done, we'll have lunch and go over the notes. It'll be fun." "Like a root canal is fun," she groaned, then leaned back in her metal fold out chair until she was practically prostrate, her long gold hair swinging in the air behind her. "Still more fun than that train wreck I just witnessed." He walked over to her and held out a hand. "Come on, work is calling." She glanced at the hand, then allowed him to help her up. Walking over to the coffeemaker, she looked over her shoulder and said, "Did you really tell the supervisor that the new badge looks like a...you know what?" "And deprive you of the honor? No." He smiled, remembering the horror-struck look on her face when the email had dinged into their in-boxes the day before. "Good. I have a speech prepared." "Oh, I'm sure you do." He chuckled. This from the woman who planned speeches to request vacation time. Her soliloquy on the badge was sure to be right up there with the "I Have a Dream" speech. "You laugh, but are you really going to walk around town with that symbol on you?" "You're right. You're a freedom fighter." "Damn straight." She nodded, then grabbed her coffee cup from the counter and made for the door. "What would you do without me?" "Probably a better job." She leveled him with a glare before heading out the door, but he hung back, still trying to shake the weird uneasiness that had clung to his chest since the meeting had begun this morning. This wasn't the first time a feeling like this had plagued him. Way back when it had just been him and his dad and his two little siblings, he'd always gotten this feeling when Andy or Matt was about to get sick or in trouble. And when he'd been in the Army, he'd felt this way, too. Just before trips into Kabul when they could never be sure what they'd find or what might happen. It was more than apprehension, and less than certainty. Suspicion, but not belief. And whatever it amounted to, the end result was that it made him uneasy. Maybe he was missing something in this case. Something obvious he'd picked up on subconsciously. He reviewed the notes in his mind and leaned against the wall with his eyes closed, but nothing came. Nothing. And that was the worst part of all.

ABOUT T HE AUT HOR

Allison Gatta is an avid writer of steamy contemporary romance, an obsessive viewer of bad television, and an occasional player of overlycomplex board games. In her free time, she thinks up fun, new characters and argues with her family over sci-fi trivia. She is a firm believer that Voldemort would vanquish Darth Vader in a duel. Allison lives in the happening city of Austin, TX with her husband and their spunky pup, Sophie. To stay posted on what Allison’s up to, be sure to sign up for the newsletter. Feel Free to Check Me Out Here, too: @Allison_Gatta AllisonGattaAuthor www.AllisonGatta.com

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