Sara Daniel - [Bad Boys of Regret Hollow 01] - The Bad Boys Gift (pdf)

All Romance

The Bad Boy’s Gift by Sara Daniel

The Bad Boy’s Gift Copyright © 2016 by Sara Daniel Cover art by Kim Killion All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the author. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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All Romance

The Bad Boy’s Gift by Sara Daniel

Table of Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight The Bad Boys of Regret Hollow series About the Author

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Chapter 1 The bad boy of Regret Hollow had received an engraved invitation to return to town. Zane DeMonde smirked and flicked the card in the trash. Although he appreciated the ego boost, no amount of groveling would convince him to return to the place that had scorned and vilified him, especially when the girl he’d loved had chosen it over him. “Did you actually read the invitation?” Ken Hawkins demanded, striding toward the discarded paper. “I don’t need to,” he assured his business manager. “Those people don’t warrant a reply. After sending me out with a boot to the ass, no matter how much they kiss my ass now, they won’t convince me to give them the time of day.” “That’s an interesting ass fixation you have.” Ken grinned. “I’ll have to hint at it when you release your new painting and see if the critics can divine where it comes into play.” Zane snorted, relieved for the distraction from the place he could never exorcise from his mind. “Speaking of which, have you planned a debut for the new pieces yet?” “I’m waiting for the buzz about this auction of your early work to reach its peak. Then I’m going to book a top venue and capitalize on the momentum.” “What auction? What early work?” “If you bothered to read your mail, maybe you’d know.” Ken retrieved the invitation from the trash and slapped it on the desktop. “Four original pieces from a private collection that have never been on public display are going on sale. The woman in charge won’t give any details about them until the day of the sale.” “Sounds like fraud to me. No one in town would want anything of mine, even if they could afford it.” “If you really think it could be fraud, we better be damn sure before we start pointing fingers. The woman running the event is Julianne Truman. Ring any bells?” Zane froze. Her name rang all his bells. “Julianne sent me the invitation?” He picked it up and ran his fingertip over the gold engraving. Maybe she hadn’t completely forgotten about him the way he’d assumed.

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“I’ve talked to a couple of dealers who’d contacted her for more information. She hinted that these pieces were a personal gift from you to her. Are we still talking fraud, or did you give away originals of your art before you had a manager to save you from your own stupidity.” “She wouldn’t sell the pieces I gave her.” Except, why the hell not? Even when she’d vowed her love for him, she didn’t believe in it enough to follow him away from their childhood homes. Fifteen years later, any emotional attachment to his gifts would long since have died. “Is she married?” Ken blinked. “What does that have to do with the art she’s selling? More importantly, why do you care?” He didn’t. Of course not. Life had moved on for both of them. He rubbed his finger over the RSVP line with her name. If she was married, she’d kept her maiden name. He tossed the invitation to Ken. “Call her and tell her I’ll buy the paintings from her at twenty percent above whatever she expects them to earn at the sale. In exchange, she cannot show them publically, and she needs to cancel the auction.” ### Cancel the auction. As if. After telling Mr. Hawkins ever so politely to suck it, just as she had the past three time times he’d called throughout the week, Julianne Truman tossed her cell phone in her purse and mumbled a string of less than polite epithets. Zane didn’t even have the courtesy to make the outrageous demand himself. Apparently, he was a big shot too important to acknowledge they’d once had the most personal of relationships. This from the guy she’d believed was the love of her life. People had always warned her she had fallen for a bad boy who’d end up hurting her. She just hadn’t believed them…until now. “Uh oh, I know that look and can read your lips. Who pissed you off?” Her best friend Bethany tugged her down the empty school hallway, away from the teens decorating the cafeteria. “Zane’s manager called again if you can believe it.”

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“But Zane still hasn’t called?” She hated to consider she was upset about him sending his staff to communicate with her so he didn’t have to, when her frustration should have centered on his efforts to derail her students’ hard work. “I’m just stressed with all the last minute stuff. I’ll be fine tomorrow night, after it’s over.” Well, she’d be fine if they earned enough money to save her job. She stared across the room where a student free-hand calligraphed be generous next to the sign with bidding instructions. She couldn’t imagine not working with these kids next year and, worse, not having an art program in the school to encourage their creative gifts. Bethany gripped her arm, redirecting Julianne’s focus. “The community is so involved I know it’ll be a success, and I love how you’ve gotten the kids to believe in their natural artistic aptitude.” “A lot of them have real talent. It’ll kill me not to give them a chance to nurture and explore it.” Despite the public’s involvement and support, budget cuts had hit the school district hard. Zane, of all people, should understand what a safe haven the art department represented for creative students who didn’t excel in academics or sports. “You have a great plan in place to make sure your students aren’t shortchanged, and everyone’s working to ensure its success. Tomorrow night is going to be great,” Bethany assured her. The auction would be great. She’d give her students the validation and recognition they so desperately needed. She’d keep the arts alive in her cash-strapped school district. In return, she’d give up the four possessions that meant more to her than anything else in the world. She swiped her fist across her eyes. Damn it, they should mean nothing to her. She should be long over the man who’d given them to her. Hell, she hadn’t even known him as a man. He’d still been a teen when he hightailed it out of town. He’d left and never looked back. She needed to get rid of his art and stop looking back, herself, so she could finally move on. ###

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Zane had put Ken in charge of handling his business for the past thirteen years, and his manager never had any trouble closing a deal or otherwise getting what he wanted. The fact that he hadn’t made a bit of headway with Julianne led Zane to believe he wasn’t trying because he liked the surprisingly large buzz the tiny event had generated. But his manager didn’t understand the true detriment in releasing his most private work to the public. Aside from the monetary impact of compromising his brand, the hit to his artistic soul threatened to destroy him. He hadn’t been able to paint a stroke since the invitation arrived. So, he did something he expected to regret in spades. He got in his car and pointed it toward Regret Hollow. He’d personally retrieve the pieces in question and hopefully avoid encountering any residents who’d written him off before he’d had a chance to be someone. Seeing Julianne again would be a good thing. He could erase her teenage image from his brain and see the updated older, not-at-all-attractive, and perhaps even bordering-onpathetic version of her. After wiping his sweaty palm on his khakis, he flipped on his turn signal and coasted up the exit ramp. He turned down a two-lane highway then followed the route onto another smaller road until, at last, the sign came into focus: Village of Regret Hollow. Population 2,631. Your only regret will be leaving. No, he didn’t regret leaving. Returning was another story. Maybe if he’d tried to call Julianne, they could have discussed this over the phone without a personal visit. Hell, he didn’t know where to start looking for her. A gas station sat at the first intersection after the welcome sign. He pulled in, resigning himself to getting information the small town way. “Julianne?” the guy behind the counter verified in response to his inquiry. “You and everyone else can’t wait to talk to her. Considering it’s the evening before the auction, she’s got to be at the high school, decorating and whatnot.” Of course. The school cafeteria had been the location on the invitation. “Thanks. I appreciate the help.” “You need directions?” the guy asked. “Nope, I can find it.” Even if he hadn’t spent four years of his life in the school, after five minutes of aimless driving, he’d have stumbled upon every building in town.

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“All my daughter can talk about is some ridiculous pink shoe collage she’s showing off tomorrow. I don’t know a damn thing about art, but I wish Julianne had never come up with the idea.” “You and me both,” Zane muttered. He returned to his car and cruised through the streets, keeping his speed below the limit. Nobody in Regret Hollow would give him an inch of leeway. The cop who’d lived a couple of doors down from his childhood home used to watch him like a hawk, always waiting to bust his ass. Donner and Sons gleamed from the top of the grocery store. The No Regrets Café had a closed sign on the door, as it only served breakfast and lunch. Meanwhile, The Hollow Leg Pizzeria flashed its neon open sign over and over. Once he reached Regret Hollow High School, he parked in the nearly empty lot. At the security door, he pushed the buzzer, and, a moment later, the door released without anyone questioning his business in the school. With no interest in revisiting his chats with the frumpy principal, he bypassed the office and headed toward the cafeteria. Streamers hung from the ceiling of the empty room. A huge banner across the back wall announced, You’ll regret it if you don’t support the Regret Hollow Art Department. The regret mantra apparently never got old to the townspeople, which was fitting, since the place was one giant regret. A janitor entered the cafeteria from a far hallway. “Do you need any more tables, Ms. Truman?” “No thanks. You arranged everything exactly right,” a woman answered. Although his view was blocked by a pillar between them, her voice sent his heart on a wild staccato trip. “I’m fixing a few things that keep falling, and then I’m calling it a night.” “Holler if you need anything,” the janitor said. “I will. Thank you, Harvey.” As soon as the custodian disappeared down the hall, Zane stepped around the pillar. “Do us both a favor and cancel the auction.” Standing on a ladder above him, Julianne snapped her head toward him. Her brown hair flew across her sweet, smooth face, and her jaw dropped until her mouth formed a wide O. Afraid he’d startled her so much she might fall, he placed a hand on her leg to steady

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her. As his fingers brushed the fabric of her dress pants, a stapler fell from her grasp, narrowly missing his head. It cracked on the floor, flinging metal shards in every direction. Keeping his hand on her shin, he sidestepped to avoid the tiny projectiles. “Zane.” The single word combined with the electricity flowing from her leg through his hand confirmed his horrible mistake in coming to see her. She wasn’t less attractive or anywhere near pathetic, and he ached to wrap his arms around her and immerse himself in all things Julianne. But she’d made her choice years ago, and she hadn’t chosen him. He’d gotten over it and moved on. He’d returned to Regret Hollow for one reason only. ### Julianne climbed down the ladder, her knees so shaky she was surprised she didn’t collapse into Zane’s arms. Facing the man she’d once believed would be part of every single day of her future sent her into her biggest emotional tailspin since he’d walked away nearly fifteen years ago. “You surprised me,” she admitted, her voice stronger than she’d dared hope. “Your manager led me to believe you wouldn’t come.” Unable to resist the magnetic attraction, she stepped toward him. He’d cut his beautiful shoulder-length black hair into a more conventional style. Gone were the black hoodie and ripped jeans of his youth. Now he wore chinos and a sharply pressed blue button-down shirt, open at the neck. “I didn’t plan this trip, but you left me no choice. The sketches and painting I gave you are not for sale.” The dark storms in his cobalt-blue eyes mirrored the turbulence of the day he’d marched away from her. The same fire and frustration reflected in all of his gallery paintings. “I own them. I don’t need your permission to sell them.” She held her body rigid, the fragile shell the only thing keeping her heart from crumbling. Despite choosing this path, the prospect of parting with the only piece of him she’d been able to hang onto filled her with yawning emptiness. “As long as my name is on them and you’re planning to get rich off me, I will fight you

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on this to the bitter end.” Getting rich was so far from the truth, she would have laughed if he hadn’t stolen her sense of humor along with her breath. She scrambled to recover her professionalism and treat him the way she would any other visitor or school official. “We’re honored to have you back at Regret Hollow High.” Her students rightly considered him a living legend and would be awed beyond words. Her brother, on the other hand, might burst an artery. No, surely her brother and Zane had both moved on from their ancient history. She was the only one clinging to a past that had meant everything to her. “Yeah, I bet.” His lips twisted with the sarcastic words. “What an honor to have kids follow my footsteps by getting suspended from school and banned from attending graduation ceremonies. What a dream come true for every parent.” Of course, he would be bitter about returning to the school that turned its back on him, while simultaneously facing the girl who hadn’t been strong enough to walk away from her family to stay with him. Trying to fake calmness despite her shaking hands, she said, “Let me put a couple of things away, and then we can leave and talk somewhere else.” “Why are you in charge of a school event?” Caught off guard by the unexpected question, she folded the ladder and leaned it against a nearby pillar to buy time to compose a coherent answer. “Who else would be? As the Regret Hollow High art teacher, I can’t admit defeat without trying to convince the school board that we need the arts.” “Art is still at the bottom of the school district’s priority list?” “Rock bottom.” She returned to face him. “To have supplies for the classroom, to restore the school mural, and to give my students a chance to explore different media and techniques, I need an additional source of funding.” “You’re the high school art teacher?” Derision filled his tone. She crossed her arms over her chest, hating how he put her on the defensive when she wasn’t ashamed of her career choice. “Yes, and I love my job.” “Do you? Or have you never moved beyond your high school life?” How could she when her time with him had defined both the best and worst parts of her life?

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Chapter 2 “You’re right.” Zane blinked. Why would she agree with him after he’d acted like jerk? He’d expected and wanted her to use the opening to lash out at him for the way he’d used her and left her. Most people couldn’t probe their issues deep enough to understand their life choices, but Julianne not only did so, she went a step further, admitting her faults and leaving herself vulnerable. He hadn’t intended to stay in town a single minute longer than necessary to get the sale canceled and his artwork away from public scrutiny. But the urge to spend more time in her company, discovering the woman she’d become and the parts of her that hadn’t changed, enthralled him. “Can I take you to dinner? After you explain why you’re still stuck in high school, I’ll detail what I’m prepared to offer in exchange for you scrapping the auction.” “I’d be flattered to have dinner with the famed Zane DeMonde.” She pressed her hands to her chest. Glancing away, he tried to block the memories of caressing those beautiful breasts. Instead of her viewing him as a famous artist or otherwise on a pedestal, he wanted her to see him and love him as Zane, the way she had when they were teens. Unfortunately, she hadn’t really loved him then, at least not enough when he’d needed her to. And he certainly hadn’t returned to town to rekindle the emotions of their past. “But I have no intention of canceling tomorrow’s event,” she continued. “It means everything to my students.” “We’ll talk about it at dinner.” She would abandon the sale, as soon as he told her how much he’d pay to buy back the pictures that had been meant for no eyes but hers. Julianne crouched on the floor and closed the stapler. Then she scooped the loose staples into her palm. “Do you want to go to The Hollow Leg Pizzeria? I suspect it’ll be crowded, but we should be early enough we won’t have to wait for a table. Or, if you want something nicer or quieter, we can drive out of town. I haven’t been to the grocery store all week, so I have nothing in my fridge to cook for you.”

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An intimate dinner, whether at her house or a classy restaurant, would be courting emotional disaster. He had no intention of seducing her to return to his life or of allowing her to seduce him. Protecting his brand from being tainted by the lovesick teenager he’d once been remained his sole purpose. Showing the townspeople he’d turned his bad boy reputation into that of an upstanding citizen would be a nice bonus. “The Hollow Leg works.” “Okay. Let me put some things away.” Holding the stapler, she dumped the staples in a nearby garbage can then picked up a stack of ink drawings mounted on construction paper from a table. As she strode away, Zane followed, more curious than he wanted to admit about how much had changed since the last time he’d wandered these halls. The moment he stepped into the art room, the familiar smells of clay, acrylic paints, and charcoal sucked him into the past. Even the ever-present hint of motor oil from the shop class next door carried a nostalgic twist. “I’ve stepped into a freaking time warp,” he muttered. “How can you stand to relive being seventeen every day?” Returning to his side, she draped a hand on his shoulder, meeting his gaze with eyes most people would have called hazel. But those people missed the dark olive green around the outside, the russet brown near the pupil, and golden flecks ebbing and flowing according to her emotions. He’d spent more time lost in Julianne’s eyes than he had creating the school mural, and they’d spent countless hours on that false ode to idyllic student life. She skimmed her fingertips along his cheek. “Are the memories really all bad?” “If I have any good ones, they’d be from this room.” Ending the caress, she turned away but not before disappointment clouded the hope in her gaze. He’d meant his good memories were all connected with art, which had included her. But he wouldn’t correct her assumption that only his work mattered. It was the single intact part of him from his shattered past. Her brother might have used his fists on him, but she’d hurt him far more by standing with her family, instead of him. “I’ll be right back.” As she hurried from the room, he wandered to the containers of brushes and racks of paint. Running his fingers over soft bristles and long-dried paint splatters soothed him. The

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money he’d give to reclaim his sketches would generate a mountain of good publicity. He could practically see the brushstrokes Ken would employ to highlight his generosity and benevolence toward his hometown. More critically, Zane would shed the last evidence of the vulnerable, lonely outsider who’d been head over heels for the most popular, sweetest girl in school. He’d finally free himself from the bad boy of his past who, in the end, hadn’t been good enough for anyone. ### “I’m ready to leave if you are.” Julianne reached around Zane to flip the light switch. He shifted at the same time, inspecting one of the charcoal pencil nubs on a nearby shelf. Her arm tangled around his shoulders, leaving her practically reeling him in for a kiss. If she laughed off her embarrassment and admitted the awkwardness of their position, the moment would pass. She opened her mouth, but her voice refused to cooperate. Wrapping her arms around Zane and embracing him went beyond an accident or a joke. She’d never been able to shake the dream, even though she’d long accepted it would never again come true. “But if you’d rather stay in the art room longer, I can give you as much time alone as you need.” Taking a deep breath, she disentangled her arm from around him. While he indulged his memories, she’d use the time to regain her equilibrium and remind herself that molding her body to his and kissing him until they were both senseless with need was no longer an option. He leaned toward her, touching his forehead to hers. “When did I ever pick being alone when I could have been with you?” Unable to bear the intensity in his eyes, she dropped her gaze and pulled away. Although her students had all left for the day, she remained a teacher standing in her classroom. Thanks to the lack of funding, her job sat firmly on the chopping block. She couldn’t afford to act inappropriately and give anyone an excuse to fire her. “Did you see the mural by the office when you came in?” “No, I didn’t look or even think to remember it.” If he could dismiss the hours they’d spent together on the school mural as nothing,

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she’d made the right choice to stay with her family, rather than leave town with him. She’d have eventually ended up heartbroken when she discovered he only truly cared about his art. “It’s another Zane DeMonde original on public display.” “You’re not going to tear it down and sell the pieces?” She ignored his sarcasm. “No, but we do need funding to repair the cracks, touch up the details, and reapply protective varnish.” She and her students would repair it, but, to last, the process had to be done correctly, and that meant expensive supplies. “So, you want to save the mural but not my personal gifts, and you wonder why I’m insulted?” “Don’t assume you have any idea what I want.” Her heart ached, and his anger accentuated the pain. Seeing him after all these years hurt enough without throwing in a host of recriminations. “Believe me. I don’t. You set me straight on that score long ago.” He marched from the room. She flicked off the lights and hurried after him, catching up as he paused in front of the mural. He squinted at her favorite spot, miraculously unmarred by the cracks and fissures peppering the rest of the mural. A boy and a girl sat on a rock next to a creek beyond the building, their backs in a silhouette, their faces turned toward each other, the one corner of the mural that she and Zane had claimed for themselves alone. “You want to trim the budget and save some money? Sand the whole thing down and paint the wall white.” He shoved open the main doors and strode outside. Leaning against the wall, Julianne traced her fingers over the tranquil scene. She couldn’t reclaim the girl she’d been or return to the simplicity of her love during that time. She also couldn’t give Zane what he’d come to town for. Although she had no illusions he wanted anything else from her, the thought of easing the painful memories from his childhood gave her hope. If she could, maybe someday he’d be able to stop hating her for choosing to stay. ###

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“I need to swing by home and drop off a check for my lawn service guy, if you don’t mind following me there,” Julianne called across the parking lot. “From there, I’ll ride with you to The Hollow Leg.” Zane nodded. Although eager for the mundane glimpse into her life, he needed to play it cool. The more he allowed his personal feelings to creep in, the harder it would be to keep his focus on the goal that had brought him to town in the first place. She drove toward the opposite end of town from where she’d grown up, turning within a couple of streets of his childhood home before pulling into a driveway. He idled next to the curb. A few feet ahead, a trailer stood open with a professional-grade mower parked at the bottom of the ramp. Well, she hadn’t made up the lawn service line as an excuse to bring him to her house. Julianne exited her car and crossed the yard to an older man with a gut, a grizzled face, and a big straw hat. He set aside his weed whip and met her, glancing toward Zane’s vehicle. Uneasiness unfurled in his midsection as they talked. The guy kept staring at his car. Sure, his sporty blue Jag was a sweet ride, but Zane had a hunch the man was trying to see him through the windshield. The guy’s posture and mannerisms held an uncomfortable familiarity. Zane twitched in his seat. He hadn’t talked to his dad in ten years, hadn’t seen him in twenty, and wouldn’t know him if he passed him on the street. Yet, the man with the weed whip acted like a sober version of his dad—not that Zane had ever had any contact with that version. Anyway, sober or not, his dad had never run a lawn service business, and if he’d started one, Julianne would know enough about his history to steer clear. Except she strolled with the guy down the driveway toward his car. Older and not much more flattering than his drunken mug shot, the closeup view erased the last of Zane’s doubts about the man’s identity. Julianne didn’t need to prove her superiority over him by rubbing his nose in the fact that his dad mowed her grass. Len DeMonde’s well-deserved time in jail had clearly signaled that everyone was better than him…and, by association, his son. Zane squeezed the steering wheel beneath his white knuckles. He couldn’t stand on the gas and peel out of town like he wanted to. He still had to convince Julianne to stop the auction and sell him his paintings.

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Just because he’d been set up didn’t mean he had to sit in his car while the jerk who’d fathered him towered next to his window. He opened the door, stood, and faced them. “Whose idea was it to trick me into this meeting?” “Mine,” Julianne volunteered. “I wanted you to see that people can change, and this town won’t always judge you based on the past.” “Whatever.” He clenched his fist at his side. “If you still want dinner, get in the car.” Her reproachful expression assured him he wouldn’t gain her cooperation by issuing tyrannical demands. His dad extended a business card between two fingers. No, he wouldn’t think of him as his dad. The guy didn’t deserve the honor implied by the label. If he had to think of him, he’d refer to him as Len. “My cell number’s on here if you ever want to call me,” Len said. “No need. My condo association takes care of my grass.” Len’s liver-spotted hand wavered, but he continued to offer the card. “I don’t expect you to welcome me. I know I don’t deserve anything from you. However, I’ve been sober for eight years.” “Mom’s been dead for ten,” he shot back. All the resentment, fury, and pure hatred that had lived inside him since that day flooded to the forefront. His old man hadn’t given a shit about the cancer that had taken his wife, only about where his next drink was coming from. “I’m sorry.” Len lowered his gaze. Julianne stepped closer, her mouth open like she wanted to speak, but Zane didn’t need someone to play peacemaker. He needed to let his father know exactly why a reconciliation between them would never be possible. “I remember how sorry, especially when I refused to spot you fifty bucks for whiskey.” “You have every right to hate me. I would if our positions were reversed. Your mom did a good job raising you and your sister. My not being around was probably better for everyone.” Jaw aching from his tightly clenched teeth, Zane nodded and turned toward the car. No, damn it, he wouldn’t let his dad think his parenting cop-out had been in any way acceptable. He swung back. “It wasn’t better. Being the son of the town drunk sucked, but it was a hundred times better than being the son of a guy who went to jail for robbing a liquor store and then never returned home or acknowledged his kids or his wife after his release.”

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“Zane—” Julianne warned. Until her fingers brushed his wrist, he hadn’t realized he’d gripped his dad’s shoulders and been poised to shove him. Len didn’t flinch or resist. Zane dropped his arms and gripped the open window of his car behind him instead. “Do you know how many people assumed I was headed for jail, too? They said I’d never amount to anything, just like you.” “They were wrong,” Julianne whispered. Although her support soothed him, seeing his father again had ripped open the old wounds, and he had more nastiness festering inside that he needed to purge. “You’ll be proud to know I proved them all right by getting in a fight. Mom had to pick me up at the police station. They suspended me from school and banned me from attending graduation. You can imagine her pride when everyone whispered how her kid took after his dad.” “You’re not like me,” Len said, his jaw clenched but his eyes damp. “No, I’m not, and I have nothing more to say to you.” He turned around and closed himself in the car, rolling up the window. But he had plenty to say to Julianne. She knew how hard his childhood and teen years had been with his dad’s reputation hanging over him. She knew how much anger he harbored toward the man. However, she didn’t know him at all if she’d assumed his anger had drained away and he’d wanted a chance to get reacquainted and reconcile. He’d come to town with one goal, and he needed to focus exclusively on getting the artwork. Nothing else mattered. Not his dad, who’d been dead to him since his mom died. Not his very-much-alive and alluring ex-girlfriend either. ### “Thanks for trying, but repairing our relationship will take a long time with a lot of baby steps,” Len said. “I just hoped…” Julianne had hoped Zane would open his arms to embrace the people he’d once been closest to. She’d hoped he’d understand she’d still do anything for him…except the one thing he asked of her. Seeing him again, regardless of the reason, drove her to want to give Zane many more

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reasons to return to town. Of course she wanted to help Len and Zane reconcile, but she wasn’t so altruistic that she didn’t hope it would improve the chances of Zane becoming part of her life again. “He owes me nothing and has every right to reject me.” Len patted her hand. When he released her, she held his business card. “Tuck it where he’ll find it eventually.” She pocketed the card with a heavy heart. The slow, measured approach might repair the father-son bond. It might even ensure she’d eventually cross paths with Zane in a year or two down the road. But it wouldn’t help her immediate cause. She’d pull off tomorrow’s auction with or without his cooperation. But she couldn’t take the chance he might attempt to ruin her plans. “What the hell kind of stunt were you trying to pull?” Fury blazed from Zane’s eyes as she sank into the passenger seat and pulled the door closed. She’d expected his anger, but she’d hoped to offset it with the start of a family reconciliation. Although she was sorry the plan had backfired, she wasn’t sorry for the attempt. “How could I not set up a second chance for you and your dad? He regrets the past.” “What about how I feel? What about my regret that I was saddled with him for a father? Do all those things I confided in you years ago mean nothing to you?” “Family’s important,” she whispered. She hadn’t imagined he’d see her actions as a betrayal of trust. “I remember exactly how important family is to you.” Sarcasm crept into his voice. “A hell of a lot more important than me, definitely more important than this.” He hooked his arm around her shoulders and hauled her across the console, slamming his lips against hers. Hard, angry demands from a man who no longer cared about pleasing her contrasted sharply with the memories of teenage sweetness and gentle tentativeness he’d once shown. He thrust his tongue between her lips, plundering her mouth. Instead of pushing him away and ordering him to stop, she leaned into him and tangled her tongue with his, meeting him stroke for stroke. The hands gripping her shoulders relaxed, and the demanding thrusts of his tongue turned to languid strokes. She sifted her fingers through his soft black hair. Oh, how she’d

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missed being held in his arms, touching him, exploring him, and being one with him. But they were hardly on their way to becoming one when he kissed her as a punishment. She jerked away. A car horn blared. She straightened. Damn. She’d forgotten about Len, forgotten everything but Zane’s hands and mouth and sweet exploration. Blinking out the windshield, she braced for the sight of Len laying on the horn of his pickup. Instead, he stood across the yard, wearing padded headphones and maneuvering a weed whip. “If you’re looking for the honker, I believe you’re the culprit.” Zane nodded to her elbow resting on the steering wheel. “Oh.” She yanked her arm back, settling into the passenger seat and pulling the seat belt strap. After three tries, she managed to lock the buckle into place. If Zane noticed her shaking hands, he didn’t mention it as he pulled away from the curb and left her house and his father behind. If he’d kissed her to teach her a lesson, she’d learned one thing. She still wanted him, now more than ever.

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Chapter 3 Over the years, Zane’s memories of Julianne had taken on a life of their own. He’d expected if he ever kissed her again, reality would be a sharp disappointment. One kiss would release him from his teenage infatuation and overactive hormones. But, no, the kiss had put a leash on his cock, allowing her to pull him along wherever she wanted. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to realize the control she wielded as she sat silently in the passenger seat. He swung into a parking space in front of The Hollow Leg and shifted into park. “You were right. I’m sorry I sprang your dad on you,” she said. “Forget it. I don’t want to talk about him.” Or about the kiss. But although he could push Len from his mind, he couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. Her mouth had been so soft, so sweet, so freaking amazing. Returning to town just to kiss her had been worth every second. Except, he hadn’t embarked on a make-out road trip. He had a mission to take back the art commemorating their love—art she no longer wanted in her possession. In the half hour he’d been in town, she’d stirred up enough of his baggage to fill a dumpster. Now he needed to bury that crap and do the job he’d come here to do. As long as he was going to do it in the heart of town, he’d also use the dinner as an opportunity to prove to the residents who had written him off that he’d become a productive, wellrespected citizen. She emerged from the car, and he followed her into The Hollow Leg. Inside the lobby, the building offered two options—the bar on the left or the family-friendly pizzeria on the right. “Table for two,” Julianne said to the restaurant hostess. “Wait, is that Haley behind the bar?” “Yeah, filling in for her dad this weekend,” the hostess said. “Let me know when you’re ready.” Julianne was already heading across the bar. She hugged the female bartender and said something Zane couldn’t hear. He drew closer. “I’m still working in the city,” the blonde bombshell said. “I’m just helping Pops ease into retirement by working weekends for him. The guys have been filling me in on the

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auction details. It sounds amazing. Do you need any help getting set up tomorrow?” “At the moment, everything is under control, and I have a crew of volunteers to do the last minute setup tomorrow afternoon.” “Have a seat. You haven’t hung out with us in forever.” A man on a barstool patted the vinyl cushion next to him, drawing Julianne’s attention from the bartender. A possessive streak Zane hadn’t felt for anything except his art rocketed through him, and he took a step closer. Julianne might never be his again, but thinking about her with anyone else proved intolerable. “Another time. I have a private conversation lined up for tonight.” Tipping her head toward him, she winked. The intimacy of her words and gesture soothed his ego, but, just in case they hadn’t gotten the message, Zane sent the guy and his cronies on the stools a steely glare. The guy didn’t flinch. “Another artsy-fartsy connection? I swear they’re oozing from the woodwork.” Zane bristled, but Julianne laughed. “After this weekend, they’ll be gone for good, and I’ll have time to plant my butt on a barstool on Friday evenings.” She’d dismissed him, along with whoever else she lumped in the “artsy-fartsy” category. Sure, he planned to be gone long before the weekend was over, but she’d been the one person who hadn’t tried to push him out of town. Hearing her do so now burned his gut. “Next Friday we have a date,” the guy said. Julianne didn’t confirm or deny the statement, but Haley rolled her eyes. Farther down the counter, one of the other guys laughed. “Give it up, Rick. You’ve been trying to date her for half your life. If it hasn’t happened, it’s not going to start. Besides, you’ll have to go through Wyatt first, and he won’t leave a single body part intact, especially the one you consider most essential.” So her brother was still her self-appointed protector. The knowledge both eased his mind and left him uneasy. Julianne tucked her hand around Zane’s elbow and steered him away from the bar. “I assume you want to eat in the other room and not with the varsity baseball team.” Those guys had been on the baseball team? He glanced over his shoulder at Rick and

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the others, vaguely recognizing a couple of the faces. Her brother’s friends had hated him for getting Wyatt suspended right before the championship tournament. Never mind that he’d been suspended, too, and her brother had instigated the fight. The entire school— heck, the whole town—had taken Wyatt’s side. “If they don’t recognize me, we’ll all get along better by keeping it that way.” He’d moved on. As soon as he made a deal to have his art returned to him, preferably within the hour, he’d leave and wouldn’t look back. “Unfortunately, you’re right,” she agreed, settling into the table the hostess had led them to in the restaurant section. He took the seat across from her. “How are those guys so clueless they don’t recognize me but savvy enough to know I’m part of the art world?” A humorous sparkle lit up her eyes. “I wouldn’t go so far as to label them ‘savvy.’ The only nonlocals in town for the past couple of weeks have been collectors and gallery owners who received invitations or heard about the auction by word of mouth or from press releases. Any guy under the age of eighty wearing something other than sneakers or work boots gets the reverse-snob treatment.” He glanced at his loafers. “They assume I’m a dealer?” Aside from being known for his father’s drunken, criminal behavior, Zane had been always been the kid who could draw. Having the artist label stripped away left him without his identity. She arched an eyebrow, the humor deserting her expression. “You came in the role of a dealer, didn’t you? Not to create art or celebrate its existence, but to make a business deal?” He hated thinking about his art in business terms. Ken did that job so he could keep the creativity train running. Unfortunately, his creativity train had derailed, and he was the only one who could close this deal. The terms were far too personal to leave with his manager. After the waitress took their order, he said, “If you’ve been talking to dealers, you must have a good idea what the pictures will sell for tomorrow. Cancel the auction, and I’ll cut you a check for double the amount.” Dropping the napkin she’d just unfolded, Julianne stared at him. “You’re serious?” “As a gallery fire.” “Why?”

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Because I don’t want the entire world knowing how crazy in love with you I was. But he didn’t want her to recall that kid either. “My art is my brand. I’m not going to let you ruin a reputation years in the making by selling pieces with my name on them that are contrary to my brand.” “This early work contains hints of your current style,” she argued. “Fans and collectors alike will be fascinated to see how you’ve changed and developed.” Although she was right, he didn’t want their fascination fixed on a part of his life he intended to keep private. The subject matter didn’t even pertain to his present life. He had every intention of forgetting, or at the very least burying, that part of his past. But he couldn’t bury it when it would be forever available for public scrutiny, which meant he needed to convince her to see things his way. He leaned forward. “You haven’t thought through your sell strategy very well. At the risk of sounding pompous, the consensus of the critics is the worth of my art will keep climbing. Chances are very good you’ll make more money off those pieces if you consider them a long-term investment and wait until I’m dead to sell them.” Although it didn’t make good business sense from a risk standpoint, he preferred she keep the pieces rather than him buying them back. Until he’d learned she’d planned to auction them off, he’d assumed she’d tossed the sketches years ago before they would have been worth anything. She reached across the table, covering his knuckles with her fingertips. “The last thing I want is to get rich off you after you’re dead, Zane.” “So then take my payment offer and get rich off me while I’m alive.” She shook her head. “You’re a true artist. I’m an art lover and a conduit to inspire love of the arts and recognize talent in others.” He had no idea how her declaration related to her refusal to sell him his work as opposed to selling it to the public, but her earnest expression and passion-filled gaze distracted him. Screw the negotiations. If he couldn’t escape memory lane, he might as well revisit the good parts, like making love in the first halfway secluded spot they came across. The waitress arrived with their food before his common sense completely deserted him. As soon as she left, a teen boy approached the table. “Ms. Truman, I’m sorry to

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interrupt.” The kid cast a nervous glance at Zane. “I was thinking about my painting, and the red is a little too bright to blend with the background. I need to darken it before tomorrow. Otherwise, it’s not going to look right, and no one will want to buy it.” Julianne pushed back her chair and stood, placing her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Marco, remember our discussion about needing to let go?” “This isn’t about that,” he insisted. Zane didn’t know the kid and could already tell Julianne was spot-on, despite the boy’s denial. “I don’t want to look like a moron or have people make fun of my painting when they compare it to a Zane DeMonde masterpiece.” “Nobody will make fun of anyone’s art, or I will be on that person like a rabid dog and tear them to pieces,” Julianne vowed. Zane grinned at her fierce protectiveness, even as his groin ached from the fresh shot of lust. “From a practical standpoint,” she continued, addressing the kid in a calmer tone. “The school is locked for the night. Even if it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be able to finish all your tweaks and have the painting dry in time to auction it off. Tomorrow night, I’ll introduce you to a couple of people who have a great eye for color. You can get their opinion on the brightness and use the information to improve your future work.” The boy shifted his feet and bit his lip. “But I won’t have a chance to fix this piece before it’s sold.” Zane had assumed the students were only decorating and planning, not selling their art, too. He’d been so focused on how the sale affected him, he hadn’t considered the effect on her students of canceling the event. He rose to his feet. “If you’re not ready to let go of your work, fixing the color won’t help. You’ll just find something else you want to change tomorrow.” “Zane’s absolutely right.” Julianne aimed a smile at him, sending his stomach in a slow, dizzy flip. “You’re the only one who can decide if you’re ready, Marco, and I will always honor your decision.” “You’re Zane DeMonde?” the boy asked, eyes wide as he turned to him. “The one and only.” He offered a handshake. “And I assume you’re one of Julianne’s students.”

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“I’m Marco Garcia, president of the art club.” The kid pumped his hand enthusiastically. “Pleased to meet you, Marco. So, am I understanding correctly that student art is also being auctioned tomorrow?” “In the silent auction.” He shifted his feet. “Only your pieces get the live auction. Everyone in the art club has been working on their projects for months, so we’ll be good enough to be in the same room as your work.” He rubbed his forehead. “Gosh, I can’t believe Zane DeMonde is going to be studying my painting tomorrow.” He hadn’t promised to do so and didn’t plan to be anywhere near town by the time the event started but had no idea how to say so without sounding like an ass. Ken handled releasing him from commitments people shoved on him without his consent, and he’d probably have to handle this one, too. “Be ready to answer a lot of questions about red paint and brightness.” Marco snapped his fingers at Zane then gave Julianne a thumbs-up and trotted away, a spring in his step. Julianne collapsed in her seat, gnawing on her lower lip. Zane lowered himself in his chair, unsure why she looked so defeated when the boy’s revelation had destroyed his plan, not hers. “You’re not going to cancel the auction, no matter how much I pay you.” “I can’t. The kids”—she waved her hand in the direction Marco had disappeared— “came up with the idea to sell their masterpieces to make enough money to save the art department. I added your work, not only because it would bring in enough real money to make a difference but because it would attract influential people from the art community.” “How do you plan to motivate top gallery owners and dealers to care about the art department of some podunk school district?” “I don’t. That’s not my goal. I have a remarkable class with two or three kids, Marco included, who have serious potential. By showcasing their talent, I’ll put these kids on dealers’ radar, giving them a huge head start if they choose to continue professionally. You’re more than welcome to outbid the competition on your own work if you don’t want anyone else to own it, but the auction is about far more than your pieces.” He did want someone else to own his work—her. But whether he bought his sketches or not, after tomorrow, nothing of him would remain in her life. He’d forced Julianne to choose between him and her family before. And he’d lost.

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Today, he’d asked her to choose between his art and her students. And he’d lost again. If only he could come up with an option that protected his art reputation and helped her achieve her goals for her students. Reclaiming their past relationship would never be possible. She’d built a life in Regret Hollow, and the narrow-minded town had declared its intolerance for him long ago.

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Chapter 4 “I should have known if anything could convince you to return, it would be art.” Tammy Pritchard-Sterns batted her eyelashes at Zane as she paused at their table, tapping her manicured nails on the laminate. The clicking sound grated on Julianne’s nerves almost as much as the implication Zane would never have returned because of his feelings for her. “I might have come sooner if I’d known I’d be welcome,” he replied. Her chest tightened. If she’d looked him up after college, could they have mended their relationship without the auction between them? Several times, she’d considered sending a message through social media but chickened out, afraid he’d hate her for choosing her family over him. “We always welcome our best and brightest alums with open arms.” Tammy scraped the nail of her index finger along his arm, laying on the flattery. She’d done the same thing for all the hot jocks in high school while dissing the kids she’d considered losers. She’d never dissed Julianne to her face, but she’d taken plenty of shots at Zane, referencing his father’s criminal past. Funny, she didn’t seem to remember any of that now. Zane chuckled, as if he didn’t remember either. “You’re the first person from Regret Hollow to describe me as the best and brightest.” “Then Julianne hasn’t been treating you like you deserve. When you’re done over here, why don’t you look me up?” She swiped her finger across his cell phone and typed into it then set it on the table and sauntered away. Zane stared after her. After she disappeared from sight, he shifted his gaze to Julianne. “Did Tammy Pritchard, head of the Bitch Squad, just hit on me?” “Hit on you?” Jealousy bubbled through her. “If she’d hit on you any harder, she’d have knocked you unconscious.” He laughed. “Damn. What I wouldn’t give to go back in time and see the expression on her face when she learns fifteen years down the road she’ll be throwing herself at me.” Julianne smirked, his amusement relaxing her possessiveness. “As much as I’d enjoy seeing her put in her place, she’s on the school board, so I have to bite my tongue and play nice.” Not that the forced congeniality won her any favorable votes. “And you should be

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aware, she’s recently divorced and very much on the prowl.” Zane tugged on his collar. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of leaving your side.” Warmth spread through her. Her claim on him had expired when he’d asked her to leave town with him and she’d refused. But if he wanted to reclaim his place at her side, even temporarily or to act as a buffer against unwanted advances, she wouldn’t deny him. However, she didn’t want to sit through interruptions from Tammy or anyone else stealing the few precious moments she had to soak in his presence. “If you’re not in a hurry to rush back to the city, we could go to the hollow for a bit.” His gaze held hers, not wavering even when a new person stopped by their table. She’d suggested the hollow without considering the boldness of her offer. For decades, it had been the notorious hook-up destination for randy teens and adults alike. She and Zane had used it like countless other couples searching for a bit of privacy when their homes and the school were off-limits. “Let’s go,” Zane said, his voice low and intense. She tore her gaze from his to find Bethany turning away. “Never mind.” Her friend waved her off with a laugh. “I can see you have better things to do than chat with me.” “Please tell me she didn’t stop by to hit on me, too,” Zane said. “No, and not just because she’s my best friend. Her mom is dating your dad. In fact, they’ve been living together for a couple years. She’s a little spooked by the possibility of you guys becoming step-siblings and thought maybe talking to you could ease the discomfort on both sides.” He shuddered and reached for his wallet. “Yeah, that chat’s going to have to wait. Let’s get the hell out of here.” “I’ve got the bill.” She lifted her purse onto her lap. If she couldn’t have him as her boyfriend again, she could at least treat him as her guest. Not acknowledging her comment, he set a generous number of bills on the table. “Let’s go before I have to make small talk with more former haters who want to kiss my ass or I learn more details about my dad’s new family when he didn’t give two shits about his real family.” “Okay.” She ached for how much his father’s actions still hurt him while his refusal to discuss those acts with the people who could help soothe his anger guaranteed the pain

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would continue to linger. As she led the way to the door, Zane followed, so close the heat from his chest seared her back. She paused to let a family pass in front of them, and he skimmed his fingertips just above her waist. Drawing on all her willpower not to lean into him, she continued through the doorway. A moment later, she stood next to his car in the warm spring air. He held open the door, his hand resting on her back as he ushered her inside. The protective, chivalrous gesture brought tears to her eyes. If not for him wanting to pull his works from the auction and her students getting cold feet, the evening would have been perfect. She pushed the frustrating reality aside. Alone together, she wouldn’t spoil the opportunity to relive their beautiful memories by focusing on the details destined to keep them apart. Zane settled in the driver’s seat then pulled out of the parking space, leaving the restaurant behind. “I’d forgotten the realities of small town life, where you can’t order and eat anonymously because you’re expected to interact with the other patrons.” “You make it sound like a bad thing, but your experience in The Hollow Leg should have proved the opposite. Nobody remembered you for your dad’s reputation or for how you left town. You showed them another side of you, and they’re finally discovering what I knew all along.” He glanced at her. “What’s that?” “Zane DeMonde is an amazing man.” She smiled at him, hoping his need to focus on the road as he drove would distract him from noticing her heart in her eyes. He reached across the console and squeezed her hand, trapping it over her thigh as he drove down the rutted dirt road to the hollow. Julianne closed her eyes and leaned against the headrest. The warmth and tingling from his caress coursed up her arm, filling her with both longing and contentment. Zane, next to her, touching her, sharing her life, was all she’d ever wanted. “Do you want to stay in the car, or do you want to walk the trail?” She opened her eyes. Zane had parked along the side of the road and shut off the engine. He stared at her with the familiar, penetrating, blue-eyed gaze that allowed him to capture the essence of every observation with a paintbrush. She could only hope his lack of

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art supplies kept him from reading every nuance of her emotions. “Walk.” Free of the confines of the car, perhaps she could enjoy his company without falling straight down the rabbit hole into the teenage love she’d never gotten over. Zane met her at the front of the car and took her hand in his, giving her no time to regain her equilibrium. They waded through long grass and weeds to a dirt path just wide enough for them to stroll side by side between the overgrown bushes. After a few minutes, they emerged at a rocky creek shore. During the summer months, the creek bed often dried up, but, now, in late April a steady stream of water gurgled through. “Too bad I don’t paint landscapes,” he murmured. “Something about the simple beauty of this place grabs me every time.” “I know what you mean. I try not to come here too much, since it’s supposed to be for couples, but sometimes I have to come just to sit at the edge of the creek.” She shouldn’t have admitted that. They might not have a future, but she didn’t have to leave him with the impression she’d turned pathetic and lonely. She sat on the rock, and Zane settled next to her, lacing the fingers of his left hand with her right. With his right palm, he cupped her cheek, turning her face toward him. “You’re part of a couple now. I personally would never want to see this place without you because you’re the most beautiful part of it for me.” And that, damn it, was exactly why she would never get over him. As he leaned closer, she closed her eyes, absorbing him by feel alone. If he couldn’t stare into her eyes, maybe he wouldn’t see into her heart. His lips ghosted over hers in a featherlight brush of warm softness. If she was a canvas he intended to paint, he already made her feel like a masterpiece. He roamed his lips over hers again, still soft and gentle, unlike the fierce, angry demands from in front of her house earlier. Leaning into him, she bit lightly on his lip to convey her need and impatience. His mouth curved beneath hers, but he didn’t heed the message to hurry. He glided his palm up her cheek then combed his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. Abruptly, he pulled back and tucked her head under his chin, hugging her tightly. “After a single closed-mouth kiss, I’m shaking like I’ve never kissed a girl before.” Heart racing, trembling from head to toe, Julianne said nothing. Knowing he shared her

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vulnerability helped her nerves but further chipped the shell keeping her emotions in check. Drawing her away from his chest, he pleaded, “Talk to me. Distract me, so I won’t take you on this rock right now.” “Talk,” she repeated. Discussing the last time they’d sat here and he had taken her, only to have Wyatt discover them, was not a topic they should revisit. Assuming her brother kept his distance, she didn’t have the will to stop Zane from making love to her. When he left town again, he would shatter her heart. Again. ### “My parents still live in town in the same house. Dad retired from the bank last year, and they’ve been traveling.” Zane smiled as Julianne gave him the simple conversation he’d asked for. She’d never batted an eye at his mood swings or emotions, always adapting to give him what he needed. And he’d been a hell of a moody teenager. “They’re on a cruise in the Mediterranean right now,” she continued. “I had to convince them not to cancel when we set up the auction date.” Until he’d been caught with his pants around his ankles and their daughter’s legs around his waist, her parents had been good to him. Cautious but generous, they hadn’t assumed the worst about him based on his father’s addiction, maybe because his mom had been a teller at the bank or maybe because they weren’t judgmental people. “I’m really sorry about your mom,” Julianne continued. “Cancer, right?” Mom had waited until his sister graduated the year after him and then moved away from Regret Hollow, so he’d been spared the small town busybody funeral. “Yeah, my dad poisoned his body for years and he’s still going strong. My mom followed all the rules and ended up wasting away in a slow, painful death. Every time I think about it, I want to punch something.” Eyes filled with compassion, Julianne brushed her fingers across his cheek. “Don’t punch. Kiss me instead.” She draped herself across him, molding her mouth to his, her soft breasts rubbing his chest.

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The closeness wasn’t close enough. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap. She locked her beautiful russet eyes on his as she skimmed her fingertips up his jaw then caressed his eyebrows. “After all these years, you’re a stranger. Yet, I know you better than I know anyone else. It doesn’t make any sense, but it’s the truth.” She grazed her lips over his again. “You make perfect sense, especially when you’re kissing me,” he whispered. “Then I’ll never stop.” She delved her tongue into his mouth. Never stop. He closed his eyes and let her transport him to the glorious plane where only holding Julianne mattered. Supporting her back with one arm, he slid his other hand up her shirt, cupping her small, perfect breast. She moaned and arched for him, increasing the intensity of the kiss. Her response fueled his desire. She’d always been his girl, and finally he could claim her again. “This is the police,” a deadly voice threatened from behind. “Put your hands up and step the hell away from my sister.” Opening his eyes, Zane froze, the past and the present tangling together—the police, her brother, Julianne forever off-limits. Disentangling herself from him, she stood and straightened her shirt. He wanted to step in front of her and block her from the cop’s gaze, but, disoriented from both the harsh demand and the sweetness of holding Julianne, he couldn’t make his legs cooperate to stand. She jumped off the rock and marched six steps down the dirt trail to the uniformed man. Despite her rule-following, good-girl image, she shoved the cop’s chest with both hands. “Wyatt, cut that crap out.” Suddenly, the policeman’s reference to her as his sister clicked. Instead of making love by the creek, Zane stood a good chance of being handcuffed in the back of a squad car and spending the evening in a cell. He rose to his feet and faced them. “Your brother’s a cop?” “My brother’s an ass.” He grinned. Damn, he loved Julianne’s spunk, especially when she stood up for him. “Police chief.” Wyatt flipped open his badge. “As much I would love to break your nose again, I’ll settle for locking you up until the end of time.”

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He rubbed the bump on his nose. “Good thing I can afford a lawyer this time around.” “You’ll be booked for loitering, trespassing, assault—” Oh, hell no. He wouldn’t do anything to harm Julianne. Ever. “If you’re going to arrest me for assault, I’d be happy to take a few swings at you to make the charge worth your time and effort.” “Stop being idiots, both of you,” Julianne snapped, swiveling her head between them. He could definitely see how she kept control over a high school classroom. Of course, advertising that it turned him on wouldn’t do anything to defuse the situation. “Zane is in town because of the auction,” she said to her brother. “I’ve offered him the guest room at my house tonight.” “Which I’ve accepted,” he said without missing a beat, happy to help her piss off her brother. For all Wyatt’s bluster, he’d jeopardize his law enforcement career if he dared attack, while only broken bones and jail time would keep Zane from his paintbrush. “If you so much as lay a finger on her…” Wyatt threatened him. “It’ll be because I want him to,” Julianne finished. Inundated with fantasies, all involving his fingers and her naked body, Zane shifted, needing to adjust the bulge in his pants. “Like freaking hell.” Her brother didn’t retreat. “He slept with you and then walked out of your life and broke your heart. Why the hell would you let him in so he can do it again? Do you really want to cry yourself to sleep for months all over again?” Zane froze. She hadn’t come with him. When he’d left town, he’d understood only that she’d turned her back on him. He’d been too consumed with his own pain to consider her choice would have hurt her, too. “Wyatt, I know you have good intentions, but please butt out. I can fight my own battles.” Julianne’s voice shook, cracking on the final word. Unable to allow her brother to terrorize her more, Zane shifted between them, blocking her from Wyatt’s wrath. “I’m not here to hurt your sister.” Wyatt glared at him, loathing practically dripping from his pores. “But you will. And then you’ll leave. When that happens, I’ll be here, picking up the pieces, but she’ll be so brokenhearted I won’t even get the satisfaction of saying, ‘I told you so.’” “I don’t know why you hate me so much. Shouldn’t a brother want a man for his sister

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who will love her more than life itself and want to keep her in his life?” “You wanted to keep her, and you tried to do it by controlling her decisions and ripping her away from her family, friends, and support system. That, asshole, is the opposite of love.”

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Chapter 5 “Stop. Please stop.” Every word Zane and Wyatt yelled at each other stabbed Julianne’s chest like a knife. Unable to bear any more, she ran past them both and up the path, swatting the branches in front of her face. After dashing through the tall grass, she fumbled with the handle of Zane’s car, but it refused to open. Damn, he’d become completely citified and locked the doors. Covering her face with her hands, she slumped against the side of the car, sliding down to sit on the ground. Why, oh why, did they have to tear her apart every time they were together? Two sets of footsteps approached, but she didn’t look up. If they were both coming, they’d somehow managed not to kill each other. Yet. “Oh, Julianne, I’m so sorry,” Zane whispered, crouching in front of her and touching his forehead to hers. “Don’t cry. I never meant to make you cry.” “But you did.” Her anger at her brother spilled onto him, and she pushed him away. “If I pick you, I lose my twin brother. I stayed with him last time and lost you.” Swiping at her eyes, she glared between the two of them. “You guys don’t get it, do you? It’s all about your one-upmanship and pissing each other off, like some twisted game. You both win and go on living your great lives while I keep losing.” Sitting back on the grass, Zane opened his mouth, but she switched her attention to her brother. “You know why I never date anyone? Because I worry about you threatening them. I don’t want anyone’s life messed up because of me.” “I’m not trying to mess with anyone.” Voice subdued, Wyatt stepped forward then stopped and squeezed his hat in his hands. “I’m just watching over you, protecting you from getting hurt.” Sadly, he really believed in his own nobility. Forcing her shaky legs to cooperate, she stood and faced him. “But that’s just it. Nobody could ever touch my heart enough to hurt me because Zane ruined me for anyone else.” She winced, unable to glance at Zane. Although true, she hadn’t meant to confess it in front of him. So, she continued to focus on her brother. “For one evening, I had a chance to

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relax and be happy and explore how I’d imagined life could have been, but you barged in and made me choose again. I’m not the most important thing in either of your lives, so why do you both think you have a claim to my number one slot?” Wyatt opened his mouth and then closed it. “I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I’ll leave, but before I go, I have to ask, do you want a ride home?” Defeat weighed on her so heavily she couldn’t draw a breath. There would never be a way to win this situation. She couldn’t even conceive of how to make it more tolerable. “I’ll take her home. I’ll take care of her,” Zane said, rising to his feet. The guys sized each other up, probably returning to their macho posturing, but she had no more energy to interfere. As Wyatt turned away, Zane unlocked his car and guided her into the passenger seat. She sat, and he pressed his lips to her forehead. “What do you think ranks more important in my life than you?” he asked. “Your art, of course.” It had when they’d been teens, and it still did, more than ever. His art even had the power to do what she’d never been able to accomplish on her own—bring him back into her life. ### The desire, flirtations, and reawakened memories of the past few hours faded to idyllic child’s play after Wyatt’s interruption. Zane had never seen Julianne crumple before. Even fifteen years ago, after the fight and the suspension had been handed down, when he’d told her he was leaving town and asked her to come with him, a few tears had clung to her lashes, but she’d kept her composure as she attempted to mediate some middle ground where none existed. Her anguish in the hollow pierced him to the core. Had his art always been more important than her? As a teen, he would have told anyone she came first, but he’d taken her presence at his side for granted. He hadn’t had to nurture their relationship because she had done so for both of them, leaving him free to concentrate on his artistic endeavors. Julianne kept her face turned away while he drove through town. Parking on the street so he didn’t block her car in the driveway, he cut the motor then placed his hand on the

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back of her neck and rubbed gently. “I know you didn’t mean for me to spend the night when you said so to your brother, but I’m going to walk you inside and stay for a few minutes. I won’t try anything. I just want to make sure you’re okay before I leave you alone. If you’d rather call Bethany instead—” She shook her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Taking a deep breath, she unlatched the door. “I’m fine. You’re welcome to come in, but I’m over my meltdown. I won’t freak out on you again.” He’d take the invitation, however grudgingly offered. His trip to Regret Hollow had stopped being about his art. Maybe the art had simply been an excuse all along. He didn’t want to analyze his motives. He simply wanted to take every opportunity Julianne gave him for as long as it lasted. He exited the car and walked around to the passenger side, offering his hand. Julianne took it and stepped onto the curb, coming so close to brushing against him he had to resist the urge to wrap both arms around her and hold her in a full-body embrace. They’d had enough interference in their intimate moments for one day. He’d wait until he could be sure no nosy neighbors were spying on them. They strolled up the driveway to an unassuming ranch house. Too distracted by the encounter with his father, he hadn’t paid any attention to it earlier in the afternoon. The house was small, even by small town standards. Julianne hadn’t picked her career based on a promise of a high-paying salary, and he regretted accusing her of selling his work in an attempt to get rich. Art had always trumped money for her. She unlocked the door and switched the lights on then gestured for him to step inside. Canvases covered every wall. He blinked at the museum-like atmosphere. “All this, and you chose to sell my stuff?” She laughed. Her sweet amusement decimated his knee-jerk offense. Replacing her anguish and desolation with happiness was worth the bruise to his ego. “I’m a collector of sorts, but I’d be a terrible dealer,” she admitted. “I have a great eye for picking pieces I really like that are worth next to nothing.” Eager to discover what captured her attention, he stepped toward the closest canvas, an amateur impressionist painting channeling Monet but with whimsical frogs sunning

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themselves on the lily pads. He didn’t recognize the artist’s name. “What gallery did you get this from?” “I don’t go to many galleries. For the most part, I can’t afford their prices. Somehow, the owners can tell from a glance, and they ignore me or try to shuffle me out.” Oh, no way. She deserved much better treatment than an instant dismissal. “The next showing I’m forced to attend, I’m inviting you as my date. If anyone dares to treat you as anything less than a princess, I’ll take my entire collection somewhere else.” Julianne shook her head, a smile flirting on her lips. “Your eccentric, impulsive reputation suits you.” “I prefer the label ‘passionate.’” He faced her, silently daring her to admit she wanted his passion. Her smile faded and her expression turned guarded. He couldn’t push her, not after the blowup with her brother. If she could only handle light conversation and friendship from him, then he’d dial back his own needs and give her what she wanted. “So if you didn’t get your frog masterpiece from a gallery, where did you pick it up?” “You’re either going to roll your eyes or laugh, but I don’t care. I adore flea market art.” “Flea market?” He choked. “As in those outdoor tents catering to tourists and people who think art is a craft project? Who the hell corrupted my favorite girl?” “Your favorite girl?” She raised an eyebrow. “I liked it better when I was your only girl.” His breath lodged in his throat. She might be flirting with him, but he wanted what she suggested far too much. “The position is available. Of course, I’d expect exclusivity on your end, too.” “As if that would ever be a deal breaker for me. Your snobbishness against the people who make art accessible to the general public, though, might be.” She elbowed him and grinned. She’d pulled the conversation away from serious territory and back to light flirtation. He adjusted his tone to match hers. “All right, Ms. Truman, what drew you to open your wallet for this piece?” “The frogs, obviously.” She smirked. “They’re the perfect shade of green to leap off the page at you.”

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“And suck up any flies in the house during the summer,” he added with a laugh, abandoning all attempts at seriousness. “See, now you get it.” She nudged him again. His body reacted as if she’d stroked her hand along his cock. Down, boy. Take it easy. You’re not joining the fun. “I talked with the artist about her brush techniques for over two hours,” Julianne said. “After taking up her best-selling time of day with chitchat, I had to give her a sale from the deal. To me, the piece represents a memory of our conversation, not just a showpiece.” Around the room, classic style hung next to modernism. Minimalist balanced against the ridiculous and sublime pieces. Julianne was a true student and appreciator of the arts, receptive to every artist’s talents. No wonder her students adored her. “I’m going to need the story of what made you buy each of these.” Not just because he wanted to stall for more time in her company but because every story she told him made him want to learn more about the woman she’d become. “I hope you don’t mind if I’m here for a while.” “My guest room is open.” Not his first room choice, but he’d take it. “Throw in a toothbrush, and you’ve got yourself a houseguest.” “Deal.” She grinned at him. He tried to make his answering smile as platonic as possible. All he had to do was lock away his inner bad boy while she slept a few feet away. He’d hold up his end of the bargain and manage to make up for lost time with her. ### I liked it better when I was your only girl. Since she couldn’t take the words back, Julianne mentally smacked herself on the forehead. So much for subtlety and playing it cool. While Zane studied her wall hangings, appearing as professional and appreciative as if he were wandering a museum, she dreamed of dragging him down the hall to her bedroom and stripping off his clothes. She longed to see his body naked all at once, instead of the sections of skin she’d had to settle for with their furtive teenage petting.

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“What is this?” Zane stopped in front of a blue blob on watercolor paper. “Fifteen years ago, you would have argued it was a paint spill.” “It’s art, and don’t you dare knock it.” She wagged a finger at him. He smirked. “And how did this artist change your mind?” “A few years ago, one of my students was a teen mom who managed to not only stay in school but carve an art class into her schedule. After school, she’d pick up her baby from daycare, and they’d come to the art room. While she worked on a project, her toddler finger-painted this masterpiece and gifted it to me.” He burst out laughing. “So, the picture looks like it was painted by a two-year-old because it was. Damn. You are one surprise after another.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her to his side. His warmth enveloped her until she ached to cling to him all night. How she surprised him, she had no idea. She was utterly predictable, living her small town routine, turning to wet clay at his touch. Well, except for when she’d turned into a shrieking, sobbing mess in the hollow. She’d surprised herself then, and the reminder embarrassed her enough to tug free of his embrace. “That concludes my grand art collection.” “You don’t hang your own works?” “They’re in the guest room for you to amuse yourself. Actually, I need to make up the bed in there and pull the extra towels from the closet. If you promise to keep a straight face when you look at them, I’ll let you pick my brain about my sketching technique.” She had nothing to teach him about drawing. With one look at her sketches, he’d see her ability was amateur level at best. But conceding her skills would never top those of a master didn’t embarrass her. Heading through the kitchen, she led him into a small hallway that branched into two bedrooms and a bathroom. Flipping on the light switch, she ushered him into the guest room. “Cartoon caricatures,” Zane murmured, moving toward the sketch of her parents affectionately arguing over a TV remote while a child version of herself rolled her eyes and child-Wyatt made a gagging gesture. “You captured your family closeness and affection really well. Since I didn’t have it with my family, I didn’t understand your dynamics when I visited, but I admired and was jealous of the bond you all shared.” “You had your mom and your sister,” she pointed out. Despite his father’s problems,

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she’d never felt like his family situation differed from hers. “Yeah, and we loved each other, but we all did our own thing.” He turned from the picture to face her, his expression serious. “I didn’t understand the huge sacrifice I asked of you when I asked you to turn away from your family and leave town with me.” Making him wallow in regrets and torturing both of them with what-could-have-been versions of the past wouldn’t serve any purpose. Needing to forgive him so they could both let go and move on, she held a towel and toothbrush package out to him. “You were seventeen. I get it. We each had to make the right choice for ourselves. We both survived. Go ahead into the bathroom while I fix up your bed.” He glanced from the bed to her, the regret clouding his gaze morphing into something decidedly more heated. “I can put the sheets on. You don’t have to.” “I’m going to anyway.” Thankfully, he took the towel and headed for the bathroom, leaving her to fix the bed alone. Zane was really spending the night in her house. If their make-out session in the hollow had ended differently, continuing where they left off and making love all night long would have been a foregone conclusion. After all, she wanted nothing more than a night to indulge her memories. But in the aftermath of Wyatt’s intrusion, she’d bared too much of her heart. She couldn’t have a night of easy sex with Zane and then let him go. She would want a future, a forever, and a way to keep him at her side while staying close with her family and keeping the ties to her town. Instead, she was selling his art tomorrow and cutting the ties from their past once and for all.

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Chapter 6 Zane returned to the guest bedroom to find it empty. Disappointment and relief swelled in equal measure. Despite doing his best to stick with straight friendship throughout the evening, if he’d stayed in the room and watched her lean over the bed while tucking in the sheets, he would have obliterated every one of his good intentions. Even imagining the position she’d been in left his hormones raging. His best chance for a good night’s sleep—and to withstand the temptation of Julianne sleeping far too close— would be to jerk off and give himself some relief. He glanced at the sketches on the wall. Across the room from the family shot, her brother in his high school baseball uniform stood in a batting stance and stared through the frame with steely determination. Another picture captured her and her brother pushing each other and laughing as they simultaneously reached for the last piece of cake. Julianne had been a good girl who adored her family. Zane shouldn’t have been surprised or hurt that she’d chosen them over him. He grimaced. She was still a good girl and still cared very much for her parents and brother. And he was still very much the bad boy, coming between her and the people she loved, fantasizing about her naked while surrounded by pictures of her family. Despite the illumination the caricature sketches provided in helping him understand her, he couldn’t give his cock the relief it needed with her brother staring at him. But he wouldn’t disrespect her art by shoving it in a closet without her permission, whether or not she ever would have discovered what he’d done. As he stepped into the hall, she emerged from the bathroom. A silky, blue low-cut pajama top cupped her small ripe breasts, while tiny matching shorts showed off her smooth thighs and the curve of her hips. His mouth went as dry as the first time she’d approached him in art class, and his brain emptied of every thought. “Is everything okay?” Julianne asked. He tried to speak, but his voice wouldn’t work. Curvier than he’d remembered, she’d filled out in all the right places. He ached to explore every inch. “If you need more blankets or pillows, they’re in the closet in your room.”

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“I don’t need blankets or pillows. I just need you.” He hadn’t meant to tell her the truth, but, staring at her, he couldn’t deny it either. Her eyes widened, filling with both surprise and desire. “Oh.” Emboldened by her interest, he stepped toward her. Crooking his index finger, he hooked the spaghetti strap on her shoulder and slid it down her arm. Her chest heaved, and her pupils dilated. “How badly do you need me?” Trailing his finger down her bare arm, he delighted in her smooth skin and the soft tremors rocketing through her. “Every bit as much as you need me.” A hint of challenge filled her gaze, and she lifted her chin. “If you know how much I need you, you’d better be prepared to give it to me.” He might go to hell for it, but he would take that challenge and satisfy every one of her needs. “Last chance, Julianne. Get away from me before I can’t control my inner bad boy anymore.” She lifted her hand, and he held his breath. Instead of slapping him across the face, she caressed his lips. “I’m not going anywhere. Take me, bad boy. I’m yours.” ### If Julianne had listened to common sense and self-preservation, she would have taken his advice and locked herself in her room. But she’d never been able to walk away from Zane DeMonde. Fifteen years hadn’t changed that fact. Combing her fingers through the lock of black hair curling around his ear, she studied him. His face comprised a fascinating sculpture of planes and angles, filled out in some places, the tiniest of lines forming across his forehead. The intensity in his cobalt gaze alone sent tingling shivers along her skin. He’d directed that concentration into his art and his quest to convince her to give up the auction. Now, she couldn’t wait for him to apply it to every inch of her body. She brushed his hair off his forehead and then settled her palms on his shoulders. Broader than she recalled, they were smooth with hard but not bulky muscles. Gaze still locked on her, he caressed up her arm over her bare shoulder then down the slope of her breast. Her pajama top drooped further along her torso, exposing her, and he

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cupped her naked breast in his warm, calloused hand. With limbs as weak as warm, wet clay, she leaned against the wall behind her, arching into his caress. “More.” Instead, he released her. Disappointment shot through her, and she gripped his shoulder tighter. He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. Then, placing her arm at her side, he hooked the spaghetti strap from that arm and peeled it off. The silky top slithered down, pooling around her hips. Her nipples shrank to hard buds, and she trembled under Zane’s appreciation and blatant longing. For him, she would beg without shame or self-consciousness. “Touch me. Suck on me. Please. I’m yours.” “Julianne.” The intensity in his eyes swerved into wildness. Cupping her cheeks, he bent his head, slanting his lips over hers, demanding but not angry or punishing. Needy, just as she was. He skated his tongue over the seam, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, welcoming him. Stomach quivering, she couldn’t wait for him to mirror the thrust of his tongue with his pelvis. Moaning, she fisted her hands in his hair, her breasts rubbing his thin shirt, sending shards of hot need through the rest of her body. Breathing hard, he released her mouth and kissed down her chin, under her jaw, and along her neck. Digging her teeth into her swollen lower lip, she arched her back, once again offering her breasts to him. “Please,” she whispered. Lifting his head, he met her gaze. “Please what?” “Take my nipple in your mouth and make me scream your name.” Instead of embarrassing her, saying the words pushed her molten desire higher. She reached for the buttons on his shirt, desperate to touch his chest and unlock some of the pleasure. He encircled her wrists in one hand and raised them above her head against the wall. “You can touch me later. I won’t last otherwise. I need you so badly. I’ve needed you for too long.” “You don’t think I’m aching the same way?” Frustration slammed through her. “Slide your fingers inside me, and I’ll come while I’m standing right here.” “I thought you wanted me to suck you until you screamed.” He clicked his tongue and

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smirked. “Seems someone can’t make up her mind about what she wants.” Too needy to tolerate his teasing, she strained against the shackle of his hand, the inferno inside her raging hotter. “I know what I want. I want you. Please.” Sweat beaded on his forehead, undercutting his casualness as he swiped his lips over hers. Then he bent his head and covered her breast with his mouth. Pleasure stormed through her. “Zane!” He released her wrists and covered her other breast, rubbing his thumb over her nipple. She was going to come simply from him sucking on her. Embarrassing as it was, she couldn’t control her starved reaction. She fisted her hands in his hair and gasped his name. With a tug on the elastic of her shorts, he molded his hot palm over her core. She leaned on the wall to grant him better access. “I believe I heard you say plural fingers. Right?” Oh God, yes. The wall at her back supported her completely. Her bones had no more substance than watered-down paint. She arched, pushing for deeper contact with his heat. Her clit rubbed his palm, and she bit back a whimper. “Right?” he repeated, not moving. “Right. Yes. Please.” She gasped, grinding into him. He plunged two slick, smooth fingers into her then lowered his head and sucked her breast again. She surged against his hand, her body splintering apart. The pleasure too great for her to form a sound, she shuddered and convulsed, utterly captivated by him. “Sweet Julianne.” He lifted his head and rested his face along her neck while rocking his palm over her pussy, his fingers still imbedded inside her. Her body revved, hurtling toward another orgasm. As impossible as it should have been, she spun out of control, needing more instead of fading into satisfaction. Grasping the front of his pants, she unhooked the button and yanked down the zipper. “This time, I want you to come with me.” He withdrew his fingers from her, pushing her silky pajama bottoms to the floor until she stood naked and trembling before him. He pulled a packet from his wallet while she shoved his boxers down his hips. His hands shook as he rolled on the condom. Then he kicked the clothes off his ankles and reached for her again.

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Gripping her hips, arm muscles bulging, he lifted her to meet his pelvis. His hard, hot cock nudged her opening. With her legs wrapped around his waist, she grasped his shoulders and thrust down, driving him inside. “Oh yes, Zane.” Delicious desperation rising inside her, she ground into him. “Don’t move, or I won’t last,” he gritted. His words sent another jerk of pleasure through her, slamming an exquisite wave against her clit. She clenched around him, ecstasy closing in on her until she unraveled. Zane pinned her against the wall with his hips and pounded his beautiful, desperate need into her. Muscles stiffening, he covered her mouth with his, stabbed his tongue in with a long groan, and poured his release into her. Julianne shattered, kissing him fiercely in return, hugging him with her arms and legs, never wanting to let him go. For years, she’d pretended to be satisfied with the life she’d created without him, but that world had been gray and dull. Zane DeMonde painted her world with bright, blazing colors. Returning to the gray just might kill her. ### He hadn’t lasted five minutes. And he’d nailed her against the wall. Julianne deserved so much better than this. Than him. She deserved flowers and romance and forever. Not bruises on her back and ass. Although too little, too late, Zane tried to be gentle as he eased her away from his body. “I am so sorry.” Releasing the vise of her legs around him, she opened her eyes. The happy satisfaction lurking there melted into wariness. “Sorry for what?” “For taking you like this.” He kept his hands on her hips, measuring her legs’ readiness to accept her weight. She rubbed her satin skin along his thighs, stirring his cock. Apparently, he didn’t need any recovery time. He just needed more of Julianne. But he’d lost control and couldn’t let it happen again. She deserved much better than a fast bang against the wall. “I told you I wanted it. Every time you touched me, I came. You’d better not be apologizing for that.” She glowered at him. Despite his attempt to put space between their

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bodies, she refused to loosen her arms from his neck. With her breasts teasing his chest, he was on the verge of losing what little control he’d managed to regain. He’d never get enough of this woman who’d always been his better half. “I’m not apologizing for giving you pleasure. But I was rough and should have treated you better.” Releasing his neck, she framed his face with her hands. “There’s a big difference between being rough because you’re a jerk and rough because you need me so badly you can’t hold back. I happen to be quite fond of the second option. Thank you very much for the demonstration.” His heart squeezed, and he brushed his lips over hers. “You are beautiful inside and out, a true princess. Will you give me a chance to treat you that way? For tonight. My bed or yours. If it’s mine, we have to do something about those pictures of your brother. No way am I going to let him watch us, even in caricature.” She laughed, the pure, sweet sound flowing over him. “My room, it is.” Entwining her fingers with his, she tugged him to her doorway. He reached for the light switch, but she captured his hand and returned it to her chest. “We don’t need a light to find each other.” Even though she was right, he wanted to see every detail of her body. But she nudged him onto the edge of the bed and divested him of his shirt and socks, leaving him as naked as her. Her lips skimmed his cock, and he lost the will to argue about anything. “You’re distracting me from my plans.” He threaded his fingers through her hair. “Do you have a problem with my distraction methods?” she teased, gliding her tongue along his length. Hell, no. Despite the temptation to lean back and let her suck him down, he wouldn’t take from her. Julianne deserved all he had to give, and while he might not have much worthy of her, he could pleasure every inch of her body. “We had a deal. I’m taking care of you. You already know how bad I am. Let me show you how good I can be.” She rose, straddling his hips and cupping his face in her hands. “You’re not bad, Zane. You’ve never been bad. You had a single-minded focus for your passions. You were misjudged by people who never took the time to get to know you. Neither of those things makes you bad. They give you layers and make you real, and that’s a very good thing.” Before he could give in to the temptation to settle her on his lap and urge her to ride

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him hard, he flipped her onto her back on the mattress and lifted one leg over his shoulder. “Tonight, you are my passion, and I’m going to show you how good I can be.” For tonight. Because no matter what she professed, he would never be good enough for her in the long term.

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Chapter 7 Julianne didn’t mistake Zane’s offer for anything other than a single night of pleasure. He extended no promises about the future. Tonight, they would indulge their memories. Tomorrow, she would have to let those memories go. He caressed her thighs, first with his hands and then with his lips. She closed her eyes and her thoughts, letting him sweep her away into a dreamland of pleasure. With every caress, he inched closer to where she wanted him, treating her with extreme gentleness, as if she were more precious than a Picasso. When he lifted her other leg to his shoulder, the vulnerability of the pose didn’t make her hesitate, not with the desire and something stronger she didn’t want to label blazing from his eyes. “You don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of tasting you,” he whispered. “Please.” She raised her hips in invitation, aching for the exquisite bliss. He dipped his face between her legs, kissing the juncture of her thighs and then her pussy and then licking in a delicious long stroke from top to bottom. “Oh…” She tried to find the words to explain the special and wonderful sensations coursing through her, but he robbed her of speech, leaving her unable to do anything but grasp the bed sheet in her fists and gasp for more. And he gave it to her, thrusting his tongue into her while gripping her ass to hold her to his face. Tidal waves of ecstasy stormed through her. She tried to hold back, to relax and commit the sweetness of his caress to memory, but the orgasm blasted away any semblance of control. She might have screamed or bucked or transported to a higher realm. The intensity of her reaction obliterated all sense of self. He petted her gently back to reality, gliding up her torso to kiss her. She shuddered in the aftershocks, looping her arms around him. Tasting her own pleasure on his lips, she relaxed in his embrace. She could lie here savoring the afterglow for hours. They didn’t have to worry about anyone discovering their entwined naked bodies or interrupting them. As a kid, she’d been crazy in love with him and never doubted whether she should give herself to him, but coming together as adults had definite advantages.

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“What are you thinking about?” he whispered. “That I let you set the pace too much.” He always gave the pleasure to her, and she wanted—no, needed—to return it. “I thought you liked my pace.” A hint of worry crept into his voice. “I love it.” She punctuated the assurance with a deep, thorough kiss. “But I want you to discover how much you like my lead.” Rolling him onto his back, she leaned over him, skimming her hair along his chest then exploring his contours with her hands then her mouth. Finally she settled her thighs on either side of his. Locking eyes with him, she sank down then pulled back before plunging deeper. When he reached for her hips, she entwined his fingers with hers and held them over his head. “You’re my canvas. Let me be your artist,” she implored. If only she had enough raw talent and skill to repaint their picture in a way that would make him hers, now and forever. She rode him until her thigh muscles quivered and convulsions overtook her. He gasped her name, and, as she fell onto him, he caught her, holding her tight to his chest. The wild thumping of his heart gradually slowed to a sedate place, and his breath relaxed into a rhythmic inhale and exhale of sleep. Still, he held her tight. She’d succeeded in making him hers. Unfortunately, the spell was temporary, with the clock ticking much too fast. ### Sun streamed across the pillow into his eyes as Zane woke alone in bed. Julianne’s bed. Squinting, he shifted out of the direct shaft of light. The girl who had slipped through his fingers and he’d once thought he’d lost forever had returned to his life. He didn’t hold the delusion they could leave their baggage on the curb and pick up where they left off fifteen years ago. But he wouldn’t walk away so easily this time. She entered the bedroom, a towel tucked around her body stopping at mid-thigh, her hair wet and tousled across her shoulders. Instead of offering a sexy come-hither smile, she settled a wary gaze on him.

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A shiver of foreboding snaked through him. He’d been good enough to satisfy her needs at night, but did she have second thoughts in the light of day? No, he needed to eradicate his doubts about his self-worth. Julianne had never been embarrassed to be seen with him, even when he hadn’t reached a single milestone of success. “You should have woken me to help with the shower. I have some hidden talents…and a special shower wand.” Finally, a smile spread across her face. “Next time. If we have a next time.” Her smile faded, and she hurried across the room toward the closet. He tossed aside the sheet and swung his feet over the side of the bed, following her to the closet opening. “I think we’re worth a next time, don’t you?” Her hooded olive-brown gaze lingered on his naked body. “I can’t do casual hookups, Zane.” His heart swelled and lodged in his throat. “Who said anything about casual sex? Nothing casual happened in this room or in the hall last night. So what’s the problem? Since your brother wouldn’t approve, you’re choosing your family over me again?” The color drained from her face, and her hands shook. With far more care than the action warranted, she removed a hanger holding an emerald sheath dress from the selection of hanging clothes. “Can we talk about this after the auction?” He turned away, fighting the urge to punch the wall. The auction. She was still going to sell his art. Sleeping together had been about mutual pleasure, not about solving their differences. A framed sketch above his head caught his gaze. The image of a couple dancing in an empty gymnasium had been the last picture he’d drawn for her. The day before he’d asked her to leave town with him, he’d hurriedly sketched the picture when his suspension from school kept him from fulfilling his promise to take her to prom and dance with her for her real. He twisted to the next wall. The first sketch he’d given her hung in the center, memorializing the scene from when she’d first approached him in the same classroom where she now worked as a teacher. In the picture, a girl leaned over a boy intent on his drawing. Although he couldn’t see it across the room, the drawing within the drawing would reveal a half-finished portrait of the girl.

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On another wall hung the actual portrait of her, the only one he’d ever done outside of a specific assignment. No other subject could have competed with Julianne’s laughing, glowing face. The final picture on the fourth wall of the room was a simple painting, a close-up of their hands, fingers entwined on the rock overlooking the creek in the hollow. He’d always considered that painting an ode to romantic perfection. But the flawlessness he’d tried to capture hadn’t lasted, just like last night’s blissful interlude hadn’t lasted. Squelching the urge to entwine his fingers with hers, imitating the painting, he asked, “How long have you had my art in your bedroom?” Her cheeks flushed, and she hugged the towel tighter around her chest as she exited the closet. “Since I bought this house.” He wanted the framed works to stay exactly where they were. If he couldn’t join her in her bedroom every night, knowing a part of him stayed with her eased the tightness in his chest. “They obviously mean something to you. Why are you going to sell them?” The anguish in her eyes squeezed his heart. “You saw what else I own. Nothing else is worth money.” Coming up with something worth money, he could handle. But going for broke and admitting he wanted more than his art to take up a long-term residence not only in her bedroom but in her life scared him spitless. She’d already rejected him once, and the past continued to wrap around and define his present. If he wanted a different ending with Julianne than the one he’d created years ago, he had to find a way to redeem his inner bad boy and become worthy of her. ### “These sketches and the painting are worth more than money,” Zane argued. “I gave them to you because I thought the sentimental value would mean as much to you as it does to me.” Tossing the dress over a chair, Julianne crossed the room to him. To have a chance at a future, she had to make him understand. “They still mean something. They’ll always mean something to me. But I promised my students. Ultimately, my life revolves around people,

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not pieces of art.” “I know it does, and I want to be one of those lucky people.” Her heart thundered, filling with hope. “I’m the lucky one, every minute I’m with you.” He ripped away her towel. As it fell to the floor, he sat on the bed and tugged her until she stood between his thighs. “I would love to argue with you about this, but my mouth is going to be way too busy worshipping you.” He bestowed a kiss on each breast and then reached between her legs, his thumb gliding over her clit. Pleasure swamped her. She needed to drive to the high school to finish preparations for the evening, but she had no will to move away from Zane’s touch. Steadying her hands on his shoulders, she leaned into his caress. He shifted his knee between her thighs, and she widened her stance to accommodate, giving him more access. The physical vulnerability didn’t give her pause, but, every moment in his presence, she opened herself to more hurt if—and likely when—he walked away from her again. Making love last night had been as much an act of saying good-bye as a sweet indulgence into the beautiful memories she would always hold of their time together. But, in truth, she couldn’t say good-bye. As long as they were together, she grasped onto each moment and hoped for more. If she couldn’t push him away before he broke her heart, she needed to accept that her heart was at his mercy. If he ever had to choose between her and his art, he would crush her…again. Spinning her onto the bed, he rolled atop her and glided inside. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she welcomed him home, cradling him close. “I love you,” she whispered. “Oh, Julianne.” His body spasmed, his climax sending her over the edge, and she fell off the cliff of pleasure, shattering in his arms. Much later, she lifted her head. “I really have to get to the school and help the students set up their artwork.” She glanced toward the wall, a stark reminder she needed to set up his work for the live auction, too. Zane cupped her chin, turning her face until she met his gaze. “Leave them. I’ll bring the pieces to the school.” “You will?” Hope filled her. What a simple schoolteacher could offer an internationally

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recognized artist she didn’t know. But he had been the only man for her since her freshman art class, and he would continue to be the only man who would ever capture her heart. “I’ll take care of it. Trust me, Julianne. We have something special here. I’m not going to lose it a second time.” Maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way, too. ### After Julianne drove away from the house, Zane finished toweling off, reliving the glorious shower they’d taken together. Unfortunately, she’d dressed and hurried away too soon for him to delay her again. As he dressed, he surveyed the four pieces of art one more time. They belonged on her walls, nowhere else. Ever. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. A business card fell to the floor. Bending down, he picked it up and flipped it over then froze. Julianne had put it there. He had no doubt. As his call to Ken went to voice mail, he rubbed the card between his fingers. Then, before he could second-guess himself, he dialed the number. “Len’s Landscaping. This is Len.” With no idea of what to say, he almost hung up. He hadn’t called his dad in a decade, and that had been the worst phone conversation of his life. Well, he’d start with the obvious. “This is Zane.” A beat of silence followed. “Zane. Wow. I didn’t expect you to call so soon. I mean, it’s great. I’m happy you did. Julianne must have really gone to bat for me.” He wished she hadn’t left. He needed her by his side to keep him from hanging up or spouting off toxic words that would be impossible to move beyond. He didn’t have any idea of what kind of future connection he envisioned with the man and couldn’t think through it right now. “I have a crazy favor to ask. It’s for Julianne.” “Name it, son.” Son. The word stopped his train of thought. He plowed a hand through his hair. “Do you know how long I’ve hated being your son?” Another silence, longer this time. “Since I was arrested, at least. Probably you’ve hated

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being related to me from the moment I picked the bottle over spending time with you and your sister.” The directness and honesty of his dad’s words cut off his full steam of anger. “I don’t blame you,” Len continued. “You’ve got every right. Of course, if you called to ask me for a favor, you might want to reconsider your timing on bringing it up.” “Yeah, well, I’m a jerk, so I won’t take it back.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve always been the bad kid, even though I never really did anything to deserve the label.” Except break Julianne’s heart and fight with her brother, leading to his suspension from school. But the reputation had been solidified long before then. “I was your son. Therefore, I must be bad.” “And you hate me for the assumptions other people made about you because of me,” Len said. “I hated that being related to you made me not good enough to be with Julianne.” Maybe, subconsciously, he’d forced her to choose between him and her family to prove the statement. “Does she think she’s too good for you?” “Of course not. She’s Julianne. She has too much goodness in her to think that.” His heart swelled. She’d generously shared her goodness with him for the past day as if there had been no break since they’d been together. “Do you think she’s too good for you?” Len asked. He frowned at the flashing low battery light on the phone. Of course, he did. Everyone else had thought it, and he’d bought into the premise without question. She oozed a special, untainted purity he’d never match. “We’ve gotten off topic. I called because I need to borrow your trailer.” “My trailer?” “The landscaping trailer you had parked in front of Julianne’s house yesterday and the truck to tow it.” Zane shoved his hand through his hair. He demanded a lot, especially after not holding back his resentment. Len hadn’t been perfect, but Zane hadn’t made an effort to reconcile and be a good son either. “Just for a couple of hours. I need to transport something from my studio.” “And you expect me to hand over the trailer I need to run my business to a guy who

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hates me, no questions asked?” “Pretty much.” But whatever the confused jumbled of emotions bouncing through him, hatred wasn’t one of them. “I will return it, and, until I do, I’ll let you drive my Jag as collateral.” “Your Jag? That sporty blue car from yesterday?” “That’s the one.” “You got yourself a sweet deal, son.” No, he still had a long way to go to get the sweet deal he wanted with Julianne, but he’d taken a big step in the right direction. ### From the moment she arrived at the school, the whirl of preparations sucked Julianne in, leaving her with no time to mull her future with the man she’d left in her bedroom or to worry about the fact that she’d confessed her love for him and he hadn’t returned her words. “The only thing left is to hang Zane’s artwork,” Bethany said, approaching her. “Are the pieces in your car?” “No, he’s going to bring them.” “When? The caterers are already setting up food, and people will be arriving soon.” In other words, he should have already arrived with them. Julianne’s stomach flipped. He should have been ready to leave the house minutes after she had. He’d set aside his concerns about his reputation and his brand and assured her he’d take care of bringing the sketches. He’d asked her to trust him, and she had. She still wanted to, but why wasn’t he here yet? An art dealer she’d had lunch with last week entered through the front door. “I know I’m early, but I’m hoping to sneak an early look so I can call my clients and give them time to decide how high they’re willing to bid. Julianne looked at Bethany. Her friend raised her eyebrows in return. They had nothing to show. Julianne hadn’t questioned Zane’s offer, but the only reason he’d shown up yesterday was to stop her from selling his work. “I’ll call him. He’s probably on his way.”

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“We’re not allowing any sneak peeks,” Bethany said to the dealer. “But I have been given free rein to taste test what the caterer brought. Come join me.” Mouthing “thank you” to her friend, Julianne hurried outside with her cell phone. After the second ring, her heart tripped. With the third ring, she squeezed her nails into her palm. At the fourth ring, Zane’s voicemail kicked in with an impersonal request to leave a message. “Please tell me you’ve had some sort of emergency and you didn’t spend the past twenty-four hours playing me for a fool. Call me back, Zane, please,” she whispered. She depressed the off button and then dialed the landline at her house. After the standard wait, the answering machine clicked on. She closed her eyes. “Zane, if you’re there, please pick up the phone and talk to me.” Silence. She rested her head on the rough brick wall of the building. Although frustrated and betrayed he hadn’t kept his word when she’d trusted him to, his silence wasn’t the end of the world. She’d run home and pick up the sketches herself and have them at the school in time for the auction. If he didn’t eventually return her calls, then she’d know their night together had had nothing to do with love and memories, as she’d believed. Then the trepidation and heartbreak closing in on her would be warranted. For the next few hours, she had to deal with the practicalities of turning the auction into a success. After the last guest had gone home and the proceeds had been counted and deposited, she’d figure out where she stood with Zane. No other cars were parked in front of her house as she pulled up. She jogged to the front door and twisted the knob, but it didn’t turn. Fumbling with the key, she let herself in. Although she returned home to an empty house every day, today it felt abandoned without Zane inside. Focus on the auction. People were counting on her. The pictures needed to be hung. Dealers were waiting. More were coming, and they would become more impatient by the minute. She jogged through the kitchen and down the short hall to her bedroom, hitting the light switch at the same time she reached up to grab the first frame from the nearest wall. It wasn’t there. With her hand still above her head, she twisted toward the next wall. Bare.

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She turned in a slow circle, surveying the room to make sure she hadn’t stepped into the wrong one by mistake. But, of course, she hadn’t. She staggered and then sank onto the neatly made bed. All four walls were bare. The pictures that meant more to her than any other possession, that were her ticket to keeping art alive in her school, were gone. Zane’s clothes and shoes were gone. The rumpled sheets from their night of pleasure had been smoothed into place. The room held no sign Zane had ever been inside it. With the gifts he’d bestowed on her in the past gone, she had no physical proof he’d ever been part of her life. And she had absolutely nothing else to offer her students and the future of the Regret Hollow High art department.

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Chapter 8 Julianne slid down the edge of the bed to the floor. After years of lying dormant, her love for Zane had burst into full bloom again. Even though he hadn’t said so, she’d thought he’d begun to return her feelings. She’d dreamed they could finally have their happily ever after. She’d dared to hope she meant as much or more to him than his art. Like so many heartbroken fools before her, she’d believed what she wanted to see. Zane hadn’t duped her. She’d duped herself. She’d lived through the heartbreak before and would somehow survive it again, although at the moment she couldn’t see how through the pain engulfing her. But her stupidity would cost so many others. Without the money the pictures would have brought in, the school mural would be sanded down and painted over. The art department, including her job and the students’ beloved art club, would be axed. Closing her eyes, she lifted her phone and typed in a familiar set of numbers. “Can you pick me up and take me to the school? I’m in no condition to drive.” “Where are you?” Wyatt demanded. “My house.” Her head too heavy to hold up, she laid her cheek on the carpet. “On my way. Are you hurt? In danger?” “Just a broken heart.” Her throat stung with the effort to speak. Her brother swore over the receiver. “What’d he do?” “Took his art and left. I have nothing for the auction. The kids were counting on me, and I failed. I trusted him. I thought he loved me. I hate when you’re right, Wyatt.” She couldn’t help a tiny smile despite her misery. Her family always had her back. “Maybe I’m not. Hang on. I see his car in front of his dad’s house. I’m going to stop and talk, and then I’ll pick you up. I can scare anyone away, but Zane didn’t scare away last night. He didn’t act like a guy who cares more about his art than you.” She appreciated her brother not rubbing in the I-told-you-so. The hope that Zane might not have left town and had lost track of time while reuniting with his father propelled her to fix her makeup and head out the front door. She stepped onto the driveway as the police cruiser pulled up.

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“His car was there, but he wasn’t,” Wyatt said, offering her his arm and helping her into the car. “Len wasn’t quite sure how long before Zane returned for it, but he didn’t run off with your sketches. In fact, I think this will be a blessing in disguise.” She tried to cling to hope, but knowing she wouldn’t get her department the funding it deserved and wouldn’t teach her students next year plunged her into an ocean of despair. She had nothing left to stay in Regret Hollow for. But, unlike last time when Zane had walked away, he hadn’t asked her to leave town with him. He hadn’t given her the option of choosing a life with him. ### Inside the school, more people had arrived, but the wall where she’d intended to hang Zane’s work remained empty. She had nothing to show the professionals who arrived willing and eager to open their wallets. Except, she did have something. She straightened. The auction had never been all about Zane. If it had, she could have taken his offer to buy back the art and canceled the event. Her students had created fantastic pieces that deserved notice and recognition. Whatever her personal crisis, she was a teacher called to advocate for her students’ education and future opportunities. Throwing back her shoulders and pasting on a bright smile, she plucked a tuxedoed gentleman and a woman in a power suit from the buffet line and led them to Marco’s complex red painting. While Marco anxiously questioned the collectors about his color choices, townspeople ate and returned for seconds. Tammy Pritchard-Sterns bid on a finger painting of the football stadium, only to be immediately outbid by the president of the PTO. Wyatt placed an outrageous bid on a pink shoe collage he had absolutely no affinity for. God, she loved her brother. The auction wouldn’t cover the entire budget shortfall, but her students would get the supplies they needed. She could ask the PTO to consider chipping in to save the mural. Maybe she could even persuade the school to keep her job if they reduced it to a part-time position. She could apply to teach art classes at nearby park districts and maybe offer

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private drawing lessons in her home to fill her personal financial gaps. “Hold the door open.” Julianne snapped around at the sound of Zane’s voice. Marco and Wyatt rushed toward the glass doors. Marco held the door as instructed. Two men she’d never seen before came through the open doorway, wielding an oversized canvas, at least eight times bigger than the sketches from her room, covered with a drop cloth. “Where do you want this?” one of the men asked. Across the room, Bethany directed them toward the space reserved for Zane’s art. Although she should lead the effort and discover what plans the men had for the mysterious canvas, Julianne couldn’t focus on anything but the fact that Wyatt had gone out the door after Zane. She had no clue how to keep the peace between the two men she loved, but she couldn’t allow another fight on her conscience. Outside, the men stood on the ramp of Len’s Landscaping trailer, gazes on a second covered canvas, rather than glaring daggers at each other. “Hold it by the corners,” Zane ordered, disappearing inside the trailer. “Keep the wrapping secure. If you have to set it down, rest it on the tops of your shoes, not the ground.” “Got it. I’m ready when you are,” Wyatt said, sounding amiable rather than murderous. Walking in tandem, the two men approached her, the bulky covered canvas between them. “Julianne.” Zane sent her a dazzling smile. Her throat too dry to form words, she could only tip her head in acknowledgement. She’d been so sure he’d bailed on her and they were over, but he was here, not only acting friendly but like they shared something special, something she’d already assumed he’d thrown away. “My phone is completely dead,” Zane continued. “Seems I had other things on my mind and forgot to charge it last night.” He winked. “Can you knock off the lewd innuendos? I don’t have an extra set of hands to cover my ears while I’m carrying this thing,” Wyatt snapped. They might not be best friends, but they were bantering, a far cry from coming to blows. Julianne couldn’t comprehend her brother’s attitude reversal, but she sure wouldn’t

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question it. “Keep your hands on the canvas, and I’ll buy you earplugs for your birthday,” Zane shot back then returned his attention to her. “Would you do me a favor and call my dad to let him know I brought his trailer back? He can pick it up here at the school if he’s in a hurry to have it returned.” “Sure,” she croaked, stepping aside to let them pass her. By the time she finished the call and returned to the cafeteria, everyone had crowded to the side of the room reserved for Zane’s art. Instead of trying to shove her way through the crowd, she stood on an empty bench at one of the tables to watch. One of Zane’s men roped off the immediate area around the covered canvases. Under Zane’s direction, Wyatt, Marco, and a few others positioned the canvases until Zane was satisfied. Then Zane carefully removed the wrappings. The crowd gasped, but she couldn’t peel her gaze from Zane to focus on the canvases. He was so capable, so self-assured, and everyone—townspeople and professionals, alike— was in awe of him. Finally, she tore her gaze from him to the art. Under any other circumstances, the bold, daring paintings would have taken her breath away, but Zane had already stolen it with a simple wink. He faced the crowd, his gaze seeming to touch everyone but her. “As you can see, these aren’t the old original sketches you were promised. Those have no commercial appeal and won’t ever become available to the public. But if you want to own a signature piece of Zane DeMonde art full of bold strokes and unconventional lines, now is your chance. Bid generously. All proceeds go to the Regret Hollow High School art department.” Finally, he lifted his eyes and gave her the slightest of nods. Her shoulders sagged. She must have misread the wink outside, just as she’d misjudged the importance he placed on not selling his art. If she’d contacted him when she’d started planning the auction, might he have donated the pieces to begin with? She’d never have thought so. But by not initiating the dialog, she’d disrespected him and come close to damaging his reputation. No wonder he wouldn’t acknowledge her claims of love when she treated him so poorly. While the locals stared in awe or conversed with each other, the collectors, dealers, and agents combed through the contacts on their phones, snapped pictures, and made calls. Zane’s manager, Ken, fielded business questions from the art professionals.

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Zane ducked under the crowd-control rope and joined the audience. Within seconds, he was inundated with questions from the gallery owners, students, and community members about the type of paint, brush techniques, and colors he’d chosen. After answering the questions, he removed the focus from himself by steering the crowd toward the silent auction tables. As he studied each piece, he asked the students about their brush and pencil techniques and perspective choices, treating each work as if it were just as important as the pieces he’d unveiled. And they were. “You still love him.” Wyatt approached her, taking a seat on the bench next to her. “I never stopped.” Her heart felt like it might burst from love and pride over his actions this evening. “I wasn’t right about him. In fact, I was very wrong to come between you two. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “It’s worth a lot, Wyatt.” He squeezed back. “For him to unveil and sell two brand new paintings and donate all proceeds to the school—damn, he’s got to be crazy about you.” She bit her lip, wishing she could agree with her brother’s assessment. But she couldn’t get her hopes up, not when she knew better. “I think he’s still doing damage control to protect his art reputation. I was really stupid to jeopardize it and assume it wouldn’t upset him or matter to him. He’s worked his whole life to build his name and his brand. I can’t blame him for walking away from me after the damage I nearly caused.” Pointing fingers or not, she couldn’t stop hurting, though. “I don’t think he’s going to walk away from you. If he does decide to leave, I expect he’ll ask you to leave town with him.” Despite wanting to share Wyatt’s optimism, the fear of building her hopes only to have them crushed stopped her. “If he asks, I’ll say yes. But even if I leave, I’ll only ever be a phone call or text away. I wouldn’t ditch you. You’re my favorite brother, you know.” “Your only brother.” He elbowed her. “Thank goodness. I don’t know what I’d do with two of you.” They laughed, and, equilibrium restored, although still anxious, she rose to mingle with the crowd. Within seconds, students and community members surrounded her, congratulating her on her amazing coup of bringing in the latest Zane DeMonde art. No

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matter how much she protested, they seemed to believe she’d planned for this to happen all along. Throughout the next hour, the fierce bidding from art dealers and collectors took her breath away. By the time the auctioneer bellowed “Sold” on the second painting, Zane’s art had brought in more money than she’d dreamed possible. “Congratulations on keeping your job,” Tammy muttered, brushing by her. “Although why you’d pick it over him, I have no idea.” For the first time, she found herself in agreement with the other woman. Across the room, Zane and his business manager packed up the paintings and talked delivery arrangements with the winning bidders. Community members and gallery owners paid for their silent auction winnings and collected their new artwork. Wyatt held up two pen-and-ink sketches and the shoe collage for her approval. “You won’t be giving me crap about my bare walls any longer, but you do have to help me frame them so I don’t ruin them.” “Deal. Are you leaving?” “Somebody has to make sure all these artsy-fartsies keep their lead feet in check as they drive away.” He winked and sauntered off, approaching Zane with his hand outstretched. She was too far away to hear their words, but their body language appeared not only cordial but comfortable, as well. After the exchange, Wyatt left the school. Neither man clenched a fist or glared daggers over their shoulders, giving her hope she’d never have to choose between her man and her family again. If she still had a chance with the man she loved. The caterers packed up, and the auction volunteers finished tallying and collecting the winnings. As the last of the guests departed, Julianne pulled a ladder from the janitor’s closet and peeled away the streamers and banner spanning the cafeteria. Zane approached and covered her bare calf with his hand. “I need to talk to you, and I’m going to be extremely distracted if I have to attempt it while looking up your skirt.” Too aware of his presence to be startled by his touch, she couldn’t help smiling. “If that’s your argument to convince me to come down, it’s not really effective. I like distracting you.”

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But she took a step toward him. As much fun as a sexy flirtation would be, they needed to have a serious conversation. “I was wrong not to consult you about selling your art and in assuming your feelings about it didn’t matter. Of course, they did. I tell my students every day to pay attention to how they feel about their work. By taking away your right, I basically slapped you across the face.” “I owe you an apology, too. When I asked Dad to borrow his trailer, I was looking for something big enough to transport the canvases on short notice, but it required a lot more packing and insulating to protect them during transport than I anticipated. By the time I realized how late I would be getting them here, my phone was dead, and Ken and the others were meeting me here in a separate vehicle.” Legs shaking, she descended another step. Zane held out his arms. Still two steps from the bottom, she dove against his solid chest and wrapped her arms around his neck, letting his strong arms engulf her. “Did you take the sketches and painting from my bedroom to your studio?” Even though she’d planned to part with them today and she was happy they were talking through the misunderstanding, her heart ached at losing the precious connection. “No, they’re in your guest room closet. I want you to keep them. They’re my gift to you and a symbol of us, even if you don’t think there’s an ‘us’ anymore.” She pulled back far enough to meet his gaze. “I always think there’s an ‘us.’ I want there to be an ‘us.’ I’m not turning my back on my family, but I’m willing go anywhere with you if you want me.” “You don’t need to go anywhere. I can come to you. I won’t take you away from your life here.” “What about your life?” “I want my life to be with you. I can paint anywhere. Well, as a practical matter, I’ll have to rent a studio or a warehouse or something because your house is beyond tiny, but I have a business manager to help me manage the details.” “You would move back to Regret Hollow?” She never would have asked him to, never imagined he would consider it. “Without a single regret. I might even enjoy redeeming my bad boy reputation.” He framed her face with his hands. “I love you, Julianne. I know it’s way too soon to talk about

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marriage and making our relationship permanent, but that’s what I want when you’re ready.” Her heart swelled. “Too soon? Are you kidding? I’ve waited fifteen years for this.” He bestowed a tender kiss across her lips. “We won’t waste another minute.” No, they wouldn’t. “What do you think of a couple’s art project?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never done one. I don’t think I’ve even heard of one.” She grinned. “That’s because I’m making it up on the spot. Don’t worry about your reputation. This will be for our personal enjoyment only.” “That’s enough to get me onboard. What did you have in mind?” “I want you to paint us in this exact position, while I draw a matching pencil caricature to add to our bedroom art collection, as gifts to each other. What do you say?” His eyes crinkled at the edges. “I say our life together will be a full color, larger than life, Zane and Julianne original masterpiece.” She clasped his hand and pulled him toward the door. “We have a lot to do. Let’s go home and get started.” “Before we work on these gifts, I need to open a more personal gift. I’ll start by removing your dress.” He waggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated, naughty leer. Desire skittered up her spine. “The best part is you can keep unwrapping it and enjoying it for forever.” “You better believe I intend to.” Zane would always be her bad boy. And she wouldn’t want it any other way.

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The Bad Boys of Regret Hollow series continues with…. The Bad Boy’s Guilt Nicole DeMonde expected to regret her idiotic high school mistakes as she returned to her hometown for her brother’s wedding. She didn’t expect to regret renting the little red sports car at the airport. Steam or maybe smoke rose from under the hood, morphing into a billowing cloud as she tried to restart the engine. Her already jumpy stomach turned a sickening flip. The town hadn’t gotten the name Regret Hollow for nothing. Shoving her thick auburn hair over one shoulder, she rummaged in her purse for her cell phone and dialed the rental company. After suffering through ten minutes of apologies, she tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and stared at the house three doors up the block. She’d only intended to drive by and check out the place where her lying ex-con father lived. Instead, she’d practically stopped in front of his house. He’d be the last guy she’d ever ask for help. She could call her brother to rescue her. Although Zane had begun to deal with the baggage Dad had saddled them with, she couldn’t ask him to pick her up in front of their old man’s house. She could, however, walk to the church and arrive early for the rehearsal. Better yet, she could walk to the bed and breakfast where she’d be spending the night, check in, and then ask Zane to take her from there to the rehearsal. So, walking was the new plan. On the bright side, maybe she would drop a pound or two before she squeezed into her maid-of-honor dress. Tugging the hem of her tailored navy suit to counteract its tendency to ride up her thighs, she grabbed her laptop bag and phone and stepped out of the car. After another glance at Dad’s house, she yanked her carry-on suitcase from the trunk as a police car cruised by in the opposite direction. It flipped on its blue and white flashers then swung in a U-turn and pulled behind her broken-down rental. The officer who’d lived a couple of doors down when she was a kid had always been

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nice to her and her mother. If this was the same guy, maybe he’d give her a ride. She squinted at the bright sunlight reflecting off the windshield but couldn’t see inside the vehicle. The cop opened the door, dipping his head as he stepped out, but his full head of dark hair assured her he was too young to be her former neighbor. His chiseled face came into focus, and her stomach plummeted. If her dad was the last guy she’d ask for help, the man approaching her placed a close second. With her brother marrying his sister, she’d expected to see him tonight. While she played maid of honor to his best man, she’d planned to be cool and in control. Now she stood alone and helpless with her colossal high school mistake. Broad shouldered and clean-cut in his crisp, blue uniform, Wyatt Truman swaggered toward her. “Car trouble?” “Apparently. Fixing cars was never my thing.” She resisted the urge to tug on her blazer and cross her arms. Instead, she jutted out her hip, inviting him to check out what he’d lost his chance to hold all these years, rather than give away her vulnerability. His hooded hazel gaze swept down her body. She cleared her throat. He snapped his focus to her face so fast she couldn’t miss the twin flashes of guilt and lust. Served him right. He could look this time, but he couldn’t touch. “Is the car out of gas?” he asked. She pinned him with the withering look she used on businessmen who tried to patronize her in boardroom meetings. “Whatever you think of me, at least give me credit for not being as stupid as I used to be.” He met her gaze directly. “I never thought you were stupid, Nicole.” Well, he still recognized her. Her stomach fluttered at the intimate way her name rolled off his tongue. Damn it, she was supposed to be long over him. Instead, she reverted to the foolish girl crushing on the most popular guy in school. “Something’s steaming under the hood. The rental company’s sending a tow truck sometime within the hour. All taken care of, as far as I’m concerned.” “How soon are they bringing you a replacement car?” “Sunday.” Begging for rides all weekend was not her idea of “taken care of,” but she’d

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cut off her arm before she let Wyatt think she had the situation less than 100 percent under control. “Can I give you a lift?” A car rolled by them, and she tightened her grip on the suitcase handle. The vehicle continued past Dad’s house without stopping, and she relaxed enough to toss her hair and send Wyatt her best full-lip smolder. “That depends. Do I have to be handcuffed in the back, or can I ride shotgun?” “That depends,” he shot back. “Would you like me to handcuff you?” She needed to laugh off his flirtatious advances to prove she’d conquered those silly schoolgirl feelings that had led her straight into his arms fifteen years ago. But she couldn’t laugh. She couldn’t produce a single sound. She might have underestimated her raw attraction and his magnetic personality, but she wouldn’t forget how he’d taken what she’d once pathetically, willingly offered and then left her without a backward glance or a single explanation. Her heart would never be vulnerable to him again. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

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About the Author Sara Daniel writes what she loves to read—irresistible romance, from sweet to steamy and everything in between. She grew up in a small town and was once a landlord of two uninvited squirrels. She has no regrets about turning her back on her accounting degree to write romance, but she deeply regrets her inability to keep track of her car keys. Subscribe to Sara’s newsletter: http://eepurl.com/rx_AL Visit her website: http://www.SaraDaniel.com Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/SaraDanielSaraShafer Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/SSaraDaniel