 
What Readers are saying about The All Series...

"I absolutely can't put Marie's books down, WONDERFUL, I get so lost in her books and can't wait until the next one comes out after finishing reading one, great writer." Lisa Baggett

"But because of the characters I loved and the intense story line which is keeping me guessing all the way through I would definitely recommend this story and can't wait to find out what happens next." Reviewed by Bethany United Indie Book Blog "Rose's Book Snobs"

"In the beginning, the story line was a little hard to follow. I felt like there was too much going on and too many characters involved. As I delved in deeper, it became more and more intriguing, the mystery, the twists and turns...Who would Breesan choose? I became addicted to the story and all of the characters involved and couldn't stop reading. Finally finishing the book, I read the excerpt from Book 2 and I just can't wait to continue this story!" Linda

"I can honestly say that this IS the best book I have read this summer. It covers everything I could ask for in a book: thrilling, mystery, drama, and of course, ROMANCE!!!" ~ booknerd (review of Be All on Amazon)

"Well I will not lie that when I started this book I didn't know if I would like it boy I was wrong. This book is filled with suspense, drama, and love." ~Lisa Petty (review of Be All on Amazon)

"This book!! This book had me reading at every chance I got. I could not get my head out of the story or the characters. I love a good story that has twists you don't see coming and an angst filled love triangle. This book had that in spades. It was a roller coaster ride for discoveries and mysteries. I couldn't get enough." ~Novelgrounds (review of Be All on Amazon)

"I don't know where to begin. This book is amazing the thought and effort put in to this is mind blowing!" ~Rebecca (review of Be All on Amazon)

"Wow!!! Just absolutely freaking amazing!!! I fell in love with the characters and want to know more. Reading is one of my passions, and when I get into a book, it's like I'm part of it. This book got to me so much." ~Christina Barajas (review of Be All on Amazon)

"I really liked this book. The characters are hateable, loveable, frustrating, perfect for each other, yet NOT. It had the right amount of intrigue, thrills, aggravation, honestly, and pain. I fell in love with Marcus and Tristan." ~Carolyn Isherwood (review of Be All on Amazon)

### BOOKS BY MARIE WATHEN

BE ALL

ALL IS LOST

ALL THIS TIME

WORTH IT ALL

NOVEL GROUNDS ANTHOLOGY, ALL OUR LOVE: NO DETAILS

NO DETAILS (THE ONLY EXCEPTIONS NOVEL) SHORT STORY

BE ALL

(All Series, Book 1)

A novel

By

Marie Wathen

BE ALL

By Marie Wathen

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2013 Marie Wathen

All Rights Reserved

Second Edition

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the owner. Excerpts for reviews – only when stated as such and quoted – are an exception.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Resemblance to actual person, living or dead, events or locales, are entirely coincidental.

Editor: Taylor Kent (Taylor K's Editing)

Revision: Pamela Snyder (PS Editing) & Dorothy Baker.

Published by Marie Wathen 1426 HWY 59 Vincent, AL 35178

Cover Art Design: Covert It Designs

### Dedication

This book is dedicated to my grandmother, Mildred DeStafino, for being the strong, independent role model who inspires and drives me to be a better person. If not for you, I would not be the woman I am today and I thank God for every moment I have with you.

### Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

About The Author

Excerpt All Is Lost

### Chapter One

Breesan

I'm broken, but who isn't these days? At the age of five years old, all hope for a normal life disappeared. While most little girls were playing with dolls, having their moms braid their hair, and finding friendships that led to happiness – as well as heartache – my life began to shred apart. Like ribbons in confetti, my heart is literally strands floating in the air from death, loss, and cruelty.

I was born eighteen years ago in Willow, a small Alabama island in the Gulf of Mexico, the day my mother, Casandria Maxwell, died while giving me life. Five years later, my father, Captain Brendt Maxwell, was captured while on a friendly military deployment and remains missing and the government won't confirm if he's alive.

My secluded life here on Willow Island, with my stepmother Julia, is what drives me to move to the University of Miami at the end of summer. The farther away I can get from her, the better. We are not close. She tolerates me, and at times she's proven to be cruel. Never physically that I can remember, but rather emotionally, which is sometimes worse. The hardest part is that she absolutely does not love me. Most days I hate the life destiny dealt me.

Destiny...what a joke!

Webster's definition of destiny, in essence, is a series of predestined trials, otherwise known as 'shit happens'. It leaves you thinking, "Now what?" For me, fate is an isolated existence, some call it loneliness. At a young age, after getting kicked on my ass, I learned that being alone is best. Life has done nothing but teach me that I'm undeserving of emotional connections. Without exception, I have lost every person who has ever loved me.

When others are involved, I become a victim of destiny's twisted design, following an unknown course determined by it. And that just isn't an option. Not wanting outside elements controlling my heart and emotions, I chose to put my defenses up and fight – controlling destiny on my own terms.

Building an impenetrable wall to block out love, from friendships to men, will keep me safe. Blocking love is a genius idea, and I can only hope people don't judge the way I deal with my life. Truthfully, no one has a clue what it's like. I need this wall's protection like I need air to breathe. Hindering access to my heart is easy. I deny friendships and don't date because I'm not looking for true love. I know it exists. I just don't want it. Finding it, only to lose it, would kill me.

Pathetic I know, but I have no choice.

If only you could glimpse inside and see how broken my soul is, you would understand and agree with my terms. The risk you take with your heart when you love someone isn't worth the pain the empty void leaves behind when you lose him. Abandoned after the loss of my parents, along with deceit by so many others, I face events in my life that I refuse to re-live. Fabricating this wall prevents attachments, offering a safe place for my easily broken heart.

A long time ago, I promised someone very special that I would live for myself, and only for myself. For the past thirteen years without my dad, I can say I've done a good job keeping that promise.

With limited access to my solitary world, there is one person who won't give me the damn seclusion I so desperately desire.

"Breesan!" Anna yells, frowning as she glances at the pile of clothes strewn around my bedroom. She stands in the middle of my room with one fist jammed on her hip while the other scrubs across her forehead viciously.

"Can't I just stay right here?" I beg stretching across my bed lazily. I was completely ready to climb under the covers and sleep this freaking night away. Unfortunately, with her being here, sleep isn't likely to happen. She's determined to be the bane of my existence, forcing me to go on a dumbass blind date.

"Tristan will be here soon." Huffing, she pierces me with deep annoyance. "You've tried on eight different ball gowns and, of course, you've hated every darn one of them."

The fact that her boyfriend, Tristan Walker, will be here any minute for our double date matters very little. Unconcerned with his impending arrival, I prefer watching her get twisted with agitation over my procrastination so I joke, "Yeah, they make my ass look fat."

Ignoring my comment, she pulls another lame dress from my closet and holds it out like it's some sort of prized possession. Quirking an eyebrow while placing the dress on the foot of the bed, she silently dares me to make another smartass comment. I smirk back teasingly, but keep my mouth shut.

"It's nearly seven o'clock. We're running out of time here, so please tell me that you're not stalling just to get out of going tonight?" She glares at me, her mouth set with an unbecoming pout. Deep frown lines pop up between her eyebrows, indicating that she has a clue that I am doing all of this on purpose. "That is what you're doing." Her rage begins to rise for intentionally making us late. Hands clenching, she digs her fingernails deep into her palms before throwing both hands in the air and storming away into my bathroom. "I should have expected this from you. My god you drive me insane. Literally, I'm going berserk and it's your fault," she whines.

Anna is famous for being melodramatic and today is no exception. She's unhappy with me for purposely delaying tonight's plans. But I can't stress how much I would love to get out of this absurdity.

"Is that so? Well, if you're so crazy maybe we shouldn't let your crazy ass out in public." Continuing to provoke her bad mood, I'm disappointed when she doesn't snap back with a quick retort.

Truthfully, canceling dinner would be amazing. It's not like her relationship with Tristan hinges on this one stupid blind date. She's locked in for life with him. But if, by some strange turn of events, they broke up, she could easily find a replacement boyfriend.

Noticing how nice she looks tonight, I feel a momentary pinch of jealousy.

Describing Anna Knight as gorgeous is a severe understatement. She's tall, at five feet ten inches, with the perfect not-too-curvy body, but just enough to make the guys go bananas. Her eyes are the shade of coffee. Loose waves of dark blonde hair cascade down to her waist and are styled perfectly for tonight's dinner. Her flawless skin glows with a very expensive sunless tan shade of café au lait, making her a damn bombshell. From her perfectly plucked eyebrows down to her buffed and painted toenails, she is a well-tailored woman, an absolute goddess.

With full scholarship offers from every top Ivy League school, she is a bona fide genius, but her gifts are not only limited to high intellect. She's also a skilled athlete and has an exceptional flair for fashion. Anna has dreams of working in a Paris fashion house after graduating college. Lacking in the patience department doesn't diminish the fact that she is the total package.

Thinking back to our childhood, I can vaguely remember a time when I actually allowed and wanted our friendship. She was practically like a sister. Born not quite a year after me, Anna lives just down the road from my house. Like me, she is also an only child. However, unlike me, she's always desired siblings. Prior to elementary school, we spent nearly all our time together, growing closer each day. That is until my dad's disappearance, when my stepmother put a sudden stop to our friendship. Julia's hurtful directive made it easy for me to begin constructing my wall. Anna was the first person I shut out, quickly followed by everyone else.

By my choice, I didn't participate in any school activities or community functions. I ecstatically avoided every social situation, making myself an effective ghost at most times. However, my illusiveness painfully backfired on me in middle school. Ludicrous rumors about me, my family, and my secluded life generated quickly because of my preference for hiding. After a nasty incident with a mean girl, Julia briefly considered homeschooling me. It had infuriated her that I was drawing attention to myself, as if I had any control over what other people thought and said about me. Realizing that homeschooling would require her to spend more time with me, she quickly squashed that idea, which honestly was smart. Neither one of us could stomach the other.

As I entered high school, Julia begrudgingly permitted Anna to hang around, and Anna took full advantage. She got comfortable with the idea quickly, happily letting herself into my house whenever she wanted. I found her waiting patiently in my bedroom every day -- watching television, messing around in my closet, or listening to music. Oddly, it was as if she didn't want to be at her own home, which made no sense. Unlike me, she had the perfect family life, so her needing to hide at my house confused me.

Besides being a pain, by always being stuck up my ass, Anna's only other problem is that I can't always trust her to be truthful. She says and does things that she thinks I want to hear so that I'll be agreeable. Ugh, that shit really gets on my nerves. I constantly ask her not to lie, but she continues. Most of the time, I call her on it too. After a lifetime of arguing with her about lying and begging her to leave me alone, I finally cave. Now just because of that one freaking moment of weakness, she believes that we're best friends for life.

"Tristan is expecting you to go through with this date," she declares, emphasizing her point by pausing to flash an award winning, overdramatic, and uber serious expression.

"Could you be more specific as to why Morgan needs me as his date?" Narrowing my eyes, I warily await her explanation, or rather her lies.

"Come on! Morgan doesn't really know anyone here, Breesan. He was born here but lived in England most of his life. During the summers he visited Willow." Desperation saturates her voice. "And you..." Halting midsentence, she turns, staring at me pitifully. "Please, just do this for me." Her whiny voice triggers an irritating sensation that runs down my spine. Stalking around my room, she chews on the skin beside her perfectly manicured thumbnail, a notorious telltale sign of hers that indicates she is frustrated or hurt. Suddenly, I feel a little bad about picking on her.

Just a little.

"If you go through with the date, you will be doing Tristan a huge favor, one that he will feel completely obligated to repay," she bargains dramatically.

"He's going to owe me big time. I'm not dating his cousin for nothing."

She replaces her frustration with a fake smile, and as soon as she changes her tactics, my shield goes up. "You know, Tristan says Morgan has never been on a date before." Studying her face, I see her expression shift drastically. The soft skin under her eye begins twitching, and that's when I know she is lying. "Uh...can you imagine a hot, twenty...one year old, uh...sophisticated man who um...grew up in England who has never dated?" She stammers through this implausible explanation.

No, I don't believe it, but I don't care enough to ask why. I shake my head in disbelief as she stammers through more lies.

"Did I tell you I ran into him last week at Tristan's grandparents' house? Anyway, he is so pretty. Like GQ model pretty." Unimpressed, because looks aren't everything, I roll my eyes, "He has always been cute but oh my goodness honey. He has short, wavy, dark brown hair that sticks up in the front like all the hot guys are wearing. I would honestly have to invent a word to describe the shade of his eyes; green just doesn't do them justice. Um...what else?" she taps a finger to her chin, while resting her elbow on her other arm, wrapping it loosely around her waist.

Frustrated and needing distance from her and this mind-boggling bullshit, I retreat into my closet and squat down on the floor, delighted with the severance. Unfortunately my solace doesn't last because she follows, continuing to tick off her top selling points of all things wonderful about my, apparently, perfect date.

"Oh, well I don't have to tell you that he's charming. After all, he is a Walker, and they are masters at being cute, lovable, and captivating. The best part..." she pauses, and I hear the hopefulness in her voice. "The hottie is your date!!" She giggles, trying to lighten my mood, "Whoa Mama! Breesan Maxwell is going on a date with a true hottie!" she adds melodramatically.

Peeking out from my closet, I glower at her with disbelief. Did she just say "Whoa Mama?" She looks up, wiggles her eyebrows and catches my puzzled look. Stifling a laugh, she covers her mouth with the back of her hand as I roll my eyes again, something I seem to do more of when she's around. She clears her throat, attempting to regain her composure, and I can't help chuckling at her silliness. Somehow, I manage to hide it from her because I refuse to encourage her bullshit tactics.

"Anyway since you are my bestie, who for some insane reason doesn't like dating and just barely tolerates all guys, I know you are the perfect choice as his date tonight," she says with finality. Why does she think I'm the perfect choice?

Downplaying her excitement and completely uncertain of what the hell she means by that statement, I offer a noncommittal shoulder shrug, and she growls. I know this nonverbal form of communication pisses her off, and that's exactly why I do it. I pat myself on the back internally while I watch as her level of frustration jumps to DEFCON 5.

"Why do you always do this?" she snaps, her eyes taking on an icy glare.

Good question. Sadly, the answer lies locked down deep inside my broken soul, never to be revealed to anyone. She continues rambling at a sound level that only dogs can hear now, and I am no longer listening. Honestly, when she starts talking about boys all I hear is "yada, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah, this, that and the other."

"Breesan!" she yells, trying to get my attention.

Oh shit! My head to snaps up and I find her standing at the entrance to my closet snapping her fingers intentionally. This, she knows I hate it, and she's doing it on purpose. I know it's payback for antagonizing her, but what a bitch. Consumed with indignation, she crosses her arms, and arches an eyebrow, all while staring at me. A strange thought passes through her mind, and I see the sparkle in her eyes fade.

"Really Breesan, are you listening to anything I'm saying?" She releases a long, defeated huff before loosening her fists and dropping her hands to her sides. Barely holding her head up, she walks away pitifully.

Sarcasm, being my usual tone when she sets me up, suddenly doesn't seem appropriate. I lose my bad attitude and choose to pacify her. I answer softly, "I've heard every word."

"There's really no pressure on you." Turning her head slowly, she stares over her shoulder at me. With a dejected tone, she whispers, "Tonight is simply about showing Morgan a fun time in Willow."

Staring at my wrenching hands in my lap, I freeze from her sincerity, feeling like such an ass for behaving so badly. Now she's finally being real. I wasn't expecting this approach, but I was afraid it would happen eventually. And now, I feel guilty. Watching her walk away, I realize that I don't deserve her attention and especially her friendship. She's always too good to me and I'm such a shitty friend. Why do I care?

Her final coercion method works on me. In the end, my own inadequacies, plus not wanting to hurt her, leaves me doing the right thing. Looking up, I see that she is staring at me through the mirror while fingering a stray lock back into her French twist. It must have popped out during her meltdown. I offer her a smile, but she doesn't reciprocate.

Being so focused on her going on about my date for the past half-hour, I suddenly realize the misery in his situation. If any of what she's told me about him is true, I can't help but think about his tragic life; gorgeous, but reclusive. Is he really so pathetic that he can only get a date with the one girl in town who despises dating? For his sake, I hope that Anna's lying.

Intent on seeing her cheer up, I resume digging through my closet again, searching for my damn stilettos. It's a giant walk-in closet, overflowing with trendy jeans, shoes, and accessories. However, my favorite part of this closet rests on the back shelves.

Two full walls, floor to ceiling, stacked with every concert t-shirt known to humanity. I have a freak obsession with collecting them. It's strange and sad to admit, but it validates me. If I have the shirt then I was really there in that moment, proving I exist. Existing means that I have survived a lifetime without the kind of love that most people share: love of a parent, a lover, or friends. I actually think that I've done a pretty good job of it because I don't love anyone, not even Anna.

It's a sad thing to admit, but it's the truth. When others would have crumbled from the lack of love, I survived it; true survival, not just existing. As much as I want to escape life and all the pain it offers me each day, I refuse to be weak.

Weakness is a mental deficiency that I can't afford. I found an outlet for dealing with destiny's bullshit while maintaining my sanity. Exercising is my drug of choice, and literally my answer when everything goes wrong. In addition to a twice-daily five mile run, I joined the gym in the city center. There, I attend boot camp a few days a week and recently implemented tabata into my routine, talk about a workout. But my absolute favorite workout is boxing. In a sport like boxing, being a small woman is irrelevant. The key is constant training, and I put forth the effort like it's a job. Mastering it recently, I'm in need of a new challenge. Next week, I'll have my first class in learning the art of Brazilian jiu-jitsu. I can't wait.

If everything were as simple as exercise and conditional training it would make life a lot easier. I could tear down the wall. Perhaps then I might be willing to open my heart for love. Honestly, even by admitting this, I know it would have to be a love so rare that it makes me feel worthy, because right now I don't. But if it was a love worth fighting for, I would definitely choose it. The truth is, I know my true survival will one day depend upon that type of love. My heart aches for it, but terror always denies me. Luckily for now, I haven't met that person yet.

I'm waiting for him.

Wow, what him? My mind just traveled a pathetic path, led by my stupid heart. Feeling ridiculous, I decide rather than continuing to daydream that I'll just focus on the task of finding my damn heels again.

"Ah ha, found them!" I holler, hoping to calm her slightly, but she ignores me. "Wow, I thought for a second there that I had lost my best heels."

My perverse game of procrastination is Anna's cause of stress. Shamelessly, I must admit that watching her like this is fun stuff! It's not like she doesn't deserve it a little. She is involved in this whole ridiculous plan to get her pathetic friend a date. Hell, she's probably the mastermind. But this is not just any old date; it's a blind date with Tristan's cousin, Morgan Walker.

Apparently, Morgan moved back to Willow recently. According to Tristan, his cousin will follow up his college career by starting his graduate studies at Stanford in the fall. I guess that I can believe Anna's story about him being hard up for a last-minute date. How lucky is it that the honor falls on yours truly? Kill me now!

Dressing elegantly in designer gowns for a welcome home party, hosted by Tristan and Morgan's family, is more than a 'fun night out' and Anna knows it. The celebration is being held in the main ballroom at the illustrious Renaissance Castle. It's a really big deal because everyone on the island will be in attendance. Anna's just trying to make light of the event to keep me from freaking and backing out on my promise.

I have a bit of an anxiety disorder. Really, it's just that occasionally I panic, pass out, or make shit up in my head. On that last point, she calls me "worst case scenario girl." Little does she know, I am currently in the midst of a minor episode. I really want to hide in here all night and avoid looking like an idiot.

Resigning on being a bitch, I tell her, "Okay, Anna. I know you love Tristan."

I watch Anna's face brighten with a grin and instantly feel better. "And I lo –"

Holding up my hands, I interrupt her remark, stopping her from saying those three words that I can't bear to hear. "As I was saying, going on this date with his cousin will make you happy, and it will help out Tristan, but I have agreed to this one and only date with Morgan. So I need you and your boyfriend..." I stretch out the word sarcastically and she snorts, "To understand, I'm only doing this because no one is expecting a second date. Everything is cool. So, yes, I am still going with you on this damn date tonight." She releases a very long held breath.

"We understand," she promises, giggling.

At her acknowledgment, I slip into the ninth dress of the night. Standing in front of the full-length mirror together, we grin, satisfied with this selection. I swipe light pink gloss over my lips, squirt perfume behind my ears and then smooth a hand over my long, dark chocolate hair, which is pulled into a side ponytail with a black vintage hair clip. Lastly, I step into my heels.

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be for my date with Morgan Walker."

Truthfully, I'm not entirely opposed to dating. I just don't want to fall in love. It scares the shit out of me to give one man that much of myself. I know that Anna means well, but on more than one occasion, she has attempted and failed at hooking me up with guys that she deems 'just perfect'. They were just as she said which made them safe. Because I'm not worthy of perfect, I never let them get close.

In my eighteen year, I have had a couple of crushes. I am somewhat a normal girl. My most recent crush was on Garrett Sanderson, a cute guy that works at the bookstore in town. I was attracted to him and for once eager to go out. We went on a total of one date. It turns out he only wanted to date me because of a stupid bet. His coworker, Elle, a really hot and ditzy barista, bet him that he wouldn't ask me out. They're now dating and living happily ever after. I'm over it and my heart is still safe, meaning what he did doesn't hurt me. That's really all that matters.

However, I'm not sure that I will ever get over my first crush. I admit that most would say that at five, I was too young to understand love, but I disagree. I understood the love that I had for my father at that age. So really, what's the difference in loving a boy at that age? His name escapes me, but ours was a relationship made prior to my catastrophe. I met him while he was on vacation one summer in Willow. Too soon, unavoidable circumstances ended our time together. I wish with all of my heart that he could have stayed. Sometimes I still miss him. It's illogical, yet for some unexplainable reason, the fallout didn't destroy what I feel for him.

Anna will never know about either crush. I know that she loves me and wants me to be happy, but it is difficult for her to understand that being single is a commitment that makes me happy – it's what I choose.

Walking slowly, she approaches me with a suspicious curl on her freshly glossed lips. "You know you really are the best! I love this dress and your hair is amazing, but something is missing." Her smile grows wicked and her brown eyes sparkle with a golden hue. "Oh! I know. This!" she answers teasingly while uncurling my hand and placing a pair of black diamond drop earrings in it.

She is always giving me ridiculously expensive stuff. Usually it feels like she is trying to buy me off, but not this time. These earrings are mine. It's a silly little game that she started years ago. When either of us has something the other likes, we simply say, "Ooh, I like that," and the owner of the property must relinquish the item, forever.

Glancing in the mirror, I slip my favorite earrings in and check my reflection one last time and smile back at her, smiling at me.

"I can't believe you are home all summer," she confesses. My heart leaps with her whispered excitement. "It's going to be the best summer eve. Except for all the great times you'll have with me, what are you doing to keep yourself busy?"

"I have no idea," I lie because Anna doesn't need to know my plans.

The last summer that Julia allowed me to stay home, I had been a child. At the age of five, she started sending me around the world. She claims it was to broaden my horizons by learning new skills and languages, making me more valuable in the workforce, and worthy of a good husband – nausea and shivers attack my body at the mere thought of the last reason. But I know the real reason that she didn't want me around and none of that is it. Now that I'm an adult she has no authority over me and I refuse to leave home this time.

Beyond the fact that my father was a soldier and Julia reminds me constantly how his commitment to our country meant more to him than I did, I know nothing personal about the man. So this summer my plans are to research my father's family history. Secretly, I'll sort through his personal belongings to learn the truth about him and where I come from. The one person who knows everything is a nasty, evil soul and refuses to discuss him. Claiming it is too painful having the reminders of her loss so close, she packed away most of his things in our attic and the rest she stores in a warehouse near the docks. Lucky for me, she leaves soon to sail the Mediterranean for a couple of months' vacation, offering me the perfect opportunity to investigate while avoiding her hostility.

Julia claims that she loved my dad with her whole heart and says that when the military told her that he was missing, and possibly dead, her heart died with him. Her sorrow and concern is a disguise, hiding the truth to people who don't really know her. She never actually loved my father.

Only I can see through her charade.

Besides the fact that she never talks about him, I honestly don't think she's capable of love. When I was young, I wanted him home to sing, or read bedtime stories, but instead of consoling me, she would tell me to stop being so selfish, or she would shout at me just to go to bed. Eventually, I would end up succumbing to her demands and cry myself to sleep. She's gone as far as forbidding me to mention him, claiming that she misses him so much she can't stand to hear his name.

All of that was brutal, but pales in comparison when she told me that it made her sad looking at me because I bear a resemblance to him. Except for having his eye and hair color, there are no other similarities between us. Silent tears streaked down my face when she took kitchen scissors to my waist length hair, roughly chopping it in an ugly, short bob. That was nearly ten years ago. Standing here in front of the mirror, scrutinizing my features, I don't understand how she could react so harshly.

I don't remember exactly what he looks like; fading memories and one very old picture are the only things I have left. Days after the memorial service, one that she insisted we hold without confirmation of his death, she packed away all photographs of him, including the ones from my bedroom. Only two remain: the forgotten one, on the desk in his study, and my hidden one. I think she leaves the one in his study out for appearances, in the event anyone was to ever visit – no one ever does. My secret picture is safely tucked away from her wicked, tormenting clutches.

Wondering what my father would think if he was to see me tonight, looking all grown-up and beautiful, I smile a bit because for the first time ever I look unbelievable. Since I spent the afternoon at the salon, where my personal miracle worker slaved for three hours coaxing, waxing, and camouflaging me so well that I don't even recognize myself now, I expect nothing less.

It's incredible how different I look from my usual no makeup and hair down all frizzy, or pulled into a tight ponytail. My standard everyday attire is a comfy pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and running shoes, adding a scarf occasionally for going out.

The masterpiece I chose to wear this evening is a floor length, white with black satin, trimmed with silver sequins halter top gown; a spectacular creation for someone so unexceptional. Four-inch black and silver stilettos finish off what Anna calls a 'romantic look'.

Unlike Anna, the fashion goddess, I play dress up and always end up feeling so uncomfortable. I don't like the attention it draws from men when I dress this way, although, I've never looked this beautiful before. Typically, guys are not instantly drawn to my normal look. I'm cute but nothing extraordinary.

My skin is porcelain pale, I'm short at five feet and four inches, and curvy, but it's mostly muscle. The only exception that sets my looks apart from being completely average is my striking gray eyes. I'm seriously fine with being average, and I say that with confidence because it doesn't bother me to go unnoticed by men.

Dating is a distraction to so many girls, and right now that isn't an option for me. So I do what I must to avoid attention by downplaying my already plain looks daily. Unfortunately since I agreed to tonight's date, I must dress the part and look like something out of a Disney fairytale.

Anna's mother, a buyer at a top department store, is the reason I own a dress of this magnitude. For years, Anna has been sneaking fabulous items into my closet. I have the latest in fashion, from dresses and jeans to handbags and shoes, practically everything she can get her hands on she crams into my closet. She makes me her personal make-over project every opportunity she can, and I hate it. Finding something appropriate to wear for tonight's event isn't an issue, but for me to actually feel comfortable in it is a whole other story.

Anna lets out an awkward laugh drawing me out of my pity-party. "I knew you were only messing with me about not going tonight. All the time and money you spent at the salon should have tipped me off, but your crappy attitude had me so frazzled that I forgot you went this morning."

The doorbell chimes signifying Tristan's arrival, and I say in my most saccharine filled tone, "Let the fun begin." Turning on my heel, I face a proud Anna wearing a silly smile, forcing another eye roll from me.

### Chapter Two

Breesan

Overly animated, Anna practically bounces down the hallway toward the front door with me in tow. I get a good look at her and as usual, she looks beautiful. Her dress is a strapless aqua gown with an empire waist that she's paired with glossy patent leather black heels. She is dripping with diamonds and in one word, she is stunning.

Throwing open the door swiftly I am nearly trampled as Tristan leaps passed me, grabbing Anna around her tiny waist and snuggling her into his arms. After swinging her dizzy, he draws her into a sweet embrace. Gingerly, his large hands move to stroke the sides of her face, careful not to damage her hair and makeup, while his eyes travel down from hers to her lips, greedily.

Slowly, he lowers his mouth to hers, claiming it in a smoking hot kiss, not desperate just demanding, but worshipping. Her hands find their way around to his back, clutching tightly. After several searing moments and awkward sounds – awkward for me – they slowly part. Her bright smile is infectious, and I find myself grinning like a fool while she continues staring deeply into his eyes. They really are precious, but at the moment I feel like I am intruding on a private lover's moment.

Tristan Walker, aka BMOC: Big Man on Campus, or because he picks on me relentlessly like a brother would his sister, I like to think of him as Big Meany (who should be) On a Catwalk. Swoon. He is hot. Honestly, he is the most beautiful man I have ever seen. His hulking six foot tall frame, dark blue eyes, square jaw line, and dark copper hair streaked with dark brown low lights and sun-lightened tips are just the tip of the iceberg on the beauty of Anna's boyfriend. His athletic physique is sculpted perfection – muscular with wide snuggly shoulders and a big chest. He has a sun kissed tan that's not overly done. And if possible, he looks even better now than when he dresses casually. Dressed in a black double-breasted suit with a white shirt, and no tie, Tristan is in Anna's words – yummy.

A brilliant and goodhearted man, he too exudes perfection. People like Tristan because he genuinely cares about everyone. One of my favorite qualities about him is his protectiveness – he's possessive, yet gentle. But, I'll never admit how much I actually like him having my back.

Once he lives out his college football dream, he plans to work in his family's business that specializes in alternative methods for sustainable island living. With all of the amazing things about him, he's still sad at times and I think the source is his family commitments. But I don't ask and he doesn't discuss it. From the things that Anna has shared, I know that his dad has some disturbing control over him that causes Tristan major distress. I hope he can overcome it because he really deserves happiness.

Tristan and Anna are the perfect couple, matching in amazing good looks as well as generous personalities. Although they have only been dating for five years, Tristan has been in love with her most of his life. He is completely devoted to Anna, and in his opinion, no better woman exists for him. His affections for Anna are so dreamy – if you're into things like that, which I am not! I don't have false hope that I'll ever have a love like theirs. Dreams of true love are nonexistent in my world, a fact that I am perfectly content with. If I were to date, I would choose guys who share my beliefs and purposely avoid romance – not that they would get sex from me either.

Tristan lifts Anna once again before gently returning her feet to the ground. Then, with a soft kiss on her cheek and one to the tip of her nose, he whispers reverently, "Sweetness, you are so beautiful. And you're wearing the dress I like you in." Anna's cheeks burn with a rosy blush from his compliment.

"You've never seen this dress before babe, it's new," she corrects him.

He grins bashfully, "I know."

Oh my god, that's seriously the most romantic thing I've ever heard.

She kisses him this time and then they stare lovingly into each other's eyes while holding hands, oblivious to the world around them. Clearly forgotten, I clear my throat hoping they'll stop this nauseating display.

"Thank you, babe," she replies. Her tongue slides across her bottom lip nervously and she runs her hands over the hard planes of his chest. "You look simply delish in this suit."

With a big dumb grin plastered on his handsome face, he glances over her shoulder at me. "Wow, Breenie Weenie, you look great too." I smile at his compliment even though he calls me a nickname. After knowing each other for fourteen years, he refuses to use my real name, but I won't let him see how much it aggravates me when he sticks me with another new stupid nickname. I don't think he does it maliciously. It's more like an annoying habit that he does with all of his friends.

"Thanks Tristan. You look so handsome. No doubt you two will be the most beautiful couple at the party, perfect as always." Uncharacteristically blushing at my compliment, he shrugs his large shoulders and jams his hands into his front pockets.

Stepping close, his voice is low and serious when he replies, "You know I owe you big time for agreeing to this double date. Morgan has been here for three weeks and I couldn't get him to hang out once, and believe me I tried everything." He shakes his head like he just doesn't understand his cousin's problem, "I even suggested taking guns out to the range to do a little target practice. Five hundred rounds of major firepower to blow up shit is a great option for letting off some steam. He blew that idea off for some reason and I haven't seen him much since."

Blue eyes that usually sparkle with life darken with gloom and he sighs. "Hey B, uh – if he is a little withdrawn tonight I hope you don't take it personally. He's been busy with family stuff and sometimes –" His words stop abruptly, he chuckles to himself while regarding me for a moment and then he says, "Ah heck, who am I kidding? I'm sure it doesn't matter to you anyway."

He's right. I don't care if his cousin says one word to me or even looks my direction once tonight. I actually prefer he doesn't, so that there are no awkward moments or attempts at being social. I don't need his attention, and I don't want his friendship. Unfortunately for me, the party is in my date's honor so I'm sure there will be plenty of talking and required dancing. I guess intentionally neglecting him the entire evening would be rude. Damn, what have I agreed to?

Huffing out a breath, I whine, "Can we just go already?" Opening the door, Tristan allows us to exit first. After I step out the door, he flashes a suspicious smile my way that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.

"Ya' know little B, if you decide the evening is not a total waste and end up liking Morgan I could be persuaded to give you my seal of approval for a second date." Retreating backward away from my reach, he winks before pulling a giddy Anna toward the car. Groaning loudly, I cut my eyes, ready to tell him that he's just ruined the entire night for me.

No pressure is the promise that he made me last Monday when he first mentioned this damn dinner. He practically bribed, threatened, and begged relentlessly until I couldn't take it anymore and caved, reluctantly – to one date. I was certain that I could come up with a last minute excuse to get myself out of the date, but that didn't happen and now here I am.

Why do I feel like I have been betrayed?

Still so much shorter than him, but not intimated in the least, I step up, sparkling high-heels to shiny black dress shoes, while growling through gritted teeth, "Tristan Walker." I point a finger directly at his face emphasizing my point, "If you care about Morgan at all you better hope he doesn't have expectations beyond tonight. I won't agree again!"

Laughing, he backpedals from his obvious mistake while chanting, "No pressure. No pressure!"

Now I just want to slap this man! He's lucky Anna adores the hell out of him, because by default I tolerate him. That's the only reason he was able to get me to agree to this damn double date tonight. I'll just bet that the new guy in town is beside himself with excitement as he waits for his date with the local freak. Poor bastard should be running away. Maybe he's just as pissed at Tristan as I am.

Truthfully though, if Morgan is only here for a short time and doesn't really date, I'm probably the safest choice for him. I won't commit and he doesn't have to worry about me falling like some lovesick schoolgirl. Most likely he is too good for me anyway. Even the bad boys are not deserving of a disaster like me.

Tristan opens the back door of a sleek black limo, allowing me in, followed by Anna. Once inside, he closes the door, sealing me into the vessel that will take me to the stranger that is my date.

According to Tristan, the plan is to meet Morgan at the castle. It is only a five-minute drive from here. However, there is a small path in the woods behind my house that leads up the mountain to the castle, and walking it takes less than twenty minutes. I have made that trip about a thousand times. Julia forbids me from going, insisting that the terrain is too dangerous, but her bossiness doesn't deter my hiking trips. There's something about being there that makes me feel serene, which is a feat in itself.

Sitting silently in the car while avoiding watching the happy couple making out, my phone chirps from somewhere deep inside my purse. It's strange that I'm getting a text right now because the only people who ever text are sitting in the same vehicle with me, well except for Julia. She is at a late night business meeting. Curious about whom it could be, I dig out my cell and scroll through to my text messages. There are three messages from an unknown caller.

UNKNOWN CALLER: MARINER 65 VIKING 74

UNKNOWN CALLER: (J.B Andrews – Hawkins, Sal Red 220p.)

UNKNOWN CALLER: MORE L8R

A game score – maybe? I really don't know what the random words mean or who would send me something like this. Certain that they've texted a wrong number, I delete them all and then drop the phone back into my purse, quickly forgetting every odd word.

The Renaissance castle on Willow Island is every bit as regal, as you would expect. Built in the 18th century, the mansion is an imposing stone and wood structure with the expected mystery and intrigue to boot. It includes two large towers, standing sentinel on each side, and although no one has actually seen it, it's rumored that there is a hidden dungeon within the belly of the colossal beast. Imperially built along the edge of Castle Mountain, overlooking the Gulf, the infamous Scottish royal estate house is rumored to harbor stories of first love chance meetings, sordid affairs, secret rendezvous, and more than once it's been the location for tragic endings.

None of the stories scare me away from a lifelong eagerness to glimpse inside, though. As many times as I've visited the castle grounds, not once have I entered. Even just staring at it from the property line, I know this majestic beauty is the one good thing in this messed up world of mine.

Willow Island is a small barrier island located in the Gulf of Mexico and is a township of Alabama. The island runs near the panhandle of Florida, just south of the Alabama/Florida state line. Access is open at several public dockings along the island's waterfront. Supposedly, the castle has a private port that includes a secret underground passage.

Pink sunsets, turquoise waters, and crystal white sand make Willow Island one of the most beautiful places in creation. With my extensive travels, I have seen some breathtaking cities and islands, but nothing compares to my hometown. Through the trees I can catch glimpses of the moonlight shimmering off the ocean, allowing me to absorb every spectacular detail. The scenery we pass is captivating and while we ascend the mountain, my excitement grows.

Honestly, the castle is the only reason I agreed to this blind date – something I would never admit to them. I can't wait to be inside the one place I have dreamed of literally every night since I was a kid. I have watched many spectacular sunsets from the edge of the castle's property. So many in fact, that if I am late coming home, Julia sends someone from her staff to search the grounds for me. She works with the town's historical committee, as well as for a private board of trustees maintaining and managing the castle. For some vague reason, she does not want me going near it. I just can't help myself. I'm seduced by its magnetism, like a magnet to steel: the more I try to stay away, the more difficult it becomes. Frankly, I don't want to stay away. It sounds weird, but I feel like the castle is part of me, almost like home, always waiting for me to return.

My nerves begin to buzz and a scorching excitement replaces my blood. A fire builds in my stomach, causing strange vibes to radiate out and hiss all over my body. As we arrive, I try to shrug it off before it embarrasses me, but with a cool hand placed against my neck, I know it's exposed through my blushing.

Snapping me from my frivolous daydreams, Anna gasps, "It's spectacular."

Stopping in the circular driveway, our car parks at the entrance, and as we exit I can sense the energy pulsating from Tristan and Anna. Both have genuine smiles on their faces, alerting me that they are excited – for me, not because of the date, but because going to the castle has always been a dream of mine. They are somewhat aware of my feelings, but never once judged me.

"Breesan, breathe!" Anna giggles, gripping my trembling hand and steadying my nerves. She drags me out of the car into the warm summer night.

"Thanks." Releasing a raspy breath, I return her smile and stammer, "I – I'm fine. Really."

She pulls me alongside her, entwines her arm through mine, and whispers with her lips close to my ear, "I am so glad you're here. It's going to be a magical night."

We enter the castle, passing through an enormous set of dark mahogany double doors that opens into a grand foyer. I feel warm even though the stone floor radiates coolness from the night temperatures. Steel colored mosaic tiles are the chosen floor covering paired seductively with deep, rich red drapes trimmed with black braided piping that hang dramatically from the fourteen foot ceiling. In the center of the room is an imposing staircase accentuated with intricately scrolled metal and wooden railings. It rises up in an arch from the left, bowing in and leading up to the right. Just beyond the staircase lies a short hallway that leads to an open circular ballroom – the largest of three.

Allowing me a slow walk around the front reception area, Tristan and Anna stand off to the side while I take in every detail. It's more beautiful than I pictured it in my dreams. Feeling guilty for taking so long, I nod to our escort, who indicates with a counter nod and an outstretched hand that he is ready to seat us. He escorts us quickly toward a large dining area that sits just off the main ballroom. It is a spectacular room with large crystal chandeliers that give the whole room an ambient glow. Oversized ornamental pillar candles burn in glass and bronze basins. Placed around the room, they illuminate intimate areas on the tables, as well as along the dancing area.

The deep rich colorings from the foyer match the table coverings, creating a dark but sexy atmosphere. The dining room is on the far corner of the castle. Large picture windows cover two walls, allowing the moonlight to shine brightly through, and two sets of French doors open to a balcony that overlooks the raging ocean beyond the cliff. Unobtrusive music plays in the background of many boisterous conversations.

We arrive before Morgan, which is a relief. There's nothing more embarrassing than having a stranger watch you while you ogle the surroundings, only to stumble into the usher who abruptly stops walking. Like what just happens to me. Dammit.

With combined 'oomph's', our usher rights himself, and me, and then extends a hand toward our table. Of course it is front and center of the dining area, leaving me to feel like we are on display. The usher briefly looks at me. "My apologies Miss. I do hope you are uninjured." Blushing crimson from my face down to my toes, I laugh nervously and then feel the shade deepen upon hearing Anna's loud laughter.

"She's fine, but I think she may be under the castle's spell." She holds and ominous look on her face while dramatically adding, "Wooooh." Then she bursts into a fit of laughter. With a grimace on his face, our offended escort retreats quickly.

Pulling out Anna's chair, allowing her to sit first, Tristan then repeats the gesture for me. He plops down with an obnoxious groan, reminding me of his grandfather, and I silently chuckle. Leaning in to the crook of Anna's neck, he steals a quick, sensual kiss, and I glance away quickly. The chair between Tristan and me remains empty awaiting Morgan's arrival. Studying it, nervousness blossoms in my belly. I swear it feels like cracked-out butterflies are bouncing around in there.

With a mischievous grin and a clap of his hands, Tristan looks gleefully. "So here we are, ladies. I know that Morgan wanted to meet you in the lobby to escort you to our table, Beanie. I can't imagine what's keeping him." I roll my eyes and sigh at the newest dumb nickname. Picking up a glass of water that sits in front of him, he mumbles into it, "Not a good start, cousin."

"It is fine, Tristan. I really don't care," I admit, glad for the delay and hoping that I can get control of myself before my date arrives.

We sit silent for a few moments, taking in our surroundings, until increasing voices coming from the back of the ballroom demand our attention. Turning my head slightly, I look over my shoulder and observe a small boisterous group, smiling and joking like old friends.

Among the group of five are two very beautiful women. The first is older than me by a few years, dressed elegantly in a yellow ball gown and silver heels. Her olive skin tone and dark curls, hanging down just past her shoulders, are perfectly accentuated by her dress color. The other woman is much younger. The sexy blonde pixie looks to be about sixteen – judging by the immaturity or indecency her attire, however you chose to look at it. The stiff black leather and lace corset gown stops high above her knees, exposing black garters attached to her jet black pantyhose. Not to sway from her color scheme, black stilettos with spikes sticking out all over the heels highlight my conclusion – there's no way she's over twenty.

The three men in the group are all styled like they stepped out of a model magazine, wearing tailored suits and expensive shoes. Two of the men have an edgy look, with very noticeable tattoos decorating the exposed skin along their necklines, crawling into their hairline. They have similar features: dark blond hair tinted with red and a fair complexion. From this distance, I think I can detect freckles, too. The other man, the most handsome of the three, has a darker complexion and wild, wavy brown hair. All in all...they are divine.

One of the men holds the arm of the yellow dress brunette and it seems, by the way they are touching seductively, that they are a couple. The younger woman in leather and lace has her attention focused on the more handsome man of the group. Leaning in, he whispers something in her ear and she rewards him with a dazzling smile, clearly pleased by whatever he shares. Sliding my eyes slowly over his nearly perfect body, I take in every detail. I may have ruled out men for dating, but I'm not blind. This creature is the sexiest man that I have ever seen.

Making an awkward sound deep in his throat, Tristan startles me. I jerk my head around catching him gesture with his chin in an upward motion toward the group.

"There's Morgan now."

Turning back again, I see the group dispersing and the incredibly sexy man continues toward our table. Please, don't be Morgan. Nervous cracked-out butterflies just keeled over and now I don't know what the hell I'm feeling bumping around in my stomach. Rising out of his seat, Tristan extends his hand in greeting and the man accepts enthusiastically with a brilliant white smile.

Shit that is Morgan.

Like a Greek god, Morgan is perfection. He's tall, nearly two inches over Tristan's six feet, and his lean frame is like that of a swimmer's body. His tailored black suit and white button-down shirt appear to be fitting snugly in all the right places. Approaching us, he looks at our group and a smile breaks across his face that appears genuine. I tell myself that I'm just being considerate by giving him my attention, but truthfully, he is mesmerizing and as shameless as it is, I can't help myself from staring.

"Morgan, I thought you were meeting us in the lobby. What kept you?" Tristan growls while scowling disapprovingly at him.

"Don't be mad, Tristan. It's all good." Morgan grins jovially. Dropping Tristan's hand, he follows up the greeting and casual dismissal by punching him on the arm playfully. Moving past his stone-like cousin to a beaming Anna, who springs from her seat, he leans down, placing a light kiss on her cheek.

"You forgive me, don't you, Gorgeous," he states rather than asks. Biting the side of her bottom lip, she nods then looks to Tristan who is frowning with his arms crossing his chest. He's pissed.

Finally rotating around toward me, his dark green eyes meet my grays and with a spark of light and fire, he reaches for my hand. Lifting it slowly, Morgan never takes his eyes off mine. His lips part slightly, allowing a warm breath to graze over my knuckles, and an unintentional murmur escapes his throat. The sound startles me and I jump.

Tightening his grip when I attempt to pull it away, he presses a kiss lightly to my now shaking hand. I stare at his lips for too damn long, but I can't help myself. They are full and shaped perfectly. Morgan is gorgeous and hot. He clears his throat and my gaze jumps back to his gleaming eyes. Catching me gawking, he smiles proudly.

Offering introductions, Tristan gestures with his hand between us, "Morgan this is Breesan, Breesan my cousin Morgan." Pulling out Anna's seat, he silently suggests that she sit again. Morgan takes several hard breaths, as if to calm down before he speaks.

"Good evening, Breesan. I am sorry for not meeting and escorting you. I really hope you're not too upset with my unavoidable delay. I'm grateful that you agreed to be my date. And may I be so bold to say you are lovely." His eyes travel the full length of my body like a heat-seeking laser beam, halting on my breasts as if he made contact with his target, and it brings heat to flush my cheeks.

Shaking his head like he's clearing away dirty thoughts, he reluctantly releases my hand, just long enough to push in my chair – he retrieves it after taking his seat. For someone described as a recluse and claims to never have been on a date before tonight, Morgan is charming. Except for the one moment of nervousness, he appears comfortable and completely at ease. His behavior and demeanor couldn't be further from what I was expecting after Anna and Tristan's descriptions. I've clearly been conned. I shoot a questioning look at Anna who smiles shyly at me, aware that I've caught on to her trickery.

Captivated by his thumb moving in hot circular motions over my wrist, I realize I haven't acknowledged him. I deliberately withdraw from my stupor and manage to withdraw my hand into my lap, while giving him a 'that will be enough of that business' smirk. He flashes a stupid, sexy smile – one that he knows makes every female melt at his feet. All but me. He is unbelievably attractive, but I won't be taken in by his bad boy charms. And they are most certainly bad.

I grin wryly, ashamed of the unusual attraction I experience upon first seeing him, and in a steady voice I say, "Hi Morgan, it's nice to meet you. Anna wasn't kidding when she said you are a charmer. Apparently, it runs in the Walker family." Averting my eyes to Tristan quickly, who looks guilty as hell, I shoot him a dirty look.

Morgan is a player and he knows that I am onto his game. A shadow passes across his green eyes, showing he understands what I am communicating. Still, I don't expect a man from Tristan's family to be anything other than a gentleman, so I accept his apology for being late and prepare for his performance.

Soon enough our dinner is served. It consists of several courses with very decadent plating's of exotic foods. However delicious this multicultural, infusion-style food is, it's definitely not my first choice. Give me a grilled steak or chicken and I'm a happy girl. I like things simple, including meals. Tonight's meal resembles the typical caliber of cuisine that Julia expects me to eat in formal gatherings as well as at home. We never eat like normal families. Fast food and junk is forbidden and while raising me, she made it abundantly clear that she will never allow me to have anything I enjoy, including food.

Lingering glances from Morgan accompany dinner and at times the intensity makes my nerves prickly – like he's thinking about putting me on a plate. My reaction isn't from attraction. It's because I'm drawing unwanted attention from the large group of friends and family in attendance for being his date. I anticipated this, but it's still unnerving as all get-out. Morgan's eyes aren't the only ones drawn to me tonight – men and women all around the room are watching me. One of the men who came with Morgan sits only a table away and appears to be scanning the room like a lookout. He acts as if he is security for Morgan, continuing to focus on our table throughout the meal. Every few minutes his gaze will land on me and during those moments a silent exchange passes between us. Acting as a soothing balm to my sensitive state, Morgan's presence is more than encouraging, it's warming and I relax.

Visiting our table throughout the night, random family members extend their greetings to their European son. Being a secretive person, I stay out of the public eye intentionally and I'm growing cagey from their suggestive looks. Familiar with most of them by reputation, but not personally, I smile politely, but I'm less than charmed. This is a small island and like any small town in the south, we know everyone's business. It is impossible to keep secrets on Willow.

On more than one occasion tonight, I feel as if I am being scrutinized. They know me and the heartache that surrounds my tragic life. By being Morgan's date, I am not surprised that I attract many cocked eyebrows and nasty glares from the women here. But it is men that gawk openly at me, some to the point of revolting, that add to my uneasiness. I manage to make it through the meal with mild annoyance at the not-so-subtle attitudes toward me, implying that I may be something more than just Morgan's date for the evening. Budding stress in my belly causes my anxiety to increase and soon, I begin a downward spiral into full-blown paranoia.

Tingling sensations begin working from my brain downwards, and uncertain of the source, I become suspicious of everyone. Soon I hatch a conspiracy theory. I'm convinced that prior to tonight's date Morgan has told everyone that I am his new American girlfriend. Not only that, but I have a sneaky suspicion that before the fairytale night ends he's made plans to announce our engagement in a grand public spectacle. A strangled, giggling noise escapes my throat from my maniacal thoughts. Catching the sound, Morgan quirks an eyebrow at me, but I only offer a shrug and a slight head shake. I can't tell him about my crazy thoughts and how it feels like someone or something evil in the room with us is watching, planning and making me jittery. He'll think I'm crazy. It's not exactly a lie, but he doesn't need to know those details about me, or any details at all for that matter.

Frantically, I scour the mass of people, searching for the man responsible for my earlier tranquility, but I can't locate him anywhere. Eager for comfort from the ominous vibe in the room, I begin searching for another person, an unknown person with eyes tracking me, in hopes of finding the source of the danger that my instincts are warning me about. A light sweat forms on the back of my neck and after swiping my hand across it, I tell myself that I'm clearly only having one of my episodes. All I've been thinking is preposterous and it is just another panic attack. There isn't anyone here who wants to harm me – no one knows me well enough to stalk me.

I force my attention back to my date. Except for looking like he might devour me, Morgan makes no indication that he has any interest in me, well not romantically. His hyper-suggestive looks are only about sex. Poor idiot, he can lust all he wants, but he doesn't stand a chance and I think he's finally getting it. At least I hope that's what his frustrated look means. Jeez, I need to get out of here. With my crazy mind-split and his suggestive looks, I have never been so on edge.

"I'm moving into my office Monday," Morgan tells Tristan. "When will you take up space on the top floor with me, Trist?"

Tristan shrugs, keeping his eyes glued on Anna. "Not sure man. I'm thinking about chilling at home this summer. Need a break before classes start and I'm hoping we can hit up a few of our old stomping grounds..." His voice trails off as he directs his attention to Morgan.

Happily, before I can make my quick escape, all discussions between Morgan, Tristan, and Anna revolve around taking a trip down memory lane and the Walker family business, allowing me to silently get my shit together.

Music begins playing as the dessert plates are cleared, and eager couples quickly rise from their seats, crowding the floor immediately. Hoping to discourage Morgan from asking me to dance, I intentionally avert my eyes away from his direction, catching the perfect couple in a full blown make out session. I gasp loudly, shocked by their public display, and Anna quickly breaks away from Tristan's crushing lips. She blushes, but he looks proud as hell.

Escorting a bubbly Anna, Tristan takes her hand and fluidly guides her around the floor. Watching them move together while looking so happy settles me more. Laughing, I watch Anna bump his hips playfully with hers then snake around his body seductively to Suit & Tie.

She has smooth moves unlike her dance partner, but he wisely uses this opportunity to gain some ground with erotic teasing. Placing his large hand around her neck, he runs his thumb over her exposed collarbone, sliding it down her arm slowly and seductively. Reaching her fingertips, he grasps her hand, twirls her once playfully, and then finishes in a deep dip with a lingering kiss. I smile, I can't help it. Their happiness is catching.

Scanning among the dancing couples, I recognize the other good-looking guy with the brunette who also came with Morgan. Swaying in the shadows of the dance floor, they appear to be struggling to retain the last bit of decency in their dancing, but no one seems to notice. Living life to the fullest for one night, everyone is occupied with drinking, indulging, and talking, as though every word is a priceless commodity. I am entirely out of place here.

In my visual roaming, I notice the young blonde and glance toward Morgan, wondering if he's seeing what I'm seeing. She's pressing her body against a muscular man who looks twice her age. He touches her too intimately to be anything less than a lover. It's disgusting and although Morgan isn't watching them, he notices my unease.

"Are you okay?" He's found his voice again, finally, and I startle. "I hope you're enjoying yourself tonight, Breesan." Attempting to lighten my mood, he flashes a seductive grin.

"It's fine," I say wryly still curiously watching the out of place couple's scandalous behavior.

As if she feels me staring, the blonde suddenly glances in my direction. She and her partner pierce me with an odd glare that ignites those damn tingles again. Now this is peculiar. What does her look mean? Staring alluringly at Morgan when they arrived, she obviously has a crush on him and maybe the glint in her eye now means she sees me as a threat. Venturing a guess, I'll bet that Morgan's most likely sleeping with her and if so I don't understand why he would need me as his date tonight. I'm confused by her display with the older guy, though – unless she's trying to make him jealous.

Well, if she wants him, I won't be upset if she can lure Morgan away for the remainder of the night. Formulating a plan, I decide that if given the chance, I may just slip over and suggest that she dance with him...or something. Getting her jealous glare off of me is an easy enough fix, but what of the older guy? Why is he watching me? I don't know him. Or maybe I do, but I just can't place him. Clearly uncomfortable with me observing the man quickly drags her over to the open bar, effectively blocking my view of them. Oddly at that exact moment, my nerves finally settle. Unfortunately, I didn't miss the odd flash in his eyes just before dragging her away.

### Chapter Three

Morgan

Growing up in England and living as a jet setting bachelor is the fucking good life, to say the least. I'm invited to the best parties and enjoy the company of the most beautiful women. Love is not in the cards for me. I tried that route once and failed miserably. Luckily, before I got in too deep the bitch dumped me. Playing the game is more my style.

Honestly, the only worshipping I want from a woman comes while I fuck her and she praises me at the top of her lungs. I love life and all that it entails, savoring every experience that comes my way, but commitments can suck it. At this point a great sex life is all I am committing to. I won't be tied down to one woman and some women just can't deal with that truth. Recognizing that I am narcissistic, I am not surprised when women call me a real bastard.

Moving back to the town where I was born to begin working in the family business puts a damper on some of my extracurricular enjoyment. Becoming successful is the ultimate goal in my life, so I'll adapt. I expect to take control of the Walker Corporation one day not too far in the future so I'll be damned if I let love get in my way.

Joining my cousin Tristan at our table, I am stunned by the beauty of the woman who is my blind date this evening. I mean, literally, I'm shocked the hell out. Expecting something less intriguing than this exotic creature, I brought Waverly, my stand-in sex snack, as backup for later. However, if I play my cards right, which I always do, I will be sharing Breesan's bed tonight.

Breesan Maxwell is exquisite, but she doesn't flaunt her looks, unlike most women I date. She is petite and toned, displaying sexy curves and a generous bosom, almost more than I prefer. Obviously, she makes a point of keeping herself in shape and I'm desperate to discover the lengths of her flexibility. She is sexy, and like most gorgeous young women, I am attracted to her, but dammit something in my game is off tonight. She's not responding to my charm and it's driving me mad.

I've been sitting here all damn night getting hard from dirty thoughts. I visualize pressing into her luxurious little body, and it's confusing the hell out of me. I don't fantasize – I take. Lines are blurring and I'm going out of my fucking mind.

I glance down at my empty glass and blame the daydreaming on the large amount of alcohol I've consumed before and during dinner. That excuse doesn't curtail me from envisioning me wrapping her coffee colored hair around my hand, yanking her against me, and pushing my face into it to find out how fucking soft it is. I'm consumed with thoughts of all the things I could do with that little body underneath mine.

Watching her relentlessly biting on that plump bottom lip, I think it's her way of begging me to drag her out of her chair so that she's straddling my lap and riding me in front of everyone here.

That's it...I've definitely had too much to drink. Not that it would take me getting drunk to enjoy the pleasure of a woman's body, but it is completely out of character for me to continue picturing these sex acts. The uniqueness of this situation is making it hard, damn, I mean, difficult for me to focus on anything, except for becoming familiar with every inch of that soft ivory skin.

To the casual observer she might look ordinary, just your everyday beautiful woman with brown hair, gray eyes and average height, but something about the confidence she displays is addicting and that's what's awakening my libido. Confidence is the sexiest thing a woman can exhibit. If confidence were a flavor, Breesan would be the most delectable, sinful chocolate known to man. Needless to say, as a playboy, I have been with a great number of women and nothing arouses me more than a woman who knows what she wants. An opportunity to taste such delicacies from such a sexy creature could quite possibly be the death of my blissful bachelorhood. Now I'm giving up shit for her? No, hell no!

My curiosity is piqued and there is no doubt that I want her, but seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? Shake it off, I command my stiff friend.

Usually I'm very forward with my actions, as well as my intentions, but for now I resolve to remain in control, especially after Tristan's threats to kick my ass. Keeping my hands to myself during dinner, I proudly succeed at preventing my thoughts from becoming reality. The way I am shamelessly staring at her and appreciating her... uniqueness, makes me wonder about her reaction to me. While curbing my desires to ravish her has been a challenge at times, I pride myself on maintaining self-control, but it appears she senses my inadequacies. Has she actually caught on to my games? Does she recognize my seduction methods?

Through our meal, she tests my cavalier attitude when I steal glances and receive scorching glares from her. Sensing the moment my eyes land on her luscious curves, she glances at me and either smiles or shakes her head at my brazenness. Has she ever been seduced? Is she a good girl? There's no damn way that a striking beauty such as this one has not caught the attention of every man she's encountered. They would be foolish to pass on an opportunity to possess her.

Having her bust me out more than once, I opt to forgo the self-control and become the cad that I really am, blatantly staring at her exposed neck. Studying the pulse hammering out a rhythm, I imagine placing my mouth on that spot, feeling the beat increase drastically.

Possessing her hasn't always been my goal. After hearing about her for years from Tristan and Anna, I was intrigued, but until now it hasn't been possible. Living most of my life abroad, I only return home for the summers, thereby limiting my chances of meeting her. I begin thinking that it would never happen and felt cheated by her not being here every damn time. No, it wasn't a cheat, it was a fucking tragedy. Arriving on Willow Island every May anticipating our encounter, I would be pissed off discovering that the mysterious Breesan Maxwell had once again eluded me.

With my high expectations met and exceeded tonight, I confidently check off step-one in my plan. Next step, keep up the charm to make her desire me, and then take her to bed.

I finally catch a bit of a break from my torturous thoughts when our pain in the ass chaperone escorts his girlfriend to the dance floor. Maybe a little privacy will allow me a chance to get to know my date. No longer keeping her eyes on me, she appears distracted by something, or someone, from across the room. I'll need to do something about that right now, because I want her full attention now that we're alone. I slide my chair closer to hers so that our thighs touch slightly. On contact, heat sears through my pant leg and my pulse rises. Placing my arm on the table, I lean against it and draw nearer to her, finally earning her attention again.

"Are you okay?" I flash a seductive grin. "I hope you're enjoying yourself tonight, Breesan?"

"It's fine," she replies quickly.

Her voice is restrained annoyance so I'm not buying that answer. Proving my point, she straightens her spine and drapes her arms around herself protectively. She slides her leg away from our touch, and for some sick reason that causes my smile to expand. Small talk with her could be more of a challenge than I originally thought. I wonder if her abrupt tension is from our close proximity, or maybe whomever she's watching across the room is to blame. Glancing around to survey the room, I notice a couple near the bar who seem to be the source of her distraction.

Waverly.

Refusing to let Waverly distract me, I touch my hand to the top of Breesan's arm and proudly watch the goose flesh rise on her flawless skin. "I was hoping for better than fine. Perhaps you would like to dance?" Slowly stroking the back of my fingers down her arm, I glance up to see the answer written on her face before she shakes her head no. Responsive and guarded, I need to change my approach before I lose her.

"You graduated with Tristan a couple of weeks ago, correct?" Staring deep into her eyes now, I attempt to coax her into relaxing by steering the conversation toward her.

Learning even the most mundane information will help me make this night enjoyable for her. Tightening her arms across her body, she warns that she is creating a haven and probably battling her flight instinct.

"You are correct," she replies, rolling her mouth with agitation, mirroring her physical tension.

Shifting away, she turns her back to me. Oh, big mistake Ms. Maxwell and thank you. I allow my eyes to travel from her neck, all the way down her sexy back to the edging of the dress, just barely covering her ass. My mouth goes dry simply from the amount of soft flesh bared. Like a thirsty man desperate for water, I savor her like an oasis in the desert. As I devour her with my eyes, I realize that neither of us has spoken for a while. She glances over her shoulder with an arched eyebrow, grabbing my attention with her sassy attitude.

"Which university will you attend next semester?"

"Hmmm?"

Shifting around, I move closer to her, creating a partial enclosure behind her. My legs spread wide on either side of her body and with her back inches away from my chest, I battle an overwhelming desire to take her in my arms and punish her smart mouth.

I reach up to her long, wavy hair hanging over her soft shoulder and draw away a feathery strand, lacing it through my fingers. After watching me she closes her eyes and draws in a slow breath. Her hesitation has me wondering again if she's controlling her body's reaction to my seduction or if she's contemplating a way to escape me. She's so damn difficult to read. Releasing a heavy breath, she shifts her body around slightly and turns her head to face me. I wink at her. Peeking through long dark lashes, she shoots me a sexy ass smirk that takes a quick path straight to my dick.

"If you really want to know, I'm going to my dad's alma mater in Florida," she states proudly, impressing me with her response.

Broadening my smile, I tug slightly on the strand of hair tightly looped around my fingers. She rewards me with a sexy moan and by tilting her head back, exposing the tenderness of her neck. I lick my lips with expectancy and my needy cock pulses in response. I slide forward, closing the distance between our bodies, and press against her backside. She stiffens immediately. Darting her eyes around the room, she's either checking to see if anyone is watching us or searching for an exit.

"Florida, really?" I whisper near her ear. "A sexy young woman moving out of state alone is rather independent, wouldn't you say?" Zeroing in on my target, I move my mouth close to her exposed neck. Just as I place my lips on her sweet flesh and taste, she begins laughing. If a laugh can be sarcastic she successfully mocks me, ultimately disrupting the seduction.

Pulling away from my grip, she calmly snaps, "Yes, really!" Turbulent storms brew in her gray eyes. She is controlled chaos in response to my question. "You can't seriously be questioning my plans? You don't even know me." Huffing out her breath, she draws her chair away from me and turns quickly, her body now directly facing me. Her eyebrows draw down, forming a deep crevice in her forehead. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you just move to another continent to attend college?" She points out my plans with crossness. Is she expecting me to match her equally in attitude and fight with her?

"Yes, I did," I grin, amused by her hostility, "I don't mean to upset you, Breesan. It's just a little surprising that you'd be so independent and driven."

I watch her eyes darken from gray to black and her mouth is now a full pout. She slides her hands over her arms to soothe the prickly bumps my touch causes, or is it from anger? Mygod she looks even better pissed off.

"Care to elaborate on why you chose to return to the states and attend graduate school here over all the famous universities you have in England?" Sarcasm resonates thick in her tone as she baits me. I debate how much I want to reveal to her about why I am really home.

Even though I know I'm risking her leaving now, I don't answer immediately. Instead, I offer a noncommittal shrug, watching as her eyes veil with irritation. So far this evening I have reached one conclusion. Whether it is the innocent melancholy in those gray eyes that is drawing me to her or her expert self-control, both emotionally as well as physically, I absolutely must fucking have this goddess.

"Is there something about the schools here that are better for your plans than the ones you left behind?"

"I have family obligations that required my move. Surely you can appreciate family obligations. Just because it may not be something I want, I still must comply."

"Nice non-answer," she quips, looking intently into my eyes. A substantial heat from her growing frustration and that lovely blush are driving me mad. Mired with many emotions, she averts her eyes. I shift in my seat and glance out toward the balcony, taking a much needed moment to gather my wayward thoughts once again. Couples quickly return from the balconies, escaping the cool night temperatures.

Prior to tonight, I have never even had the slightest desire to get close to any woman on the first meeting. There is a definite chemistry between us that I can't deny. I don't understand the power this girl has over me. Wondering where this will lead, I decide on pursuing her and discovering whatever it is that is obviously going on between us.

I reign in the cad. All that's left now is convincing her that dating me is a good idea. Clearly she's a complex creature. Is she looking for more than what I can offer? What can I offer? Even as the questions form in my head, I know that it's not likely that I can ever love her enough. I'll never love any woman enough.

Tristan says she has specific plans for our relationship after tonight, meaning none. I'll be honest. It's fucking driving me insane too, because women always want me.

Before I can compose myself enough to offer my plan, she stands. "Excuse me, I need the powder room."

"I'll walk with you." I quickly rise, offering my hand to escort her.

Her eyes bore into mine and she immediately refuses. "No thank you."

I watch her walk toward the front foyer in search of the ladies room, or god-forbid, an escape route. Approaching the outskirts of the large crowd, she diverts her course straight toward....

Pausing briefly, Breesan speaks directly to Waverly. Dammit Waverly, you better be on your best behavior and keep your mouth shut. I stand ready to join them when Breesan resumes walking. Waverly flashes a searing look at me in what I construe as amusement. Shit. No good can come of this.

After several panic stricken moments, I watch Breesan disappear into the outer corridor. I think I'm getting a headache. Turning around, I notice Tristan and Anna have returned to our table. I sit back down loudly, pissed off and needing some answers. But these two are locked in a very passionate kiss. I glance around the room briefly and notice that no one is paying them any attention. How long is this kiss going to last? Damn, brother! Polite attempts at getting Tristan's attention fail and after several useless throat clearings, it finally takes a hard nudge in his rib with my elbow before he reluctantly pulls himself away from a full on make out session with his girlfriend.

"Is she always so damn distant?" I demand, done with being tested and keeping my shit so together all night.

Clearly enjoying himself, Tristan straightens his blazer and runs a hand through his hair while Anna pulls out a mirror, checking her makeup. Looking completely mystified he finally turns to me. "What are you talking about?"

"The Girl! Breesan!" I chomp out.

Shaking his head, Tristan shrugs as he pulls Anna's hand into his and looks pointedly at her like he's asking permission to answer my questions.

Frustrated, I continue speaking before he can respond. "Man, I know that I'm fucked up, but I think there's shit that you aren't telling me about her. What or who is it that keeps her so closed off? She doesn't even like answering general questions. I can respect her privacy, because I need it too, but when I pressed for more personal details I saw some rather strong emotions in those gorgeous gray eyes." I smile shamelessly at that last thought.

"She is very private," Tristan grunts, acknowledging my remarks are spot on. "She isn't close to anyone except Anna, but only because she hasn't successfully pushed Anna away. Plus, Anna refuses to give up." He smiles at her. "We've talked about it and agree that Breenie doesn't like the idea of putting her heart out there. She won't risk getting hurt. Truth is Morgy, we think she has abandonment issues. Her mom died and her dad is lost, or more likely dead. And you can't fool me; her creepy ass stepmother holds something over her that is far from motherly love." He sighs. "Morgan, I know you all too well. You have girlfriends all over the world, but now you're home and the entertainment on Willow isn't what you're used to. Breesan keeping you entertained is not something I want happening, she won't be your plaything. More than that, she isn't girlfriend material either. I don't know what's going on in that damn head of yours, but whatever it is I expect –"

Slamming a hand down on the table, I interrupt his rant and laugh righteously. "Damn Tristan, how about I promise not to ravish her here or marry her tonight. Will that help you calm the hell down? I can't believe how uptight you are right now." I point directly at him. "And don't you ever fucking call me Morgy again."

Leaning forward he pierces me with a serious glare. "Morgan. This isn't a fucking joke. She's important to us."

Anna enthusiastically adds, "That's right Morgan. If you want to date her you know that there is some stuff you're going to have to give up. Trust me, she won't agree to go out with you anytime soon, but if you promise not to hurt her we'll help." Contemplating their advice, I nod. Can I keep Anna's promise? Protecting a woman has never been important before. Is it now?

"Okay, I'll agree."

Breesan is indeed an interesting woman, and I'm determined to crack that hard shell of hers because I want to know more. No doubt she's the hottest babe on this island. Obviously there are many interesting layers to Breesan Maxwell. I think I'm ready to peel them back and find the little minx hiding underneath that good girl persona.

Needing to search out my intriguing date, I decide sitting here while Breesan is alone in the ladies' room mulling over bailing on me is a brainless move on my part. Driven by an urge not to let her escape, I leave Tristan and Anna and walk to the entry way.

After not finding her and feeling like I've been marinating in a bin of alcohol all night, I stumble toward the front exit, needing a breath of fresh air.

"Did you lose that pretty little thing to someone else already?" Spinning around, I see a gleeful Ian strolling out of the castle with his date and his brother, Jack.

We have been friends since the night I met them at the gothic club a year ago, the same night I met Waverly. They were chatting up a couple of hot vacationers. Waverly showed up and the ladies couldn't compete with her over-protective-sister personality. She is the youngest of seven children and the only girl in the Collins family. Either they're unaware of what is going on between Waverly and me, or they just haven't let on that they know. Not sure and truly don't give a damn.

"Shut the hell up. She went to the ladies room. I came to meet her and escort her back to our table," I reply, but I'm uncertain if she's even still in the castle. Glancing around, I see the valet is away from his station, apparently retrieving a car for the older gentleman standing there instead.

"Right! If you say so," Ian chuckles, gently rubbing his arm over his date's shoulder. "Listen, we're out of here. It's been great, but I'm taking my date back to my place, and well, let's just say she's going to have more fun once we get there than in some creepy ass castle." He snuggles her close under his arm, making her giggle.

"I like the castle. It's so romantic here," she responds seductively.

"Honey," he says, shaking his head in disagreement, then pulling her closer, "We'll get you back to my place and I'll give you all the damn romance your sweet little body can handle." He breathes the words into her ear, causing her to swoon. Jack and I roll our eyes at his miserable attempt at being sexy.

It's a good thing women throw themselves at Ian's feet simply due to his good looks, because saying shit like that should have him sleeping alone in his bed tonight rather than giving this cougar a night of promised bliss.

Saying goodbye to Jack and me, Ian guides his date out to the parking lot.

Before leaving too, Jack says, "Didn't notice anything out of the ordinary tonight." He likes playing bodyguard when we go out and even though I don't need it, I play along. If he didn't own his construction company, he would be in law enforcement and he'd be damn good at it.

"Thanks Jack. I'll see you later."

Making my way back inside the castle, I walk toward the hallway leading to the ladies room to retrieve my date. Approaching the restrooms, I pass the study and from deep within the darkness of the room, a hand reaches out, snatching me by the arm, and dragging me in.

### Chapter Four

Breesan

After leaving my date sitting stupefied at our table and searching through the crowd, I locate Morgan's companion on my way to the ladies room. Luckily, the creepy older gentleman left her standing alone at the bar on his way out of the castle. However, I noticed him stop at the door and stare at me as I spoke with her, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to rise. From the corner of my eye, I notice as he swipes a hand over his face, removing what looks like a twisted sneer while a look of contempt flashes in his eyes. His behavior is both mysterious and disturbing.

Hoping for freedom from Morgan's seduction and questions, I let the sexy blond know that he is free to dance with whomever he wants. Her occupying him the rest of the night would make my plan perfect.

Guided by a sweet, stocky server, I easily locate the restroom off the front lobby. Smiling while thinking about the gift heading Morgan's way, I stare at myself in the mirror as I stand alone in the ladies' room.

"His demeanor is infuriating, and he shouldn't be able to push my buttons so easily," I say to myself.

Attempting to continue calming my nerves, I take several slow gulps of air then splash cool water on my face, careful not to destroy my makeover. I must collect my thoughts prior to going back out there; otherwise, I might say or do something I could regret. Being in my dream castle, I'm so pleased that it is everything I knew it would be and more, even though this has been a strange evening.

I feel both scattered about being attracted to him, and unhinged at the same time. Yes, I admit there is something appealing about Morgan. He is devastatingly handsome. That's it, I realize. It's merely physical attraction combined with his seduction attempts that's to blame for my foul mood. His skills are decent at best, but I'm not going to fall for him, or anyone – especially after watching the blonde's reaction after telling her that he is available. She was literally giddy. Bless her.

Truthfully, I'm more bothered by his evasiveness. I prefer directness; even if he simply says, "None of your business" or "I'll get back to you on that." Anything beats not answering. Strangely, he appears affected by me too. As attractive as Morgan is, he shouldn't have a problem getting plenty of applicants in the girlfriend role, if that's what he's looking for. He just won't find one in me because I'm definitely not interested.

It's not like I have to worry about the danger of him expecting another date. I already negotiated my way out of a second date. I'm even more convinced now that I have taken a moment to compartmentalize my feelings and reactions. After deciding that the other elements of tonight aren't that significant, I laugh and decide that I will only allow myself to enjoy the rest of the night.

I touch up my lip-gloss and give a quick check to my hair. Walking out of the ladies' room, I spot Morgan lingering at the entrance, staring into one of the other ballrooms. Apparently he turned down my gift, or perhaps the blonde lady didn't know to look for him out here. I sigh.

Well, I guess it's going to be a long night with his incredibly irritating and lame seduction routine.

He's harmless, but nothing bothers me more than an egotistical guy. With Morgan you add elusiveness to the mix, and that leaves him absolutely striking out.

It is only one night and I can handle the likes of Morgan Walker. This will not be complicated with feelings, so it's possible I'll end the night only mildly annoyed.

Gathering all of my strength, I confidently stroll up to him, busily scanning the noisy ballroom unaware of my approach.

Reaching for his arm, I slide my hand through the bend of his elbow and teasingly whisper, "Waiting for me?" Am I flirting?

Startled, he turns on his heel, quickly grabbing me up in his arms. In a flash he has us deep in the darkened corner of the once busy foyer. Our eyes meet and lock in a stare so intense that I feel my world shift under my stilettos. Unadulterated need envelops me in bottomless pools of emerald green bliss, sparking with promises of untold ecstasy that's been dormant in me until this moment. My body trembles at the feel of his warm hands grasping my arms, and embarrassingly my knees buckle.

Wow, he looks – damn, magnificent.

He flashes a sexy smile followed by a promising wink. Buzzing in my head mutes everything apart from us. My heart cries for the unknown as lines blur between broken and love.

Dazed momentarily, I gather my wits and he responds playfully to my teasing question, "My entire life, Baby." His warm breath flutters over my face, a sensation unlike anything I've ever felt saps my good sense.

Without consciously realizing what I'm doing, I softly murmur, "Mm, charming." My words are husky and my body swoons openly, but with strong hands he steadies me.

Oh god, I hope he did not hear that. What the hell is wrong with me?

Desperately, I struggle with holding on to some sense of decency and dart my eyes around the open foyer scanning for witnesses. No one can see us in this hidden space and thankfully our indecent exchange goes unnoticed. What I feel in his powerful embrace is unexplainable and scares the living shit out of me. I'm so wrong about Morgan. Whatever this is between us is definitely more than me simply finding him attractive.

Run.

Twisting to get away from him, I stumble and my body falls back into strong arms that wrap possessively around me like he's claiming me. My back lands hard against his firm chest. Warmth from his large body covers my exposed skin and my breathing becomes a freaking chore. Forcing air into my lungs, another soft murmur escapes from my slightly parted lips and I just want to die. His arms slide around my waist and tighten while he lowers his face into my hair. Hearing a deep breath, I shudder in his grasp, realizing that he's smelling my hair.

What the hell?

"My god Baby, you smell fucking incredible." His husky voice, hot against my prickly flesh, mixes with his sexy words, making our contact scorching. As he says these words, a shiver begins at the spot where his lips lightly graze the edge of my ear and travels through every cell in my body, igniting a new sensation deep within my core. Fiercely holding his arms, I sense an ache for his touch building in me.

Reaching his hand up to my hair, he moves loose strands away from my neck. His fingers tenderly brush against my cheek and an unfamiliar need to lean into his hand becomes my obsession. Before he has a chance to lower it from my face, I capture him and place his warm palm against my hot cheek. Closing my eyes I sense, rather than see, him smile against my hair.

He proudly whispers, "Ah hell, I love putting this pink in your cheeks." Something like need tightens deep within my belly and I whimper insatiably. Soft and warm, his caress awakens a burning desire to have him touch me more. As if reading my mind, he lowers his hand so that his palm slides along my chest then wraps around my throat, dominating me. Yes, please. Butterflies flitter lightly in my stomach under his powerful arms squeezing me as he presses harder against my back. Nuzzling against the soft skin behind my ear, he takes another slow steady breath.

My god he smelled me again.

"Damn Baby," he growls low in his throat and I shiver from the vibrations of his deep timbre as it soothes a profound ache, seared on my soul so long ago.

Renewal of life begs for freedom as his scorching hot lips press possessively against my neck. Needing him to claim me, my head rolls back against his shoulder, exposing so much more than my sensitive skin to him. I feel his teeth scrape and nibble tenderly, roughly and everything in between. Trembling with desire, my hand raises on its own accord to his hair, where my fingers eagerly dig into the velvet locks and I roughly tug him against me.

Still pressing his firmness against my backside, he slowly nuzzles his cheek and nose up and down against my now gooseflesh covered neck. He places the tip of his nose on the soft spot under my ear and greedily inhales a third time.

Oh my god. His sensual action demands a moan, and uncontrollably I comply. He growls satisfied with my response.

He growls for me. Oh, mygod I'm so damn lost to him.

Relishing in his touch, I squeeze my eyes shut and fall into the pleasure of it. I've never felt anything so profound and exquisite. Limbs moving violently together create a hot friction threatening to destroy the thin material of my dress.

Through the tangled chaos that is my mind, I find a hope of greedy consumption and wishes of passionate erosion. Unhinged and wanting him to destroy the darkness of my past, I abandon the demons that rule me and enjoy his frantic desires.

Lustful and needy, one word rushes from my now dry mouth. "Please," I beg, panting and raging.

With my whole body burning, I need more. Without hesitation, he grasps my hand and leads me through the ballroom out onto the empty balcony.

Facing me in the tranquil glow of the moonlight, he releases my hand from his firm grip then slides his knuckles up my arm. Grazing over the gooseflesh his touch creates, he rests his calloused thumb over the throbbing pulse in the bend of my arm. Desire unlike anything I've ever experienced takes over.

Damn, this feels so incredible and it's only his thumb touching me.

Stifling a lustful moan so that he doesn't think I'm a trifling slut, I freeze, lost in the amazing feel of this new sensation. It's overwhelming, intoxicating, and peppered with hardy anticipation. Ever so slowly he moves, slow enough to cause my heart rate to pulse up and my blood slams hard through my veins. His gorgeous grin turns wicked with cruel recklessness.

With his thumb continuing to lightly graze me, he repeats its path along my sensitive skin, torturing me – no he's torturing us. Blazing with desire and need, his eyes reveal his dangerous plan has backfired. Now, we are both imprisoned by the delight of this natural disaster.

"You are so damn responsive, Baby," A hoarse groan escapes his throat and I lick my lips, anticipating more touching, "I can't keep my hands off of you." Need more touching.

Deliberately and with subtle movements he strokes my tender flesh again, testing for the odd sensation. It's not there. This time it's replaced with a humming in my ears, a sizzling under his pressure, and a jolt accelerating my already rapidly beating heart. He is breaking me apart with every stroke and I bask knowing that his torture knows no bounds. I wonder if he feels this way too.

A thoughtful look passes across his face after a few moments and with a purring sound, he asks, "Dance with me, Baby?"

Oh god. He purrs for me.

His hedonistic sounds have my body responding with an urgent desire to please him, all because I want more of his luscious rewards. Realizing that he has spoken, it finally registers that he keeps calling me Baby. Feeling a bitter piercing deep inside from that nickname, I exhale slowly, attempting to soften the ache. Literally strangers at the beginning of this evening, we are now suddenly different, but the affectionate title cautions of an ultimate shattering. My dad's the only person who has ever called me that. Momentarily mesmerized in the memory attached to the term of endearment, I stare and lose myself, locked in his smoldering, emerald eyes.

What was it that he asked me again?

Comprehending his words beyond the nickname, I snap out of my dazing. He wants to dance – no his request is more of a declaration. Linking my petite hand with his giant one, another surge of foreign energy passes between us, my belly begins tightening from the sensation of his possessive hold and my body responds with a soft moan.

He tugs my hand to his chest.

I stare at the spot under our clasped hands and feel his powerful muscles begging me to touch. I fight with all of my willpower against the instinct to squeeze as I lay my right hand on his thick, sculpted shoulder and he leans further into me. Forcing my eyes away from his chest and shoulders, traveling up his thick neck and solid jaw line, I finally rest them on his hooded, sweltering gaze. Taking a deep breath, I send up a silent prayer hoping that I can make it through just one dance without embarrassing myself.

Seeing my anxiousness, he smiles and assures me, "This won't hurt." We look down at the place on my arm he'd touched. "I know you feel this between us, don't you Baby?" he challenges. My breath sucks in and stalls in my throat, a quivering in my stomach contracts violently and when I do reply it's the most embarrassing moment of my life.

"Yes," I moan, a little too loudly for a quiet night, "But I can't..." Barely breathing the words out, a crushing force deep in my soul screams that his bliss will hurt, and reminds me that I must be on guard.

He is dangerous to my protective wall, yet the desire of my body draws me closer to him. My heart rate increases while his warm hand slides up my bare back, tracing the edging of my dress with his thumb. He really needs to stop doing that.

"Shhh, Baby just let me hold you. We won't talk about what's happening between us, we'll just dance, but I need to hold you a little longer." His face is so close to mine that his breath flutters across my eyelashes, causing my breath to stutter and my heart to hesitate.

Holy hell!

Scorching from this man and his words, I silently admit that I'm craving him. Desire is a feeling I have never accepted in prior relationships, and I can't explain why I hunger so.

Mine, a voice sounding like me whispers inside my mind.

I blink rapidly, as if the action will clear the thoughts from my head. Recovering from my wanton behavior, I attempt speaking but my words start as a stutter. "I don't...dance. I mean...I can dance I just...I choose not to with someone who...who can make me feel this. I don't even know what this is, but I suddenly do not want to dance," I confess with mild courage – although the strength in my words is bogus, I pray he doesn't notice.

The music lingers in the air swirling around us on the quiet balcony. It's loud enough to adequately understand the words, yet soft enough that it emphasizes our romantic setting. Absorbing my words, he just stands here, his eyes consuming every detail of my face and fiercely clutching me to him. No movement, no talking, and no dancing. Perhaps he's changing his mind about dancing with me.

Why doesn't he move?

Is there a logical explanation for what is happening between us? Why do I desire him so desperately? He can't affect me one moment, like now, and not at all, like earlier at dinner. There must be a valid reason. Enough time has passed that it feels ridiculous standing here staring at each other.

Dancing with Morgan was not something I desired during dinner, but now everything is different, off. His cockiness is gone, replaced with something genuine, and that terrifies me. Realizing I shouldn't do this with him, I pull hard from his arms, leaving the warmth of his embrace, and turn to walk away. I hear his footsteps closing in quickly behind me. Hot hands land on my bare shoulders, grabbing then roughly spinning me around. He pulls me painfully to him, my chest against his chest, pressing his hand flat on my nude back. A new electrical charge skims from my neck down to my toes causing my breath to sputter. Reacting from this new sensation, I swallow down a quick breath and hope this is not the start of a crazy panic attack.

He moves his face close to mine. "I don't understand what you mean. Please tell me what to do." Frustration dominates his features and mine reflect them. He raises his hand to touch my cheek, but drops it quickly. My eyes bore into his and I see a flash of what looks like fear. He's definitely changing his mind about us.

Noticing his hesitation, I step back and give him the answers he desires. "You don't know me and trust me, you don't want to either. I am completely confused about what's happening between us. You don't have to do this," I wave my hand between the small spaces that separates us, "I just..." I squeeze my eyes shut, unhappy with the thought of what I'm saying but push through, "I think it would be best if we just stop it here." I blow out a harsh breath and look into his beautiful green eyes. I can do this if he will release me and let me walk the hell away.

Forcing away his confusion, he softly counters, "It's okay. I won't make you do anything you don't want to do. But I was honest when I said I want to hold you. And I don't ever do anything that I don't want to," His look becomes hungry and unlike anything I've seen before. I whimper because he's saying the things that I really want, but know I shouldn't. "And I don't give a damn if you can't dance. It's just you and me, right here, right now. You can lean on me and we will dance around this place all night. But I need to hold you, Baby," he demands, holding his hand outstretched toward me.

Yes, please hold me.

Biting down hard on my bottom lip, I nod slightly, allowing a soft moan of ecstasy to escape from my barely parted lips. He responds with a deep breath and draws me brutishly against him again.

Slowly, he begins swaying us to the rhythm of a Jason Mraz song playing in the distance, about not giving up on love. Our nearness is particularity intimate with his hips writhing roughly against mine. My cheek grows hot while resting on his empowering chest. Surprisingly, I love the feel of his body against mine.

At dinner, Morgan appeared fit, but marginally lean and brawny. Being this close to him, touching his powerful shoulders and arms, I can tell that he is not just fit, but he works out, a lot. Dominant heat radiates off this strong man's form.

He's bewitching me. Morgan's charm, flawless body, and the unexplainable sensations I'm experiencing are a dangerous combination. He is perfection.

Even though it's disastrous, I want this which means I'm in so much damn trouble.

Being with him is a risk that will be a terrible distraction. He jeopardizes my plans: living without commitments, sheltering my heart from love and avoiding the pain it creates, and breaking a very important promise. My body heat continues to rise as he holds me like no one ever has before him. Admitting that I want him sexually is easy and something that I can deal with, but what if he wants more?

No, it doesn't matter what he wants, I'm in control and this must remain simple.

But I really want more of him. My body cries out that this is lust, but my mind and soul echoes something else. Because of that absurd thought, the need to escape him intensified beyond anything I have ever felt. Until the song ends, I'll keep repeating to myself that I have a promise to keep. Yeah, that's going to work all right. An internal struggle is pulling me in every direction. One way or another, I have to hold it together – even if it's just long enough to get through one dance.

Calming my mind, I settle into the rhythm of our swaying bodies. I really love the way he moves us effortlessly in the darkness. He invokes a confident feeling that I have never experienced. Something new settles over me. I search my memories for something similar to compare this unfamiliar sensation to; one word resonates loudly in my mind... he feels like home.

Oh that sounds so amazing.

My heart clenches thinking it and I suddenly understand the meaning in all of the romance novels I've read when a character claims that someone, rather than a place, is home. My body and soul recognizes Morgan as my home.

No. My mind goes on alert as flashes of pain assault me.

What am I thinking? I can't stay in his arms like this all night. I shouldn't have even allowed myself these few minutes to fantasize about such stupid shit. He has skillfully charmed me, but I can't allow myself to be the target of his charm bombs any longer.

As interesting as this evening has been, and intriguing as this man is, I am a realist. I am conflicted as hell, but the bleakness of no potential for us weighs heavy on me now. Dammit. I'm the one who demands that we restrict our contact to this one and only night. He's agreed and prior to this dance, we have managed to keep it cool, but this is so far from cool.

I want him so damn bad. I don't know what's gotten into me. For once, I wish that I knew what it feels like to be desired and I want Morgan to desire me more than any woman he's ever held. I want one night filled with love in every possible way without running from my past or future expectations.

You can't have him. Can't I just enjoy a moment in this man's arms? A man who makes me feel like a woman without thinking it has to be about something more. Damned thoughts like this can get me in real trouble.

Oh my god, this is the dumbest thing I've ever felt or done. I'm actually arguing with myself about him.

Needing to focus on something other than us, I glance around the open area and I see – what do I see? It's so dark out here I can't see a damn thing. I can only hear and feel, and all I feel is him. Failing miserably at distracting myself, I groan inwardly at his big arms holding me and his hand caressing my nude back. His fingers digging into me cause goose bumps to rush along my newly sensitive skin. He grips me like he wants to possess me, or like he can't get close enough. Damn that's sexy as hell. My thigh slides between his and I can tell that he is completely turned on by me. Oh hell.

It's a preposterous idea to think I can focus on a damn thing besides the sexiest man alive holding me. Don't let me go Morgan.

Comforted by his strength and reassuring embrace, I actually relax for the first time tonight. Feeling me relent, he snuggles me closer. He's much taller than me, like nearly a foot, but wearing my four-inch heels tonight, my head reaches his chin. His face tilts downward so that his mouth touches the tip of my ear, and I feel his heavy breath, hot on my skin.

Several quick intakes of air fill his chest and I think he is going to speak, but he remains silent. Drawing his face away from my ear, he looks down, longingly and affectionately with the most beautiful eyes. Staring at his succulent lips, I urgently lick mine, wishing briefly that it was him who is licking them. He swallows hard and I force my attention back to his eyes boring into me the entire time. I fight hard, battling against getting taken in by dreamy, green goodness.

We dance across the balcony in a comfortable silence, as if we are completely alone in the castle. Our time together only spans the length of a few songs, but for me it feels like a lifetime because all time and thought is lost in his embrace. Some unknown or forgotten part of me wants to remain right here, right now.

Please, please don't let me go yet.

Unable to form a coherent thought, I'm actually happy that we're not talking. Uttering one word while being held like this by him would cause me to blurt out lord knows what kind of rubbish. It would probably be something monumentally embarrassing like "you're hot." Yes, silence is priceless.

Lazily, his hand begins drawing mind-numbing circles along my spine and this new experience drives me wilder. My breathing becomes labored and when I breathe too deeply his heady scent consumes me. It is cinnamon, sandalwood, and man. I am drunk off it. My heartbeat betrays me when he finally breaks our gaze and I notice a momentary look of stress wash over his face.

He lowers his mouth, his lips grazing lightly against my cheek when he finally breaks the silence. "This has been a very interesting night. You were... unexpected. I wonder if I will ever see you again," he whispers oh so very close to my ear.

I run the thought of us through my mind. Could we spend time together? What would it lead to between us? Friendship, sex, or love, all the things that I'm not prepared for with anyone, but what about him? Helping out Tristan is what this blind date is about, not starting a new relationship. Repeat encounters are not an option.

"No, I'm afraid this is a one-time deal. Soon I will be off to school and you, well you have family commitments." Plastering my best fake smile and swallowing down my desire to retract my answer to replace it with "hell yes, you'll see me again", I continue jokingly, "I release you so you may go forth and date without the awkwardness from the 'first date' pressures. You can now move toward your destiny." I know my eyes betray my words and he notices too, because his confused look reflects mine.

"My first date?" he pauses, contemplating my words, "But, I..." Before he can complete his thought, I hear Anna's voice calling me from the ballroom.

"I think we should get back inside. It's getting late and I have to get up early in the morning," I say breathlessly, hoping he will let me go without argument.

He hauls me back into him and leans in with his lips lingering very close above mine. I can feel his breath, hot and sweet rushing passed my parched lips. His warm hand wraps around the front of my neck, tilting my head backward and forcing my chin upward. Tingles zap across every inch of my body with anticipation of his kiss – wanting it desperately. His eyes bore into mine unwilling to release me until I lick my bottom lip. He immediately drops his gaze, creating a magnetic tension that tightens the air around us and makes it difficult to draw in air.

Looking like he wants to argue against my request, he starts, "I..." Pausing, he takes a controlled breath, squeezes his eyes tight and then returns his gaze back to my eyes. His actions confirm he feels the unexplainable current between us too. But when he continues there's an edge in his tone, "Let's get you back to your friends." Releasing the hold he has on my neck, he places a searing hand on the small of my back and I sigh quietly.

Thankful that whatever mesmerizing link between us will soon come to an end, we return to our table. Shattering my self-control with some strange bondage he has on me, I must remain detached. If I were to allow him into my heart he would consume me, be all I ever dreamed, possess me, and ultimately hurt me.

I won't allow him to have my heart.

### Chapter Five

Marcus

Love will never be an issue for me. Permanently wounded through infidelity and family betrayal, as a result of loving others, I have no vacancy in my heart. Fuck the lot of them! Unconcerned with family obligations, my plans go beyond the small world of the damn Walker Corporation. Working for my family leaves me feeling like I'm looking for something more. I want my life to mean something.

Changing the world and making it better, leaving a positive legacy behind, and helping people, is just the meaningful life I'm living now. Joining the Joint Drug Task Force Division of the DEA last fall was the best decision I've ever made. Becoming the youngest member of our department and moving quickly into undercover work was no easy task. Strings got pulled, and at first they wouldn't budge. Typically, twenty one year old agents aren't brought in on cases the magnitude of this one, but in the end, the department amended their prior order and sent me to Willow.

I was happy for the distraction that work brings to my life because it will keep my focus exactly where it needs to be, on my goals. Pursuing the Gulf of Mexico Cartel back to my hometown has my already overprotective nature skyrocketing and on high alert. Protecting my family will be a priority, even if that includes my backstabbing twin brother, Morgan.

Currently I'm working on the inside with a contact that is one of the cruelest women I have ever met, a woman who would sooner slit my throat than turn against the drug boss she's currently having an affair with. I am constantly watching my back, because I'm not the only person on her crooked payroll and if she catches wind of my betrayal, it could end badly.

Consisting of my three closest friends, our team is small, but we're enough. According to our commander we are a collaboration of the best and youngest law enforcement officers that he's had the honor of working alongside.

Martial arts expert, Kole De Luca, is a four-year veteran Special Agent with the DEA. He's my closest ally in this undercover operation and my best friend.

Our commander, Captain Rhys Bentley is one of the meanest Law Enforcement Officers ever. He doesn't take shit off anyone. I vaguely remember meeting Rhys several years ago when he and Sam, the fourth member of our team, dated. They broke up soon after joining the team, abiding by the department's strict nepotism policy.

Supplying Intel is Sam's primary role and we depend on her for keeping our asses out of the spotlight as well. She's the most important member to me and her feelings reciprocate mine.

Returning home last month with a secure cover and forged credentials, I managed to initially remain undercover and go undetected as a police officer. For my family's protection, I can't have those I care about discovering my current employment status in this unit or my security detail.

The Witch, as I like to refer to her, is deeply integrated in the Gulf of Mexico Drug Cartel, led by the infamous Dr. A., who has eluded the DEA for nearly twenty years. He has been abusing Willow Island, using it as his personal portal to the mainland and supplying locals with the newest man-made drug, Ryske. Although there isn't much documentation on every side effect caused by Ryske, at this time the minimal information we do know is that it is a combination of well-known illegal substances, both depressants and stimulants, mixed with other undetermined ingredients. It is rumored that it has left users with some peculiar mind altering symptoms, both temporary and permanent. Ryske is quickly earning its name throughout the Southeast after a rash of deaths from just the smallest amount of overindulgence.

No positive identification has ever been made on the bastard drug lord, and that's where I come in. My role is to get close to The Witch, work alongside her as security, gain her trust, and then hopefully get in on the operation. Jeopardizing not only losing my job, but greatly increasing the potential of dying or losing someone close, I can't have her finding out about my involvement with the police force. This is my main motivation for staying in character. Nothing and no one can distract me from being successful and assisting my team on bringing down scumbags like Dr. A and his minions.

My secondary job, which came down directly from one of the department heads acting under former A.G. Reno, is keeping the young woman who lives with The Witch safe, by any means necessary. Rumor has it that her protection is a personal favor to said department head and her welfare is of utmost importance. It's unnecessary to commit twenty-four hour coverage on her at this time. Besides, with a team this size we just don't have the manpower. Those orders changed today.

During last night's surveillance, Sam overheard a confirmation order that the girl is to be injured, but not killed. The terminology, "Not yet", bothers me most. With a bulls-eye on her back, her life hangs in the balance and my mission is finding her to prevent the assassin's success. The girl eluded me near the city center today. I hope I'm not too late.

Tonight at the very last minute, I decided, against my better judgment to attend my twin brother, Morgan's homecoming party. I hadn't seen Morgan in almost year and don't anticipate a heartwarming reunion, considering our last encounter ruined our relationship beyond repair.

If it weren't for work purposes I certainly wouldn't be here. However, the guise of restoring my relationship with him presented itself and became the perfect cover story. A damn good guise it is too because I will never trust my bastard of a brother again. Morgan is a manipulator. He exploits everyone and every situation for his own gains. He's selfish, and absolutely no one is worthy enough to change that fact. Morgan pursues everything I have desired with a purpose to possess or destroy. Making it his mission, he plays a major role in annihilating every connection that I hold dear, including the relationship with my parents.

I can't really blame Morgan completely for the shitty relationship between my father and myself. Dad managed to screw it up after demanding I come on board with the family business, which I refused. Not seriously understanding how important that was to him, I soon found my rejection of his offer was nothing compared to his meltdown after discovering the potential for Sam and me. With only the excuse of wanting me to remain in good standing with the family business, he disagreed with my and Sam's general involvement.

Complicated by the strict secrecy of this assignment, our relationship goes deeper than my parents could ever want. However, the heart of our dysfunction is a heated conversation I overheard between my father and mother about Sam. What they said severed our connection without any potential of restoration. Hiding it is imperative, because the ones I love will be destroyed by a long time betrayal. I could never hurt Sam by telling her, so I will take it to my grave.

The things both my father and brother have done are unforgivable, and my doubts about them are valid, but I suppress my hostility and force myself to be the better man, a truly selfless act on my part. Is it an attempt to put some of our past behind us?

Fuck that shit!

With most everyone from the island attending tonight, I expect her here as well. After turning over my car keys to the valet, I enter the castle and take a few minutes to appreciate its true beauty. Working closely with The Witch, I have been here on numerous occasions as her bodyguard. Although I haven't seen a potential threat during any of her secretive meetings, she insists on having me escort her. Being here for the first time at night without her is unusual, and I notice a strange sensation hit me as I walk through the front doors. I'm already on alert for the potential of making contact with Dr. A., but this may be a new threat – possibly the assassin.

Diligently scanning the front ballroom for my beautiful little target, I carelessly allow the most exquisite woman to approach me from behind. Rocked to my core, her touch and audacious flirting startles me. Instinctively, I grab her and yank her petite body into the darkened corner of the front entrance. Immediately, enchanting steel eyes take me prisoner, harness the rhythm of my heartbeat, and then bind my universe to hers. An unusual current that seems to travel from her to me briefly throws me off kilter. It almost feels like déjà vu awareness, but I don't recall meeting this phenomenal creature. And believe me, she is fucking unforgettable.

Holy hell, where has she been all my life?

Not wanting her to think I'm a douche bag for gawking at her, I manage to avert my attention away from her eyes, but fall victim to a tempting, candy colored pout. A sublime shiver rushes all over her perfect figure and I grin thinking that I did this to her. In a wild frenzy, I grasp her by the arms when I recognize that her body is weakening.

Did she just fucking get lightheaded because of our frozen stare or could she see in my eyes how captivating I find her?

Fuck no, that's wishful thinking, dumbass. Women don't shiver or pass out at your touch.

Distracting my mind from such bullshit, I wink with a smile and become conscious of her asking if I'm waiting for her. Some internal, distant voice affirms that I've been anticipating her for an eternity. Hoping that she receives my words as charismatic and not sinister, I angle down to the petite beauty's face, confessing that I have been waiting my entire life. Momentarily dazed, I watch as my breath lightly blows around wisps of her silky dark hair and anticipate a mirroring grin, but instead my reward is an intensely responsive reaction. She fucking moans! Before I can react to the sexy little sound, her body sways and I move swiftly, catching her and balancing her upright.

In the darkness, her eyes shift and a wild panic alerts me that she's making a break for it. Turning, she tangles in her too damn tall heels and begins falling. Before I allow anything to happen to her I seize her body, crushing her against my chest. Seeing the front of her clearly from this angle, I lose myself in the bounce of her breasts with each laboring intake. Her dress dips low in the front and her cleavage is right there in my face. A throbbing begins behind my zipper. Another soft moan from those pouty lips and I can't deny any longer that she's turning me on. But are her physical reactions because she's getting hot too?

Yes Baby, I want you hot for me.

An urgent need to possess her consumes me and my arms instinctively wrap solid around her precious body. Pulling her against me, my face encounters her dark mane and I must smell it. Taking a deep breath, I struggle to keep my shit together because she fucking smells like heaven.

"Damn Baby, you smell fucking incredible," slow and raspy, I manage to speak. While holding my woman as she clings to me, and I slide my lips lightly against her ear like it is a natural maneuver. Needing access to her neck, I gently brush aside the feathery strands.

I've got to get these damn stray hairs out of my way because I need to taste her.

Closing my eyes, I move my hand away to revel in her scent. Pulling my hand against her flawless cheek, a smile breaks across my face when I see the flush and feel her warmth.

She blushes for me. "Ah hell, I love putting this pink in your cheeks."

I'm going out of my fucking mind. I need more of her now.

Hearing her whimper, my hand slowly slides along her jaw line. Dominantly, I wrap my large hand around her delicate, thin neck. Feeling a twitch with our sensual dance, I gather her fully into my arms. Heat from her sizzling back warms through my shirt as I grind into her ass once. Overwhelmingly in love with our contact, and aware that I'm about to come apart, I try to control my breathing against her hot flesh.

I can't take much more of just barely touching her. Can she feel how much I want her?

I growl deeply, "Damn baby." Lobbing her head over my shoulder, she grants permission and I take the sweet offering. However, stealing is what it feels like when I barely restrain myself from biting. Instead, I only graze my lips and teeth. Digging her hand into my hair and scratching her nails against my scalp, she demands that I concede ownership of my body over to her.

I sense she's not brazen, but there's no doubt she's harboring a wanton minx. I feel her backside cleavage trussing my full length and I have never felt anything more amazing. I want nothing more than to rip her silly little dress to shreds, but realizing where we are I must contain my desire for now. Swirling air around us clears the heady fog as I nuzzle against her reddened flesh. Moaning again, I'm mindful that she could easily be mine and I growl, needing to mark her as such.

Unable to leave my hands resting, I lift them from around her waist, edge up her ribcage, and then graze the underside of her full breast. They appear heavy with need. Seeing them straining through her dress and thrusting out, a strong need to sample their juiciness makes my mouth drool at the promise of untouched sweetness.

She feels incredible in my arms and my mind is spinning out of control.

She pants, "Please."

I snap out of the dizziness at her words and scan for a place to take her away from prying eyes. Noticing the empty balcony, I grab her hand and can't move fast enough. Touching her soft arm and seeing the tiny bumps form, at just a graze from my knuckles, I can't help wondering what her reaction will be to a more aggressive manipulation. Wickedness fills me as I stroke my thumb in the bend of her arm, but become entrapped by my own evil scheme. Thrilling doesn't describe what she makes me feel. Needing her body against mine now, I ask her to dance. Crushing her to me, I see how reluctant she is as she cautiously places her hands against me. But damn when she finally does, I become lost in her touch.

Dancing on the balcony just outside of the ballroom even momentarily, I can't explain or understand the familiarity, and dammit if I have ever been more intrigued by a woman before. She is beautiful and her perfect body calls to, reacts to, and molds perfectly into mine, as if she is made for me. After a couple of dances, it actually feels like she fills the emptiness in me. It's as if she is my other half.

Complete.

I am thoroughly fascinated with her, and it's more than just her good looks. She speaks to my soul, in some form of a whispering echo sent out only to return back to envelop me and my entire world, knocking it off its foundation. All I want is to keep holding her all night, longer if possible. Afraid this is another one of my damn dreams, I refuse to take my eyes off of her for more than a few seconds. Remembering my recent fantasy, I groan thinking about all the ways I took another equally beautiful woman. The dream is of a beautiful, but forbidden woman and I'm not allowed to touch her. She's within my reach, but all I can do is graze her skin with my fingertips. I painfully stretch my arm and hand toward her in desperate need for contact, but each night I am unsuccessful.

Tonight on this balcony with her I feel like my dream woman is real. If I could take my damn eyes off the beauty in my arms for a second I could check the area leading onto the balcony and surrounding us to see if we are still alone. I've heard several couples venture out just long enough to confirm the chill in the air. Luckily, the temperature deters them from joining us. From the vantage point of the entryway, it would be nearly impossible for them to see us, hidden in the dark shadows. Now if I could only guarantee, for her sake, that no one would see us.

My nightly fantasies begin to consume my mind.

Within five seconds I can have her fan-fucking-tastic dress draping over the handrail, along with her hands, and wrap her in my arms from behind, then indulge on the feel of her perfect breasts. While I press hard against her ass with my rapidly growing cock, I take hold of her hands with one of mine and brace her against the railing.

Using my mouth, I slowly trace along the outline of her decadent body, starting at the nape of her mouth-watering neck: kissing, sucking, and licking. After giving it enough devotion, she is writhing and melting under my tongue. Moving my hands along her soft curves, I pay special attention in discovering her favorite areas. Those spots will be rewarded with tweaking and teasing, sure to drive her mad with desire that reaches all the way to her toes.

Stopping at those gloriously delectable toes, I taste and nibble until I have her growling my name through clenched teeth. I nudge her sensitive flesh with my nose and mouth back along the same path until reaching her face. Turning her head slightly, so that she's looking over her bare shoulder, I devour that perfect mouth of hers, savoring and taunting with my tongue. Our tongues move as seductively as our bodies on this balcony.

Finally, I allow her to touch me. Spinning her around, I'd force her back against the railing. As she grips tight to my shoulders, I lift her onto my hips. Completely enthralled in our new connection, she releases my shoulders and drapes her head back. In this position, I give her more pleasure than she's ever experienced.

Inserting this irresistible woman into my nightly fantasy makes me smile and I know taking her like that will leave me completely serene. She is mesmerizing and I'm not sure one sample would be enough. I fear that the need to consume her will arise again and again.

Fuck. I'm seriously losing my shit. I'm supposed to be doing a job tonight, but I've let her distract me from finding the girl I'm supposed to protect. What the hell am I thinking?

I want her. I know that with one taste of her on my lips, I will be corrupt and unable to get my needs quenched by another. Only this goddess will be able to please me. She is a wet dream come true right here in my arms. But fuck she seems too innocent for an act like that on a night like this one.

Awakening from my degenerate thoughts, I remember why she's here tonight but I can't bring myself to destroy this perfect moment by asking her how well she knows my brother. I need to leave her, find my contact and do my damn job.

FUCK! How do I walk away from her? I manage to string together a few words that could be considered a sentence, but she has captivated all of my control and I lose myself to her. I'm a fucking mess in her embrace.

"I think we should get back inside. It's getting late and I really have to get up early in the morning," she whispers unconvincingly and shudders slightly. The combination earns her an ecstatic smile from me.

She's only saying this because she thinks it's what I want to hear. Oh Baby you couldn't be more wrong. If she only knew how overwhelming my need is to hold her all night, she would run from me.

I can't do this.

Thinking about releasing her causes my blood to pound in my ears and adrenaline rushes through my system. It's dizzying and before fainting, I haul her against me. With my mouth so damn near hers, I smell her sweet, minty breath and feel the heat on my lips. Dropping my gaze to her mouth, my gut tightens with a lustful hunger. In an attempt to be discreet, I twirl her away from me and release the breath that was crushing my chest.

My words come out as a moan, "I..." Dammit, I try to find the breath that she has siphoned from the first moment we met, but my body is on fire for her and my oxygen has burned out. Sam's face suddenly flashes across my mind and I remember that I must deny myself distractions, and this woman is the ultimate distraction.

Frustrated, I say abruptly, "Let's get you back to your friends."

I'm shaken and the glint in her eyes reveals that she just might be aware of how much power she holds over me. Before she can run away, I possessively place my hand against her lower back, guiding her inside the castle. Once back inside Morgan's extravagant array, I await her directions. Truthfully, blatant sexual attraction aside, I've enjoyed her company. Until this second I never thought to ask her name, but now I am eager to learn it and all that I can about my fantasy woman. Nothing prepares me for the reality of what I discover.

"There are my friends." Smiling at them, she turns, catching me gazing at her.

Glancing up at the group a few feet away from us, stress begins to seize my body when I recognize that it's Tristan and Anna whom she's indicating. Oh Shit!

"You're here with Tristan?" I ask surprised and nearly breathless.

It was her all along, the girl, Breesan.

"Yes, of course I am. What's the matter with you?" She's confused, but it's clear that she thinks I am Morgan.

"Sorry Baby, of course you're here with Tristan. I need to tell you something before we get to the table." Urgently halting our steps just a few feet away from them, I rush to explain the twin thing, but Tristan spots me with her and stalks toward us.

"Sure, OK."

Staring directly into my eyes with intensity of someone disappointed, she wrings her hands with obvious nervousness. Is she afraid? Her distress makes me worry that she will be upset or possibly hurt with my revelation. I have no choice except to tell her because she is going to know in two seconds either way. Tristan's intense glare warns that he is going to bust this conversation wide open.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Whipping around, I look past Breesan to find Morgan standing close and he is pissed. A cute young blonde trails behind him and seems equally angry.

"I said, 'what the hell are you doing here Marcus? And why are you holding my date?"

Looking back, I see Breesan staring between us, confusion staining her lovely face. Angrily she narrows her eyes, glaring from Morgan to me and then back again. Pulling her hand away from me, she clutches it against her chest and I feel a strange sense of loss. I step closer, needing the contact back, but she retreats to Tristan where he secures her behind him possessively. All I can see is – red.

Mine.

"I'm sorry," I offer honestly. "I didn't know you were Morgan's date."

Morgan approaches her, but she tucks further behind Tristan and instant relief floods me knowing that she isn't only turning against me.

"Did he hurt you? What's wrong?" Morgan inquires glaring bitterly at me.

"What's wrong?" She barks, her pleasant mood shifting instantly, pissed off by his patronizing. "Well unless I'm crazy, there are two of you standing here and it is bullshit that no one could tell me, the date, how fond you two are of the old 'Bait and Switch!'" Her eyes jump from me to Morgan and she stabs him with intense loathing, "Ha, ha, and little ole me is your latest target. You guys are a riot and I'm a fool. Well done boys," she growls, clapping her hand mockingly and glaring between us. "Tristan, take me home!" She spits out, moving to stand in front of him and folding her arms over her chest.

"Breesan, it's my fault," Tristan admits, taking her hand.

Bewitched by the mention of her name, it is as original and exquisite as her, I look again, locking my gaze with hers and realizing that she is indeed Breesan Maxwell. God Almighty, she looks more beautiful than ever; not that she wasn't perfect before, but tonight she's truly indescribable.

"I should have told you that Morgan has a twin brother, but honestly I didn't expect him to be here." Turning toward me, Tristan demands, "Why didn't you let one of us know you were back in town, Marcus? All of this bullshit could've been avoided."

He releases her and relief washes over me. Anna moves quickly to take his place beside Breesan, snaking an arm around her shoulder while whispering in her ear. I know I should answer my cousin, but I remain trapped by hooded, gray eyes and really I'm unwilling to look away from her.

"I want to know what the fuck you are doing here in the first damn place. You always have to be the center of attention. Don't you?" Morgan spits out with contemptuous ridicule. Unbelievable. He's trying to embarrass me. I guess some things never change. "And let's get one thing straight right now," he stalks up to me, serious, and with his body drawn tight, acting like he's ready to fight. "Breesan is MY date, so don't get any ideas."

He emphasizes the word 'my', calling forth a rumble deep in my chest and everything in me screams, MINE!

My eyes have not left hers yet and she's the only person I want to give answers, but it won't happen. She's running from me, I can see it in her protective stance. Our friends become suspiciously quiet and I'm not sure if anyone has spoken to me, or if they're waiting for my response.

She walks straight up to me with her demands. "Do you know who I am and that I'm Morgan's date tonight? Are you screwing with me or is this a simple misunderstanding?"

She relaxes as she moves closer, unless that's just my imagination. Stretching her hand out, she keeps it low, as if she's waiting for my acceptance before reaching further. Anxious but wanting to be honest with her, I inhale deeply, close my eyes, and rub the back of my neck.

"No, Baby, I had no idea you were here with my brother. I'm sorry about the confusion, but I won't apologize for the way we met, or what happen afterward."

I smile seductively at her, and she reacts as I expect, by stepping even closer. Only separated by mere inches, I drop my hand to reach for hers when suddenly a panic flashes through her eyes and she's pulling away from me. Morgan has his hand firmly tugging her by the shoulder and I instantly tense all over.

I step forward, reacting to his hand on what my body now recognizes as mine. "Get your fucking hand off her Morgan," I growl, not understanding why I have become so possessive of her. Before I can reach him, she shrugs out of his grip.

Just as she moves, a smaller set of hands grab her, tugging her away, "Really? All this macho crap is stupid. I'm over all this pissing on my territory business. So let's either sit or go home, please," Anna interrupts with a weird laugh. "Do you want to sit Breesan?"

She nods and Anna takes her hand and leads her over to their table. Breesan swings around and claims the first seat she reaches. Defiantly, she crosses her arms and legs, looking defensive, and yet, I can tell she's hiding desire.

Letting my gaze roam over her, my heart swells with an unfamiliar feeling when I notice how petite she is, but in that dress with those heels, her legs appear to go on forever. Finding myself getting hard at the length of the slit running up her thigh in the dress, I quickly move my gaze up the length of her legs, along her sumptuous curves, finally stopping on enthralled, smoldering eyes.

A crowd gathers upon witnessing our exchange and draws my attention. I glance around the group and notice that the sexy blonde with Morgan is glaring at him, but his focus is totally on Breesan.

Strolling over and stopping mere inches from me, Morgan glares at me intently. "I think you should go," he demands.

Refusing to let him feel empowered, I nod sternly, but silently we exchange a familiar look. Understanding that nothing else will be said, I grin with the knowledge that we will revisit this and we'll deal with it our way.

Grinning, with what appears to be satisfaction, he strolls over to Breesan and takes the empty seat next to her. Deep in conversation with Anna, she pauses briefly, lifting her eyes to stare intently at me. As Morgan leans in to whisper something to Breesan, I hear the forgotten blonde huff and watch her storm away, her heels clacking out an angry sound. Apparently he had entertainment while Breesan was with me on the balcony.

Interesting.

Looking at Tristan, I force down a growl of possessiveness, because all I want to do at the moment is get her as far away from my piece of shit brother as I can. "I'm not dealing with his bullshit tonight. We can meet up tomorrow."

He hugs me solid. "Sounds good, I'll be at the police department before six a.m. Stop by when you get a chance. I'm taking the girls home since all the fun has been sucked right out of the night. Glad you're back, Mac Daddy." I shake my head at his playfulness and how easily we fall into a comfortable routine that we've enjoyed from childhood.

"Thanks Bubba, I'll see you tomorrow, but right now I need to speak with Breesan," I demand. He peers at me sideways and then nods an affirmation.

Pausing before he walks away, he asks solemnly, "Is there something going on Mac?"

"I'm not available to be with her, Trist, so don't worry. She's not on my radar." Shaking my hand, he accepts my promise.

Tristan politely interrupts the deep discussion between Breesan and Anna, asking her to grant my request for a private talk. Awaiting her decision, I notice Morgan is giving his undivided attention to the other side of the room. Allowing my eyes to follow his gaze, I spot a perturbed blonde shooting daggers back at him before stomping away. Their focus broken, he turns and scowls at me, missing the concerned look Breesan flashes him. After speaking with Tristan, she makes her way over and I offer her my elbow, returning us to the balcony.

"Breesan, I want to apologize for confusing you tonight." Reaching up out of instinct alone, I place my hand on her cheek. The warmth of her soft flesh undoes me. Resolutely, I draw in a breath, straighten my back, and look at her eyes, not allowing those pink full lips that beg to be sucked and licked to distract me. I drop my hand away from her lovely face. "I swear I had no idea that you were my brother's date, but like I said earlier, I don't regret spending the evening with you."

I take a small but significant step back. Noticing my intentional retreat, she shifts her demeanor accordingly. The familiar guarded woman appears suddenly, and there is no mistaking her self-preserving posture. It's good knowing she's tough because what I have to do is painful. After all this time, it never occurred to me that there could possibly be anything between us. I would have done a better job avoiding her if I had known, and what if she is feeling something similar to what I am? It sickens me to think I might crush her with lies, but it's unavoidable. Jeopardizing her, the team, and other innocent people is not an option. Whatever this is with Breesan was not in the fucking deal when I signed on for this job.

"Breesan, I'm not going to lead you on. I don't do girlfriends." I lie, "I don't date, I don't call, and I don't meet parents. I have sex and I damn sure don't cuddle afterward." Her sexy pout displays disgust. "It's not illegal. Nobody gets hurt and it's usually free, so why not? But that's not you and it won't be us. I can't explain what we were feeling earlier, but I don't want...anything." Finishing my bullshit story to throw her off, I see the pain flash deep within her darkened gray eyes – darkening with fury.

"You know what? That's good, no it's actually great," she corrects. "Actually, I was afraid you were going to say something else, but don't worry Marcus, I don't want you. You really don't owe me an explanation. I don't even care so if we're done here...I'm going back to my date." She locks her jaw and stares as if daring me to dispute her.

"Fair enough," I nod, appalled by words while my body betrays them. The hardness has my full attention now, but I'm letting her go.

"Good night Marcus," she whispers turning and walking toward the doorway of the castle, back to Morgan.

"Good night," I announce, regretfully acknowledging the end of us.

Twisting around on my heel, I refuse to look back because I know that if I steal even one small look at her and see hurt, I won't be able to keep from taking her in my arms and kissing that pain away. Realizing now that I didn't kiss her, I feel cheated knowing I'll never get to taste those sweet lips.

Ever.

Locating Breesan at the party, I make my contact at the castle and call in the information to my commander. Satisfied that she is safe for the evening with Tristan, I relax. These new feelings for this woman have me questioning my entire involvement in this whole damn case. I wasn't even supposed to meet her. I didn't recognize her when she approached me dressed the way she is tonight. But damn, I've never been so turned on by a woman's back than I was while touching hers tonight.

How the hell am I supposed to do my job and stay the fuck away from her? Anticipating a job free of distractions from this point on is fucking unrealistic. I just need to find a way to keep my distance. I'm sure Sam can help me out with that. I won't risk blowing my cover.

I just can't ever catch a damn break.

Leaving the castle, I call my boss to advise her on the details of tonight's party. If she discovers what transpired between her stepdaughter and me before I have a chance to come up with a cover, she will be unruly. Better to cut that head off before the snake strikes. I call The Witch.

"Hello Mrs. Maxwell."

"Marcus. Do you have information for me?" she purrs, making my body shiver with repulsion.

"Breesan was at the party tonight." Not positive about the specifics of my details for her tonight, I don't offer any extra information. Considering the threat, I remember there was a man working the bar that seemed very engrossed in Morgan. Could it be that he was interested in Breesan – enough to want to kill her?

"Marcus! Did you hear what I said?" she snaps. Vaguely I hear her say that I need to pick her up in the morning, but I don't respond fast enough so she yells at me again.

"Yes ma'am, I understand. I will see you in the morning."

Breesan fucking Maxwell has wrecked my whole damn world. Everything in me is demanding that I stay as far away from her as I can get. Given my dual role with surveillance on her, for The Witch as well as the team, I pray our contact will remain at a distance.

Climbing into my Jeep, I lean my head back against the headrest and scrub my hand roughly over my head, forcing it through my hair. Slowly dragging it back down my face, I inhale deeply and her sweet scent assaults me. I must have rubbed some of her perfume from her back onto the sleeve of my coat. Purposely, I slide my nose along the length of the arm, remembering how I held her securely in it just an hour ago. Now I need a fucking cold shower.

I groan loudly, "I want her so fucking bad."

### Chapter Six

Breesan

I'm so relieved the night is ending and I can get the hell away from all of them. Irrational behavior scares the shit out of me, and right now I can't be held responsible for what I might say or do next. Except for the bizarre revelation of my date being a twin and mistakenly dancing with his brother, a mistake of epic proportions, it was a tolerable evening. I really just need to get out of here and forget about that man.

But oh, he felt so incredible. Ugh!

Leaving the balcony discussion with Marcus behind me, I walk inside the less crowded ballroom. Before reaching the table, Morgan greets me with a hand extended and a strange look of stress on his face. Absorbing the details of his face, I silently admit that he is a very good-looking man, sexy, just like Marcus.

Well duh, they're twins.

"Hi," I say flatly. I can't help feeling guilty for not recognizing it was his twin and not him that I danced with.

"Breesan, I don't know what he said to you, but I met you first so if you're going to date one of us, out of fairness, it should be me that gets first shot."

And there's the man I had dinner with earlier. I shouldn't be disappointed. The return of his self-righteous attitude was expected. I'm so glad he's making this easy for me. I lift my chin, focus my eyes on him and then respond as calmly and sweetly as possible.

"Morgan." He smiles back, waiting for a sweet response. "You're a dumb ass. I wouldn't date you if you were the last man on earth. Since dinner I thought that maybe I was seeing a different man, one that didn't seem like such a domineering ass. I was wrong. It turns out that man wasn't you. It was your twin. That's why you seemed so different. Well, it looks like you're back with that pompous attitude of yours, but now you're adding a touch of jealousy to the mix and are glowing in an impressive shade of green. Good night, don't follow me, and do not fucking call me."

Turning on my heel, I casually walk to Tristan and Anna who are waiting for me at our table. Tristan has a full smile and is obviously battling to contain it from turning into full out laughter. Anna grabs our purses and begins following me out of the castle.

Tristan snorts, "Bumble Bee, can I just say that was the funniest thing I have ever heard. The look on Morgan's face was fucking priceless. He's still standing there frozen with his mouth hanging open." He chuckles. "And it doesn't look like he's blinked once. Maybe he suffered a mini stroke. He's never seen the likes of you, B. That is for damn sure."

Tristan releases a deep hard laugh that causes both me and Anna to glance back and laugh after seeing Morgan standing exactly as he described. Idiot!

Our vehicle is waiting out front with the valet holding the door open. Anna and I slip into the back while Tristan takes the front seat and I sigh. "You know, you have one messed up family, Tristan. I absolutely knew something stupid was going to happen tonight. I wasn't kidding when I warned you earlier about this being our only date. It is!" I shake my head. "He actually thinks after the way he behaved at dinner and then that comment about him deserving to date me first won him points or something. He really can't be that dense." Anna snorts, suppressing a laugh. "And what is up with Marcus? Is he always so...intense?" Shuddering, I think about his powerfully green gaze.

Tristan stares at me before facing the front window again. "According to his parents, Marcus is the black sheep but I believe nothing could be further from the truth. He's a good guy, so is Morgan, but in a different way. I was honest when I said they don't date. That's why I thought Morgan would be safe for you. I think if you spent more time with him, you could be friends." He shrugs. "Who couldn't use more friends?"

Friends. Could I possibly have a friendship with Marcus without desiring more? And what if I did desire more? I'm a grown up, I should be able to have an adult relationship with a man and not jump straight into bed with him. Right? No, this is Marcus Walker and my whole body wants him. A relationship with him would only become explosive, in more ways than one.

Unbelievable! This night is so freaking bizarre. And that man, Morgan Walker. What a pompous ass! Where does he get off having that bloated attitude of his, actually believing that he deserves first shot at dating me just because he met me first? Through my frustration, my teeth mash together and my fingernails dig deep into my palms.

The surprised look on Morgan's face when I called him a dumb ass was priceless. A goofy, proud smile breaks across my face and my anger recedes. Maybe the direct approach with him is the best solution for getting him to accept that he doesn't have any possible chance with me. The only thing that drew me to him was how attractive he is, but it absolutely stops there.

However, I'm not sure what to make of the strange feelings zapping between Marcus and me. The feelings I've experienced are unlike anything I have ever known. It's a heavenly sensation bordering on...happiness. That's the best way to describe it. I shudder at the thought of any man giving me that emotion. I'll admit there is something different about Marcus. Besides being the sexiest man that I've ever met, he commands my body with a new reaction that includes desire. I can't put my finger on it and I don't want to say it's just lust, but he awakens something deeper inside me than sexual need.

There's no point in worrying about it. He made his intent very clear. He doesn't do relationships, and I certainly don't need one. Ending things before they could begin works out great for me. I'm actually quite happy with the decision Marcus and I reached together. Well, not exactly together, but it benefits both of us either way.

"Tristan," I say, and he twists around to look at me. "Do you know the guy who was at the bar tonight?" I ask, remembering the older guy with Morgan's cute blonde.

"Not sure I know which guy you're talking about BB. Can you be more specific? Would this guy be young, old, black, white, tall, short, or perhaps he was invisible? Ha, that's it isn't it? Are you scared after seeing a ghost in the castle?" Smartass cop mode has me shutting down. Now I won't answer his damn questions. I doubt I'll ever see the guy again anyway.

***

The following morning, I drag myself from the comfort of my bed. My head is hammering and I feel like I have been hit by a Mack truck. Still, I resist digging back under the comforter and hastily dress for my daily run along the beach. As much as I would love to stay in bed, I just don't think I can handle it for another minute. A restless night of dreaming is scaring the hell out of me. I'm not sure why this particular dream has me freaking out, but there it is. I'm freaking!

What is the correlation between a dream where I marry some boy named Bones McGee and the events of last night with Morgan and Marcus? I know dreams are abstract memories combined with events that happen during a normal day. And some people believe they are used as signs for the future, or to help you understand the past, but what could my nightmare mean? Something strange is happening in my subconscious mind and I don't have a clue what my dream suggests. Nothing that I can recall in the dream is true life, yet, it seems so real.

It is summertime on the island and I'm a kid. Tristan and his imaginary friend hang out with Anna and me. Tristan's as close to Bones McGee as I am to Anna. Pretending we can see him too, we learn that Bones is a typical boy that plays hard, gets dirty, and smells gross. He shows me some new creepy crawling critter that he finds under a rock. Even though I am terrified of bugs, I don't want him knowing. I'll never tell him they freak me out because he might chase after me. He seems too sweet to put a bug on me, but you never know with boys, even the imaginary ones. I'm glad too because I don't want him knowing I am a big chicken.

"Anna Banana I like your pigtails. It makes it easier for me to pull your hair," Tristan teases then tugs one of her long strands. He laughs as he runs away from her fists of fury.

"Tristan, don't you ever call me that stupid name again. I hate it. If you pull my pigtail and mess up my hair I won't let you hang out with us again," she snarls, jams her fists on her hips and then turns to me so I can check it for damage.

Tristan groans, "Girls! Y'all are no fun. Come on Bones, we need to hunt monsters."

While sharing Bones' Pop-tart and watching them fight he tells me he likes me.

Anna's mom makes chocolate chip pecan waffles for breakfast while we watch cartoons before going outside. There are monkey bars, a go-cart track, bounce houses, and a custom built play set with a castle tower in Anna's backyard. The state fair sets up, giving us all the junk food we can eat.

Attempting some of the things the boys call cool, we either get too dirty or bored. We play games like freeze tag or hide-and-go-seek a lot. Most days, Anna and I will play with them, but sometimes we have tea parties with our dolls in the tree house without them.

Hearing some horrible noise outside that sounds like an injured cat, we yell, afraid it's possibly a monster that got past the boys. Sticking our heads out the window, we discover Tristan and Bones McGee pretending to be cops and robbers while wearing spacesuits.

They use sticks as their guns while they sing. Anna and I laugh so hard we fall off the ladder, but bounce off the cotton candy sidewalk. Running around chasing each other, they bellow out 'Bad boys, bad boys, watcha gonna do, watcha gonna do, watcha gonna do when they come for you' – classic Jamaican accent included. They ask Anna and me to play the bad guys so they can put us in a jail made of Lego's.

Instead, Anna makes them pretend they are Prince Charming and their mission is rescuing the beautiful princesses from the evil king's castle. Except for the part where she tells the boys to slay, or fly on the backs of a dragon, they hate this game and refuse to play it again.

Retrieving old driftwood and some broken slats from an old barn on her property, she convinces the boys to build us a clubhouse. They paint it hot pink and she insists they make a sign that reads 'Girls Only! No boys allowed'. Hating the idea, they angrily do as she requests. It gets dark and we chase lightning bugs until raindrops land on my nose.

Screaming wildly, we burst into a fit of giggles before running inside to hang out in the basement. I sneak away and go outside on the porch, because I love storms. My favorite smell is the air just before the fall of the first raindrop. It is fun to count between the lightning strikes and the cracking of the thunder to see if the storm is moving further way or coming closer. The higher I count, the further it moves away. Goose bumps crawl all over me when I count fewer numbers. Suddenly, a rainbow streaks across the sky.

The different colors are beautiful and it's incredible how they blend together, yet remain separate. I watch it bend and dance around. Bones whispers in my ear and tells me it's like a pinky promise. He smiles at me and says that he wants to nickname me Rainbow Brite, but decides swiftly to shorten it to Rain.

Bones is concerned I'll be teased and he absolutely hates it when Tristan is mean to me. They fight more than once because of his name-calling. I really don't mind nicknames, or his teasing, too much. My green-faced, wicked stepmother locks me in Anna's basement calling me a mean nickname.

Suddenly everything gets sad. It starts getting cold and it snows. Anna, Tristan, and I are back at school and Bones is going home. He tells me he's sad because he will miss me. It makes me sad saying goodbye too. The four of us conspire together and concoct the perfect plan to keep him here. Getting him married will stop the inevitable event of him leaving, keeping us together forever.

Tristan sings about me and Bones sitting in a tree and something about kissing. Then he states repeatedly how happy he is that it isn't him who has to marry a girl, because marriage is gross and lasts forever. Anna and I say it's romantic to get married because the boy gets to kiss and hug the girl. Bones agrees to our marriage so he can stay with us, but says he will never kiss a girl. We schedule nuptials for after naptime.

We'll meet at the castle tower in Anna's backyard and she gets to be the preacher because she's actually seen a wedding. Our ring bearer is Bones' cute, little puppy dog. Tristan begs to give me away. Bones promises to wear something that doesn't have bug guts or frog pee on it.

A second later the scene morphs and I see my dad. Anna, Tristan and Bones have all disappeared. Dad sees me in my favorite pink dress and gets suspicious. He stops me and wants to know why I have dressed so pretty for Anna.

I explain my afternoon wedding plans, telling him all the reasons why Bones will make the perfect husband for me, even if he never kisses me. Daddy smiles and tells me that before marriage I am supposed to graduate from college. He says all smart girls go to college first, then they have their dream wedding.

"But daddy, we don't want Bones McGee to go away," I pout.

" _Baby, if you agree not to marry him until after you graduate then I'll let you do anything you want."_

I think about how I've begged dad all summer to let me cross the street without holding his hand. He says I am too young, but I think he's just not being fair. Knowing how fiercely independent I am, he plays on my weakness and offers up a deal I can't refuse.

I instantly abolish our silly wedding idea for freedom. Bones is a great boy, but it's a deal I can't pass up. Being the ultimate Daddy's little girl, I aim to please him the most. Given the added thrill of crossing the street alone and proving I am a big girl is the cherry on top of my chocolate sundae, so daddy and I pinky promise.

Dad takes me and Julia, still wearing her witch's hat, to a fancy restaurant for dinner. I forget all about marrying Bones and never see him again.

The childhood section of the dream loops several times, but at some point it is Marcus's face I see. I instantly freak by seeing him in my dreams. He smiles and reaches out a hand for me. I hesitate briefly, but he pulls me into his arms and tells me he's been waiting for me all of his life. He starts dancing me down the sidewalk while singing "I'm Only Happy When it Rains." We make our way toward the corner where all of our friends and family, including my dad, are waiting for us. He spins me around once and winks at me as I stop in front of my dad. I start crying because seeing my proud dad waiting for us at our wedding is too much. It means I am breaking our promise. I begin crying so hard I feel my chest heaving with body racking sobs. Fat tears fall, streaming down my cheeks and into my ears.

Slowly, I realize I'm no longer in a dream. I open my eyes and run my hand over my cheek, wiping at the tears. Sadness settles over me for breaking my promise to my dad in the dream, which is something I will never do.

I don't know what has come over me since meeting the Walker twins, but I do know one thing for damn sure. I can't have a relationship with Marcus! Desiring him, and wanting him to desire me, has become my personal prison, but I must remember the importance of my promise.

With my ear buds in, I blast the volume at the highest level while my feet match the hard beat of "Blurred Lines" by Robin Thicke. I'm on the return lap of my five-mile run, not feeling any relief. As cathartic as running usually is, today I'm completely thrown by the damn dream. As much as I need this to help focus on anything other than Marcus Walker, it's doing absolutely no good. My mind keeps wandering back to the feel of a soft, warm wide hand on my back and the other on my hip, squeezing and rubbing while guiding me along the outdoor dance floor. Green eyes bore into mine so deeply, as if I am a delicacy. His behavior perplexes me. He seemed bothered or afraid. What could have frightened him? It was almost as if he believed that if he even allowed one blink I would disappear. Dammit, right back to thinking about him again. Maybe I need to switch to an angry song to finish my run.

I make my way back toward my house on Crest Hill. It's a rigorous uphill run, and the burn is exactly what I need at the moment. I crave a distraction from my thoughts of the sexy man from last night. I need more: extreme, intense, harder–anything else to focus my energy on because right now I don't know how to stop thinking about his intoxicating scent, his sexy groping and those hypnotic green eyes. Panting harshly and puffing out my breath with sweat gleaming all along my body, I push through the last half mile, leading to my house. I decide to detour a few doors down to Anna's in hopes that she is home because I really need to talk to someone and sort through it all. Maybe getting this off my chest is exactly what I need to do, like saying it out loud will help. Perhaps, if I hear how ridiculous I sound then it will jar me back to reality–a reality that is void of gorgeous dark green eyes, a strong chin lightly covered with stubble, and those hands.

Sonuvabitch. I hope like hell Anna is home.

Wait! Am I prepared to tell Anna how obsessed I am this morning after only one night with Marcus? Am I ready to tell her that my dreams of him last night were completely out of control? Do I even know the answers to these questions? Hell no!

Turning on my road, a car pulls up beside me. "Hey Chica!" Anna shouts, and I stop running. "I was just on my way to see you. Girl, you look nasty and OH GOD YOU STINK! Hop in, but please try not to drip on my car. I'll take you home so you can get a shower."

Leaning against the side of her car, I bend over with my hands on my knees trying to catch my breath. "Thanks," I wheeze, "but I think I'll just finish my run and meet you at my house." Her eyes pinch in and I can see the argument brewing in her brown eyes, so I suggest, "We can grab lunch at Bella's later, if you want."

I know the reason she was coming to look for me this morning is the same reason I was looking for her. I hope downplaying it will make me appear less eager.

"Oh heck no, we didn't get to talk about the party last night, and I'm not waiting another second. Now get in!" She twirls a lock of hair around her finger while popping her gum and giving me a death stare that dares me to defy her.

Unwilling to word spar with her, I pull open the passenger side door and drop onto the seat. I've got to get my mind straight before the Anna inquisition begins. I am so not ready for the master to drill me about what happened last night. Ready or not, we are pulling in my driveway. I quickly jump out of her car and she trails directly behind through the front door.

We make our way up the stairs before she commands, "Spill!'

"I'll just hop into the shower first and then we'll talk. K?" She nods reluctantly before looking at her cell and updating her Facebook status, checking in at my house.

Before I cross the threshold to the bathroom, I pause, remembering my dream. I turn around and ask her, "Anna, do you remember someone name Bones McGee?"

She holds up a finger, asking me to wait while she finishes her post. "What?" She asks, still looking at her phone.

"Bones McGee, do you remember him?"

"Who? Bones? No," She looks up, appearing truthful. "What are you talking about?"

"Forget it. I'll be out in a minute," I mumble exasperated, acknowledging that Bones was just a dream.

"Ugh, fine!" she snaps just to get the last word in.

I shake my head while staring at my reflection in the mirror and wondering what I am doing. I have always known what I want in relationships. Across the board from Julia to my most recent acquaintance, Morgan, I don't want anything. Then along came Marcus, the man who holds some weird shit over me.

Impossible perfection, if that means anything, is what I felt while he held me. The real question is, could he love me through my imperfections? I am a whole lot of fucked up, and not once in the last thirteen years have I ever felt deserving.

This is ridiculous. I just met him.

Once out of the shower, I find Anna propped up on my bed leaning against my headboard. She waits patiently, and from the look in her eyes, I know that stalling won't work anymore. I dress quickly, slipping on black denim skinny jeans and an aged Ramones shirt before taking a seat on the floor next to her. I pull my legs up to my chest and hug them tightly. I know that she can see the stress that is radiating off me and has me completely wound up. Looking me directly in the eyes, she begins the conversation I am desperately dreading.

"I need you to believe that we had no idea that Marcus was even back on the island, much less going to show up at the party last night. I'm sorry. I know it's not a good enough excuse. After what happened we never expected him to..." She trails off but recovers quickly, "What did you think of Morgan?" I know there's meaning behind the change of topic but I won't push...for now.

"Morgan is an ass, but I'm willing to hang out with him and get to know him, as friends," I emphasize the last part, "I won't lead him on, I will not fall for him, and I can't have him falling for me." I giggle slightly thinking back to his party foul of a seduction routine. Plus, he must have been with the cute blonde the whole time I was with Marcus because he didn't bother to look for me all night. Morgan is safe, Marcus isn't. "From the way he acts, I don't see any of this being a problem. You on the other hand will need to just understand that I'm happy being single, and he is absolutely not the one. When 'Mr. Perfect,'" I mock doing air quotes with my fingers, "shows up and rescues me from my hopelessness, I will allow myself to love him. I might even tell you about it."

She scoffs, not believing my lie and then shouts, "Yippee! We're going to have a great summer." She gyrates around doing her happy dance.

"Whatever," I laugh even though I try not to, "Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on between those boys? And why didn't I know there were two? How could I have missed them all of these years?"

I press because I want details, but getting to know either one of them puts me at risk of caring for them. I'm just not sure if I'm ready to take that kind of gamble yet. She shifts around and then looks at me for a long moment, censoring. Either there's something she doesn't want me to know, or she's afraid of my reaction.

"Ha okay, the last one is easy. The twins only came back to the island during the summers. You remember summer," she asks sarcastically, "the time when you were traveling to exotic locations, learning cool new skills, and meeting famous people while the rest of us were all left home, doing the same old boring things. Well, they got stuck hanging out with us." She pokes out her bottom lip.

"Oh, good grief. You're kidding me, right? There is no way Anna Knight had one second of boredom, let alone a whole summer. You, my friend, are the party hardy island girl, a title well earned by the way, and I tip my hat to you. So don't try to make me feel bad. Besides, you know I didn't have a choice," I shout, popping up from my tight ball. Why do I feel guilty? I don't have a thing to be guilty about. Julia made me leave them, I mean home, every damn summer, only to return in the fall just in time for school to start.

She laughs at my description then places her hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me. She knew Julia sent me away, but she didn't know why. She would only pity me if she knew the truth. I can never explain that I was sent to all of the fabulous places I dream of because Julia wants me out of her hair. My evil stepmother would never have allowed me to be home for three months. If so, she might have actually had to spend time doing things with me, and she can't even stand looking at me.

"Mm hmm, if you say so sweetie, except for spending time with my aunt in Paris I'm stuck here all summer long. I'm so jealous of your freedom and experiences. I would give anything for my parents to send me around the world alone, for diversions and meeting cool, new people. Instead they drag me to my grandparents' house where every one of my cousins are, and we're forced to spend time together doing really lame family stuff."

She rolls her eyes and I fight against the jealousy. I don't have cousins, or brothers or sisters for that matter. Julia is the only family I have left after my dad went away.

### Chapter Seven

Breesan

"The boys came home while their parents spent the summers working in the Canadian corporate office. Their Granddad Mac insisted the boys come back home for a little normalcy. They were all very close until last summer." Her features shift to sadness.

"It's actually a sad story. The guys are so different, which I'm sure you already noticed. Marcus is the reserved one; he's calm, logical, and deliberate. Morgan is the maniac; he's loud, fun, and reckless. Last spring, Marcus started dating a girl that rapidly became very important to him. When I say rapid, that's exactly what I mean." She's very animated and I don't understand her excitement. "Marcus dates, but he's never had a girlfriend. He was always the single guy when they were home for the summer. Morgan usually had a few girls all summer. Sorry," she winces regretfully after revealing her deception.

She did set me up, I knew it! Morgan is a player. She's concerned that if I know this about him it will discourage me, but that is so far from the truth. As far as I'm concerned, he is the perfect distraction to prevent me from falling for his brother.

"Marcus is not impulsive by any means. He always plans things out, but when Elise came along, he changed. She was quickly on the path to becoming Mrs. Marcus Walker." She frowns and now I'm really interested.

Marcus fell in love. Part of me is happy that he found love, but there is a small sensation tickling the back of my brain, trying to push forward and reveal itself to me. I quickly snuff it out. Can't let something like jealousy fester–that shit can get gross, fast.

"Last summer, the boys backpacked across Europe for the entire three months. During the last segment of the trip, Elise surprised Marcus in his hotel room – naked. There was lots of drinking, and as it turns out, she liked using drugs, a bit of information she neglected to share with Marcus when they began dating. That's a real deal breaker for him. The problem was that she claimed to be so messed up that she picked the wrong room and ended up sleeping with Morgan THE ENTIRE WEEKEND!" she shouts and her eyes bug out, "All the while, Marcus was on a three-day boat excursion.

"Oh my god, are you serious?" I yell, "And Morgan, what the hell?" I think I have problems, but this was Marcus's twin brother and girlfriend.

"Wait, Breesan. I know how shitty it makes Morgan sound, but in all honesty Morgan hadn't met her. Marcus intentionally kept the relationship a secret from Morgan. With good reason as Morgan tends to like all of Marcus's playthings, and sooner or later he usually takes them, or Marcus will give them to him. But not Elise, he wanted her all to himself."

I'm still reeling from the whole fucked up situation. I find myself numb and nodding, oddly captivated and awaiting details while sitting on the edge of my bed. As repulsed as I am at the moment, I almost need to know everything.

"The saddest part is when Marcus returned from his trip and found them dining at the restaurant in the hotel. When he confronted them, Elise admitted she felt bad about it, but also said that she liked Morgan too. Then get this," she holds her hand up, "she actually told Marcus that she didn't care who she ended up with because they are exactly the same...in bed."

"Shut up! No she did not say that shit!" I demand, laughing at the situation for being so farfetched, yet, disgusted with Elise for being a heartless bitch.

Anna nods. "Needless to say, she was dumped by both boys that night, but the story doesn't end there."

"Oh you have got to be freaking kidding me. Don't tell me Marcus took her back?" Shouting, I now stand directly in front of her.

She smiles, but it falls almost immediately. "A week after they arrived back in England, Marcus walked in on them having sex again in the flat that he shared with Morgan. Essentially, Marcus felt the betrayal deeper because of Morgan's total disregard for the breakup. Marcus was hurt and demanded Morgan kick her out on her petite derriere. It didn't happen. Morgan's a man-whore, but he claimed that he loved her too. Marcus was pissed off. He considered Morgan's attitude and actions unforgivable and refused to speak to either of them again. It's his prerogative, and most certainly none of my business." I drop down on the bed again and she sighs.

"A few days later, Marcus moved back to Willow and he shared some of what happened with Tristan. I don't know all the details, but I'm positive there's more to Marcus & Elise than anyone knows. He just refuses to talk about her. Elise had some crazy power over them and managed to mess up both boys. I'm not sure if she felt something for either one of them because she dumped Morgan soon after Marcus came here." She stretches back on my bed and looks up at the ceiling.

"Fuck. That is messed up, Anna. What is wrong with that Elise bitch? How could they both fall for some skank like her?" I ask furiously. Damn, why the hell do I care so much?

"That's just the thing! She's not some skank, she's 'perfect', according to Marcus, or was. She's evil in my opinion, and apparently love is absolutely blind when it comes to her. Now Marcus punishes himself and doesn't date. But judging by the way he was with you last night, it seems like there may be hope for him after all," she smiles and I shake my head no. "I just think when love is really meant to be, and certainly obstacles will get in the way, that's just part of life, but when it's real...there is nothing that real love can't overcome. With true love there is hope. You both have the whole "I'm undeserving of love" BS in common. I just think it could be good between you if either of you will just open your hearts." She huffs after baiting me.

"Sounds like he has learned the hard way about love, just like me," I retort, refusing to fall for her ruse, again.

"I know, I know. You will never fall in love," she mocks, "Whatever! Well then, what happened with you and Morgan during the date? At dinner everything seemed fine." She lifts her perfectly sculpted eyebrows.

"Oh no, I need some time to process all of this, jeez." She pouts, not letting me off the hook and I relent. "Well, you and Tristan were on the dance floor for a while. Once y'all came back to our table you started making out like teenagers," I point out in mock disgust.

"We are teenagers," she wisecracks.

"Ha, oh and you proved it to everyone within twenty feet of us too." I get up, walk over to my dresser, and quickly pull my hair into a ponytail.

"I only got off a couple of lame questions before he began acting weird. So I grew bored and somewhat ticked with the evasiveness of his answers. Jeez, I would hate to hear what he would say if he was asked something more personal." My frustration is growing and I'm pacing near the end of my bed.

"Anyway, I went to the restroom to touch up my makeup, hoping to calm down. I have to tell you Anna, you know me and I don't do asshole. I had to work through it and I did." I shrug. "Going against my better judgment, I decided to give him one more chance. When I stepped back into the lobby, I found who I thought was Morgan, but turns out to be Marcus, waiting for me. He led me out to the balcony where we spent the rest of the night dancing. We barely spoke. Then I heard you calling my name. He escorted me back to the table where all hell broke loose."

"Wait, you danced with Marcus that whole time?" She's happy, but then quickly a puzzled look shifts on her face causing her eyebrows to scrunch.

"Well yes, he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. Even when I tried to explain that I don't dance he told me that he would help me fake it so I wouldn't look like a fool. That's why we went to the balcony rather than back out to the ballroom." I pause, noticing her sitting frozen on the bed staring at me oddly. "What it is? What's that look about?"

"Nothing," She's distracted from my previous comment, but then like a light bulb went off in her head, she snaps out of it and draws in a sharp breath, "Wait, Marcus actually said that to you?" She looks stunned and is apparently suffering from a three-second delay now.

"Yeah, I know," I chirp while keeping my face as straight as possible. I know what she's thinking right now because she is a hopeless romantic all the way through to her soul.

"That is so, so romantic. Oh, I had no idea." There it is. "And I never even thought to look on the balcony for you two. Oh Breesan, yea!" I roll my eyes. "But honestly I was a little preoccupied with Tristan. I'm really sorry that I neglected you." She's telling the truth. "So now I need you to tell me more. What did you think about Marcus?"

And there's the question of the day. I don't think I can play this off with her. Before last night I was not prepared to defend my feelings about a man. I've never needed to, because I've never had those types of feelings for one before. How am I supposed to lie and make it believable? And do I really need to? What will happen if I just admit how I feel about Marcus, and last night, and the dream, and my confusion? I mentally shake myself and I know the answers after once glance at the hopefulness blooming on her face. I don't want him to feel the same because what I am feeling is ridiculous. I need to spend time with Morgan, someone I don't desire, more than ever so that I will stop having these ridiculous feelings for Marcus.

"Helloooo?" she sings, bringing me back to the land of the living. "You are not getting out of this Breesan. Talk to me! I'm seriously school-girl-giddy just thinking about how precious you looked on the balcony saying goodnight." She smiles and scoots down the bed to sit next to me.

"Really, did we?" I ask totally shocked and she nods frantically. "You know that I can't be distracted, Anna." Her grin falls, disappointment building in her eyes.

"Good grief Breesan, it's not like I want you to accept a marriage proposal. What will it hurt to spend some time hanging out with them, or us, all of us? You could double date with me and Tristan, if that will get you out of the house this summer. You know Morgan called Tristan last night to ask for your phone number, but I told him not to do it until after I spoke with you. Do you think you can see him again, or Marcus?" I hate disappointing her, but this has gone too far.

Realistically, if I were to hit it off with either Morgan or Marcus and then decide to date one of them, it will only be for a couple of months. We will be going off in different directions for college and careers, and I don't want anything here keeping me from my dreams. It's hopeless either way. I blow out a deep breath and stare at her eager expression. Being anything more than friends will not happen with Morgan. My conclusion from earlier stands, he's not my type so it makes him the safer option of the two.

"Can we just take it one day at a time? I didn't feel anything for either of them," I lie.

"Oh, okay," she hesitates while looking sadly at me, "So, just hanging out as friends then?" She pleads waiting for my reaction.

"Oh hell," I huff and she giggles. "Okay, but no planned dates! If we run into each other, fine. Absolutely, no double dates. You can't assume that I'll be either one of their dates at parties this summer either. And I'm totally serious Anna. You tell Tristan last night was really it on scamming me, got it?"

She nods her head in agreement, but I feel that her failure to verbalize a yes is indicative of denial.

"Change of subject." Hearing an odd tone in her voice, I glance at her. "Do you think Tristan really loves me, or do you believe what he feels is a result of us being together for so many years?"

I'm shocked by her question, but answer truthfully. "I believe what you and Tristan have exceeds any love I've ever known. It's romance-novel love. Is that a good enough answer?" She doesn't respond. Her eyes are downcast and she's fidgeting. That's never a good sign where Anna is concerned. "Where is this coming from anyway? Has something happened between you two?"

"No, that's the problem. I want to, but...he doesn't." She pouts, chewing on her fingernail.

Anna's need to discuss her sex life always creeps me out. Sharing something so intimate, even with your supposed best friend, disrespects the value of your love. I've never understood girls who talk about their relationship with men as if it's a goal. If they feel the need to let strangers – and I say that includes people who are not joining you in the bed as your significant other – know how well he takes care of you, why not rent out a billboard? I'm no expert, but from sitting quietly on the sidelines of life, I watch women display their man's abilities like cattle at an auction. And believe me, the bull always goes home with someone. I wouldn't want my man being sized up as if he is the bull being paraded around in front of all the cowgirls just waiting to saddle up and ride.

I nod, averting my eyes to the floor. "Have you talked to him about this Anna?" I ask, already knowing her answer. She's definitely broached the topic with him countless times.

"Oh you know I have, but he's determined to keep me a virgin until our wedding night. Ugh, seriously this could kill me," Anna whines. Waiting for her to calm down I silently pray that she will come up with her own answers. After six exasperated huffs, I resign and offer up words that could in no way be wisdom.

I lock gazes with her while she continues to assault her fingernails. "The only advice that I could possibly give you is for you to stop putting him on the spot. Don't tease, demand, or threaten. Be a woman who is loved by a man and is making the same sacrifices he asks of you. Tristan respects you and wants to savor the day that he will make you his in all ways." No response. "Please bob your head up then down if you get what I'm trying to tell you." She nods to appease me. "I don't understand your need to rush things. Did you get close to doing it before and got denied?" I joke, feeling guilty when she stabs me with a look of fear. Her hands begin to tremble uncontrollably. She turns away from me while brushing a stray tear from her cheek. Shit. Why is she crying? Oh god, did Tristan try to have sex with her, or hurt her? Suddenly my body tenses and I have an overwhelming need to find him and beat his ass silly for hurting my best friend...I mean Anna, his girlfriend.

Her phone zings, indicating she has a new text message. She leaps up and taps a quick response before turning to me. "No more talking about this today. Didn't you mention food earlier? My stomach will eat my spine if we don't leave this instant," she states, chucking her phone into her purse while fishing for her car keys. Subject changes with Anna are like spending time with a Tasmanian devil. You can't keep up, so don't even try.

With this conversation finally behind us, we leave my house in search of nourishment. I plop into the passenger seat, she drops the windows down, and then cranks up the radio. While I am certain I may have fooled her, I'm not foolish enough to believe that this conversation is closed. I hope now I can move on and stop thinking about Marcus. I will not allow him to be a distraction. Oh, but he's such a yummy distraction, my mind teases. Dropping my shoulders in defeat, I realize that I am fooling myself by believing I can get that man out of my mind so easily.

After our lunch date with Tristan, it's still early when Anna drops me back home and I notice that Julia is not home. Good. I need to go through some of my dad's things stored in the attic and I don't want to do it with her around. The last time I just mentioned his name she grew so angry I actually thought she might hit me. I have never understood her feelings for him. When I was a little girl I thought she loved him. Then as time went along, she became jaded, and just talking about him made her angry; not sad like I would get. Instead, she would snap at me, telling me to drop the subject immediately.

When I enter the house, I charge up the stairs immediately and continue up to the attic access in the ceiling. I pull down the stairs and quickly climb up. It's dark, but a light switch next to the entryway brightens the space. I stand up and look around the large open area at all of the boxes and junk that has been moved up here. It's an insane amount of stuff. I had no idea Julia was a hoarder. This could take a lot longer than I anticipated. I reach the first tower of boxes and flip open the top.

There are books and notebooks stuffed in it. I pick up the top notebook and flip it open. It looks like Julia's handwriting, nothing significant jumps out at me so I place it down on the floor. I grab the next notebook and flip through it. They appear to be journals. I feel horrible that I have her private thoughts right here in my hands. I would be so angry if I knew someone was going through my stuff like I'm doing hers. This must be all that is in this particular box so I decide just to close it and move to the next one. I'm really only interested in my dad's stuff. I shift the box off the top of the stack and look through the one under it. Nothing belonging to my dad is in this box either.

I keep going like this for a while. I've gone through ten boxes and not one of them has my dad's stuff in them. A thought occurs to me. Since it's been so long she probably moved them to the back of the room. I stand up and wind my way toward the back of the attic, past old toys and crates of clothes.

There's a massive trunk with an industrial lock on it that quickly catches my interest, but I don't see any way to get in it. I look around the immediate area for a key, but come up empty handed. I notice there is a small box sitting beside it that has a lock on it as well. Just as luck would have it, this one is small enough for me to carry. If something in it is important enough to lock up then I'll just take it downstairs and pop the lock.

One last look around the room and I realize that none of this stuff is my dad's. Now I'm curious to know what she did with his things. I descend the attic stairs and carry the small box into my bedroom. I place the box on my bed and stand there staring at it. It's a fairly new lock, but I don't know how to break into it. I certainly don't have bolt cutters. Damn. How am I going to get into this box?

As long as it's been up there, she won't notice it missing. I've got to come up with an idea on how to get in it. I sit on the bed, pick the box up, and place it on my lap. I turn it around and flip it over. Not one idea on how to get in it without damaging it comes to mind. Frustration consumes me and I drop it back on my bed, stand up, and walk across the room. I stare at it another second and then groan out loud. I need help. I know if I ask Tristan he would do it for me. He would do anything for me and I totally trust him. But do I really want him or anyone knowing that I'm suspicious of Julia, or that I'm trying to find my dad's things? What choice do I have? If I want answers then I'm going to have to accept help.

### Chapter Eight

Marcus

My first day on my new job, I arrive at Kole's Gym in time to see the early afternoon crowd leaving. I'm pleased because I'm damn sure not in the mood to deal with anyone's shit today. Hopefully, I'll have a few minutes alone to prepare for my newest client. As I walk in, the window vibrates as beats by Cage the Elephant blast through the speaker system and the temperature is hovering just above Arctic. I take a deep breath and realize I have missed this place the last four months while I was away. Looking over to the front desk, I spot a tattoo covered, fitness-model-worthy man bouncing on the balls of his feet to the beat of the music. He jerks his head in my direction when I open the door and it chimes. His brow draws in, his blue eyes darken, and his neck muscles bulge from tension, he's pissed.

"What the hell brings your ass here?" The big guy growls at me.

He rounds the counter to stand directly in front of me, his face morphing into controlled absurdity as he grabs my upper arms. He is my height with a slightly smaller frame, weighing roughly thirty pounds less. He has dark brown hair shaped into a faux-hawk and he's very tan from using the tanning beds he has here at his gym. Kole De Luca and I became friends after I noticed he was a regular at the local MMA fights both here and on the panhandle. We exchanged opinions on some of the grappling techniques and afterward hung out at Noxx Oyster bar located across the street from the arena. I never knew about his involvement with the DEA back then. It wasn't until Sam ended things with Rhys that I was finally pursued into joining the cause. That's when Kole told me about his role. I'll admit I love knowing he has my back.

"Kole, what's up?" He shoves my left shoulder hard with his right hand then spins around back to the front counter.

"Great man, you know just living and loving," he says and winks. He leans down below the counter and pulls out a clipboard, passing it over. "Didn't think I would see you around today."

"I decided to go ahead with my cover job here this week when I ran into Shaylyn this morning. I mentioned that I was available for consults if you guys needed me and she told me about a client with some interest. So I accepted her offer and she booked me for this afternoon." Kole's bouncing with excitement now, handing me the key fob to the front door and his business card.

"Great, it works out perfect for all involved then. Well, here's your key and my new number. Had to get my number changed after a stalker snagged my phone during a workout then blew up my text messages with some crazy sex scenarios she wanted to try on me." He rolls his eyes, but the dude loves women, all women. "When that didn't get a rise out of me, she cloned my number and sent out a mass text of a fake nude picture of me. Apparently she's some computer guru from MIT and hacking phones is her specialty. I called her dets in. Turns out she has a criminal history longer than my arm, dude. I didn't want to take her in, but she sent that shit to my mom." His eyes bulge out. "I swear some chicks go insane over this body, but it's a curse that I can live with," he mocks as he flexes his upper body muscles. He knows the women join his club for his attention and it's shocking that he's only had one creeper in the last five years of owning this place. Either that or he hasn't turned them in before.

"Ouch, your mom must have freaked." I shake my head and hold up the key fob and card. "Thanks for these. If you have room for me now, I want to get in a little workout before my client gets here." He nods and I walk toward the men's room.

I need to focus and stretch. It's been three days since my last workout and my muscles are in desperate need of this release. I enter the room and find my old locker still has the combination lock I left on it four months ago. I scroll through the numbers and pop it open to find my iPod and heart monitor remaining where I left them. I pop in the ear buds and the first song on my workout playlist stirs a long forgotten feeling that has me trembling, along with a rush of anxiety, and causes me to sway. I grab the counter to keep from falling while I'm ambushed by the memory of meeting a redhead devil-woman in a gym similar to this one a year ago.

After the flash memory of meeting Elise possesses my mind, a hard shove causes me to bounce off the row of lockers, bringing me back to the land of the living. I steady myself on my feet and find Kole grinning at me.

"Uh, your client just walked in, man." He chuckles, thrusting a thumb behind him. His face shifts suddenly, pulling a serious look. "I'm just going to give you fair warning on this one. She is off limits, no questions asked. Understand?" His arms are crossed tightly over his large chest and he is glaring at me, waiting for my agreement.

"Sure man, I understand." I nod, tossing my junk back into my locker. "Wait, so what is she like your girlfriend or just a prospect?" I joke. He shrugs and walks out of the locker room with me following behind. His face gives away a look that clearly says she isn't his, but a definite prospect.

He glances over his shoulder, "No, she's too young for me, but I don't want you messing with her. You're a great guy and all, one of my best friends, but she's sweet and innocent and I would kick your ass if something happens and she gets hurt. So don't fuck with her," he adds the last part with a very determined stare.

I raise my hands in a surrender style. "She's just a client and she's young. I understand." I laugh at his threat.

We walk to the front and standing there, hip leaning against the front desk, staring at me open-mouthed and panicky is the most beautiful brunette I have ever laid eyes on. My eyes lock on to hers and I can't look away. I don't want to look away from her dark gray eyes that now show confusion. She's here and I'm fucking happy as hell about it too.

Without considering that I'm supposed to be meeting a client here, I instantly gravitate toward her. Kole sees my movements and stops walking beside me. I continue toward her even as she shifts her weight to stand away from the support of the desk. I move close, but she shifts away from me. I feel compelled to take her in my arms this very instant, but I see fear flash across her face and I abruptly stop short.

"What the hell are you doing here Breesan?" I grumble, pulling my head out of my ass after realizing that my body has just responded to her in a way that I'm not used to. The anger begins to roll off of me. Her bravery, or stupidity, causes her to move in close to me. She places both hands on her hips and lifts her head up so that her eyes are now locked into mine.

"Excuse me? You act like you own this place and I know that you don't. So if you'll just get the hell out of my way I've got shit I need to do," she snaps and walks around me to where Kole stands, arms open and with a big shit eating grin on his face. She leans into him and he seizes her, pulling her soft sexy body into his hard one. I'm suddenly enraged with jealousy.

"Marcus, I guess you two already know each other, huh? From the looks of things you go way back." He laughs and releases his tight hold on her, but keeps a hand around her back in a possessive way. I feel my body tighten. Why the fuck does he need to keep touching her?

"No, I just met him last night, Kole," she responds before I have a chance to answer him.

"Yeah, she was Morgan's date last night for his welcome home party," I add.

"Really," he says, laughing. "No shit? I didn't know you knew either one of the Walker twins."

"I didn't. I don't. It was a blind date. Tristan and Anna screwed me. It was a trick from the beginning. I really didn't enjoy myself. It was full of stuffy rich asses and that's just not my style." She crosses her arms over her chest. "That's where I met him." She gestures weakly with her hand toward me.

"Well good, no need for introductions then. I can escort her back if you don't remember which room we use for the dojo room," Kole says to me and I look at him, confused. He recognizes my look and offers an explanation. "Breesan is your new client."

"What?" she growls out at the same that time I shout.

"I don't understand," she presses.

"Marcus is the new jujitsu instructor. He is a Grand Master, Breesan, a certified instructor under the Gracie Academy. If you want to learn for sport or street safety then he's your man. He's professional and the best I've seen, so you don't have to worry about his skills," Kole says proudly in my defense.

Her face twists with anger. "Yeah, I'll bet. But is there someone else on staff that could teach me that maybe doesn't necessarily have his kind of skills?" she blurts out.

Kole's body shakes with laughter. "No, you know there isn't. What's the problem, Breesan? Is there something going on between you two?" He abruptly stops laughing and is pinning me with an irate stare. He set me up, I realize. He knew she would be my client. So why did he fail to give me all the information?

"There is absolutely nothing going on between us, and never will be," she states, clearly upset with me. I'm relieved that she understood my attempt to keep distance between us. It's for her own safety, even if she doesn't understand it.

"She's right. But Breesan, if you're too uncomfortable learning from me, it's fine. I wouldn't blame you for quitting."

I'm hopeful that this approach will effectively dissuade her from training with me. Maybe I've pissed her off enough that she will take the bait and leave. Being her instructor for the next few months is not something that could remain completely innocent with the way my body is already responding to her while she's mad as hell.

"Oh no! I'm here and I'm learning jujitsu and you will teach me," she turns, snapping at Kole. "I want this and you know it. So make him teach me!"

She's really upset now and Kole is flashing a glare between us. He takes her hand and turns her body toward his, effectively blocking me out, but not bothering to lower his angry, loud tone.

"What's wrong? I've never seen you this upset. Even after you've had your ass handed to you in the boxing ring with Deb's sucker punches, you kept your shit together. What did he fucking do last night to piss you off like this Breesan?" The dominating concern filling his words successfully calms her down, but his influence, along with his familiarity with her, pisses me off.

"No, I'm sorry, Kole," she says in a low voice while shaking her head. "It's just been a bit crazy lately. I've just had a lot of shit going on, but it has nothing to do with Marcus. Really. I'm here to learn. I don't care who teaches me even if it is him." She waves her hand at me.

"Thanks," I mock, but I'm no happier than she is about this situation.

"Just stop okay?" Kole says to me. "Man, what did I tell you, when we were in the locker room? Can you just do this for me? She's an excellent student and really she should have already been training in jujitsu, but we lost our instructor last winter when he went off to play with the big boys." He's mocking me now. I'm glad he didn't reveal to her that he is talking about me.

I consider his words and try to think through the idea of training Breesan every day. In one respect, it works out perfectly for me in my surveillance. However, my desire for her is yelling at me that this is a lethal idea and it will be my ass that suffers the consequences.

"Alright, I'll train you," I say and then point a finger at her. "But we're doing this on my schedule and you'll work harder than you have ever worked in your life or we're done. No excuses. And I demand respect in the dojo." I stare down at her, folding my arms over my chest and watching her expression run through several different emotions.

"Fine!" she spouts completely annoyed.

I breathe out a silent breath of relief, realizing that I was actually hoping that she would agree with my offer. I shouldn't be so happy about this. We walk to the private room where we'll be spending a lot of time together. Alone.

"We'll use this room," I indicate, extending my hand toward the open doorway of the private classroom. She enters and I follow.

"If you want to, go ahead put your stuff down in the corner, and take off your shoes. We're going to get started with the nonphysical contact first in your training. After that, I'll get you on the mat for your first positions."

Trying to ignore the sexual tension squeezing the life out of me, I remove my shoes and begin bouncing on the balls of my feet while shaking my hands in an attempt to shake out some of my stress. She pulls off her running shoes, slips off her socks then turns her back to me. I'm watching her now that she can't see me. She slides down her jogging pants and pulls her t-shirt over her head. She turns back shyly to face me and I now see she's only wearing a pink and black sports bra and matching tiny spandex boy shorts. My body comes alive and I turn away from her before she sees how much she affects me. Shit, I'm going to have to tell her that she has to wear a karate Gi during these classes.

How did I fool myself into thinking that I would be able to handle being this close to her and not be affected? Dammit. I want to take her so badly, but that shit is never going to happen. She made it clear that she is not interested. So why can't I accept it and get over her? I need to get over her? Jesus!

"First you will learn the fight flow chart: the four points to winning. Point one: close the distance with the enemy. Point two: execute the takedown. Point three: achieve the dominant position and lastly, point four: finish the fight. Each category will list different techniques. You will learn thirty six techniques total so you can win, or defeat your opponent." I maintain a level of professionalism and keep direct eye contact with her the entire time. This is the easy part. Getting on the mats with her will surely unman me. Motherfucker. I begin nervously rubbing the back of my neck and turn my back to her.

"OH! Yeah, the flow charts. Cool," she says enthusiastically.

I whip around and look at her curiously. "So you're familiar with the chart?" I ask, impressed with her response.

"Yeah, but don't be impressed. I Googled it and watched a few YouTube videos so it's just crap knowledge. I want to learn the skills." She shrugs, and pink coloring rises up her neck. Then she swiftly turns her eyes away from me. She's embarrassed, but I'm still impressed with her eagerness, and that damn pink is making me twitch.

"Ok, we will start with arms. I need you to get down on your knees on the mat in front of me. I'm going to lie on my back then you will crawl between my legs and grab my upper arms. Ready?" I look at her with fake confidence.

She fidgets before she drops down on her knees in front of me, causing me to swallow hard and I let out a ragged breath. Fucking Christ, I can't possibly have her between my legs without her being able to feel how attracted I am. Shit this was a bad idea. Fucking Kole!

"Sh-shouldn't I be on the bottom...and um you on top...of me so I can try to get free?" she splutters, glancing anywhere except for at me.

"Not this time Baby," I joke. She nails me with a hard stare and I wink. "You're going to learn how to execute the arm-bar from the guard. I'm going to demonstrate the position then we'll switch around for you to practice."

Her pink cheeks are going to be the death of me. Deep cleansing breaths aren't doing a damn bit of good, for either of us. I start thinking about stupid shit so I can focus on anything other than Breesan Fucking Maxwell. I run a hand over my face and begin the distraction process; puppies, Great Danes, Queens guard, Prince Harry, British Royal Air Force. Okay, yeah, this is helping. I smile inwardly and move to lie on the mat. I wait just a moment after lying down before lifting my head to look at her kneeling in front of me. I lift an eyebrow, expressing that I'm waiting for her to move closer. She's chewing on her lip. Now that's all I can focus on and I lose my damn restraint again. I groan, drop my head back on the mat hard, raising my eyes to the ceiling in defeat. I cross both arms over my head, cover my eyes, and then start the distraction process over.

"Great Danes, the freaking Queens guard –" Her laughter interrupts my rambling.

"What are you talking about Marcus? Why are you yelling about dogs and guards? Wait," she holds a hand up, "never mind I don't want to know. I need to um...Oh god, Marcus you need to know that I'm nervous about all of this." She waves both hands between us. "It's so intimate and I have never been like this with a guy." She stands up and backs away from me with her head bowed. I watch her retreat then I sit up into a seated position. She draws her body in, wrapping her arms around herself. I consider her silent stare and defensive posture, realizing that it doesn't mean she is uncomfortable with me. She's switching to self-preservation.

"Breesan, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. I know that you are aware of the proximity of opponents during grappling. Is this about the closeness of positions, or me? Because I am a professional and you don't need to worry about being anything except my student, and I'll be your teacher. Understand?"

I watch her body relax and eventually she comes back over. She drops down to her knees in front of me again. Her eyes are downcast and she is taking deep calming breaths. I take one of her hands in mine and she lifts her eyes. I offer a smile that I hope isn't creeper-style, but really her vulnerability adds to my desire for her. Fuck why does she have so much power over me?

"I'm all right now." She half-ass smiles at me, proving she is still nervous.

"Self-confidence is the key to being successful in jujitsu, as well as in life. I know you are a strong, confident woman who can tell off anyone better than I have ever witnessed. I also can tell that it's a smokescreen for the true emotions that you bury deep inside here" I tap a finger to my temple, "and here." I place my hand on my chest over my heart. "I want you to draw from right here." I move my hand to make a fist over my stomach, stressing my meaning. "I want you to focus your energy on every one of those damn emotions that you have stored so fucking deep inside you, away from everyone, grab hold with both hands and then pour that shit out on this mat." I slap my hand hard on the mat, emphasizing my point. "Now, are you ready?"

She smiles at me so big and proud then nods her head. "I'm ready. Let's do this!" I drop back on the mat face up, knees bent, and feet spread apart. She moves between them and I take her hands, placing them on my neck in a choking position.

"You have me in the guard position. Whether you are a large opponent or not, in a typical fight you could be effectively choking me in this position and have the upper hand. However, size and strength isn't the major factor in jujitsu. Rather, it's about skill and perfecting your technique. I'm going to show you five moves that will render your opponent defenseless." She nods.

As we begin, the training remains serious and professional. Her confidence returns, and the awkwardness we both felt earlier melts away. We run through the technique with me demonstrating from the bottom until she confirms she has the moves down well enough to attempt them.

"You are a natural for this form of fighting because you are analytical. I'm impressed with your ability to analyze the situation and then change your tactics accordingly. Keep in mind that for every move, there is a counter move, and as a competitor you will be thinking about and processing all aspects of a fight at once. Remember to remain calm and don't let your mind stray from the situation at hand. Stay in the moment." The praise I am giving her skills is honest.

An hour later, we are both sweating and panting from the rigorous practice. As she is downing the last of her water and I'm packing my gym bag, I notice her sending a text. Accidentally, I see Morgan's name on the screen and it instantly fuels a jealousy in me that I have never felt before. I can't stop myself from reading over her shoulder.

MORGAN: HEY BREESAN CHG UR MIND ABT DINNER 2NITE MORGAN

BREESAN: HOW DID U GET MY #

MORGAN: I STOLE IT FROM TRIS CELL :D

BREESAN: SO NOT COOL!!

MORGAN: SRY? SO DINNER 2NITE

BREESAN: NO!

"So, you and Morgan huh?" I ask after she catches me reading.

She tucks her cell phone into her bag and wipes sweat from the back of her neck with a towel. Her eyes flash and she hesitates answering while she slows her breathing, or maybe she's processing my question and is trying to come up with the right answer.

"If you are asking if we are dating then no, we're not." She shoots daggers at me.

"Ok, just friends. That's good I suppose. Morgan can use more friends." I shrug and laugh. "He did just move back home so he doesn't know many people here."

"Yeah, that's what Anna told me yesterday," she says. "And you've been here for a year or something like that I think she said...I...I don't remember what she said about you actually." She stumbles over the rush of words flowing out of her cute mouth, then she trails off. The flush from her workout hides her embarrassment, but I know it's under there and it has me adjusting to keep her from noticing again. She begins putting her stuff in her bag and suddenly I become aware that I don't want her to leave.

"You really are good. Kole's compliment earlier about you being an excellent student is true. I'm proud of the work you did today and I'll see you back here tomorrow afternoon. You're ready for more advanced floor exercises. It won't take much work to get your body conditioned to expect my attacks." We lock eyes and in this moment we both know that the meaning behind my words are meant for so much more than the training she has signed up to learn.

Kole opens the door, looks at me and then Breesan, breaking our moment. "So how did my girl do?" he asks. Cheeks flushing with embarrassment, she turns, glancing at him, then silently heads toward the door.

"Breesan," I yell. She turns back around and leans in through the doorway. "Buy a karate Gi for your next class." Smirking, she nods and leaves. Kole immediately whips around and studies me before speaking.

"Are you sure there's not something going on here?" Kole asks. "She's never been weird like this. Just walking away without speaking isn't her style."

"No, believe me she doesn't even like me, so there is definitely nothing going on between us."

He bobs his head, not believing a damn word I just said, and walks out of the room. I grab my bag and follow him, needing to be out of this room and away from the memories of Breesan's body wrapped around mine.

"Good, that's good," he mumbles, but I hear him clearly.

He wants her and it makes me want to rage knowing how familiar and comfortable they are with each other. She hugged him earlier and it's obvious they have known each other for a long time. I've got to shake this bullshit off.

Glancing down at my watch, I realize I'm running late. I'm heading over to Granddad's to make up for not being there for breakfast this morning. "I've got to run. I'll see you later Kole," I yell, passing the front desk and walking out the door.

"See ya, bro," Kole replies with a scowl.

Cool air hits me as I exit the gym. Salty air coming off the ocean blows wildly on this early summer evening. The sounds of the waves and seagulls screeching above the sands calm some of my anxiety. The gym is located just a block away from the ocean and tonight's a perfect night to walk the beach. If I didn't have to get to Granddad's like five minutes ago I would head that way instead.

I round the corner of the building where my vehicle is parked and notice a large man dressed in dark clothing standing in front of someone much smaller. They're standing near the wall beside an idling dark sports car. I hear faint voices and a soft feminine laugh. Everything appears to be fine so forgoing walking around my Jeep, I climb through the open top and slide into the driver's seat. In the process, I look up to see the man has effectively caged the woman against the wall with his huge body. She tries freeing herself from him, but he's pressing roughly against her. His voice deepens an octave, taking on a tone that appears to frighten her. She pushes harder against his broad chest, but he remains immobile.

My frustration with jerks like this propels me to intervene. It may just be some silly lovers' spat, but I'm not about to let any woman get hurt. I jump out of my Jeep and walk over, reaching around for my duty weapon and realizing I stored it in my bag, which is resting in my Jeep. I scan the area as I approach to make sure that Mammoth Man doesn't have backup hiding somewhere.

I stand directly behind him, attempting to ascertain the mood between them. "Is there a problem here?" I calmly ask.

He's a large man, maybe two inches over me, about twenty pounds heavier, and he's bulky like a lineman. His head is shaved and he has a tattoo of a serpent's head peaking above his shirt collar. His back is to me, blocking my view of the woman. The side of his face looks as if it has been used as a punching bag during boxing practice. His ear is swollen and there are fresh cuts above it.

"No problem," he snarls. "So you can mind your own damn business." He puts his large hand on the woman's bicep, spinning her away from me. The aggressive action causes her to yelp. My body tenses when I recognize the voice now cussing him.

"Get your fucking nasty hand off!" She slaps at his hand, "Marcus, help me!"

Breesan's voice shakes and I hear the fear as she rushes her words. I grab him by the arm that's holding hers and jerk it away. She scrambles away from us and runs to my Jeep. With her safely away from the guy I can focus on pummeling the hell out of the bastard. A vicious grin snakes across his face and he nods his head repeatedly, clearly juiced up on some illegal substance. He cracks his knuckles and steps toward me. This fucker is huge, but unless he's skilled he'll wear himself out before he lays a finger on me. I mock his grin with my own smirk and it's on.

I yell at Breesan, "Call the police now!" I reach for the mountain of a man rushing toward me with his body bent and shoulder leading.

### Chapter Nine

Breesan

The big creep attacks Marcus and they are on the ground in seconds. Marcus' jujitsu skills are impressive and the guy is nearly subdued once he's taken down to the ground. I realize I'm wasting time standing here watching the fight. Noticing I don't have my bag in my hand, I search around until I locate it lying where the guy threw it on the ground, next to the two of them. Dammit. My phone is in it.

From the backside of the building a smaller man rushes over toward Marcus and the creep, ready to join the fight. On approach, he yells at the large man, who acknowledges him and orders him to grab Marcus. Before he jumps into the mix the second man spots me clinging to the roll bar of Marcus' Jeep. He changes course, running toward me now. I begin to shake realizing that he is definitely heading for me. Deciding not to be a victim, I shift my posture into a fighter's stance, straighten my back and lift my fists in front of my face to block his attack. He's quick and precise, with his arms going around my waist immediately. I punch the side of his head as he lifts me off the ground before dropping me onto the pavement. My head bounces off the blacktop and instinctively I tuck my knees into my chest while I grab the back of my head with both hands. My injuries don't slow his assault.

His foot draws back intent on kicking my head and just before impact I shift. His forward momentum causes him to stumble, losing balance briefly. I crawl onto my knees and lumber toward the large truck. With its oversized tires, I can edge under it if I move quickly. It's only a few feet away, but after being thrown around like a ragdoll it feels more like miles. I scramble and in seconds I reach the undercarriage just as the point of his boot grazes over my hip.

Quicker now, I struggle to drag my body further under the truck when I feel his hands grab hold of my leg. He jerks hard and I fall on my face and stomach. He continues to pull, dragging me out from under the truck. One hand goes into my hair while the other grabs my collar. He brutally tugs on the flimsy hoodie material managing to close off my air. I cough and try to draw in a breath, but he twists the material tighter around my neck, holding me in place. Unable to breathe, I claw at the collar, but all my efforts are ineffective. Flashes of bright spots begin to cloud my vision until it slowly darkens.

"Get the fuck off her!" Marcus bellows from across the parking lot.

I strain against my attacker's hold, turning my head to face Marcus. He strikes the large guy, knocking him down, and then runs toward me. My attacker releases me, but not before pressing my face against the sidewall of the truck's wheel. I drop down and lay on my stomach, one hand on my face, the other clutching my throat, gasping for air. I hear Marcus and my attacker scuffle, but I can't watch. I squeeze my eyes tight against the pain and the horror of this situation. What the fuck is going on? I begin focusing on slowing my heart rate so I can calm down and try to help him. Before I can get back up, I hear a loud thud followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. My heart pounds harder fearing that more attackers are joining in the fight.

Carefully, I twist my body around, placing my back against the truck and searching the area. Still struggling for breath, I grab the side of the truck attempting to stabilize myself. My vision, previously fuzzy, starts to clear as I rise up on my feet. It's quiet now and I see something large lying on the ground near the area where they were fighting. The body lying face down is Marcus. Oh god. I shuffle over and drop to where he lays, unmoving. I pull hard on his shoulder to turn his body toward me and he grumbles in protest. I can't think of a time where I have been so thankful to hear a complaint before.

"Oh, Marcus, are you ok?" My voice cracks, "You're bleeding. Can you hear me?"

***

Marcus

Breesan's voice is heavy with emotion and her breathing is erratic. She's sitting on the ground with my head and upper body pulled on top of her lap. One of her arms drapes around my shoulder, holding me tight, while her other hand trembles as she repeatedly attempts to remove sweat soaked hairs away from my forehead. Overwhelmed with the need to comfort her, I seize it and place it palm down against my chest.

"Shhh Baby," I whisper and then cough from the pain in my chest. She squeezes my hand with both of her tiny ones, tugging it to her.

"Thank the lord, Marcus. The ambulance is almost here please be ok, please."

Ambulance sirens wail in the distance causing a dull pain in my head to intensify. I open my eyes and see watery gray ones staring down at me.

"Why are you crying Baby? Are you hurt?" She shakes her head and a single tear drops off her chin and onto my shoulder. I push off the ground trying to sit up, but she pulls me back down to her lap.

"Marcus," she gasps. "No, please stay still. The medics are here. Just wait for them to help you." She waves a hand at someone, beckoning them over. "Hurry, please help him. There is a knife sticking in his chest. Please don't let him die."

Additional voices soothe her while working efficiently and checking over my injuries. They place an IV in my hand before removing me from her lap and then lifting me onto a gurney. She still hasn't let my hand go and god if I'm not comforted by her selflessness. The medics place me in the back of the ambulance and assure her that I'll be fine. Then he tells her to follow behind us.

"Wait, I need to speak to her," I tell the medic. Nodding his head at me, he holds out a hand helping her up the steps and inside with me. She leans over me and I take a deep breath to speak, but her scent is so sweet and all I can manage to do is close my eyes savoring the moment. She clears her throat and I lift my eyelids to perfect lips quirking up on one side. She's smirking at me.

"Hey," she whispers, her fingers threading through the hair above my ear. "I'm going to follow the ambulance to the hospital. Don't even think about talking me out of it either." Narrowed gray eyes filled with determination dare me to argue, causing me to smile.

"Okay, Baby, find my keys. I dropped them when we started fighting. Get my cell and my bag out of the Jeep. Call Tristan for me. I don't want him worrying when I don't show up at his place. Just make sure he knows everything is okay, but don't tell him about the guys. Save that for me, ok? He's going to want to put out a search for them and get their asses off the street before they attack someone else, but I don't think that's really an issue." She nods and doesn't question my reasoning. "Breesan, I'm going to be ok and I need you to believe me." She nods again and before she can reply the medic taps her shoulder, explaining that they need to get me to the hospital. With a sad smile, she turns away from the medic looking back down at me.

"I'll follow you and call Tristan. See you there?" she whispers with her eyes closed before swallowing hard. I raise my hand to her face, placing my thumb on her cheek and splaying my fingers on the back of her neck before lightly tugging her down. My mouth grazes against her ear.

"You get your ass to the hospital safely and prepare to answer my questions when they get through bandaging me. I want to know what the hell that guy thought he was doing," I demand, forcing pure hostility through clenched teeth.

She looks confused and then anger spreads across her features. My threat appears to be successful. Pulling away from me without a word, she jumps out of the back of the ambulance and then yells at the medic that she's done with me and includes a few choice words to prove she is indeed angry.

***

Breesan

"As you requested Mr. Walker, we've got him settled in a private room for the night." The same emergency room doctor, who reluctantly released me after checking my injuries, explains Marcus' treatment and prognosis to Tristan and his granddad. "He's a very lucky young man, the wound is superficial. Just a few more inches and this conversation would be very different. He only has a few stitches and the nurse will return soon to give him a tetanus shot. I ordered a battery of tests just as a precaution, but for now, he's out of trouble. He'll remain here overnight so we can monitor him. Honestly, I don't foresee any complications. Discharge papers are signed already so he won't have to wait long, but I'd feel better if he stayed tonight so we can observe him. Someone can pick him up first thing in the morning." The emergency room waiting area is empty except for us. Tristan stands, arms crossed over his large thick chest, listening to the doctor, but watching his grandfather intently. Granddad nods and agrees with the doctor.

I'm so pissed at Marcus right now, but I refuse to let his bullshit attitude mess with my head. Instead of dwelling on his weird mood change, I focus on what happened tonight. I keep replaying the whole scene over in my head, but it just didn't make any since. I can't believe the guy thought he could just come up and get aggressive with me. He didn't look familiar, he was creepy as hell and the way he spoke made me extremely uncomfortable. I have trained for years learning how to defend myself in physical altercations, but when the moment presented itself the only thing I could do was yell for help. Wouldn't you know that help would be in the form of the one man I desire for my knight in shining armor, but can't be? Or is it that he won't be?

We've been at the hospital for three hours and I have yet to see Marcus. After the way he spoke earlier I'm not sure he wants to see me, but I need to make sure he is better. Then I'm going home. If he starts demanding answers from me I'm not sure what to do. I don't have any ideas what that scene at the gym was all about.

Tristan turns from the doctor and walks over to me. "We're going back to see him. Do you want to go with us? We'll only be a minute. They said he's staying, but we're not allowed to hang out." His dark hair is a mess from running his hand through it all night. He pushes his hands deep into his front pockets, looking less stressed after hearing from the doctor. He waits for my answer.

Shaking my head, I glance at the clock hanging on the wall and make my excuse. "I just wanted to make sure he is ok. He said he would be and I guess he was right. So I'll just head on home since it's so late." I gather my running jacket and bag and begin walking toward the exit.

Tristan grabs my hand and heads for the entryway leading back to the patient rooms. My nerves go berserk as he drags me toward Marcus. What purpose does he have, dragging me back here? Marcus must be asleep by now. I'm sure they drugged him, or he's in too much pain and will not want strangers back there. Besides, I don't think he's going to want to see me.

"Oh damn. Did we miss her giving you the shot in the ass?" Tristan jokes as we enter the small exam room.

"Yeah, you just missed it. Thirty seconds earlier you would have seen my bare ass," Marcus discloses with a chuckle in his voice.

My blood begins to heat and I squirm at the thought. I bite down hard on my bottom lip to suppress a groan that could embarrass the hell out of me. I wonder what he'd think if he knew that I'd much rather bite down on his bare ass instead.

What?

"If he gives you any trouble just give me a call and I'll take care of him," Mac Walker, Marcus' granddad, orders the cute nurse taking care of Marcus.

When I enter the room, Marcus' eyelids lift up and green eyes look straight at me. His appear perplexed, as if he thought I wouldn't be here for him.

"Hey, you came?" he asks disbelievingly. Of course I came. What choice did I really have after he practically growled his demand earlier? I nod my head and he smiles a lop-sided, probably drug-induced, grin. I remember we aren't alone when Tristan grabs my attention by placing his hand on my upper arm.

Turning to face Marcus, he starts, "Want to tell me what happened and how the hell someone put you in here instead of the other way around, Mac?" Tristan's face is marked with fury, while his hands clench and release repeatedly.

"I guess Breesan didn't tell you about the guy harassing her."

"Not a word," Tristan replies.

"Good. I half expected her to disobey me."

I cut my eyes to him, but remain quiet. The faster he gets through his damn questioning, the faster I can get out of here. I need to be away from him before I do something else that makes me look stupid. Still watching me attentively, he notices my frown. Resentment and confusion rush through me, demanding that I take off.

"Can we get started so I can get out of here?" I ask, slumped against the closed door, staring at my feet. "It's late and I'm exhausted."

"Did you know that guy or his buddy, B?" Tristan asks. Gone is the good friend I've known most of my life and in his place stands Officer Walker, in full-blown cop mode.

"Never seen them before tonight," I answer, shaking my head. "They didn't even look familiar. The bigger guy stopped me by saying he thought he knew me, but then asked for my name. I told him that I didn't know him and I refused to tell him anything. He said..." Pausing, I clear my throat and glance around the hospital room, seeing the three men staring at me. I struggle with telling them the embarrassing lies the man said. Tristan drops his head and leans in close toward me, indicating he's waiting for me to finish my story.

"Did he threaten you?" Tristan asks. "Or lay a hand on you? Is there something specific you can remember about his description?" I don't want to share anything about what happened and I don't want to lie to him. Unable to make eye contact, I notice him tapping his boot, frustrated with my delayed response. My hand instinctively moves to my arm rubbing the spot where the first man left his mark.

I sigh and with a soft voice, I say, "He didn't threaten or hurt me, but he did lie when he said that he remembered me from a time when we were together. He told me that he wanted to reenact that memory against the brick wall." I swallow hard, but keep telling them what I recall. "I remember that he had a scar above his collarbone and a tiny burn mark on the right side of his neck. It was half-moon shaped like maybe it was made from the side of a cigarette. He said something that I didn't think about until now, but it doesn't make sense and maybe it doesn't mean anything." I pause, let out a heavy breath and finish telling them the worst part. "He said that if he gets his way, I'll stay alive for a little longer than they intended so he could play with me. That's when Marcus walked over and started the fight."

Silence. The room is eerily quiet and remains that way until I drag my eyes up and find the reason why. All three of their faces are etched with a strange and unfamiliar emotion. I can't deal with their disappointment and need to leave now.

In a trembling voice, I make an excuse to leave. "It's really, really late. I know that Julia must be completely freaking out by now, so I'm going to head home. If you have more questions call me tomorrow, but I'm done!" I finish with an unexpected shriek.

"Breesan," Marcus calls with a soothing tone, but it does nothing to calm my anxiety.

I shake my head, refusing to look at him. "No," I whisper.

Panic shooting through me, I reach for the doorknob, twist it open, and exit his room hastily. I can't take their pity, his pity. Rushing out of the hospital, I inhale sharply and aching sobs fill my chest. I hold them until I reach the parking lot and once there, I can't stop them. I cry because I'm the reason Marcus is in that hospital bed. I cry because if he hadn't been there that guy could have done very bad things to me. I cry because they were all looking at me with honest concern, and I don't deserve their care or worry.

I race to the half-lit hospital parking deck determined to get as far away from here as possible. The garage is practically vacant except for a few cars parked in the doctors' spaces and the unoccupied security cart left on the ground level. Rather than waiting for the elevator since my vehicle is parked on the second level, I rush toward the stairwell taking the stairs two at a time. I reach the level my car is on and pull the handle of the access door, but it won't budge. My nerves are so frazzled and the tears streaking down my cheeks aren't helping anything. Releasing the death grip my arms have around my stomach, I wipe the wetness away with my fingertips as fast as they come.

I hear a scraping sound coming from the level below, followed by quick footsteps that echo loudly off the walls. Again I tug on the door, harder the second time, but it's completely jammed and unmoving. Beginning to panic, I decide to go up to the third floor and take the elevator back down to two.

When I reach the door on level three and try the handle, I am again disappointed because it's also jammed or locked. True terror begins to burn through me, causing my body to seize up. I'm completely immobile and the heavy footsteps, now running, are getting closer by the second. Willing my legs to do something, I shift into the dark corner of the platform and slide my back against the wall. Taking deep breaths to calm my heartbeat and breathing, I close my eyes and focus. Something moves in front of me and then slams into my leg. I scream bloody murder, thrashing both my arms and legs to get whatever it is away from me, and then successfully knock it back down the stairs. The reverberating footsteps stop abruptly and suddenly the throbbing pulse in my ears mutes out all sound.

Feeling like my chest will explode with fear, adrenaline bursts through me taking over where my brain and body left off and I quickly climb the rest of the stairs in search of the rooftop access. As I reach out for the door, I pray this one is open. One hard push and the door swings out, but before I can break free from the stairwell, I'm suddenly jerked away and pushed against the railing, nearly falling back down the steps. The large hand on my shoulder spins me around and I come face to face with a pissed off Tristan.

"What the hell are you trying to do to me girl?" he snaps. "I nearly had a heart attack when I couldn't find you in the lobby. Why would you run away from me?" He's panting and breathing as hard as I am. Unable to speak, I shake my head hoping he knows that I wouldn't run from him.

"And why in the hell did you kick that poor cat down the stairs at me?"

"Oh, that's what hit my leg." Laughing at me, Tristan bends at the waist, releasing a deep howl, but I don't find humor in having the shit scared out of me. His continuous echoing laughter becomes contagious. Finally I can't fight it anymore and join him with a controlled giggle. Relief fills his features slowly and he moves toward me, wrapping me in his arms, and holds me to his chest tightly. At this point, everything comes crashing down on me, I lose it, my tears are hard and I am ugly crying. I shake my head, trying to pull away, but he won't relent on this embrace. He shushes me, reassuring me that it's over and I'm safe now.

"Let's get out of this creepy ass stairway." He glances down at me with a smirk on his lips. "Why the hell would you even think about taking the stairs in an empty parking deck on a dark night like this one?" Walking toward the elevator together, he holds me against his side with one arm draped over my shoulder.

I chuckle. "Oh didn't you know? I'm a dumb ass." We laugh until he has me safely seated inside my car and he stands waiting to verify that I lock my doors.

I wave goodbye and as I pull out of the parking deck I notice a black sedan parked along the curb near the exit. I know that it's my leftover adrenaline that has me on edge, but suddenly I feel like the car is following me. Hoping to prove myself wrong, I turn at the next light, which is off my route to get home, and, unfortunately for me, the sedan copies my turn. I debate on letting it pass me or pulling over, but then I think it could be the one of the guys from earlier who hurt Marcus. I decide that it would be best if I drive to the closest gas station or business that's still open and pray that the car doesn't stop too.

I make it two blocks before spotting the SavUrCash gas station and signal my intention to turn in. Thankfully, the driver accelerates and passes me, too quickly for me to see him. I let out the breath I'd been holding for the past minute when suddenly my phone chirps with a new text message. I sit another moment, settling my nerves and then open it. Three words and my heart stops, and then stutters back to beating again.

UNKNOWN CALLER: FEAR & TERROR @Google!!!!

I think I drove on autopilot all the way home. Sitting in my driveway with my heart beating erratically and my hands shaking uncontrollably, I'm certain that I'm having another one of my damn panic attacks. I lift my eyes to the sky praying that I can stay in control. After receiving such a vague message, I'm not sure that's possible. Who is sending these weird freaking text messages? The number's restricted, and honestly no one I know would try to mess with me so cruelly. More important than the text messages, I need to know what the guy in the parking lot wanted with me. I saw through his lies and it's shitty to admit now, but I didn't want Tristan and Marcus knowing that I think I've seen the guy before – not in the sick way he said – but he was definitely familiar. I've racked my brain trying to remember where I've seen him before, but can find nothing in my recent memories of someone so vile. Could the text messages and the guy in the black sedan mean anything, or am I just being paranoid? Nothing strange like this has ever happened before, so why is it that these things all happen on the same weekend? I need to get upstairs and take my medicine before this becomes a full blown episode.

Climbing out of my car, I slowly walk into the dark house. Julia's probably been asleep for a couple of hours already so I pad quietly through the foyer. I glance up the stairs that lead to my room, but instead of going up, I sneak down the hall toward my dad's study. It has been locked since the day he left for deployment, but I know there's a spare key above the doorframe. Missing my dad terribly and needing to feel closer to him, I found it a couple of years ago. Reaching up, I slide my hand over the top of the door, and find it still in its hiding place. I twist the lock open and shove against the door softly. It's dark, but I keep the lights off not wanting Julia to find me in here. With the rain over and the clouds gone, the moonlight gives more than enough light for me to see.

Of course Julia has forbidden me from this room, but I've been in here many times, usually when she's away. Standing at the desk in front of the window, I pick up the picture frame displaying a curly haired little girl in a pink dress dancing with an older man. She is mid-twirl holding his large finger and they mirror the most enchanting smiles. Instantly, my mind transports back to that sweet summer afternoon. Sadly, I remember that day is literally the last happy day of my life. I quickly stop the memory before it consumes me.

Dad went away, leaving me here with no one in this world to love me, or care if I was ever happy again. Living like this for so long is hell and I'm sick of being so damn miserable. I need answers, but the only person who knows anything refuses everything I ask of her. Why won't Julia tell me about my dad's family? She's always so open about details when I asked about my mother, but gives me nothing about my father. What could be so wrong with wanting to know more about him and his family? I can't remember ever meeting my grandparents. Could they still be alive?

Jolted by the excitement of possibly having living relatives, I fumble the frame, dropping and shattering it on the hard floor. Panic ensues, but I inch my feet back, avoiding the broken glass. I stare at the destruction lying at my feet and feel the pain of my busted world deep within my whole being. Bending over, I shake the shards loose from the picture frame and notice a slip of paper fall. I pick it up and hold it under the sliver of moonlight beaming through the window. Reading the specific four numbers, I wonder about the significance of hiding it. It makes no since because the numbers are my birthday, with the last two digits of the year separated by a dash. Puzzled, I sit in his chair staring at the paper numbly for a long time. I run the reasons through my head, but no answers come. Positive he could never forget my birthday, I'm literally dumbfounded. Like adding fuel to a fire, I get angry at him for leaving something so stupid behind for me to find or maybe he didn't intend on anyone finding this paper. Why did he hide that damn date?

"What's the value in the number, Dad if it isn't my birth date?" I whisper into the dark. Tingling fears assault my brain and I'm too completely overwhelmed to reason the possibilities.

Eerily illuminated fully by moonlight, the bookshelf housing some of my most cherished memories draws my attention upward. Standing, I carefully and mechanically pass over the glass, reaching for my favorite fairytale. It's an early edition Sleeping Beauty and the only book I ever asked my dad to read at bedtime. Slowly, I flip through the pages and a tightening in my chest reminds me of how much I miss him. A silent tear slips down my cheek slowly and drips onto the page. No longer interested in being trapped in this room filled with painful memories, I stretch my arm up, returning the book to the shelf. Against the back wall, I see something hidden behind the remaining books. I know I've never noticed it before and didn't think my dad was this enigmatic. Curious and resolved to get down to the bottom of this secret, I move another book and then another, until all the books on the shelf are crashed down on the floor at my feet, revealing a combination safe.

Connecting what I see and what I hold in my hand, a moment of clarity hits me and I move quickly to gain access before I'm discovered. There's no doubt in my mind that Julia heard all the noise I made while recklessly tossing stuff around. Determining my need for answers outweighs his secrets or her hatefulness, I shove shit out of the way. Tucking the paper into my pocket, I spin the combination rapidly. Reaching the last number, the seal pops on the safe and I freeze, swallowing back my anxiousness. Digging into the safe, I see stacks of bound papers, a velvet box, and a couple of small handguns lying under a thick envelope. Pulling out the envelope, I see my dad's name along with my own, handwritten on the outside. I remove the clip securing it closed and shuffle through the stapled papers inside. I see my name typed on property deeds for land here on the island and a will and testament dated the year my dad was deployed. Keeping everything in order, I skim through some more of the bulging packet and after a few pages I freeze when I find my birth certificate.

My breathing begins to speed up and I feel like I may actually hyperventilate. Oddly, my parent's family's information is omitted from the official document. I'm not sure why their names aren't listed, but that's not what's bothering me. The information that is provided is completely unfamiliar and doesn't make sense. It lists my mother's name as Casandria Madison. Why is my mother listed with her maiden name instead of Maxwell? Weren't my parents married before I was born? I guess I never thought about it before and why would I? I didn't even know that my mother's maiden is also my middle name. I wonder why Julia never shared that information with me.

The sound of a throat clearing startles me and I drop the folder I'm holding. The overhead light comes on, and standing in the doorway is one angry Julia. Damn, I need to close the safe!

"Why are you in here Breesan?" Growling, her words are almost inhuman.

"I came in here to feel close to my dad, Julia," I snap in defense, quickly shutting the safe and not giving a damn if she notices.

She glances over, but doesn't look at the bookshelf. "All of this crap is what's left of your father's things. I haven't been in here since he left us."

Left us? She says it like his deployment was his choice. She has the same look on her face that she always gets when she talks about my dad. What others accept as sadness is actually contempt. Disgusted by her, I choose not to listen to this bullshit anymore. Walking past her toward the door, I falter when she snags my arm. I yank away from her fierce grip and face her, ready for anything that she thinks she can do to me.

"Dammit, what are you doing?" I snap. I'm no longer a child and I won't tolerate her nastiness another minute. My fists squeeze together and I stand ready to strike. She glances down, noticing the papers in my hands. Violently, she snatches them away and a wicked smile snakes across her face.

"It looks like you found what I've spent years looking for. Thanks, Bug," she retorts, walking through the study door casually with papers that were clearly left for me.

Chasing after her, I grab her arm, forcibly spinning her around. "Those papers have my name on them. Give them back," I demand.

She laughs wickedly, raking her eyes over me with a familiar and evil glint in her eyes. "Whatever your dad left in here is now mine. You want back what has your name on it?"

"Yes!"

"You can have it after your birthday. Until then, I'll just keep it safe...with me." Smirking, she jerks her arm out of my hold and strolls down the hallway, leaving me staring after her.

Shaking from this incident and everything that's happened today, I take several deep cleansing breaths and slide down the wall, sitting on the floor. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I stare at the floor while one hand digs into my hair and the other covers my mouth. I am not a fucking idiot. Birthday or not, she won't give those papers back. She lives to piss me off daily and giving those back will ruin her perfect streak. That evil bitch is keeping shit from me and I vow that no matter what it takes, I'm going to find out just what the hell it is. And when I do, Julia will regret it.

### Chapter Ten

Morgan

Walking into the kitchen, I attempt to wipe away the sleep from my face with the palms of my hands. I make my way over to the lovely beauty, cooking breakfast, wrap my arms around her and then tug her tightly against my chest. Looking over her shoulder, I notice the bacon-filled skillet. I drop a kiss on her cheek and she pats mine, stepping out of my embrace as she turns around. Her face breaks out into the most beautiful smile and my heart warms.

"Good morning Sweetheart. Did you come in late again?" she asks sweetly.

"Yes ma'am, I met up with friends and got in around four." I wince and crinkle my nose at the thought of angering her with my honesty. She shakes her head, but remains silent while scooping the bacon out of the pan. She places several pieces on a plate already filled with fresh fruit and a cathead biscuit, alongside a small bowl of gravy. I laugh at the amount of food she expects me to eat and dig in. She reaches around and slaps the top of my hand with her tiny frail one.

"Morgan Asher Walker, I know you weren't going to eat that food before blessing it, were you?" My fork is poised at my open mouth filled with a heap of gravy biscuit. I promptly place it back on my plate to offer a thank you to God before shoveling it in. She smirks and lifts one eyebrow at me, offering a feminine grunt of disapproval.

"Sorry Gran. This is terrific. Where's Granddad this morning?"

"He's back in the study on the phone with your father. According to Barret, they should be arriving in town next week. That is if there aren't any delays at the Canadian office. It will be nice to have everyone home for a change. I missed not having you here last summer. Since you're home and settled I have something I want to discuss with you." She takes a long sip of her coffee, but something in her eyes tells me that she's unhappy about what she wants to talk about.

"Is everything all right? Is it Granddad?" I rush my words.

"No son, everything is not all right, but it's not your Granddad that I want to discuss. It's you and your brother." She looks at me with determination. As much as I do not want to talk about Marcus, I know she will not stand for me to dismiss her concerns.

"If I promise to speak with Marcus today will you hold this conversation about our relationship until another day?" I hope I can delay her meddling with the situation between me and my twin.

"Oh Hon, Marcus got hurt last night and is in the hospital." She shakes her head and reaches out for me, placing cool fingers on my arm. "The doctor released him and Tristan is bringing him here now. I'm sorry. I thought someone would have told you last night." She is genuinely sorrowful on passing along this information this way.

"Don't worry about it Gran. He's ok then? I'm guessing since the doctor released him that it wasn't anything major."

"He has some bad bruising on his face and a minor cut to his chest, but they said all he needed was a few stitches and some rest. That's why he's coming here. I insist that he stays where I can keep an eye on him and make sure that he gets plenty of rest. Now, you..." She points at me, a very serious look on her face, "You are going to find some time very soon, perhaps today, and work out whatever has come between you two. Do I make myself clear?" I would never disrespect my Gran, and lying to her would certainly be disrespectful so I have to do this with finesse.

"You know I'll do anything for my special lady." I wink. Before I can change the subject, I hear voices coming down the hallway toward the kitchen.

Tristan escorts Marcus into the kitchen, joining Gran and me. He glances at me, but turns away and acknowledges only Gran. He embraces her and she promptly insists he sit down. A three-way conversation that does not include me quickly begins and I find that I don't need to be a participant. Topics range from the corporation to the party that Gran has agreed to host for Tristan's graduating class. Finally bored with being the odd man out, I decide to excuse myself from the uncomfortable and unwanted looks that I am attracting from Marcus.

"Before you leave can I have a word with you?" Tristan asks and I nod. He follows me into the family room, shutting the door behind him. The large room is filled with years of Walker family memories, memories of an amazing childhood that include my estranged brother.

"Sorry I didn't call last night. When I mentioned it, Mac said not to bother you. Are y'all ever going to get beyond this shit? Fuck almighty, Morg. He could have been killed last night. And if he had, the guilt would have eaten you alive."

I refuse to look at him. Instead of acknowledging Tristan, I study a candid photo of the three of us taken just before the move to England. In the picture, we're sitting in red bleachers, wearing matching baseball caps and jerseys, while eating hot dogs. We had flown into Birmingham and were at the Barons' season opening game. Our parents kept season passes and we had a family box to watch the games in comfort, but we insisted on being down by the third baseline.

Everyone thinks that seats behind home plate are the best seats at a baseball game, but the prime real estate is the spot between third and home. When a runner is rushing home and slides headfirst to secure a score or the win, this seating offers the best view. Plus, most of the best players in the major leagues are the pitchers, third basemen or shortstops. Tristan, Marcus and I were best friends during this time, a simpler time, long ago. The memory fades as I feel a strong hand grasp my shoulder. I look away from the photo to a stressed out Tristan.

"Cut the shit, go back in there and talk to him." His jaw is twitching from the anger he's restraining. I shake my head no. Disappointment fills his features. "Fine, but he stays here. Sam's gone out of town and he really shouldn't be alone right now."

"It shouldn't be a problem. I'm not going to be around much. I have meetings planned with dad and the board members over the next few weeks. Then a company trip out of town scheduled at the end of the month. Speaking of which, when are you moving into your office? You know Granddad is planning for all of us to be working together this summer. I'm sure Beck is overjoyed, he's expecting you there too," I say, changing the subject to his father, effectively getting his mind off of my problems with Marcus. He moves toward the doorway with a distant look in his eyes. My subject change indeed worked the way I'd hoped. He's dropping this conversation and bolting from the room like his ass is on fire. Maybe Marcus and I do need to talk about that shit with Elise, but have they told him he needs to talk to me? It's unlikely that they're giving him as much shit about it as I'm getting. He wouldn't even look at me when he came in so I think we need more time.

"Yeah, work out some time to talk to Mac." He steps through the doorway, but pauses before adding, "By the way, he was protecting Breesan when he got injured last night. I'll see you later."

My heart hammers hard in my chest. Fucking shit. He didn't say she was injured, and I know Marcus well enough to know that he would never allow harm to come to her. An oppressive need to see her seizes my mind. After the way I behaved the last time she saw me and that stupid text message foul, will she care to see me? Fuck it, I'm going. Perhaps seeing her and the ride will clear my head too.

In the garage, I slide on my helmet and jacket, pop the key into the ignition of my shiny black Ducati, and hit the starter. I roll out of the bay and torque the throttle, revving the engine up to 9000 rpm's then pop the clutch. Winding down the driveway, I skid to a stop, nearly colliding with an oncoming blacked out sedan that is hogging the entire driveway. I snatch off my helmet and jump off my bike, now leaning against the pavement.

"What the fuck?" I yell at the unseen driver. "You could kill someone taking up the whole damn road." I bang on the window wanting it rolled down, but instead the driver door opens.

I'm frozen, speechless and mouth agape staring into the face from my past. "Hello darling," she enunciates with the same sexy accent she used while screaming my name as I fucked her.

"Dammit Elise, what the hell are you doing here?" My body reacts to her even though my mind is telling me to leave her sitting in the driveway to be someone else's problem.

"I'm here for you, silly. Why are you still standing there? Give me a kiss, love." She bats her eyelashes and licks those glorious full lips. She skillfully calls to my body with subtlety, but I'm familiar with her sweet tricks and still fall for them. Her beautiful brown eyes and contagious smile draw me toward her. Without even realizing I'm doing it, I reach for her hand, drawing her body tightly against mine. She moans low and tilts her head up, exposing her sexy pout for me to devour.

"Why are you really here Elise?" I ask after shaking myself out of her trance. "I want the truth." She is not an apt liar and I have no patience to deal with any more bullshit today.

"Don't you want to take me inside your family home and show me how you grew up my love?" she purrs stroking a hand along my jaw line. "I want to see the adorable naked baby pictures and hear all the stories that make you blush." Lowering her voice to a seductive whisper, she demands, "Take me inside and then later you can take me to your bed." Her hand runs the length of me and she presses her lips to my cheek. Taking her to my bed would only create more problems. Does she even know which twin she's trying to seduce?

"How did you find me? And why are you here now? We ended it months ago," I growl, pushing her body off mine. She pokes her bottom lip out and reaches back for me, but I shake my head. She turns quickly, climbing back inside her car.

"Take me inside, Love," she orders, closing the door and ending our debate, momentarily.

Son of a bitch, this is not what I need right now. I lift my motorcycle upright and straddle the seat while she stares at me with heat-filled eyes, causing them to turn almost black. She's turned on, and a turned on Elise will not be contained. Fuck, this is going to get messy. Following me up the driveway, she parks behind my bike, climbs out, and sashays over. I turn away quickly, shooting that shit down before it gets out of control, and she falls in step behind with just a tiny pout.

Once inside, the first person we encounter is Gran. Even with her pleasant greeting, I can see the questions brewing in her eyes. "Hello Sweetheart."

"Gran, this is Elise, she is...an acquaintance." I look at the sexy way Elise is dressed and realize calling her an acquaintance is underestimating Gran's intelligence, but I go with it anyway.

"It's nice to meet you dear. Morgan didn't tell me he was expecting company." Gran smiles, but flashes me a disappointed look.

Gran, Aileen Barret Walker, is the heart and soul of the Walker family. She has the purest heart with a love that is overwhelming and unlimited. She openly regards everyone with compassion and hospitality.

"Morgan did not know I was coming to visit. It's a surprise. One that is long overdue. Isn't that right darling?" She smiles at me, but quickly turns her attention to what Gran is doing. "Gran is it? Why exactly are you rubbing white bread on the walls?" Elise stands with both hands on her hips while snickering. Clearly displeased with the attitude and mocking tone, Gran quirks up an eyebrow, grunts and when she speaks her voice is low and controlled.

"You may call me Mrs. Walker, young lady. I'm using this rye bread to clean the smear mark off my new wallpaper, darling."

"Oh, I understand, that must be one of you all's – you's – y'all's country bumpkin cleaning methods. Interesting."

Elise runs a finger over the wall nearest her and rubs it with her thumb, as if inspecting it for dirt. Satisfied with the cleanliness, she quickly turns wordlessly toward the kitchen and walks through the arched doorway. Gran shoots me a discouraged look, shaking her head as she resumes cleaning. I drop my shoulders anticipating the tongue lashing her warning look promises later.

"I'm dehydrated from the astonishingly long flight to Alabama. Fetch some water for me," Elise orders like the entitled bitch she is.

"Elise, I've already been as polite as I can be to you. I insist you tell me what you are doing here and then I want you to leave," I grumble, standing firm with my arms crossed and unmoved by her.

"I'm here for you Morgan!" she exclaims as if that was the obvious answer to my question.

"Well you're not getting me, so walk out the door, get your ass back in your car and leave now."

"I'm not leaving, Morgan. I have a hotel room in town, but..." She licks her lips. "I was hoping that I could stay here with you. I've missed you and I know you have missed me. What do you say we go upstairs now and make up for all of those lonely nights apart?"

Standing inches away from me with her chest straining through her tight red dress, I'd have to be blind not to notice how incredible she looks with her long red hair flowing along her arms and back. She places her soft hand on my neck then trails one fingernail down my chest to the waistband of my jeans. I grab her hand just as she cups me, pushing her away. She narrows her eyes at me and again I stunned by her exquisite beauty -- even when she's pissed off, she's sexy as hell.

I know her sweet body well. I have enjoyed discovering her little hidden treasures in the past, but dammit she's toxic. I can't allow her back into my life. Besides Marcus is here and all it will take is for them to run into each other. Then she'll be rubbing against him the same way she is doing with me. At this very moment unbeknownst to us until he clears his throat, Marcus stands in the stairway leading from the basement, watching us.

A sharp intake of air and she croons, "Marcus?" Something about her reaction to his presence feels rehearsed.

The icy glare he directs to her pierces me. "Elise," Marcus responds flatly. I don't feel guilty about her behavior, but when he glances at me, I avert my eyes.

A salacious smile crosses her lips, "What are you doing here? I mean, I had no idea that you boys made up. This is absolutely wonderful news. I suppose now we can all finally be friends." She bites down hard on her bottom lip, a sign that she's horny, and takes a step toward him.

He holds up a stiff hand shaking his head, "No! I don't think so Elise. You and Morgan can be whatever you want, but I'm done." He dismissively waves his hand then drops it. "I'm leaving..." Before he can finish, she crosses the kitchen, cutting him off.

"No darling, I'm here to see you both and I want us all to make up for lost time. I know we can be great friends. Let's give it a go. What do you say, Love?" She deepens her French accent, causing it to drip with sensuality. I watch as she brings out the big guns, her accent is his weakness. I'm curious now to see if he can continue to resist her. Currently, I'm fighting my own body's betraying response to the spell she casts.

"What the hell is your problem Elise?" Marcus bellows. Having heard enough, I grab her upper arm, turning her away from him.

Looking between them, I yell, "That's enough!" Turning to face Elise, I growl, "Let's go, you're leaving now, Love." Using the name she's called him and me, I escort her to the front door and push her out without a shred of remorse for my bad manners. "Don't come back Elise."

Spinning around with bitterness in her tone and shooting from her narrowed eyes, she snaps, "I'm not done here. Do you hear me? We are not done! Not even close, Morgan."

I snort as I watch her walk down the sidewalk and slither into her car. Turning around, I see Marcus is watching her as well. "I had no idea that she would follow me here. I haven't seen her in months," I defend, but not really sure why I feel the need to excuse her actions.

"I don't even care, Morgan," he replies and walks away.

"Marcus, I'm...can we talk?" I stutter through my attempt at an apology.

He continues walking away, "No need. I'm going to lie down before the pain meds knock me down."

Being dismissed by him leaves me feeling exactly the same as before Elise showed up. Fuck it, I tried, but he's a selfish bastard. It's either his way or no way, and I'm not playing his game. Remembering the reason I was leaving earlier was to check on Breesan, I decide to send a text.

MORGAN: HEY BREESAN!

BREESAN: HOW R U?

MORGAN: GOOD, R U OK?

BREESAN: GUESS U HEARD ABT LAST NITE? IM OK

MORGAN: CAN I C U?

BREESAN: WHEN?

MORGAN: NOW...

There is a long pause before she finally answers me, saying that she will meet me for coffee at Devan's Cup. Arriving on my motorcycle, I cut the twenty-minute drive by several minutes, but find that she's beaten me here. I stroll into the coffee shop and see her body curled up on one of the sofas. She has her head tucked down, one elbow on the back of the sofa with her hand gripping the back of her neck while reading. Glancing up as I approach, she arches an eyebrow and tilts her head studying me.

"Hi. Morgan?" With humor in her smile, she pretends she can't tell me from my twin. Even though she's joking, her eyes display a sadness that I hadn't seen before.

She's beautiful sitting there with her dark brown hair pulled into a low ponytail, wearing a tight-fitting, faded, white t-shirt, loose low rise jeans, and a pair of brown flip flops – perfectly casual and comfortable.

Dropping down beside her, my knee brushes against her thigh and I instantly feel a rushing sensation pulse through my body. I scrub the palm of my hand over the spot where the contact is, attempting to soothe the burning desires. Only it's not an ache that stops on the surface; rather it moves along my body, traveling deep inside me. I regain my composure and focus on her words in an attempt at normal conversation.

An odd sound, mostly a chuckle, precedes my reply. "Yes, it's me. You're quite a funny girl, aren't you?" Smiling at her joke, I tense when her lips shift to a frown. "Now, tell me about what happened last night. I only got a few details from Tristan this morning after they brought Marcus home from the hospital." Her body tenses at the mention of my brother's name. I wonder if it's a mistake bringing up this subject so quickly.

Heavy emotions brew behind her beautiful gray eyes, "Is he ok?" Her words are rushed and panicky as she leans forward in her seat. Is she preparing to run away, again?

"He has Gran waiting on him hand and foot. What do you think?" I joke and she relaxes slightly, settling back down into her seat.

A smile spreads across her face and she glares at me before speaking. "Your Gran will have him better in no time."

"And how are you?" She looks away, staring down at her hands knotting in her lap.

"I'm okay," she lies. "I feel horrible about what happened to Marcus." Overwhelmed by her concern for him, I have an urge to hold her, but she isn't about to allow it.

"Now see, I can tell that you're not being truthful," I respond. Her body draws into itself, like she's retreating into defense mode. I need for her to relax and trust me. "You're hurting and think that you can fool me with that placating response, but it won't work." I smile. "See, I have this sixth sense that alerts me when a pretty girl is in pain. I want to help, Breesan. For what it's worth, I'm a pretty good listener and even better at keeping secrets."

An unexpected shudder passes across her shoulders. Without hesitation I pull her down, causing her head to land against my chest. I tuck her head under my chin, running my hand up and down her back and hugging her lightly.

"You know what? Never mind, I have a better idea than talking."

"Oh yeah, like what?" she asks curiously while sniffing.

I run the pad of my thumb under her eye where a tear threatens to spill over, but successfully catch it before it falls. I wink and answer back, "Come with me and find out." Standing from the leather couch, I drag her along with me. Hesitantly, she grabs up her backpack and I take it, pulling a strap over one shoulder before grabbing her hand and lacing her fingers with mine. "Let's put this in your car, you won't need anything where we're going," She nods, following me out of the coffee shop. We drop her bag in the backseat of her car and then walk around the opposite side of the building where my motorcycle is parked.

She looks around the nearly empty parking lot then grins at me. "Is that yours?" she asks excitedly, pointing at the glossy black beast parked against the curb.

"Yes ma'am. Want to go for a ride? I'll take it easy and go the speed limit."

"Hell no, you won't either. Let's see how fast this beauty will go." Bouncing on her feet like a little kid, her excitement is infectious and I'm happy as hell that I drove my motorcycle.

Straddling the bike, I hand her my helmet. She climbs on, nestling snug against my back, wrapping her legs and arms securely around me and then we drive south until we reach the southern point. Along this part of the island is a lagoon. On the other side lies a hidden treasure, a small piece of land that only a handful of locals know about.

As we cross over the small concrete bridge, I feel her body tense against mine. Perhaps it was a mistake bringing her here alone. Parking under a pavilion, I allow her to hop off the bike first and then sit for a moment, watching her pull her long hair free from the helmet. Observing her reaction, I'm certain I made the right decision when she scans the area with dancing eyes.

"I love it here! This is one of my favorite places on Willow. I actually started to come here before you texted me this morning," she tells me, smiling with renewed excitement. I reach down, grab her hand and we walk over to one of the picnic tables. She is an enigma, nothing like any woman I've met. How will I ever break through her tough shell and get to know her?

"Breesan." Repeating her name a few times with no response, I get the feeling she's lost in some deep memory.

"Sorry," she says bashfully. "I was just thinking about the times when my dad would bring me and Anna here. We would spend almost an entire afternoon pretending to be mermaids or watching the horizon for ships, wondering what kind of treasure they were bringing," she chuckles, running a hand across her forehead and pushing away stray hairs. "Sometimes we would even pretend that pirates were on the ships. It's so funny to me now thinking about us confusing the small sailboats, or even the huge yachts, with pirate ships." She smiles, glancing at me briefly and shakes her head at the memory before turning away again and I can't help smiling along with her. It's a cute story.

"I'll bet you were adorable."

She blushes and it's sexy as hell. I find myself moving closer to her while reaching out for her hand. Glancing down at where we are joined, I begin caressing my thumb over her soft knuckles. She pulls her attention away from the ocean and studies me. I suddenly feel a prickly sensation in the back of my mind like déjà vu, but something feels off too.

"So, you didn't bring me out here to relieve old childhood memories. What do you want, Morgan?" Her tone is serious and I know if I press too hard I'll lose her and I don't want to risk it. Usually, I don't give a shit about such things, but there's something about her that tells me that she's worth it, and I really want to get to know her.

"You hide a lot," I start, squeezing her hand tenderly, "I see it and feel it. I just want to get to know you, Breesan. I know that it's not easy letting down your guard, especially since I'm a complete stranger. But we're both close to Tristan and you know as well as I do if anything happens while you are with me, he will kick my ass." I smile. "All I want is to be friends and I want you to know that you can trust me."

Bobbing her head, she keeps eye contact. "I'm not really good at the whole friendship thing, Morgan. That's something you'll soon find out firsthand, but I don't want it to be weird for us to be around each other." She lets out a deep sigh. "It's going to be a long summer and we will be pushed together a good bit if I know Anna and Tristan." She smiles bashfully. "Not that it will take them pushing us together, I mean...shit." She pulls away, wrapping her arms around her waist. "Ok, here's the thing, I don't do boyfriends because I don't like to date, but we can hang out as long as it doesn't get complicated. Uncomplicated is acceptable for me at this time, but digging deep into my psyche isn't cool, understand?" I nod while smiling, happy about her conceding to friendship. "And we can try working with the friends' part."

"If that's what you want then that's what we are doing," I agree and then quickly change the subject. "Now that we've settled that issue, I want to invite you out with us tonight." Her eyes widen and her brows shoot up toward her hairline. "Don't freak out. There's a whole group going to Club Toxic so it's not a date in any way, just a group of friends hanging out." I stress the word while doing air quotes. This rouses a giggle out of her, and damn what that sound does to me. I struggle with a need to adjust myself, but won't risk her knowing how much she's tormenting me.

"Ooh you're too late. Anna asked already," she teases smiling playfully, and then nudges me with her elbow. "But I'll be your date again under one condition." I nod once. "My date must dance with me. Agree to that or I go with Anna and Tristan."

If this beauty wants a dance partner, she scores big time and so do I. "Well, looks like it's a date. Let's get you back so you can go home and get ready for me...I mean for tonight." I shrug when she catches my mistake.

After dropping her off at the coffee shop, I turn onto the parkway to merge with traffic. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Breesan falls in behind me and also notice a dark sedan merging into traffic behind her. Panic rushes through me. I slow down to see if the driver is a feisty redhead who recently arrived in Willow, but I can't make out the driver. Seeing the large hands gripping the steering wheel, I know Elise isn't the driver. Confident that everything is cool, I gun the throttle and pass Breesan again. She waves at me and I ride home with a couple of hours to kill before I need to pick her up for our date.

### Chapter Eleven

Marcus

Gasping as my beauty walks in the entrance, I shift in my seat. She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as she spots me moving toward her. The distance between us is almost unbearable. I approach her like a hungry animal, allowing my eyes to roam over her luscious body. I take in every inch of bare skin in the very little clothing she's wearing – clothing I want to tear off with my teeth.

Progressing toward her, I down the last of my beer and place the empty bottle on the bar. Mere inches from her I reach up, tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and then press the back of my hand tenderly against her cheek. Her already warm skin flushes with a red that causes my blood to pound in my veins. Fucking beautiful. Sliding my hand down her neck, over the goose bumps covering her arm and then linking my fingers with hers, I smile and draw them up, placing a kiss on the inside of her palm. She lets out a soft moan that riles me up to the point of madness. I want to take her right here.

"Fuck, Mac. Are you listening to me?" Kole's voice brings me out of the memory of last night's dream that I'd do anything to make a reality.

I shake my head, removing the lingering thoughts of my fantasy woman, "Yeah, sorry man. Got some family shit I'm trying to work out and I guess I zoned for a few."

Covering for my real thoughts, I jump off the barstool and walk away from the doorway so I can hide the effect the memory left. Ensley, the club manager, sitting at the bar gives me a knowing smile and I shrug my shoulders. She couldn't possibly know that I had a hard-on from fantasizing about doing very naughty things to a petite southern belle.

Ah, hell I've got to stop this bullshit right now.

"Pfft, if you say so, dude!" Kole yells at me. He laughs while bouncing his head to the rhythm of the gothic music blaring throughout the club.

Rhys follows me from my stool to the side bar and orders. "Shit, how old are the children that are coming tonight? You'd think it was past their bedtime. Ha, sorry about that dude." Rhys knocks my age now and I flip him off.

"Hey Rhys, how about you just shut the hell up and worry about not offending the patrons? We need to do a perimeter check. Have you made contact with the upstairs crew yet?"

"Marcus, I am the upstairs crew," he reminds me. "I've got it covered here and you know it. What's got you on edge tonight? Is it the bullshit from last night and the big guy who cut the whittle baby? Wah, wah," Rubbing his eyes like he's crying, he mocks me and I am over his shit already. I don't know how Sam dealt with this for so long. She must be thrilled at the break-up. I know she couldn't be happier, moving on to greener pastures.

Tonight we're working extra security for Club Toxic due to the elite crowd that will be visiting. Tox, the owner, has a VIP list of customers that sometimes books the entire bar for private parties. Typically the customers are eighteen and up, but on special nights he will shut the bar down for the rich locals and their friends.

Due to my recent injury, I'm under strict orders to man the door and check ID's. I was told by the doctor to take it easy for a few days and stay in bed, but there's only so much of Gran fussing over me that I can take. My injuries were minor, needing only a couple of stitches. Granddad completely blew everything out of proportion, but when doesn't he when it comes to family?

"Oh, mother fucker, mother fucker!" Excited, Kole shouts in my direction, attempting to gain my attention, but I pretend not to be listening to his hysterics. He yells once again, this time gaining more than just my attention. Several members of the security detail make their way toward the front door, curious about what has him so animated.

One loud whistle from Rhys lets me know it must be the important client, or a beautiful woman. "Marcus, you might want to hang around for this one," Rhys sniggers.

Not breaking stride and disregarding his antics too, I head up to the next level, the VIP's area overlooking the dance floor. At the top of the stairs I spot Waverly, the exclusive VIP bartender for the club, checking through her top shelf liquors. Giving me a sexy smile, she wiggles a finger in a beckoning me over.

"Need something?" I ask flatly, leaning against the bar.

"Hell yeah, baby, you!" She demands and I smile at her brazenness.

She is quite a beautiful woman, dressed in a black, leather and lace halter, and miniskirt with thigh high boots. Her pixy style hair is blonde spikes with pink tips, sticking out every possible direction. She leaves her station from behind the bar, meeting me and without a word, she covers her mouth over mine, forcing a harsh kiss and pressing her tiny body against me. Gripping her around the waist, I force her away, seeing her forehead crinkle. She whimpers pitifully at my resistance.

"Waverly?" I say her name with confusion sounding more like a question.

"What the fuck Morgan? I was just in your bed the other night and now you want to pretend like you don't know me. Well, fine, your loss!" She snaps, stomping off in the direction of the backroom behind the bar not giving me a chance to correct her mistake of confusing me with my twin.

Standing there frozen momentarily, Rhys' footsteps and laughter brings me out of the momentary shock. "Don't tell me, another case of mistaken identity? My god if only I had that problem. You should always pick up chicks like that; send your twin out to prospect. Then you swoop in and pick the bones like a vulture." Delighted with his taunting, he throws his head back and roars with laughter.

I leave the asshole there to take over the upper level security, and make my way along the full glass wall in the front of the building. Peering through the blackout glass, I notice a large group exiting a limousine parked at the entrance to the club. Obviously this is the subject of the security details excitement. Mr. VIP himself has arrived. For Tox to have this much security, I'm anxious to see the source of all the excitement. Stepping off the platform, I begin my descent down the stairs.

A large boisterous crowd enters the club and I'm surprised when I recognize a couple among them. Tristan and Anna walk in with several of Tristan's friends. I smile and give a nod toward them and head over. Anna spots me, cuts through all the people, and winds her way around to the staircase. The second I reach the bottom step she throws her arms around my neck and laughs. When I wince from my injury, she pulls back quickly.

"Oh, heck Marcus, I'm sorry. I totally forgot that you were stabbed. Did I hurt you?" Panic etches across her beautiful face and even though it does hurt like hell, I'm not going to allow her to feel bad about hugging me.

"Not a chance, Anna Banana." I wink at her, and she punches me in the shoulder for calling her the childhood name that she claims is the bane of her existence.

"You jerk! I despise that stupid name and to think I actually felt terrible that I could have reinjured your cut. See if you ever get another hug from me, mister. So what if it's been forever since I've seen you." She sticks her tongue out at me and twirls around toward Tristan, looping her arm through his and drawing him close.

"Mac, shouldn't you be home letting Gran fuss over you?" he asks nodding toward my injured chest.

"Oh Bubba, why do you think I'm here?" I smile, "That sweet woman is going out of her way to make sure I feel four years old again. It's great and all, but I'm not used to all of the TLC. We both know the shitty bedside manner my mom has." I shake my head and we laugh together agreeing no truer words have ever been spoken.

Catching a glimpse of Morgan entering the club, I make eye contact briefly before turning to check the VIP lounge to confirm the security crew escorted tonight's special clientele to their seats. Ignoring Morgan isn't really a problem, I've been doing it all of my life, but in a crowd this large and loud it's practically effortless.

Tristan and Anna stand next to me waiting and I lean in, catching Tristan's attention. "Who are you here with tonight? We only have orders for a VIP. No offense Bubba, but you're not exactly who I have in mind," I joke and he rolls his eyes.

"Ha, you wish." The grin he has plastered on his face raises my suspicions. He's actually bubbling with excitement. I think for a moment that I might have to twist his arm to get the reason out of him, but instead of answering, he jerks his head to the side and indicates with his eyes toward the doorway. Standing center stage of the raucous crowd is none other than Morgan and his date, Breesan Fucking Maxwell.

"What the fuck?" I growl too close to Anna, quickly attracting her interest. I take a deep breath and hold it tight before asking, "So my brother is the VIP? Well, that explains every damn thing. He refuses to go anywhere without making a fucking scene. The little bitch has been here nearly a month, but he still feels he needs this much security just to go to the damn club."

My blood boils, my fists dig deep into the flesh of my palms and I could knock somebody the fuck out right now. My frustration with Morgan has nothing to do with him abusing the security, and everything to do with his date. Again, she is on his arm and I get to watch from the sidelines. This is shitty, but it's my own damn fault for lying when I told her that I'm not interested and that I don't date.

She looks phenomenal with her long, brown hair hanging to one side, exposing the neck that I am very familiar with. All I want to do is haul her hot little body against mine to make last night's dream a reality right here in front of Morgan, God and everybody.

Dammit! That's not going to happen. I'm getting the fuck out of here. Without a word to Tristan, I snake my way along the backside of the bar, under the staircase and then step through the open patio door. Glancing up the coastline, I zone out, gazing up at the ominous stone castle dominating the mountain down the beach from the club. After refocusing and taking a few deep breaths, my nerves calm, but it isn't a complete success and I can't stay out here all night hiding. I won't give Morgan the satisfaction of thinking he's the reason I'm out here. Walking the perimeter of the club, I reach the front of the building and a set of brown eyes zeroes in on me. Without hesitation, Elise grabs my arm, tucking her body under it and wrapping around me tightly.

"Marcus..." she hesitates, waiting to see if I will confirm or deny the name as my own. I nod. "...you look fabulous. I had no idea I would run into you here tonight. Escort me inside and buy me a drink, Love." Elise purrs, any other time I would pry her tiny fingers off me and leave her standing where she is, but not tonight. For now, I'll appease her to get down to why she showed up on Willow.

"Are you still drinking dirty martinis?"

"You know I always say 'the dirtier the better' and I would love to get dirty with you again." She rubs her breast against my arm as we enter the club.

Once inside, I survey the immediate area and see that Morgan's party moved to the upper level. If it had been a different client here, I would keep her out, but it's not like he will even notice Elise with the goddess he brought.

Guiding her to a booth, I stay standing while she scoots around, patting her hand on the space beside her. "I'll get your drink and be right back." I cringe, thinking about her roaming hands on me all night.

From the bar, I hear the laughter and yelling coming from the upper level. Music pumping through the club is the typical dark psychedelic rock found in most Goth clubs. Currently, Alice Cooper's "I'm Eighteen," guitar riffs are creating the perfect mood. I zone out until the bartender slaps a hand down on the bar. I realize that my thoughts are consumed with the sexy brunette upstairs hanging on my brother's every word. I groan. Fuck it. I'm here to do a job and I refuse to let her distract me again.

"Hi." My heart skids around hard in my chest, recognizing that sexy voice. It could only belong to one woman, the only one I want.

"Hey, baby," I say, turning and looking at Breesan, taking in every inch of her perfect body. "Are you having a good time?"

Maintaining control over my voice is more difficult than I thought it would be with her. I grin watching her struggle while climbing onto the barstool next to me. She's quite petite and these chairs are much too tall. Once she sits and crosses her legs, I find that I can't stop staring at them.

Uncontrollably, I lick my lips.

Damn, those sexy legs.

"Yes it's great here." Her soft voice swiftly brings my attention back to her mouth and I watch her lick her lips.

Damn, that sexy mouth.

"I don't really know all of the people who came with Morgan so I slipped away, hopefully unnoticed." She crinkles her nose. "Is that bad? Oh, it is isn't it?" Keeping her eyes locked on me, she makes this cute little grunt, and then drops the side of her head into the hand, propped on the bar.

Nodding my head in agreement, I jokingly reply, "It's horrible, unforgivable, and completely understandable." I laugh and then shake my head no.

"Wow, thanks." She laughs. "I guess I didn't expect that from you."

"Why the hell not?" I ask, thrown a little by her statement.

"Well because he is your brother. I just assume since you are here after getting carved like a pumpkin last night that you must be here for Morgan too."

"First of all, baby, I'm not here for my brother. I'm helping Kole out with the security for Morgan's party and his very important friends. And secondly, I didn't get carved. I got stuck, barely. Big difference, plus I'm healed already." I wink at her, deliberately trying to keep her from worrying about me.

"Are you really okay?" I nod and she closes her eyes for a moment, the shame of being the reason I was hurt still stinging. "I'm so sorry about last night. I wish you would have just stayed out of it. The guy would have eventually gotten bored with me and left. But you had to butt in and get yourself hurt. I hate that he did that to you. It makes me sick to my stomach to think about what he could have done to you, Marcus."

She rushes her words so fast it's almost impossible to understand her over the blasting music. Indicating with my hand toward my ear that I can't hear her, I dip my head close to her. Naturally, she lowers her mouth near my ear repeating what she said. I heard everything the first time, but I need her closer. At first, tricking her seemed like a good idea until my body betrays me. My hands itch to touch her and I have to force myself to focus on the label she's currently peeling off my beer bottle so that I'll stay in my seat and not kiss her like I'm dying to do.

"Baby, I'm fine." My fingers inch closer to hers, lying on the railing, "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't and I'm glad I was there last night. If that guy had harmed one hair on you I would have killed him. Instead, I gave him the opportunity to escape by distracting him with bleeding," I joke mischievously.

The terrified look in her eyes tells me that she doesn't find my playfulness a bit funny. Unable to stand it another damn minute, I grab her hand and lace our fingers together. The atmosphere changes instantly. The charge that flows from her to me travels up the length of my arm and straight to my gut. The blazing heat in her eyes says she feels it too. I draw her body close, lifting her face up by her chin with my finger and thumb, and looking into her startled eyes.

Averting them quickly, she whispers, "Sorry."

Needing to ease her stress, I change the subject. "You look so beautiful tonight, Breesan."

Slowly, she lifts her face and stares deep into my eyes, scanning and maybe searching for the truth because she wants to believe me. She smiles, but shakes her head and shifts her gaze away again. She knows I'm not lying, she sees the truth clearly in my eyes. Obviously, she doesn't accept compliments easily. Distracting herself, she tilts her head sideways, watching her fingers, tapping with the beat of music. The grin on her face is so damn cute and I want to take her on the dance floor and let our bodies move to the rhythm; fast, slow and everything in between. I don't give a damn, just as long as I get to hold her again like I did the night at the castle.

Glancing down at our hands it suddenly hits me that she's his date, again. I slip my hand from hers just as a husky female voice creeps over my other shoulder. Breesan spots her and draws her body away from me as well.

"Lover, what's taking so long with one simple little dirty martini? Oh, I forgot -- you all do things slower in the south, right?" Elise laughs alone at her attempt at being funny. "Oh hello," she says arrogantly to Breesan. "Who's your young friend, Marcus? I saw her come in with your brother. Did you and Morgan find a new plaything to share?"

"Excuse me?" Breesan jumps off her stool and stands in front of Elise. "What the hell did you just say bitch?" Her fists are drawn and she's mere seconds from striking Elise. She's angry, but is it simply because of what she said, or is she jealous?

"You really should learn that a genuine lady doesn't have to use that type of language. It's filthy and unbecoming," Elise scolds with a serious French inflection.

"Really, well, I have a thing or two that I can teach you too, like how stupid it is to bring your snooty ass to Alabama and try scolding me, BITCH!" Breesan's voice remains confident and controlled. I give her credit. She's keeping her cool while putting Elise in her place. I smile at Elise's wild-eyed look. Breesan is so much smaller than Elise and this scene makes her look even more adorable.

I step in before there is a real catfight. "I think you need to go back to your seat before you get tossed out on your ass," I encourage Elise with a firm tone.

She pouts at me then turns her attention back to Breesan, giving her a nasty little glare that I've seen a time or two personally. Breesan raises her eyebrow, waiting for Elise to mouth off again. Instead, she huffs out a loud breath and then turns on her heels, going back to her seat. I watch Elise move away before turning to confront Breesan, who has a look of disappointment on her face. She thinks Elise is with me now and I can't have that. I open my mouth to explain, but Elise interrupts us again.

"I'm waiting, Marcus," Elise demands before she even makes it back to her table.

After rolling my eyes to the ceiling, I nod at the bartender, who shakes his head at me as he places her drink down in front of me. I reach back for my wallet in my jeans to pay before turning to give Breesan an explanation. When I do, I find her seat empty. Looking around, I spot her walking away from me. After chatting with her, that is the last thing I wanted to happen.

Leaving the drink, I start after her. "Breesan, wait."

She twirls around, looking at me and shaking her head, but continues walking away, "I'll see you later Marcus. Have fun with that." She nods toward Elise. She disappears in the dark corridor leading back to the restrooms.

Well, that's just great. I roll my neck and shoulders trying to relieve some of the tension that's accumulated in the last few minutes. Reluctantly, I turn my attention back to my unwanted companion. If I could go after Breesan and make things right between us, I would. Unfortunately, I just can't jeopardize the case, simply because my body reacts so passionately toward her every time I get close. I need to stay away more than ever now.

***

Morgan

Having Club Toxic closed off for the entire night from the general public with the exception of my select guest list is turning out to be a fantastic idea. Ian and Jack brought some of the guys we played soccer with in the park last weekend. Tristan has some of his baseball buddies along with their girlfriends hanging out too. They are well into the dart competition and it's getting rowdy. The only real issue I have with tonight's crowd is the hot little blonde who just happens to be working the VIP bar tonight.

From what I can tell by her demeanor, and the fact that she hasn't even looked at me once tonight, Waverly's probably noticed Breesan is my date. What the hell? Why do I give a shit if she's pissed? I shake my head free from these thoughts quickly. It doesn't matter if she knows I'm on a date, or if she ignores me. I just don't want to deal with Waverly's shit if she decides to become jealous. She has never behaved badly, but she's never had competition like Breesan before either.

"Morgan, is that the same babe you brought to the party a few nights ago?" Ian asks, smiling with approval.

I nod. "Breesan Maxwell. She's Anna's best friend."

"What about her?" Anna eavesdrops and casually butts in our conversation.

"Nothing to worry about Anna, Ian just recognized Breesan from my party."

She scoots out of her seat and moves into the one Breesan abandoned to search out the restroom twenty minutes ago. "We haven't had a chance to chat about that night either. So, why don't you tell me what is going on with you and my girl?" Her broad smile is contagious, and she must be pleased with our repeat date.

"We're just friends so don't get that squeaky energized squeal you always get when you get excited about something." I bump her playfully with my shoulder, but she shakes her head at me.

"No sir, you have to tell me, what are the details? She's pretty much filled me in, but I want to hear your side of it. Now spill!" She's seriously staring at me like she's expecting details.

I chuckle and pull her into a hug. "Anna Banana, I love you. If your best friend wants to tell you everything about our relationship then that's great, but I'm not saying shit." I tweak her nose.

"Fine," she slaps my hand away, "But seriously Morgan, she really is my best friend and I won't let you or any guy hurt her. She's tough, one of the toughest women I know, but she's also...broken. So please just be good to her, for me." Her eyes are pleading along with her words, and I can no longer joke with her after this revelation.

"Anything for you," I nod. "I promise to keep my hands to myself as long as she wants me to. Do you know what's going on with her and Marcus?" My question surprises her and she looks genuinely shocked.

"Uh, nothing and I hope it stays that way. It's already bad enough that she was confused by the whole twin thing that night. I'm surprised she's even agreed to give you another chance." She pokes me in the chest with a thin finger and manages to lighten both of our moods. I choose to let it go because she's obviously not going to tell me anything, but I'm almost certain there is something between Breesan and my brother. I'm going to have to step up my game.

"Speaking of my date, how long is too long for her to be gone to the ladies room before I should begin to worry that she's bailed on me or picked up another guy downstairs?"

"Not her style, Morg." She shakes her head adamantly and then jumps up when a new song comes on that she deems as her favorite. She tugs Tristan onto the dance floor, ending our conversation.

I continue waiting a little longer before deciding Breesan has definitely been gone too long. Ian and I walk down the stairs to the main level on our way to the restrooms. In a corner table near the bar, I spot Marcus with a woman wrapped around him. As I pass them, I recognize that the woman is Elise.

I stop in my tracks when she screeches my name at the top of her lungs, "Morgan, you are here. Sit, sit! I want to talk with you both." I hesitate and she snaps again, "Sit. Down. Morgan!"

She's been drinking and I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to deal with her bullshit fast enough so that I can get back to looking for my date. I take the seat across from them and Marcus' face is stone, not one emotion is displayed.

"What do you want, Elise?" I give Marcus a questioning look and he shrugs.

"You both have had time to get over everything. Now, I want us to move on. I want us all to be friends again. Please? I deserve a chance to show you how important you are to me," she whines. Just like before, it always comes back to what Elise wants and fuck everybody else, figuratively and literally.

"She's on her fourth dirty martini," Marcus explains. "I'm calling a cab and pouring her into it. She's not your problem tonight. Go back to your date, dip shit," he barks with attitude. Dealing with a drunken Elise will do that to anyone.

"Alright, I actually came down to make sure Breesan is ok. She came down a half hour ago to use the ladies' room, but never returned. Have you seen her tonight?"

Jumping from his seat, he storms down the hallway without a word and I follow, curious about his odd behavior. Reaching the women's bathroom, he slings the door open and discovers Breesan passed out next to another girl. Lifting her head off the floor, he places his finger on her neck, checking for a pulse. Relief washes over his features before he screams at me to call an ambulance. He moves over to the other woman on the floor, not looking well at all.

"What the fuck, Marcus? What's going on? Are they ok?"

He shakes his head as he lays the young woman back down and then scoops Breesan into his lap. Blurting out the address and details for the EMS dispatcher, I listen intently as she gives me CPR instructions for the unconscious girl. Kole forces his way passed me and proceeds with CPR. He stops after a few minutes, dropping his shoulders in defeat. A dark shadow passes across his face when he looks at Marcus. Moving her slightly, he reaches behind the girl's arm, producing a small vile and a used needle.

I shift my eyes worriedly toward Marcus. "She's dead Morgan, Breesan is just barely alive. Get Tristan now! Find out what the hell is taking the damn ambulance so long!" He demands, clutching her head against his chest.

A surge of panic knocks me backwards. Before I realize what is happening, I rush out of the ladies room toward the VIPs in search of Tristan, but not before hearing the concern in Marcus' voice calling for her to wake up.

"Breesan, can you hear me? Baby, I need you to wake up for me."

I fucking knew it, I cringe, knowing he wants her, but continue sprinting up the stairs. Within moments, Tristan and Kole's security team is combing the club for anyone who was not on my private guest list. Medics quickly and carefully begin loading an unconscious Breesan into the back of the ambulance. I start to enter with them, but they instruct me to follow instead.

"Morgan!" Tristan bellows as I start to argue.

Looking at him, I'm unable to focus on what he is saying so I shake my head, indicating I just can't deal at the moment. I'm perturbed, astonished, and feel guilty as hell about not escorting her to the ladies room. If I had pulled my head out of my ass and been more of a gentleman this shit would not be happening right now.

"Fuck, Tristan, we have to find out who did this. Whatever it takes, do it! I absolutely fucking hate that someone hurt her while I was upstairs partying," I roar, attracting the attention of the gathering crowd that abruptly silences. "Damn it!"

Tristan grasps my shoulder tightly. Lowering his voice he angrily replies, "You and me both Morgan, but first let's make sure she's going to be all right. I'm going to ride in the back of the ambulance with Marcus." With his back facing toward the ambulance, he thrust a thumb over his shoulder. "Take Anna with you in the limo and don't let her call Julia, not right now. I need to talk with the Chief about everything first." I nod my head.

To say I'm displeased that Marcus is allowed to ride with my date and I'm not is an understatement. However, I refuse to allow my selfishness to cause Breesan any more harm. Anna moves away when the medic closes the ambulance door. I reach over, taking her in my arms and guiding her toward the car. Before arriving at the hospital, I make a couple of phone calls, but keep a watchful eye on Anna. She looks like she might fall apart any second, but she's stronger than I am right now. I'm not sure I can deal much longer, but I vow to keep my shit together, both for her and Breesan.

### Chapter Twelve

Marcus

A police cruiser escorts our ambulance to the hospital. Luckily the traffic is minimal so we arrive within a couple of minutes. Breesan's breathing regulates after one of the medics expertly attaches an IV to her hand.

"Sir, we're going to need you to wait outside," a sweet nurse says, unaware that what she's asking is impossible. "We'll bring you back after the doctor has checked her over," she adds smiling.

"No ma'am, I'm afraid I won't be leaving her side. Calling security won't keep me away either." She concedes when I flash my law enforcement credentials.

They wheel Breesan into a private room where a second nurse immediately begins undressing her. Turning around, I wait for them to give me the all clear after they search for other locations of injury. Once the nurse finishes, she quietly leaves us. Sitting in the chair next to Breesan's bed, I take hold of her tiny hand. It's cold and clammy, lifeless. My anxiety level approaches turbulent and I want to wreck someone for what's happening.

Tristan, Anna, and Morgan enter the room. "Anything?" I demand, seeing an icy glare from Morgan. I read his intensity, but ignore whatever the hell it means and focus on getting answers.

"No, just spoke with Kole," Tristan says, guiding Anna toward the other side of the bed. "He said the investigators just arrived on the scene and they are detaining everyone until after they're finished processing the evidence and have confirmed everyone on Morgan's guest list. Although I know this is a waste of my breath, why don't we step out and let the professionals help Breesan?" Cutting him a look, I shake my head and he nods, understanding immediately that I can't leave her. "Fine, but when I spoke with the Chief earlier he advised that he was sending in an officer to sit at the door while she's here."

"Great," I calmly reply. Won't matter, I'm not leaving.

"Mac, did you see anyone go into the ladies room with Breesan?"

Shaking my head, my eyes stay on her lying unresponsive while my mind spins out of control. My body is on edge thinking about someone following her into the bathroom and even with me sitting right there, I didn't see them. I'm going to kill whoever did this to her. I wish she could wake up and tell me. Plus, I need to see those sexy gray eyes full of fire and life again.

"Mac," Tristan repeats.

I sigh heavily. "There were a few minutes that I wasn't watching the hallway, but I didn't see anyone suspicious enter or leave the club all night. I'm afraid it may be someone from the invited guests or someone working at the club. Can you think of anyone who would want to harm her?" I ask, looking between Tristan and Anna.

"Seriously?" Anna yells hysterically. "Hell no! No one would hurt her. She is the sweetest person I have ever known. There is absolutely no reason someone would want to hurt her. What about the dead girl?" She turns to Tristan, "Do you know who she is? Was she on Morgan's guest list or did she work at the club?"

We all look toward Morgan for answers. "I've never seen her!" he demands. "She could have come with someone else. Even though it was a closed party, I gave carte blanche to all of my friends. I don't know many of the employees. Tox, Ensley, and Waverly are the only ones I've had any contact with since arriving on the island. Ian and Jack may know her, they have lived here all of their lives and hang at Toxic every weekend." His nervousness is awkward for his generally controlled temperament. Morgan is affected by what's happened to her just as much as I am.

An investigator enters the room along with the doctor, complaining about the number of visitors in her room. No one volunteers to leave and he gives up, realizing we won't be persuaded. An hour later the doctor gives us the devastating test results. Scared shitless after discovering that Breesan was injected with Ryske, I glance up and find worry etched across the faces of the people who love her most and control my urge to rage against that son of a bitch Dr A. It's his fault she's laying here so damn close to death. Now I'm more determined than ever to find that bastard and end his tyranny.

"She has never used drugs. That girl must have forced her to do it," Anna protests. Tristan holds her up as she begins crying uncontrollably from the news. I squeeze Breesan's hand and brace myself for whatever else he has to tell us.

"She is in critical condition. There are no guarantees with this new drug. We are not sure if the antidote will work or not. I've never seen anything like it. Apparently this Ryske is the latest new drug making its way around the club scene. We administered a narcotic antagonist, which should show some results soon, if it is going to work. The nurse will remain right outside her room overnight for continuous observation. Once she wakes up we'll know more about how it has actually affected her body and mind. Now, is there a parent or family member that you need to notify?" The doctor asks casually after surprising us with this terrifying information.

Realizing how fucked up the situation is, all the air is crushed out of me. While everyone in the room remains unmoved, Tristan fills the doctor in about her stepmother. No one's made contact with her yet and I'm afraid she won't be happy to see me here. I stay with Breesan as long as I can, but prior to The Witch's arrival I make an excuse and leave. I contact Rhys and update him on what the doctor revealed about Breesan's Ryske overdose. As much as I want, I can't stay by Breesan's side so I'm going to do my best to help with the investigation.

***

A quick check at the club confirms the scene is secured, evidence collected, and a security detail is set up to stay overnight. Whether or not I'm ready, I have to meet Mrs. Maxwell for further instructions. I'm repulsed with myself for leaving Breesan's bedside, but once I'm finished with her stepmother I'll be free to stay with her. After noticing the time is nearly three in the morning, I send The Witch a text message and receive her response almost instantaneously. She's returned home from checking on her stepdaughter and is expecting me now.

I noticed an unfamiliar black sedan in the driveway when I pull up to the Maxwell residence. Automatically it sets my nerves on edge. I should probably call all this bullshit in to my team, but I'm already going to be in deep shit with The Witch for not being available to her all night and now I'm late getting here. I ring the doorbell and she quickly escorts me back to her office. On my way back, I looked around for the owner of the black sedan, but from the eerie quietness, it appears that we are alone in the house.

"I've been to the hospital and the prognosis is that she will live. That's good news. I was afraid that she would not make it," She doesn't appear to be truly concerned. "Do you know why I wasn't called immediately?" The Witch drawls her words.

"No," I reply coolly, pissed with her attitude.

"Fine, I've got a meeting in a couple of hours. Are you going to be free to escort me? I'm not taking any chances that this was random. If the police want to put a security detail on Breesan, then I should think they need to have some people for me as well. But no, they said I should be fine and won't send a car over to the house. I mean really, I need protection too. Don't you agree Marcus?" Her anger is ridiculous, but she thinks she is justified in some way.

I downplay her anger. "What time do you need me for the meeting?"

"You aren't staying?" she shrieks. "I thought I was making myself clear that I need security. The police refuse to send over someone tonight. What if the person who tried to kill Breesan attempts to get me?"

"I'll contact a buddy of mine who also works private security. I can get him to come over immediately, but I can't stay."

"Well, then be back here by eight." She stops arguing and steps out of her office, gesturing toward the exit as she walks away. "You can let yourself out."

I have only one place to be now, and I drive as fast as my Jeep will get me there. I walk into the room and find Anna asleep in the pullout chair. After locating a thin white hospital blanket, I cover her with it and then take the empty seat on the other side of Breesan's bed. With trembling hands, I pick up her free one, that isn't taped up, and begin softly stroking her porcelain skin. She is sleeping peacefully, and the monitors indicate that her heart rate is almost completely back to normal. Stroking my thumb over her forehead, I exhale, not realizing I'd been holding it since picking up her hand. With everything that has occurred, it's finally hitting me just how difficult this night has been. I despise putting on different faces and playing so many different roles, but mostly it kills me that she's lying here suffering and there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

***

Breesan

Gripping my hand tight and pulling me roughly down the stairs, she's angry about being here and for having to bring me along. Going down a dark stairway paved with uneven wet stone steps, I'm unable tell if we are inside or outside. It's hot and I'm sweating, but the further we descend, the more the moisture covering my body cools until I'm covered with gooseflesh and shivering. A dripping noise, made by the black water that flows down the rock wall we pass, sets an odd rhythm to our downward travels, and it smells bad, like burnt flesh and rotten eggs. Nausea builds in my stomach and I whimper to get away, but she shushes me and tugs hard on my hand. Fire from torches on the walls gives the only light in this lonely, cold, stinky room. A howling wind and pounding rain begins tapping out a rhythm, mesmerizing me and drawing my focus deep into the darkness, then as rapidly as it came it slows to a drizzle.

Stillness.

Someone else is here with us. A loud roar comes from what could only be described as a monster in the shadows and it frightens me. I want mommy to hold me, but she's not my mommy. Hearing footsteps approach from behind us, I cower, and then a man's voice rumbles close to me. I can't understand his words, they are strange, foreign. His shadow dances on the damp wall beside me, growing as he moves toward me. Pulling away, I feel the hand holding mine squeeze me until I think my bones will snap. She pulls me roughly to my knees on the jagged floor and I land hard on my face, crying out from the pain. Blood begins running down from the deep gashes in my knees, staining my white socks and shoes. The slice in my hairline gushes down, covering one eye and blurring my vision. In order to see now, I squint and the tears burn, rolling down my cheeks.

"Why did you bring her here? You are risking everything for one chance to see him!" an evil voice scolds, coming closer to us, but I'm so scared that I can't look. "You are a fool. Disobey me again and I will make certain your lover's existence is a worse hell than it is now." The evil person walks toward me and scoffs, "She's a pathetic bug. Keep her alive or you both will pay." A hard smack lands against my cheek, tears burst forward and I sob. A mocking laughter fills the room. Evil is laughing. "He has never known true pain until I get hold of him. I will rip the flesh from his body with my bare hands and send it to you. Do you understand me?" Glancing up, I see a woman dressed in very expensive clothes and high heels standing in front of us, speaking to the woman who brought me here. She is the evil. Standing alongside her is a smaller, less polished woman.

"Yes, you're right. I just...I just needed to know he is safe and alive. I need to see him. Please, if you just let me talk with him I won't disobey you again. You know you can trust me after everything we've been through. I'll not risk him and you know it," the woman who brought me says anxiously.

She, too, is scared of the evil woman. Nervously looking around the room, I wonder where the man went.

"You will do as I tell you and everything will work out as I have planned. I have him chained and drugged. There is only one other person who can get into this room besides me." She turns, glancing at the woman beside her. "He may as well be on fucking Mars – no one will ever find him. He will remain locked in here until I've deemed it his time to...well, move on."

A howling from the shadows interrupts the woman. Dust particles dance in a small sliver of light that shines from the long ago boarded window and an arm stretches out toward me. It's blood-soaked and I can see a tattered American flag tattooed on it. Chains keep the hand from reaching me, but I remain completely still. I'm terrified and remain quiet in fear of the woman pushing me toward it or hitting me again. A voice roars from the shadow causing me to jump. I stifle a scream with my hand over my mouth.

" _You are a fucking monster," the shadow growls at the evil woman. His tone startles me and I yelp. "I don't care what you do to me, but if you hurt my family, I swear to fucking god when I break out of this hellhole I will kill you." The evil barks out an incredulous laugh in response to his threats. "You bitch! Who the hell are you and what do you want? Why can't I see you? What have you done to me?"_

Deep, nauseating fear consumes my body. A small shiver leads to body wracking convulsions and it hurts me to move, but I must get a closer look at him because I know the voice. Again, he reaches for me.

A whispering voice tells me to come back, then sounds of a faraway distorted voice draw me out of the darkness.

Beep, beep, beep, beep.

"Baby, I'm here. You're going to be okay. Can you hear me?" his words are a whisper floating off his lips.

Opening my heavy lids, I see the most beautiful green eyes – eyes that I want to fall hard for – focusing on me. Feeling weak and groggy, I attempt sitting up, but his stiff arm on my shoulder won't allow it.

"Hey." Worry is etched across his face, but those eyes have never looked happier staring back at me.

"Marcus?" I croak, my voice is hoarse and feels scratchy.

He shushes me and I reach up to rub my neck, but realize quickly that my hand is locked with his. He smiles at me and pulls my hand up to his lips. After placing soft kisses against each of my knuckles, he turns my hand over. His warm lips kiss the palm of my hand, and then move up to the inside of my wrist. I try to speak, but no words will come now. I'm so lost in his touch and the feel of his lips on my skin, all I can do is release a sigh.

Placing my hand against his cheek, he closes his eyes, savoring our connection. My eyes close in agreement. I feel what I think are his tears on my hand as he holds on to it for dear life. Moments later I feel myself drift into a dreamless sleep.

The next time I wake up, I don't recognize the person standing over my bed. She's not dressed like a nurse, but she checks me as if she is. There is true concern in her eyes as she shushes me and commands me to rest. I have no choice except to obey as my mind struggles with consciousness before eventually succumbing to the darkness of the dream again. This time in the darkness, she is with me, holding me as she rocks me, as if I am her child. Softly she lays her lips to my hair and snuggles me close, repeating in a tender voice that she will keep me safe.

"Breesan, I'm here. Can you hear me? I've been worried sick, please wake up." It's Anna, and her voice pulls me out of the darkness one last time.

Moaning, I respond to her and struggle to open my eyelids. When I eventually get them to cooperate, I see her sitting in the chair next to me, resting her head on my arm and crying hard. Squeezing the hand holding mine, she quickly looks up and I try to smile.

"Oh thank you, God! I'll get the nurse."

Nurse?

Feeling an odd sensation on my arm, I look down to see an i.v. line attached to my hand. Realization hits me: I'm in the hospital. Moments later, there is a young nurse checking on me and the monitor next to my bed, noting the results on her clipboard. Assuring Anna that I am fine, she says that a doctor will be in to see me soon. She asks me if there is anything that I need, but I can only shake my head. My voice won't cooperate. Feeling like my mind was shot with amnesia bullets, I struggle to fill in the gaping holes of my memory. Why am I in a hospital bed?

"The doctor said you would wake up when your mind was ready. Everyone has been so worried about you. Tristan and the boys are here, too." I nod and she continues through heavy sobs, "No one has wanted to leave your side for a moment. Oh my god, you had us all scared to death... thinking that... I don't know what I would have done if I lost you, Breesan. You are my best friend and I love you like you're my own sister." The hitch in her words becomes steady crying.

Feeling a tightening in my chest, I have an overwhelming need to pull her into my arms, to hug her and possibly never let go. But I can't do that. Just watching her reaction scares the living hell out of me. Why do I feel the need to comfort her? The door to my room flies open and three large bodies fight to gain access first. Eventually, Tristan wins out and proceeds to rush over to my bedside. Tentatively, he reaches for my hand, slowly bringing it to his chest before dropping down onto his knees. He stays that way for what feels like forever.

An agonizing burn begins behind my now closed eyelids. Hearing sniffling, I lose the last of my fight to show no emotion. Oh god no, don't do this to me. Succumbing to the heartbreak of the people in this room, who somehow now feel like friends, I give in to the honest concern I sense from them. It's an unexpected joy to have them here. I can no longer contain my emotions. Hearing me sob, Tristan rises to his feet then leans over and carefully wraps me in a gentle hug. Opening my eyes, I see a worried Morgan has a hand on Tristan's shoulder. His eyes soften when he sees me looking. Glancing across the room, I hope a certain person is still here. Marcus stands against the door with his arms squeezing tightly across his chest, and I am comforted seeing him, but something seems off. I feel a tugging at the corner of my mouth, and I start to smile, until I notice his grimace. He looks pissed. Suddenly, I feel foolish about having thoughts of him being here for me. He's probably only here for them. With that thought, a pain builds in my chest, but I refuse to allow his irritated demeanor to control me. I quickly turn my eyes back to Tristan.

"Hey guys," I say softly, my voice still rough with emotions.

Tristan releases a loud breath before speaking. "B, do you know how freaked out we all have been? This hospital has been flipped on its ass by the entire Walker clan." His words provoke a chuckle from everyone in the room and I wince, trying not to laugh. "Granddad has never pissed off more people in his life than he has all the doctors and nurses on staff for the past two days."

"Two days?" I whisper. "I've been here for two days. God, what happened?" My voice shakes. I look from him to Anna, who has grown uncharacteristically quiet.

"We were hoping you could shed some light on that for us," a voice from the far side of the room states angrily, making the three of them whip their heads around in unison.

Marcus is pissed.

"Knock it off Mac," Tristan growls back at Marcus before turning back to me. "Anything you can remember from the other night that can help piece things together will be helpful, B. What's the last thing you remember at Club Toxic?"

Taking a deep breath and releasing it, I close my eyes, thinking back to the last thing I can remember. Club Toxic, I focus. In my indistinct memory bank, I see myself arriving at the club with Morgan, Tristan, and Anna. Outside the limo, we enter the club and move up to the VIP area on the second level. Shortly after, I leave them and go back downstairs, in search of the ladies room. At this point my thoughts fill with a vision of Marcus and a beautiful woman at the bar. Glancing at him, I notice his eyes soften, but as they bore through me an odd feeling awakens deep within my chest. Jealousy? Forcing my gaze away from him again, I shift my mind back to the events at the club. My next vision is of me walking down the dark hallway and pushing open the door to the ladies restroom.

"Oh shit!" I shout, my heart stutters in my chest from fear.

"What is it Breesan?" Scooting closer, Anna stares, her eyes almost beseeching me to answer.

My words are broken retelling the memory, "I...I remember, I went to the restroom at the club. It was empty when I walked in...but someone came in as soon as the door shut behind me. She spoke to me, but...I can't remember what she said," I whisper then groan, "I can't remember, but I do remember that another woman came in while my back was to the door. She said my name and as I turned around, I...I..." Pausing, I try to remember what I said or did after hearing the other woman. Staring ahead, I focus on the blank dry erase board across from me, but I can't seem to make the woman's words come. I shake my head, and at that moment a nurse pushes on the door of my room, bumping Marcus out of her way.

"Excuse me, but I'm going to have to ask all of you to leave. The doctor will be in any minute and he needs to do a thorough check of Ms. Maxwell."

Looking at Anna, I silently beg her not to leave. "I'm staying," she notifies Tristan, who nods his head.

Morgan winks and tells me he will return soon. Marcus never speaks to me and watching him leave is the last time I see him while I am in the hospital.

The doctor explains what happened to me and then proceeds to emphasize the seriousness of my incident. He clears me to go home tonight, but makes me promise that someone will stay with me. Having no choice in the matter, Anna insists that she's already cleared it with Julia and that I'll be staying at her house. After the recent events with my stepmother, I don't argue with Anna's brilliant plan. Morgan's car waits for us downstairs and he accompanies us to her house.

Anna sets me up in the guest bedroom, directly across from hers. We spend the rest of the night grazing on delivery pizza, and wings that Tristan picked up on his way over, and left over cake and ice cream from Anna's mom's recent birthday. Lounging on the two sofas from the family room in the basement, we get comfy and watch scary movies all night, finally dropping off to sleep around four in the morning. An hour later, I glance around the quiet room and take in the sight of the three people sleeping around me. Suddenly I am struck with a long forgotten emotion that I vaguely recognize.

Love.

Weak, but feeling the need to stretch my lethargic muscles, I climb off the sofa I'm sharing with Anna and climb the stairs. Winding my way to the back of the house and into the kitchen, I notice the espresso machine on the counter, and it entices me to make myself a cup. I take my extra-caffeinated elixir to the side porch and wait for the early morning sun to match my brew's warming powers. I am content within moments after the soothing rays make their appearance, streaming across the porch.

Movement near the banister catches my attention and Marcus climbs the steps cautiously, his eyes locked on me. It doesn't exactly shock me to see him here, but it is shocking he's here so soon.

"Hi, you're up early. I thought you would be sleeping in late after an all night girl fest." He winks playfully, continuing up the stairs and crossing the porch toward me.

"Couldn't sleep," I admit, giving a one-shoulder shrug with a weak smile. "Why are you here?" Hoping he's here for me, I wait for his response before I let myself believe it.

"I want to check on things."

Approaching the swing, he takes the empty spot beside me. Long legs stretching out in front of him, he now controls the swing's tempo as he rocks on his heels. Tucking my legs underneath me, I take the throw off the back of the swing and cover myself. Continuing to watch his feet, I feel his anxiety as he rocks us back and forth. Slowly he tips his head back, resting it on the swing. After a few minutes, I notice he is fatigued, his eyes are red-rimmed, and his hair is messy, as if he has been running his hand through it.

Raising the arm closest to me, he places it behind my back and then tugs. I don't resist. Instead, I climb on his lap and he holds me tightly against him. One hand runs through my hair while the other strokes the top of my thigh over the blanket covering my legs. We rock this way for a while, comfortable with each other's presence and taking in the brilliant sunrise. Closing my eyes, I allow the rhythm of the swing and the warmth of the summer sun to lull me into a light sleep.

Sometime later, Marcus whispers in my ear for me to wake up. Blinking through the brightness of the sunbeams, I gently rub my face against his chest before I realize what I'm doing.

"Oh god Marcus, I forgot about your injury. Did I hurt you?" I slip off of his lap and watch for his reaction. "I'm so sorry I fell asleep."

"It's okay, baby. I know you're still recovering. Besides I'm fine, really. It's still fairly early. I'll take you inside in a few minutes so you can go back to bed, but first I want to talk to you."

I wait for him to continue, but he looks like an internal battle is raging and I can't stand to see him like this. "Marcus, I don't know what to tell you. I wish I could explain everything that happened, but I don't remember anything after going to the ladies' room. I want to know what's going on as badly as everyone else. It's completely fucked up that someone did this and it scares me." I sigh, pulling the blanket higher. "I know that may sound stupid, but I don't understand anything – who the girl is, or why someone would drug me. I can tell you that being a victim isn't an option. Something happened in that room that kept me from defending myself, and I can't let that happen again. I need you... I mean, I need your help." Flubbing my words, my cheeks burn red with embarrassment.

His mouth is a tight line as he reaches over and tucks hair behind my ear before dropping his hand back onto his lap. His forehead wrinkles, and I lower my gaze as his voice switches to dreadfully serious.

"I don't want to talk about what happened to you at the club, Breesan. I need you to understand some things about me, about us. I want to be honest with you because you deserve the truth." He releases a heavy breath. "I want you in my bed and I want it more than I have ever wanted any damn thing in my life."

Snapping my head up to look at him, I see the truth of his words in his spectacular green eyes. I can feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears and throbbing through my veins. His confession surprises me, and suddenly the signals I've had from him make sense. He wants what I want as well. I feel relieved that I can finally tell him exactly how I feel.

"But," he continues speaking in a somber tone, which tells me this confession makes him unhappy. "Being with you is impossible, Breesan. I owe you an explanation, and believe me when I say that it kills me keeping things from you, but –"

Unable to take any more, I stand up from the swing and interrupt him. "Bullshit! You have been fucking with me since the night we met." I growl uncontrollably. "You know what? I'm over this shit. You want me? Get over it because you can't have me. I am not some stupid girl who will fuck a guy just because he confesses how bad he wants me in his bed. Why do you even feel the need to tell me this shit?" My voice is bordering on hysterical as I glare at him with my arm folding around my stomach. "Have I given you any reason to say this stuff? No, hell no, I haven't." I storm off, and leave him sitting on the damn porch swing. "You need to leave me alone!" I stomp inside, away from him. Unleashing mayhem that borders on psychotic would make me feel better, but I'll be damned if I give him the satisfaction of seeing me lose it.

Why in the hell did I drop my guard with him? Who the fuck is he that I would risk so much? I'd been seconds away from admitting my true feelings for him. I'm grateful that I didn't spill everything before he told me he wasn't interested.

"No, he didn't say that he isn't interested, he said he can't be with me," I remind myself. What does that mean? What could prevent him from being with me? My curiosity piques, but I refuse to let it make me crazy. Now that I know we can't be together, I can let go of these stupid desires.

No matter how much I want to, I'm determined that I won't sleep with him, ever.

### Chapter Thirteen

Breesan

Feeling somewhat better after a few days under Anna's watchful care, I'm certain that pretty soon I will go stir crazy. Waiting all day for a chance to escape, I hear her on the phone with her aunt Faith in Paris and decide this is finally my chance. She'll be on that call for hours. I sneak out of her house and hop in my car for a drive into town. Once I'm on the road, and her house is no longer in my rear view, I send up a word of thanks.

Pampering and doting are not something that I am familiar or comfortable with at all, and I need some time alone to absorb what happened. It totally scares the shit out of me that I nearly died. Why would anyone want to kill me? Honestly, I can't think of one person who would want to harm me. Wracking my brain over the past seventy-two hours, I talk it to death with Tristan, but still have no clues. And Morgan's private investigators haven't dug up anything in their search either. Frustrated doesn't begin to describe how I feel. I need a distraction, something that will help me forget, briefly. A coffee break will definitely help. Eventually I'll focus on investigating things further, but I just can't think about it all right now.

Books-in-the-Nook Boutique, in the city center next to Kole's gym, is my choice destination. Once inside, I scan the new releases by indie authors.

Heaven. Savoring a large triple-shot soy white chocolate mocha, my absolute favorite coffee, I sort through the new release section. Not here. On the hunt for indie writer Melody Grace's new book, I smile excitedly. Standing in the romance section, I continue to browse for Unbroken.

I must find it. It's on my Kindle, but I always buy the paperback versions of my favorites either online or in this bookstore. They support indie authors and keep most new releases in stock. This particular book is a hot novel about a sexy storm of a man named Emerson. Yummy.

Holding another best-selling romance novel, Fallen Too Far by Alabama native Abbi Glines, I hear the sensual crooning of Jason Mraz's "I Won't Give Up" start playing throughout the store. The soulful harmony leads my mind back to a dark night on a secluded castle balcony. Silently, I moan at the memory of being held by strong arms that belong to a sexy man.

Marcus Walker. No, no, no, no, NO!

Damn, there goes the fortress I've been building for days, trying to keep him out of my mind. That pathetic excuse for a wall cracks, all because of one stupid love song. My shoulders droop in defeat and I sigh, because it's not just any love song, but the exact damn love song that evokes the memory, reminding me of our first dance. Oh hell. I sigh again, knowing this battle will be difficult.

Shaking my head, I slide the romantic best seller back on the shelf quickly and abandon my search for Melody's book, too. There's no damn way I can deal with sexy Emerson now. Refocusing on my necessary distraction, my search now is for something cathartic. There will be no romance novels with an undying love for this girl today. I need to find a world far away from hot, pointless desires for a gorgeous man, and I need it immediately.

Choosing an oversize chair near the back wall, I get comfortable with one of my favorite Lindy Zart books, Safe and Sound. Jack is an amazing guy, but he has major issues that will prevent me from fantasizing about romance and relationships.

"Ha!" I scoff at stupid freaking romances and my unwanted relationship.

Jack's issues, plus Lola's angst, will keep my thoughts from sexy hands, emerald eyes, and an intoxicating, delicious scent that makes my mouth water and my head spin with need.

Dammit Marcus Walker. Smacking my hand to my face, I realize I am failing miserably at this distraction tactic, just as I'm falling for the man. I may be fooling myself by believing that I can forget Marcus, but it's easier to accept that I am delusional than it is to actually keep him out of my mind.

It's not long before I hear the bell over the front door jingle, indicating someone is entering the store. Only a moment later, I feel the air stir and then catch a whiff of cinnamon and sandalwood, maybe a little citrus scent too? Instantly I know he is close and risking a quick glance, I confirm my senses are right. Before I can make an escape, he spots me and then walks toward me. Shit, I'm not ready for this. Unhappily I look toward the heavens, believing someone up there seriously must hate me. Dropping my eyes back to the book, I silently begin calming my anxiousness. Breathe and talk your way out of this conversation.

"Vampires or Shifters?" he jokes.

Glancing from my choice of literature to the devastatingly handsome man, with a devilish and sexy grin, a heavy breath catches in my throat. After a moment I manage to return his gesture, but now I'm staring into blazing green eyes.

Exhaling softly, my voice comes out as a whisper, "Oh...ha-ha...um." Swallowing hard, I clear my suddenly dry throat and try again, "I...I like all paranormal creatures. But this one isn't a paranormal." Sitting up straighter, I suddenly feel like I'm under a microscope. Worry stains his handsome features, and for some reason it bothers me seeing that emotion on his perfect face. I don't want him distressed. Damn girl you can do this, I try to encourage myself. "Hi Morgan." Grateful it is him and not his brother standing here in front of me, I smile sweetly.

"Hi, Breesan, you look much better this morning." The corner of his mouth lifts, attempting a smile, but it fades quickly as his gaze shifts down to the book I'm clutching in my hands. "Whose book was making you look so sad before I came over?"

Shrugging casually, I turn the book to reveal the front cover to him. "It's my favorite by Lindy Zart," I explain further, for no damn reason in the world. "It's a really intense read, but I love Lola and Jack's story. What are you doing here?" I rush my question, hoping it's not to spy on me, or to coerce me back to Anna's.

His dark gray polo fits well and flatters his eyes, and makes his chest appear thick and arms tan. His ultra-faded jeans fit snug in the thighs, but flare out over his black cowboy boots. His dark brown hair is lightly gelled and sexy. Morgan looks amazing, but when does he not?

Sitting on the edge of the seat across from me, he stares and says, "I found this bookstore after I moved back home, and I fell in love with it. I guess you like it too?" He appears nervous, which is not a normal emotion for him.

I nod yes before averting my eyes to my lap. As a lover of books, I would never dog-ear my page, so I slip my Dating Husbands bookmark between the pages and place it on the table between us.

Clearing my throat, I glimpse at him again. "Oh yeah, this place is great. I come here a couple times a week. I love my Kindle and have a ridiculous amount of downloads, but..." my face reddens at my confession, but I can't stop myself from continuing with an explanation, "but there's just something about holding a real book, being in a bookstore, and sometimes I simply just need to come here, by myself, to clear my head of stuff, nothing in particular." Feeling stupid for telling him this, I let out a harsh breath. "Um, you know what I mean?" Great, I'm rambling like a moron. Way to go Breesan.

Suddenly, I feel very awkward around him again. Sweat beads across the back of my neck. Under his scrutiny, I become uncomfortable and squirm in my seat. Realization sets in that he holds a power over me that could hurt me, but thankfully he doesn't know it yet. It's nothing like the power his brother has over me, but still friendship is an intense relationship. I actually do care for him. Self-preservation pressures begin building inside my chest, instructing me to run.

"Yes, I do understand." His smile falls before adding, "Look Breesan, I'm really hungry. Actually I came in here to eat lunch so..." His food excuse is his way of politely telling me goodbye.

Our awkward conversation is coming to an end, and relief floods through me. "Is it already that late? Gosh, I have to go. So I guess –"

He interrupts, "Would you like to join me? That is, if you can break your plans. It's my treat."

"Thank you Morgan, but I really should go. Enjoy your lunch and I'll see ya later." Grabbing my purse, I turn back toward the bookshelf to return the book, but suddenly he stands beside me, leaning in too closely and I freeze.

"I would like for you to stay. Please? We're friends, remember?"

"Well," I say, seeing the earnestness in his eyes, "If you really don't mind company, I am a little hungry, too."

Smiling, Morgan turns toward the sandwich shop and I follow, still a bit unsure if this is a good idea. We pick a table near a side window, and sit across from each other. I feel a bit more relaxed when he begins a casual conversation, far away from my issues. The aroma of heavenly coffee and warm pastries calms me further. After looking over the menu, I order a chicken salad sandwich on a croissant with plain chips and a sweet tea, which the waitress returns with quickly. Morgan scarfs down two tuna subs and an Evian, then leans across the table and steals a chip from my bag.

"Hey," I scold, quirking an eyebrow at his shamelessness. "I know your momma raised you better than that young man." I swat his hand away. A huge brazen grin sneaks its way across his face, he shrugs and offers a lame 'sorry'. I shake my head at him for not being remorseful at all.

"I'm really glad that I ran into you today. I know Tristan must be making you crazy with the investigation, and Anna refuses to let you out of her sight. I'm actually quite impressed with your escape. She's not easy to trick." He chuckles. "So tell me, how are you, really?"

"I'm fine," I offer, but can see that the short answer isn't enough information for him so I reluctantly add, "It's good to get out of the house. I feel terrible hanging around when I know there are other things she could be doing besides babysitting me. Whatever, it is what it is, and she refuses to stop mothering me."

"Smothering," he corrects with a chuckle.

"And as far as the other part..." I take a shallow breath. "I've gone over the events so many times that my mind actually feels twisted. I wish I could remember everything. I want to remember it all, but something is still blocking me."

"I get it." He nods, piercing me with his emerald eyes. "I want to find out who did this to you, too. I've made contact with a private agency that's digging into the guest list and the employees on staff that night. I vow to you that I will find out who did this, and then maybe you will get the answers that you deserve."

"Thank you, Morgan." I smile, feeling good about having him on my side.

"Now I have something I want to ask you."

I swallow hard and freeze. Does he have an ulterior motive for this meeting?

"I want to take you out on a real date." He smiles, but it does nothing to help settle my unease. "The night at the club doesn't count, that was a group thing that got really fucked up. So you have to give me another chance. Would you go on a date with me?" he pleads.

Biting down on my lip, I sit shocked because I wasn't expecting that. In all honesty, I don't want to be mean to Morgan anymore, but this can't happen. "This again? You are persistent and I don't want to offend you, but I would really rather not. I have so many things that I have to do that will keep me busy over the next few weeks. Then it won't be too much longer before I'll be leaving for school." I force out a smile, hopeful my directness will appease him.

"Damn girl, you really know how to cut a guy deep. I thought that maybe it would be nice to hang out, read, eat chips." He winks. "Maybe catch a movie later tonight?"

Morgan is flirting with me. I want him to be harmless, but my gut instinct compels me to stay away. Like really, really far away.

"Can't, but nice try," I grin and he concedes with a small nod of his head.

Truthfully, I have plans later that I don't want to share with him. After the awkwardness fades away, our conversation gets comfortable, and we stick with safe generalized topics. I'm grateful that we can be this way. Morgan and I share hilarious Tristan stories, do our best Anna impressions, and laugh. I don't remember the last time I had a better time. We're totally engrossed in learning little things about each other, at ease in a way I didn't know I could be.

After a short time, Morgan's phone rings and with an apology, he tells me that he needs to take the call. Leaving me alone at the table, he walks over to one of the bookshelves and speaks softly. I pull my own phone out of my backpack and notice that I have a missed call from Julia. I send a text letting her know that I will be home soon. She instantly calls back, leaving me no other choice but to answer.

"Hello."

Upon answering the call, my attention is drawn to the large window at the front of the bookstore. Shocked by what I see, I freeze and then glance over my shoulder, checking to confirm that Morgan is still on the phone. He is, and that verifies that it is his look-alike on the other side of the window, intimately hugging a very tall, beautiful brunette. I am blindsided by a feeling of jealousy, which is rapid and all consuming. Marcus does not see me initially, so I move swiftly out of his direct line of sight. Positioning myself against the wall, I observe him and the older woman, like some sick stalker.

"Breesan, I'm calling to tell you that a package came in today for you. I assumed you might be interested in the contents. It appears to be from some university," Julia says matter-of-factly, her voice loaded with boredom, but the topic piques my interest.

"Okay," I reply. Chewing on my thumbnail while trying to focus on her words, I command my eyes away from the window, but they refuse and my mind runs wild as I watch their exchange, like watching a talkie, an old silent film.

So what if he is hanging all over her? Kissing his cheek, she keeps her hand on his arm in a closeness that reveals a familiarity. Ugh! So what if he is making a spectacle of himself with some woman in public? The way they are touching and laughing it's obvious she is a girlfriend, or at the least, she is his lover. It shouldn't bother me that he is with her, but it does. Oh my freaking god! Why do I even care?

"Breesan, did you hear what I said to you?" Julia yells in the phone because I've haven't been listening to a damn word she's uttered.

Forcibly averting my eyes away from the window, I lie, "Yes, I heard you Julia. Just leave it on the table in the foyer and I'll open it later." I'm completely frustrated by what she said and what I've witnessed. Content with my reply, she quickly disconnects our call without a goodbye.

Distracted momentarily by her, I glance back to the window, eager to resume watching the happy couple, but instead I find that Marcus and his woman are gone. Simultaneously, Morgan's phone call ends when mine does. Walking over to join him, I notice a slight grimace on his otherwise perfect face. He runs his hand through his already messy hair, as if something is bothering him. Wondering if he also saw his brother, I hope he didn't notice me peeping on Marcus, especially after shooting him down on another date.

"I'm sorry Breesan, but I have to go to my grandparent's house for some family meeting. I really had a great time with you today." He looks upset about ending our lunch date.

I smile while letting him off the hook. "Hey don't worry about it. I have to get home anyway. Thanks for lunch. I will see you around, yeah?"

"Yeah you will. Oh, and Breesan." My heart skips. Pausing I wait for...I don't know what. "Next time, I'm going to need you to finish that funny ass camping story. I could use all the ammunition I can get against Trist."

Relieved that he didn't pressure me about a date again, I snort. "You got it. See ya later, Morgan."

Leaning down, I pick up my bag. When I look up again I see that he is staring at me, like he wants to say something. He shifts uncomfortably as I shoulder my pack, but remains silent and I don't acknowledge him again. Stepping outside, I covertly check the area for the secret lovers, but I'm too late. They're gone. Passing the front window of the bookstore where they were, I glance inside and see Morgan still standing in the same spot, wearing the same faraway look on his face.

Mentally, I shake myself free of my weird feelings about what I witnessed, both Marcus and his woman and Morgan's odd look, and then continue walking toward my car. My phone chirps with a new text message. Initially I freeze, afraid it may be another weird text from the restricted number. Luckily it's only Anna, wanting to know why I snuck off, where I am, and if I'll stay over again tonight.

Talking with Anna about everything that is going on would be nice, especially with the confused feelings I have for a certain pair of twins. But this is Anna we're talking about and she will not let it end with just a discussion. She will encourage me. No, she will insist that I act on my feelings. I'm not sure if I can even admit them to myself yet, much less act on them.

I want to blame her smothering on being a busybody, but I know that truthfully, she cares about me and probably senses the problems between me and my evil stepmother. Refusing to drag her into my bullshit, I text back a lie and tell her that Julia demands I come home tonight, covering for the real reason that I can't stay again.

On the drive home with my sunroof open, singing along with the radio, I notice that the clouds above are darkening. Storm season is upon us, and I can barely contain my excitement. Smelling the rain in the air, feeling the sizzle of electricity that causes the hair on my arms to rise, and hearing the rumble from the distant thunder rolling across the sky totally excites me.

After I arrive home and get the envelope from Julia, I plan on checking the local weather. Hopefully I can do some storm chasing before it gets too dark tonight. I used to chase storms with my dad before he left, and a smile breaks across my face as I remember. It was our thing – no Julia. I am a total weather nerd because of my father's love of storms. Prepared for the most severe weather to strike in an instant, I have all the standard equipment for a hurricane. Living in the south, it is a requirement to know your plan of action well in advance of the warning sirens. I have everything I need in a backpack, ready to go at a moment's notice.

Turning into the long driveway that leads to my house, I notice a dark sedan pulling away from our front steps. Remembering back to the night when Marcus was in the hospital and a vehicle matching this one trailed me, I slow down and steal a glance at the driver. The windows are tinted too dark, making it so that I can't see inside. Who in the hell is this person, and why are they at my house? Feeling an ominous tingle creep into my mind, I decide to try ignoring it until I get a chance to question my stepmother. I know she won't give me any answers so it probably isn't worth the argument. Defeated before I even bring up the subject, I chalk it up to my imagination and continue up the drive.

Once inside, I find Julia perched at the kitchen island, sipping on a cappuccino and glaring at the packet from the university. Not understanding the anger she's struggling to contain, I join her after a few moments of watching her odd behavior.

Acknowledging me with a smile that does not reach her eyes she snarls, "Hi, Bug."

Knowing how I feel about the cruel nickname that she's called me since I was a child, she says it today with a nasty tone and I pierce her with a disgusted glare. It's not like she's calling me lovingly ladybug or doodlebug. It's more of a demeaning name, giving her some sick power over me. For years I have asked her not to call me that, but she ignores me.

For some reason today, when she uses the name it strikes a nerve and I snap, "Julia, I've asked you numerous times not to call me that name. Now I'm not asking anymore. For the last time, do not speak to me that way, or call me by that name."

Glaring at me, she simply nods her head, but her body remains tense and she appears to be on the verge of slapping me. Something sinister is going on with her. I don't give a damn any more about being defiant.

"Fine," Julia snaps. "There's your mail."

Acknowledging the packet propped up in the center of the island, she acts like she wants me to open it in front of her, but there's no way in hell I will. Grabbing the packet without another cross word, I sprint up the back stairs toward my bedroom. After ripping the packet open before even closing the door completely, I drop onto the floor beside my bed and close my eyes briefly. Leaning against the bed for a silent moment, I think about my dad. Wherever he may be, I thank him for encouraging me to follow my dream and then I smile.

This is it. Holding my future in my hands, I will be free soon, and maybe that's the one thing I actually do deserve.

Pulling out the contents, I find it contains my final confirmation letter, along with information about freshman orientation and some school memorabilia. With a heavy, cleansing whoosh, my breath blasts out of me and I feel relief wash over me, like a refreshing splash of cool water on sunburned skin.

Accepting that I will be leaving in a couple of months, I giggle happily knowing it's really going to happen. Moving away from home has always been my plan. With recent threats and grievances, I am elated to know I will be leaving this house, and Julia, very soon. On the flipside, separating from my new friends saddens me because they are wedging their way in, which is not something I was expecting.

Dropping onto my bed, I stare at the ceiling and my mind drifts to Marcus. He really does have a reason not to be with me and she's exceptionally beautiful, and better for him, much better than I ever will be. Now that I acknowledge this, how do I shake the feelings I have for him?

Distance is my only option. I'll keep as far away from him as this cramped island will allow.

I feel restless, sorting out this one thing that I'll never have. I need to get out of here. Quickly finding something comfortable to change into, I grab my pack and rush out of the house en route to the EMA center, where I'll pick up the city vehicle. Chasing storms is all that matters, not fooling myself into believing that Marcus could be all that I ever need. He's already filled that position for someone else.

### Chapter Fourteen

Marcus

One thing I have decided since moving back to Willow last year is that I love a good rainstorm. It's a good thing too, because we get our fair share of thunderstorms in the south. Located on the Gulf Coast, Willow experiences tropical storms that have devastated the island over the years. According to the local weather, this afternoon's storm is shaping up to be one for the record books.

After spending a great day off with Sam, I drop her back at my place and leave again. Needing some alone time, I drive along the coast to the west side of the island. Immediately my thoughts go straight to a woman that feels so amazing in my arms. My head shaking automatically should be enough for me to know how stupid that sounds. My feelings are more than me wanting her in my bed, like I told her. I am falling hard for Breesan.

Deciding I need something to distract my mind, I head over to the docks and offer a hand, helping out at the temporary storm shelter. Focusing on other people's problems will keep me from thinking about those forbidden lips and the nightly dreams of her in my bed.

"Oh fucking A!" I growl, realizing I just crossed that damn line...again. "Let it go, Marcus."

Watching the storm clouds build, I see a definite wall cloud forming in the sky, completely snuffing out the daylight. Driving along the road parallel to the waterfront, I see the sea frothing along the shoreline. The frequent announcements on the radio warn that the conditions pose imminent danger and that Willow residents should seek safe shelter now.

After finding the temporary emergency shelter, I park and run through the torrential downpour to the safety of an old church, now transformed into one of many temporary shelters. From inside the safety of the building, I hear the winds howl, making tree limbs scrape on the building windows. And I see the fear stricken looks all around the room. Huddling together, many families cling to precious property – one another.

Spotting my buddy, Officer Raithe Monroe, setting up cots and passing out flashlights, I offer my assistance. "What's up, Raithe? Are you here all night?"

"Hey Marcus, yeah man. I'm on for twelve hours. What brings you down here in this bloody storm?" Raithe is mocking my slight English accent.

"Oh you know me." Smiling I toss at pillow at him. "Just doing my civil duty. I brought a few cases of water for the crew members working in this mess."

"I appreciate your help, man. I guess you better get comfortable. It's going to be a long night. We'll get the water from your truck later. You can help me finish setting up the rest of the cots and afterward we'll see if the ladies in the kitchen need help with dinner."

It's not long before the sirens activate, and we get more displaced families, who wisely heed the warnings.

"Dispatch to eight-nineteen," a female voice states over Raithe's police radio.

Non-stop calls for the past hour have crews on the highways busy and more people coming to the shelter. Staying busy successfully keeps my mind distracted and I'm grateful.

Responding police unit acknowledges, "Eight-nineteen, go ahead dispatch."

"Eight-nineteen, stranded motorist in the area of Oaks Village off highway six, female driver in a gray sedan swept off the roadway. Also, be advised a storm chaser in that area reports a funnel cloud forming and moving toward the Oaks at this time."

Static crackles over the radio and the dispatcher requests the unit to repeat his transmission. When he does finally respond, the patrol officer's voice is more urgent as he repeats the information.

"Eight-nineteen copy that, dispatch. Show me in the area, and get rescue en route to the old Vince's Gas station. Advise them there's a power pole lying across a vehicle, trapping the driver inside. Also dispatch, make contact with eight-thirty-one, it's going to be one of his units."

Throwing on his government issued raincoat and hat, Raithe waves me along. "That's just down the street from here. You want to ride with me? Eight-thirty-one is Tristan, and part of his unit includes the EMA storm chaser volunteers."

Feeling confined and antsy, I jump at the chance to get out of the small shelter. Just sitting around waiting for the storm to hit isn't my idea of fun. I would much rather be out helping in the field. Besides, having me along adds an extra set of hands for clearing the roadway so the rescue units can help.

Arriving on scene of the trapped vehicle, I notice sparks popping all around it and the driver is still trapped inside. Just as we approach the scene, the fire department calls over the radio requesting the power company have a crew en route to shut off the electricity. According to Raithe, rescues policy prevents them from attempting extrication until after the power has been disabled. Making the already bad situation worse is the nearness of the vehicle to the service station's gas pumps.

"Boy, if that ain't the last thing we need on a night like this one." Shaking his head, Raithe bitches while watching the arching power-line, dancing its way toward the closest fuel pump. Significant horizontal wind shear makes this scene a critical incident as it blows the deadly line between the stalled vehicle and the explosive fluid.

"Oh man, that is seriously too damn close for my comfort. Shouldn't we get the driver away from that shit like now?" My muscles tense, and I am overwhelmed with a desire to rush in to help. Raithe lets out a heavy breath, grunts, and points over at the power company crew that is racing toward the scene now. "Wow, now that's what I call fast response. Didn't another officer call for them before they gave out this call?" I inquire watching them skid to a stop near the scene. Feeling the harsh wind rocking the car, my anxiety increases along with the intensity of the blustery weather.

"Yeah, but that's Captain's little girl in that SUV, and if I know Tristan, he had them reroute that crew to her, as high priority."

"Captain?" I ask as uneasiness clenches at my gut. No, not her.

"Hell Mac, sometimes I forget you're not from here. Captain Maxwell, his daughter is the one in that vehicle."

My throat constricts as panic washes over me. I don't let on that I am familiar with Captain Maxwell and his daughter, but knowing that it's her in that vehicle instantly has me ripping off my seatbelt and pulling my emergency gear from the backseat.

I must get to Breesan now!

Noticing my reaction, Raithe grabs his gear too, "She shouldn't even be out here. I don't think she actually took the required course to be part of the team, but she's a little storm chaser at heart, so Tristan really can't keep her reigned in." He laughs then continues, "That little maniac is going to give Tristan his first gray hair once she officially joins the crew."

"Why in the hell does he allow her out in this fucking weather if she hasn't completed the motherfucking course?" Anger rules my tone, matching my tensed up body.

Exiting his police cruiser, I jog over to her vehicle, but the emergency personnel block me from getting close. I pause, but I damn sure don't want to. Waiting for them to help her makes my frustration level go nuclear. Cautioning his crew, the commander orders the men to stand down until the line is dead.

"Yep, it's her all right," Raithe confirms as we get a look at the tiny, fearless driver.

"Fuck," I snarl. Refusing to jeopardize her safety while waiting for the chief's order, I no longer have the patience and rush to move around him.

"Hold on cowboy," Raithe calls, grabbing my arm. "Let the professionals do their job. Answering your last question, she is not the kind of lady you allow anything. She would sooner disobey Tristan, or anyone for that matter, than take a direct order, even if it keeps her ass alive. Breesan's tough, tenacious, and a real challenge to her own existence if you ask me." He chuckles again, and I let out a frustrated groan.

I need my girl now.

The rain picks up again along with the lightning strikes. The power company quickly maneuvers to shut down the electricity, running through the line that drapes across her car. Moments later another warning siren activates. Raithe motions toward the large abandoned concrete garage located next to the gas station.

"We'll just hang out over there until this shit settles down. I'll grab the girl and meet you in there," he yells over the weather and sirens, before running over to Breesan's car.

Loading up their equipment, the rescue team and fire department stabilize the scene and quickly leave. Jogging over to the building, I notice Raithe behind me, with Breesan tucked under his arm. Looking up the highway, I spot Tristan's vehicle recklessly turning into the parking lot and coming to a screeching stop, just inches away from Raithe and Breesan. Exiting his pickup quickly and unfazed by the downpour, Tristan rushes over, taking her from Raithe and dragging her inside the building.

He immediately begins lecturing her. "Jeez woman, she will have my damn head if something happens to you. What are you doing out here alone?" He doesn't give her a chance to answer and his volume escalates. "I have given you specific instructions, forbidding you to go out on your own. Fuck, Breesan, you could have been killed tonight!"

Avoiding another confrontation with her, I look around the room and notice that from my position, I'm effectively hiding in the shadows.

"Oh my god, seriously Tristan, I am so over this shit! You don't get to tell me what to do. I have been a spotter for two years now, so back the fuck off. It's not like I intentionally put myself in danger. Everything was fine until that power pole snapped in half and dropped onto my car."

Consumed with anger, her body is wound up tight and shaking. She lets out a ragged breath, runs her hands over her face and then forces them into her hair. Vibrating with hostility, she digs her fingers into her scalp before turning and facing me. Shocked to see me here, she quickly draws in on herself.

I get a good look at all of her for the first time, and my mouth drops open. Drenched from the rain, her hair is a matted mess, she is wearing a thin white t-shirt, and some barely there cut off shorts with worn-out brown cowboy boots. She is soaking wet and sexy as hell. Suddenly, Tristan clears his throat and I am reminded that she and I are not alone.

"Oh, hi," she says to me, and her small grin instantly morphs into disgust. "What are you doing out here?"

Disappointment floods through me, but before I can answer she turns back to Tristan. And I hate being dismissed by her. Unable to control my behavior in front of the guys, I cross over to her in a few quick strides. My reaction is out of character, but I need to confirm for myself that she's uninjured.

Reaching for her face, my fingers gently graze her forehead, pushing away stuck strands. Glancing up, her eyes lock on mine and we are imprisoned. A charge of electricity similar to the one I felt the night of Morgan's party pulses through my hand the moment I touch her face. I pull back my hand momentarily, but not entirely. Unable to compel my hand to move away from her, I reach again slowly and she doesn't resist. No sound, no movements, nothing else exists except us, in this moment. I am forever her willing captive.

"Are you all right, baby?" I ask softly, urgency and emotions are deep in my voice.

Tucking her bottom lip between her teeth she bobs her head yes. "I'm okay."

I realize how important it is to keep her safe, because it's been my responsibility for a short time now to protect and serve, but it's an obsession now.

I scan over her body for injuries. "Did you get hurt out there?"

Hearing the stress in my voice, her cheeks turn a cute shade of pink. Breaking eye contact, she staggers away from me after visibly shuddering.

"No," she states. Appearing darker now, her eyes burn wildly with renewed passion. I must be mistaken, but it seems like she is as affected, as I am by her.

The thin t-shirt she is wearing is soaking wet and clinging to her. I become livid that Tristan and Raithe are also seeing her practically nude. Trembling from the chilled temperatures the storm has brought, she has goose bumps fluttering along her exposed skin. I want to take her in my arms and warm her with my body, but I can't do that. I've already embarrassed us enough in front of the guys.

"You're cold," I state anxiously, uncomfortable with her being so exposed to them.

Removing my jacket, I tug my dry t-shirt over my head and hand it to her. She stares openly, her eyes tracing the outline of the tattoos on my chest. Her mouth parts slightly and her fingernails pierce deeply into her palms, as she clenches them tightly. Finally snapping her mouth closed, she blinks repeatedly before looking away, hiding those pink cheeks. After eagerly taking my shirt, she whips around to Tristan, still annoyed by his bossiness. Watching him watching me, I witness a questioning look flash across his face. Ah hell, now I'm going to have to explain shit to him.

"Thank you, Marcus, but I'm fine. I just don't like bullies telling me that I can't do something when we both know very well that I can!" Standing there taunting him, all five feet of her cuteness, she peers up at this very large beast of a man, giving him a piece of her mind.

Highly aggravated after hearing her accusation, I growl low and deep at her accusation and it ignites a wild frenzy that threatens to explode at the thought of him bullying her. He won't do that shit in front of me.

"Motherfucker, I just can't win," he moans to himself, and then walks toward the front door to join Raithe, who drifted away once they began arguing.

"Idiot," she mumbles, walking behind a tall stack of tires before pulling off her wet shirt.

Looking between the guys, I check to make sure that neither of them is watching her strip before glancing back toward the dark corner. Unlike them, I can't take my eyes off her sexy little backside as she lowers my t-shirt down her arms and over her head. When she walks out with my extra-large shirt covering her tiny body, it excites me beyond belief.

"Enough of this shit, Breesan." Tristan's voice roars as he storms back over, bringing out my protective side. "I had the power company divert their crew, who was backed up on calls at the time, to bail your ass out. And this is the thanks that I get? What is your fucking problem? I only care about your safety!" I bristle with his tone and position myself between them, preparing to defend her.

"Oh, really? Ha!" She laughs annoyed, stepping around me. "That is bullshit and you know it! You are afraid of Anna's wrath and that's why you sent them. So just cut the shit and grow a pair!" Raithe and I stifle laughter. "Now if you don't mind, we are in the middle of the storm of the year and I'm missing it here with you."

Walking toward the exit, she is jolted back by his big hand on her arm. Staring down at his hand on her, she grinds her teeth. The heat in the glare she pierces him with is comical, and forces an uncontrollable laugh from me and Raithe. Snapping her attention our direction, she's fully aware that they are entertaining us with their argument.

"What?" Breesan crosses her arms, pops out her left hip while her right foot taps out her annoyance.

"Sorry." Surrendering before she's angry with me too, I throw up both hands. "The sight of you irritated and putting the big guy here," I gesture a hand toward Tristan, "In his place is one of the funniest things I have ever seen. Isn't that right Raithe?"

Clearing my throat of the remaining laughter, I turn to my friend, practically begging with my eyes to agree with me quickly before she makes me her next target. But he's no longer laughing and is suddenly all professional again. I scoff, disappointed by his chicken-shit disloyalty.

Glaring dauntingly, she declares loudly, "Oh really, you find this funny? Well, I'll have you know that being a bully is absolutely NOT FUNNY!"

The irony in her words and tone does not escape any of us, including Breesan. Turning into a contradiction of her own against Tristan is all that it takes to break the tension, and laughter consumes all of us.

"What do you say we get you out of here, preferably before Anna finds out what happened from someone else?" Tristan asks, motioning her toward the door.

"That damn pole crushed my roof so my ride is totaled. I'll need another. Can you give me a ride to headquarters?" she requests, eagerly gathering her stuff.

"Nuh-uh, no way," he disagrees, "You're going to my house. She's totally freaked out after what happened at Club Toxic and I won't be able to convince her that you are ok without her seeing for herself. So like it or not, you are going with me." Crossing his arms, he challenges her to defy him.

"But the storm won't be over for another hour at least. I am not done out there. Can I just get another team car and head down to the shore? Once it settles down I'll drive out to your place, I promise. And you can tell Anna I refused to leave with you." She flutters her eyelashes and he huffs. We are at an impasse, and we wait to see who will come out the victor.

"Fuck that, what part of nuh-uh, do you not comprehend, B?"

Ramping up from her level of mild annoyance, Breesan bumps her mad to a whole new level. Her face is completely flaming red and I think she just stomped her foot. Oh yes, she just did it again. That was definitely a foot stomp. I chuckle covertly. This girl is irresistible.

"Hey Bubba, do mind if I make a suggestion?" I interrupt. Tristan looks relieved, but Breesan's eyes hold an enormous amount of hostility. I push on, explaining my idea. "I have my truck back at the shelter. Except for volunteering, I'm free the rest of the night. If you want to continue tracking the storm, Breesan, I would like to join in on the fun. That is, if you tell Anna you're with me and can convince her that you're safe."

Looking directly at her now, I watch several emotions play across her exquisite face. After a few moments I have my answer. Stomping over, she looks directly into my eyes and I'm practically glowing with the smile beaming back at me. Seeing such happiness on this little woman's face is slowly becoming a goal.

I'm in love with her smile.

"Works for me!" she declares, excitedly bouncing on her feet. "Tristan, call Anna and tell her now so we can get out there before everything's over but the damn cleanup." Mumbling his reluctance to disappoint Anna, he grudgingly obeys.

Within moments he is calming a stressed Anna, who heard over the radio scanner about the wrecked storm chaser, and confirming to her that it was Breesan. Not fully accepting his word that Breesan is completely uninjured, she demands to speak with her friend and he gives in quickly. I narrow my eyes in disbelief that he is under the complete control of his girlfriend. Chuckling to myself, I think about the way I feel right now looking at the gorgeous smile on Breesan's face and know that there is nothing better than knowing I'm the one that put it there. I guess I'm disgusting too, but right now I don't care, I just want her with me. Handling Anna and her dramatics with ease, Breesan confirms that she will be with me until after the storm settles down and promises we will head over afterward.

"Mac, we need to talk," Tristan says and I nod. "Tonight! Understand?" Tristan emphasizes his meaning by dragging out the words. I know he wants some explanations, but I can't tell him everything. I don't even know how to explain it.

"Yeah Trist, I'll get her to your place safe and then we can talk."

Fully satisfied that Anna's calm and Breesan is not going to run off half-cocked, Tristan heads out to check on Granddad and Gran. I have one night with her and I plan to make it the best night of my life.

### Chapter Fifteen

Marcus

After checking with the emergency operations center worker, we get confirmation that the eye of the thunderstorm is rapidly approaching Willow. Breesan's excitement to get back on the highway has me a little nervous. I want nothing more than to pull her deeper into the safety of this temporary shelter and protect her from this storm, but there's no chance in hell she's going to allow that to happen. I'll have to settle for the fact that she will be with me and I'll do every damn thing I can to keep her safe.

As of now, the damage to property and injuries are minimal, but with a couple more hours left to ride out the storm, we realize that it will likely get worse before it gets better. Not wasting any time, Breesan grabs supplies and asks which vehicle is mine and I lead her out to my old truck.

Gray eyes scorch darker and her face lights up as I reach for the door handle. "This big beast is yours?" she asks slowly in amazement.

Opening the door, I extend my hand assisting her inside. "Get in my truck, girl," I order seductively.

Hesitating for just a moment she looks like I've made some kind of redneck joke. Smiling to herself, she sidesteps me, hops into the passenger side, and then drops her backpack in the backseat. Quickly, I jog around and jump behind the wheel. Booming from my speakers, Florida/Georgia Line's "Cruise" causes her to whip around and look at me briefly. While shaking her head she tilts her face down, hiding the small curl on her lips. Evidently, I've shocked the girl with my secret love of country music. Nervous about her judging my music preference, I change it to a local pop station, just catching the end of a Pitbull song.

"Something wrong with that other song?" Turning her body toward me, she draws her knees up into the seat and smiles.

"No, nothing's wrong. I like that song. Do you like that song?" I ask nervously, glancing out the front window instead of at her.

"Yeah, I love all country music. I am from Alabama after all. I just would have never pegged you to like it."

"I like all types of music," I offer shyly. "I gravitate back to country. It's one of my secrets so let's not tell Trist. He always gives me hell about it. Just because I grew up in England does not mean I'm not a 'Bama boy at heart."

Stealing a glance to judge her reaction, I believe that I see yearning in her eyes for a split second. I remind myself that she doesn't feel that way for me. My joy shifts to awkwardness, and I drum my fingers nervously on the steering wheel.

She averts her attention toward the road ahead. "It's cool, I know he can be harsh sometimes and I get why you would keep it from him. But if you want me to keep your secret you'll need to turn that song back on." She laughs, beaming at me with a beautiful shade of pink staining her cheeks.

I love that sound and that blush. Fuck. I have never thought such shit about a woman before, not even Elise. Abruptly, she stops laughing as her body stiffens, then she shakes her head, turning away from me. She stares out the passenger window quietly. I wonder what made her mood shift so quickly. I want to ask, but don't want to make her uncomfortable, so I don't press. Did she notice the unruly, love-struck look I had on my face as I watched her? Or does she actually have feelings for me too?

Once on the highway, we fall in to an agreeable silence while monitoring the police and medical radios. Quickly the inside of my truck begins to feel confined and suffocating. The heaviness is more than I can tolerate and it's all because of the beautiful woman sitting next to me. Her scent and proximity affects me to the point of driving me crazy.

All I can think about is learning everything I can about her. No, that's not entirely true. I want to kiss her, hard. I have an all-consuming need to pull this truck over and begin assaulting her lips with my mouth, and I don't want to stop until that pretty little pout is swollen and she has my mark on her neck. Distracted by these wild thought for the past hour, I notice how far away from the west side of the island I have taken us, but she appears to be preoccupied as well and doesn't realize it.

"So..." I break the silence.

"Yeah?" she replies softly, sounding somewhere far off.

"You're really quiet." I hope I can coax her into talking without pissing her off or sounding stupid. Holy hell, I sound like a dumb ass.

"Oh, sorry, I just get in this zone when the weather gets bad. I'm a total weather geek." She crinkles up her nose, afraid I will judge her.

"No, I wouldn't say that. What you were doing out there tonight does not qualify you as a geek. A fool maybe, but definitely not a geek," I say playfully.

"Ha ha, I'm really glad I could be your entertainment this afternoon. If you're so put off by me why on earth did you volunteer to babysit?" I think I struck a nerve.

"I'm having a great time babysitting you," I reply with a wink. Sending a glance her way, I see the slight pink coloring crawl up her beautiful neck. She turns away from my obvious appreciation and looks out the window again.

"Really?" She sighs heavily before asking, "Won't your girlfriend be upset?"

Is she jealous? Who would she be jealous of, she hasn't seen me with...Oh no, Elise.

"My girlfriend, huh? Well, she isn't my girlfriend," I calmly state. Intriguing her with my answer, she faces me again while chewing nervously on her thumbnail.

"Oh, that's right, ha! You don't do girlfriends." Rolling her eyes dramatically, she takes a deep breath and drops her cheerless eyes to her lap. "I forgot that important information you gave me the night we first met."

"Right, no girlfriends," I reiterate, not really misleading her. Since I don't play the whole relationship game anymore, it's the truth.

"So you just hook up? No real attachments. No commitments." Her voice is barely a whisper. "Do the women you hook up with accept this about you?"

She is definitely intrigued with the subject of my sex life. I'll indulge her and hopefully I can gather information about her as well.

"I'm honest with every woman from the beginning. They can choose to be with me or not. You would be surprised by the number of women who prefer no strings attached." I'm not prepared to tell her that I don't have casual sex with a woman, that's more Morgan's style. Hopefully she already figured his game out. "What about you? I'm guessing you are an all the accessories kind of girl aren't you? You know hearts, flowers, and snuggling. You want him picking you up, taking you out to dinner, and the simple sweet kisses on the front porch. Am I right?" If she were mine, I would give her all those things and so much more.

"Wow, do I come off as some kind of prude to you? Fuck, I shouldn't tell you anything since you kind of repulse me." She smirks, making her button nose crinkle, while rolling her eyes. "But since I know that you're not interested in me it makes it a little easier to tell you things I guess."

Shocked, I turn to look at her. At that moment, the front tire of my truck runs off the edge of the road. Jerking the steering wheel back, I get us settled on the highway again. Thank God that we are going slowly enough that I could control it before we went off the edge of the cliffs.

"Hey, watch where you're going. You're going to kill us." She laughs nervously and I chuckle along with her.

"You're a riot and a very clever girl, but you're not getting out of answering me."

"Shit, caught that did ya?" I nod. "Honestly, I haven't dated much. Morgan was only the fourth guy that I've actually gone on an official date with. I've never had a boyfriend so I guess I'm kind of like you in that aspect. Flowers, hearts, and fairytales are more Anna's style. Sorry sir, but you are wrong about me."

Something stirs in me with her admission of never having had a boyfriend. "Wow that was not the answer I was expecting. I guess after the way you approached me the night of Morgan's party, I thought you were aggressive and experienced. I must admit there's more to you, isn't there, Baby?" I smile, but she pierces me with a hard glare.

"Why do you always call me Baby? Is there a reason you don't like calling me by my name?" she asks defensively.

I didn't see that mood shift coming. After the comfortable exchange we've been having, I thought everything was cool. Could it be that silly name? The soft pounding rhythm of the windshield wipers are the only sound for a while.

"Do you not like to be called that or something? It's really just a habit. I call most women Baby, or something similar," I lie and she groans through gritted teeth.

There is no other woman that I call Baby. It's reserved for only one. Her. Locating an old dirt road, I pull my truck onto it and park.

"What's wrong?" I turn sideways in my seat and she stares out the windshield.

"You're a jerk!"

I laugh softly hoping to break the tension. "You want to elaborate?"

"Honestly, no I don't. This is stupid. We're not even close to where we are supposed to be now." She gestures outside before glaring at me. "What did you think was going to happen between us tonight? Did you offer to babysit me thinking that you were going to get lucky?"

Now I'm pissed enough to yell, but instead, I hold my breath then let it out slowly. "What the hell Breesan? I haven't said anything to make you think that bullshit."

Before I can continue, she hops out, slams the door and then walks around to stand in the front of my truck. And I don't stop her.

Damn. What just happened? Everything seemed to be going well for a while there. Then suddenly she just gets angry. It couldn't possibly be the damn nickname. Seeing her getting soaking wet, I climb out of my truck.

"Babe – Breesan," I hold up my hands, "I'm sorry about upsetting you. Will you forgive me? I don't want to fight. You're a great girl and I like hanging out with you like this." She doesn't respond or look at me. "Will you get back in the truck, please?"

She stares down at her boots, caked in red mud on the bottoms before stomping over to the passenger side. I follow her around to assist with her door, but she beats me to it, slamming it shut. Frustrated with the way things are heading, I walk around to the driver's side and pause. Before opening the door I see her wiping at her eyes, although, it could be because of the rain, I'm certain that she is crying and it crushes me that I did that to her. Sliding in behind the wheel again, I turn the heat up, hoping to knock the chill off.

"So, am I forgiven?" I beg again and she simply nods. "Change of topic?"

She's quiet for a full minute before she asks, "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know anything about you other than you hate to be treated with kid gloves. The way you tore into Tristan tonight for wanting to keep you safe," I shake my head laughing, "Damn girl."In my peripheral vision I catch her shoulders wiggling, suppressing a laugh, but she refuses to look at me. "If you don't feel like talking I can find all sorts of things to talk about. Like Alabama football, riding jet skis, working on old classic cars or music. Just to clarify, that last topic is my favorite so if I get started on it we could be out here all night." I laugh and she finally rewards me with a smile while looking directly at me.

Deciding to continue my rambling, I coax her to respond. "I'm a Harry Potter junkie, every time it is on television I watch it."

She doesn't even hesitate, "Mine's Twilight." She smiles which causes my smile to grow.

"I love riding horses, but I love classic cars more." I really love my old '69 Camaro sitting in Granddad's garage.

"I love dogs, all of them, but cats are just crazy. That one with weird eyes on Facebook freaks me out." She shivers and I laugh because I've seen that grumpy cat on everyone's page and I completely agree.

"Bet you wouldn't guess that I am obsessed with Chik-Fil-a sandwiches," I blurt out and then add, "Shit! You can't tell Kole, he's always busting my chops about how greasy they are, but honestly it's one of my favorite cheats. I love their sweet tea and those damn waffle fries. Mm mmm, they are so good. I'm getting hungry just talking about it." I grin, watching her sweet eyes light up.

"They do have the best sweet tea, well second to Milo's." I nod in agreement. "But if I'm going to cheat, it will be at Oyama Sushi. I can't stress to you how much I love spider rolls."

"Nasty! How do you eat that shit? It's raw fish. I thought growing up in Willow you'd like all your seafood deep fried," I retort, thoroughly disgusted by the thought of raw fish.

"Marcus, are you crazy? Of course I eat my catfish beer battered. Spider rolls aren't raw. It is soft shell crab that is deep-fried. And I don't know why you think I'm any different from you. You are from here too, right?"

Still smiling, I can't find the words to describe how much better I feel. The knot in my stomach begins to loosen only a few minutes into this new conversation. After the way she reacted earlier, I decide to keep her talking about nonthreatening topics. I sure as hell don't want her going bat-shit crazy on me like she did on the back porch at Anna's house. For the next hour, she drops her guard and so do I.

"...I love going to concerts and buying every t-shirt the band sells. I literally bought one of every t-shirt sold at the Maroon 5 concert last month. Want to know something lame?" She nods her head robotically. "Even if I don't like the band, I still buy the shirt because concert tees are the shit and will forever be cool."

She stares at my mouth and I smile. "You really do that?" she asks disbelieving, still staring at my mouth which makes me stare back at hers.

Swallowing hard, I battle the nervousness rising in my throat. "Yeah I know, crazy shit huh?"

She grins wickedly, "Hell no, that's something I do, too. So, it's definitely cool."

She freezes immediately, perhaps afraid of what she's revealed. I don't speak, I can't. Locked in a silent heady gaze with me, she begins to fidget from the intensity. When she averts her eyes, my brain begins to think again. I turn over the key in the ignition and pull the truck back onto the road, heading back toward the shelter.

It's nearing midnight now, and the storms are almost completely over. I circle the volunteer shelter slowly before I pull into the back parking lot and then cruise around to the side of the building where there's a supply room access. I need to drop off the cases of water that I still have in the back of my truck. I'll admit that after sharing random quirks about each other I'm feeling something much stronger for her.

"I'm going to tell you something really lame," she starts. "But you have to promise not to repeat this one. Okay?" She smiles tensely, her cheeks redden and her tone grows serious.

"You got it. I promise not to repeat it." Stuttering through a soft laugh, I stifle it immediately after she lifts her eyebrows. This must be good.

"Ha...okay...Ugh, good grief," she stammers. "I can't believe that I am going to confess this to you." She looks directly into my eyes, "No one and I do mean absolutely not one person knows this about me. So if it ever comes out I will know the source. I will hunt you down and I will do bad things. Got me?"

Nodding my head slowly in confirmation that hell yeah, I got it, I swallow a needy groan in my throat from her little threat affecting my body and putting me on edge once again. If she only knew how badly I want to break this promise before she even shares her confession just to let her do those bad things to me.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she nervously bounces her legs and sighs deeply, before squeaking, "I like ink pens." After confessing her little quirkiness, she turns away, embarrassment crawling along her neck and her cheeks in that beautiful shade of blush I love so much. Dropping her elbow on her left knee while looking out the side window, she leans forward slightly. She places her left hand on the back of her neck and her fingers grip tightly to hide her shame. "That's not the truth," she continues, "I meant to say I really just like to collect pens. I don't steal them, um..." Running her hand around the back of her neck, she pulls her hair away, exposing her neck to me and tempting the hell out of my lips. Damn I want to kiss that sexy curve. Her shaky laughter catches my attention and I shift my eyes to hers, giving her my undivided attention.

"Like, if I'm at the doctor's office and they have a great pen at the sign-in sheet, I ask the receptionist if I can have it. Or if the bank is giving away free pens, then I will take one, but only if it's the perfect pen. Usually, the perfect pen is one of my favorite colors, or the shape of it feels good in my hand. Then it's mine. But here's the really weird part." Taking a deep breath she continues while laughing at herself now and I join in with a light laugh hoping to comfort her. "Dammit." Shaking her head disappointedly at herself she releases another giggle. "I don't use it – ever. I put it in my purse or backpack with the intent to use it at a perfect pen opportunity. But it never happens." I listen intently. "I don't want to use them because I will overuse it and then it would be gone. So I end up with several fabulous unused pens in the bottom of my purse." She sits quietly rubbing one hand over her other arm expecting my harsh judgment. I bet if I were a psychiatrist I could tell a lot about her from this one little issue. She denies herself even the simplest of pleasures.

Breaking the tension, I confess my own fondness for the topic. "I like great pens too, but usually I just steal them from the doctor's office." Finally, she looks at me. "What? They have twenty in that little cup just sitting there taunting me. I figure they put them there for the same reason they have the penny tray at the gas stations with the sign reading, 'Need a penny take a penny.'" A hearty laugh bursts out of her tightly pinched lips.

This is exactly what we needed to lighten our heavy mood. Pressing my lips together to hide my triumphant smile, my eyes roam down her body and I'm reminded that she is still in my shirt. I can't help thinking how her sweet smell is going to be all over it when I get it back. I want her to take it off now, but she would probably get pissed if I asked. Another smile breaks across my face – this one is lustful, filled with dirty thoughts of her naked in my truck.

Dammit. I need a distraction from my shameless musing. "Exactly how long have you known Tristan and Anna?" I hope this line of questioning eases the pressure building in my jeans. Not wanting to lose what little ground I've gained with her tonight, I can't let her see how turned on I am right now. She'll run from me and that's unacceptable.

"Well duh, we've all known each other our whole lives." She busts into a fit of giggles from this one simple question. Uncertain what the dramatic response is about, I roll with it. Maybe she's grateful for the change of topic.

"Duh?" Shaking my head slightly, I point at her. "Woman, don't you duh me!" Her giggle breaks into a full belly laugh. "What? It's not that funny."

Confused, I cross my arms and lean my back against the window while I watch her in the soft light glowing from the radio on my dashboard. She is so fucking incredible, and everything that she believes that makes her fucked up, I find unique and sexy. Would I find them sexy on anyone else? Doubtful. She's a complete contradiction, soft yet hard, sweet yet a menace – mostly to herself. I love her laugh and it rips my heart out to see her hurting. I love rainy nights so much more now. Realization hits me like a baseball bat to the chest, I'm falling for her. Oh damn all things to fucking hell.

The sudden silence brings me back and I realize my mind is no longer in the truck, but some far off place. And that's exactly where I should go, so damn far from this truck right now.

"Oh hell no!" she teases. "I'm sorry, but you know being from the south we are used to the guys having these cute redneck accents. When they make a statement inserting the word 'woman' into it that term can be taken one of two ways. Either they are trying to assert their authority over their girlfriend and are considered adorable. Or they are trying to assert their authority over their girlfriend and they are an ass. Lucky for you, you're not a true southern boy and I'm not your girlfriend. Otherwise we would be dealing with your statement in the latter sense. And you would be nursing a fat lip." Contagious laughter fills my truck.

"Ok, that was fun. What was your question again?" she asks. Her eyes sweep over me in a way that tells me she liked saying the word girlfriend to me as much as I like hearing it flow from those sexy lips.

Releasing a breath, I finally remember what the hell I had asked her. "How long –" I start, but she cuts me off.

"That's right you were asking how long I've known Trist and Anna. You realize it's a small island and you can't hide for long here, right?" Realization of the full weight of that question causes my heart to jump. I hope she can find a way to forgive me when she discovers my little secrets.

Flashing a sexy grin at me, she laughs. "Relax. I'm done giving you shit...for now." She winks playfully and I shudder, wanting that gesture to be so much more than teasing. "So, I've lived on the same road as Anna since birth. I didn't go to preschool, I stayed home with my..." Dropping her glossy eyes down to watch her trembling fingers lying on her lap, she takes a slow, steady breath. "Anna's my polar opposite. I can't think of one thing we have ever completely agreed on. Sometimes she can sway me toward her way of thinking, but I'm just as stubborn as she is so we disagree a lot. She's fun and sometimes overbearing." I feign shock at her understatement and she rolls her eyes. Anna is severely overbearing.

"I know, I know, but what can I say? I've gotten used to her I guess, or maybe having Tristan as the buffer has helped over the years. He was always nice to me in school and everybody knows 'The Tristan Walker.' In middle school, he formed a tiny crush on her and every day he would drill me relentlessly for details about her, needing to know if she liked him too. God he was annoying." She smirks, faking disgust, but her eyes betray her, reflecting true happiness. "He still is annoying. At first, I ignored him, but then somewhere along the way through his tenacity I offered him scraps. Lovesick doesn't even cover how far that boy was gone over her. I'm sure being his cousin you already know all of this about him." Her lips lift at the corners and there's a wistful look in her eyes. Lost in her unmatchable beauty and the dreaminess of her tone, I'm momentarily speechless.

Clearing my throat, I try to clear my thoughts too. "Tristan has always been Mr. Popular and their relationship has been legit for quite a while. I met Anna before we went to elementary school. What baffles me is where have you been hiding all this time?" Chancing a quick glance at her, I slant my head and watch her from the sides of my eyes.

She sighs, "It is weird that we never met. Did you only come back to Willow during the summer?"

Thrilled that she really wants to know more about me, I smile, thinking about a different time, a time before my family life became turbulent and we ran off to another country. "No, I was born here. Morgan and I spent every summer in Willow except for last year when we stayed in Europe and traveled." Thinking back, it was the best time I ever had with Morgan until our relationship ended because of his betrayal with Elise. Refusing to focus on them, I move our conversation topic back to her. My voice comes out in a growl as I say, "So, Breesan." Liking the way her name sounds in a heady rumble, I bite back a needy groan and she smiles like she enjoys hearing it too. Fuck, she's killing my resolve to be good. I'm endlessly lost to her and she may never know. "Tell me about yourself and don't leave out any details. I have magical powers and I'll be able to tell if you do." I lift an eyebrow, challenging her playfully.

"Sure thing Harry Potter," she jokes. Laughter, so beautiful and so real, fills my truck and I feel like I'm home. What?

### Chapter Sixteen

Breesan

"There's really not much to tell," I shrug. "I'm an only child. You can't imagine what that's like." I don't know how much I want to tell him. Those crazy zapping feelings are back again and he's making me feel other things... slightly nervous, but mostly needy.

Talking is a good distraction. But after tonight, there isn't going to be a distraction big or crazy enough to keep him out – he's locked in without hope of escape, or is it me who's the prisoner?

Continuing to talk, I pray it will keep my focus off his naked chest and those sexy tattoos, helping me censor what I reveal about myself. Tonight has been crazy, but seeing him here after I nearly died from that damn power pole is surreal.

My body betrayed me by fucking coming to life when our eyes met, which took a few moments because his eyes were roaming all over my body. I hadn't realized my clothes were soaking wet and sticking to everything. He got his fill, and thankfully Tristan and Officer Monroe didn't act like Marcus 'Total Perv' Walker. It really was sweet of him to let me wear his shirt. But every damn time I move, I smell his cologne combined with his own scent and it's driving me wild.

I nearly fell to my knees when I climbed into his truck and one of my favorite songs was blaring on the radio. If he were to tell me that he is in a band, I don't think I could stop myself from falling for him. Jeez. He really has some strange hold on me. Wicked thoughts of us kissing, touching and much more makes me feel like a slut. Sometimes it seems like he feels them too, but then he tells me he won't be with me. I really need to forget about wanting him, but I wish someone would tell that to my body.

"I don't know, with a brother like Morgan it probably would have been nice being an only child." He winks. Still debating and editing my life story for him, I don't offer a response. He may feel repulsed after hearing the truth about me, and then I won't have to worry about my body's lustful reactions.

I sigh, and then whisper, "My mother died having me and I hold myself responsible." Glancing at him, I pray I don't make him hate me. "Please don't look at me like that. I don't need your pity. I know it's fucked up thinking this way, but it is what it is. My dad remarried after two years of mourning my mother's death. Julia is also my mother's sister. She assumed the role of my mother with a strange eagerness, but she wasn't..." Sighing again, I pause, still editing, "I don't think she was really ready for motherhood. She's still pretty much like an aunt...but not a good one..." He allows me another pause without saying a word. Somewhere during my verbal dump, Marcus has turned the truck off, giving me his full attention.

"You're staring at me like I'm a freak. I hate how it sounds," I whisper, wishing nothing more than to go back in time and stop this crap from coming out of my mouth. No words pass from either of us for a while. And I hate it. I want to tell him everything, but I'm not sure I have the strength. Being strong isn't easy because my heart cries for him to accept me, and more.

"Listen, I know it's weird, but my dad was single and had a baby to take care of and well, Julia, she loved my dad...sort of. That's what she led him, and everyone else, to believe, but I just don't believe it anymore. I wish I could have known my real mom." I look at him and he's still listening attentively. "Julia tried to keep my mother's spirit alive for me. She always told me how amazing my mother was and showed me pictures of her. I think she idolized my mom, like freaky, neurotic type idolizing. My dad is the best man I have ever known." My heart clinches mentioning him to a guy I've only just met. "He was a Captain in the military. Soon after his deployment thirteen years ago, he was captured and held hostage by some rebels. Bastards! Our government tried to tell us that he was dead, but they didn't bring his body home and I refuse to believe he's gone."

Feeling an urgency to cry, I take a moment, slowing my heart rate and calming my breathing. Silent tears slip out, unnoticed by Marcus, and I casually wipe them away. Unable to stop, I continue revealing pieces of me to him.

"They tried to get us to hold a memorial service in honor of his sacrifice for his country. Said it would help us face the truth and begin the healing process. That is such crap. Julia got really pissed because I wouldn't accept that he was dead. She even sent me to a shrink. There was nothing that doctor could say that could convince me, either." Now my words rush out. "I have to find him, but I don't even know how to start a search like that, and Julia won't help. It sounds fucked up, but I know he's still alive. I haven't lost my mind, Marcus."

I have just exposed all of my scars to him. Son of a bitch, why am I telling Marcus all of this? I draw in a stiff breath and drop my head into my hands, covering my face. I'm so embarrassed and he still hasn't said anything.

"Oh god Marcus, I'm sorry," I whisper. "I don't know why I just said all of that, that...that shit. I...I honestly don't normally just spew my private business to total strangers. But now you know all of my deep dark secrets and..."

Rapidly shaking my head, still resting in my hands, I wish to God I could make him forget everything I just shared. Talk about an impossible request, he'll never forget some foolish girl word-vomiting all of her bullshit. Pounding so loudly in my ears, my heart thumps erratically; surely he's able to hear it too. There's no way he couldn't. Why did I let my guard down with him? Why did I tell him all of this? Why now? Freaking out now, I feel terribly uncomfortable and want to leap out of his truck, putting as much distance between us as possible. I'm suddenly afraid for him to speak. God I hope when he does, I don't hear pity in his voice. Pity is not something I'll be able to take, not from him.

Noticing movement through the slits between my fingers, I turn my head slowly letting my gaze fall over him. He reaches across the console with his hand stretching out toward me. His palm rests face up, like he is waiting for me to take it. Confused, I look at it for a moment before glancing up to his face.

"Come here, Baby," he says lovingly.

Without hesitation, he grabs my wrist, gently dragging me across the truck onto his lap. Initially, my body stiffens from such intimate contact with him. Other than dancing, jiu-jitsu and sleeping on the swing with him, I have never been this physically close to a man.

Leaning his forehead against mine, he searches deep into my eyes. I tremble, but my body warms instantly from his tenderness. I'm intoxicated by him and his scent: cinnamon and sandalwood. I'm overwhelmed by the power he holds over my body, it is undeniable. Watching him lick his lips, I stifle a whimper. Betrayed by my body, I naturally sink into him, but it's still not good enough. I need more. As if he can read my mind, he moves slightly, tucking me further into his embrace. Now his big arms wrap tightly around my waist. He buries his face into my hair and I nuzzle mine into the curve of his neck. It feels so natural, so perfect being held like this by him. This is the most comfort anyone, other than Anna, has ever given me.

He begins to rock us while he repeats the words, "I'm here, baby."

Safe. Feeling a crack somewhere deep inside my chest, I finally do something I haven't done in twelve years. I cry for my mom and dad. Marcus presses his lips against my hairline and carries me through the pain. After several minutes of loving how he embraces me so tenderly, I don't notice my lips sliding along his neck, until he shudders through a moan. Embarrassed by what I'm doing, I freeze. He tightens his grip around me; like he refuses to let me go. I quit struggling against this moment, but keep my betraying lips far away from that sexy-ass neck.

After some time we notice that it has quit raining. We're sitting in Marcus' truck next to the shelter in a partially lit alley, but it feels like he has taken me to another world, a safer place.

He is my safe place. Too soon my defenses begin rebuilding. My ragged breath is the only sound in the tight space because we haven't spoken and I begin to feel self-conscious. What does he think of me now? And why did he pull me into his arms? What about his girlfriend outside the bookstore? Fuck, now I feel guilty for thoughts of wanting an unavailable man.

Panic washes over me and I chide myself for not keeping my shit together and for not staying on my side of his motherfucking truck. I would have been fine if he had just left me sitting on my damn side. I can't believe I just broke down in front of him. Shit, shit, shit. I feel stupid now, but what do I do? Needing to get out of this truck and his embrace, I squirm on his lap, pulling away, but he tightens his grip, refusing to let me go.

Sliding his hands up my arms and shoulders, he places his warm palms on my cheeks. With his fingers framing my face, brushing away loose hairs, he scans over my face.

"It will be ok," he murmurs hoarsely and honesty shines through his words and his eyes, along with his understanding and accepting expression.

Only four words and my heart crashes hard against my chest. It's such a cliché response, typically given by any random person as bullshit reassurance in any situation. But Marcus isn't consoling me, it's a promise. He's not saying it just to make me feel better. This is a vow that he will make sure I'm okay. With his certainty, a possibility of a new life breathes into me. He continues holding me for a long time and the words spin in my mind. It's coming down. I know I'm slowly losing my fight to keep my solitary world.

Finally, he releases his hold, helping me back over to the passenger side. Putting the truck into gear, we pull back onto the highway toward Tristan's house. The storm is nothing but the morning news now with the canceling of all the weather warnings. Emotionally drained, I don't think I can take much more. I ask Marcus to drop me off at my house and he submits without argument. As soon as he applies the brakes in my driveway, I jerk open the truck door and drop down from my seat. Moving quickly, I don't allow him the opportunity to say anything. Breathing erratically from fear and desire, I rush toward my front door.

"Good night Baby," he calls softly, and this time I don't give a damn because I love him calling me that name. He and my dad are the only two men who will ever have that privilege.

Sending off a quick text from inside my house, I need Anna to get over me breaking my promise to stay with her tonight. I must sort through everything that's happened over the past few weeks. My life is almost unrecognizable now, except for the fact that I still have Anna and by association Tristan. That's not true – he's always been there for me, and through some really difficult times, too. And what about Morgan? How do I feel about him? Truly, I'm happy when I'm with him and he really is trying; but Marcus, he could own me. There's no denying it. Every scar in my horrible past begs for his soothing; but he belongs to another woman, a very lucky, no a blessed woman. No matter what emerges from either brother, if anything, it seems that my very tight circle, that once included just Anna and me, is growing.

***

Marcus

Driving down the dark highway after dropping Breesan at her house, I get caught up in the memories of tonight. I will never forget how she feels in my arms, her heart pounding against my chest, or the way she made me yearn to turn the cadence of her sad cry to a cry for love. Passion seeps from every pore of her perfect little body, embracing me and warming my desires. Needing to give more than I take, I realize soothing her actually caged my very soul, and exposes the simple things: raw longing, and hurts deeply buried. She awakens the affectionate man I never wanted to face again. I was coming undone with her lips on my neck and regret that she stopped her tender kisses, but now I know for certain with her body drawing to mine that she wants me, too. Will she let me into her heart? No. Regret presents its sadness, washing the blissfulness from my heart.

How the hell do I expect to get over her now?

Why the fuck did I pull her into my arms?

Jesus, I'm playing with fucking fire!

If I thought the past week felt like dragging myself through hell, now I'm just fucking torturing myself. Knowing how much I want her, but can't have her, is a goddamn suicide mission. If I had met her before getting involved in this damn job with Sam, I would be holding her for a helluva lot more than a few stolen moments in a damn truck. But if I start something with her now, she could be in serious danger. Worse dangers than The Witch are lurking out there, waiting, with the potential to harm her.

That's unacceptable.

I can't promise I'll make her happy, but I can promise to keep her safe and alive. If that's the only promise I can keep, what fucking choices am I left with? As long as Breesan Maxwell exists she will hold my heart. God, she is in so much pain and it crushes me seeing her suffer. If I could trade it with her, I would in a moment and without hesitation. I'll cater to her needs so any way she wants to play this is exactly what I'll do. Any relationship she allows me in her life...be it friends, lovers, I don't care...I'll take it, just as long as she'll let me in.

Needing to know why she hurts so badly, I run through what she told me. I know she misses her father and that she wants to find him. The Witch has been cruel and I want to make the bitch pay severely, but what else is tormenting her heart?

A new thought hits me like a sledgehammer. If I'm with her I can keep her safe. That's it. I'll just have to get closer to her.

Do I give a damn what the team thinks? Fuck no. I remember her smiles and laughs, and know that there isn't a person or reason that can keep me away from her. I've only wanted to be in two real relationships and the last one was a fucking disaster, if you can even call that a relationship. The other I hope starts the next time I see Breesan, and I pray it doesn't have the same results as the first one.

Hating the position I've put myself in, I pull my head out of my ass and turn into the convenience store to refuel my truck. We ran every last drop of gas out of it touring most of the island tonight, but I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Hopping out of my truck, I pull my wallet from my back jeans pocket. A loud police siren tap draws my attention away from the credit card scanner and I see Tristan pulling in behind me with a big shit-eating grin on his face.

Great. I'm sure he's got questions. He pretty much told me we would be discussing what's going on between me and Breesan, so I might as well get it over.

"Hey Bubba, you're out late."

Jerking his gun belt up on his waist, he proudly parades toward me. I can't help chuckling at him. Playing cops and robbers since we were kids, he's living his dream. But will Beck steal it from him and force him to work in the family business? Being the only son, he's facing a much tougher go at it than me. Fortunately, that's the one thing I'm grateful about with Morgan. He's the chosen son. He will lead Walker Corporation and I couldn't be happier about it.

"Big Mac Walkin,'" Tristan sings merrily. Laughing, I replace the gas nozzle, dust my hands on my thighs, and give him my full attention.

"Man, you sure can come up with them." I continue laughing and he furrows his eyebrows looking at me curiously.

"What are you talking about?" he asks mystified scanning through the front door of the store. He narrows his eyes on a subject standing at the cash register.

"The nicknames." I chuckle. "You call me everything except for my real name." Does he not realize he's doing it?

Looking briefly perplexed, he turns, shooting a playful glare at me. "Oh do I? You got a problem with it?" Attempting serious intimidation in his tone, he folds his arms over his chest and smirks.

I snort. "No Bubba I don't have a problem with it. You can call me damn well anything you want. Why are you still out anyway? The storms have been over for hours."

"Checking on the businesses; some of the cheaper alarm systems don't function when the power is out. Since I'm not getting paid, yet, they put me on the detail to do random patrols all night. I don't give a damn – you know I love this job."

"What about Anna? I thought she was staying at your place tonight." Noticing the flinch when I mention her, I hope nothing is wrong in Loversville. If so, it would be a real shame. They have been together since we were kids.

"Yeah, it's not a good idea if I'm there with her now. She's in a mood." Sounding sad and finding something particularly interesting on the ground, he huffs loudly. I debate briefly on giving him space or lending an ear.

"Can't be that bad." I grin. "Big nasty storm, big strong cop, and in uniform I might add, I bet she can't keep her hands off you." I laugh heartily, but his set jaw tells me he's clearly not amused. "What's wrong Trist?" Giving in, I know this could be bad, but I've decided to be here for him.

"Oh shit Marcus, you don't want to hear about my relationship problems." Shoving his hands into his pockets, he tips his head to the side scrutinizing my sincerity.

"Sure I do. You seem upset and I've got some time to kill. Want to head over to the Waffle Zone? You can buy me a few plates of fries and coffee, and then tell me all about it."

"A few plates? Fuck dude. Didn''t you eat recently?" Innocently punching me on the arm, he chuckles, emerging slowly from his sour mood.

"No I didn't actually. I just dropped Breesan off at her place before I stopped here to refuel."

"No shit? Damn, that lasted longer than I would have imagined. And how did that go?" He crosses his arms, casually leaning against the trunk of his patrol car. Detecting brotherly protectiveness from him, I don't feel like sharing much.

"It was fine."

"Hmm, sure Mac. Let's go get some plates of fries. I'll share, then you share, and then when we're done we can go get our hair did together." He laughs, mocking a favorite pastime of Anna's.

Thinking about Anna awakens a yearning in me, and I decide to tell him what I need. "Listen, I want to help Breesan....fuck!" Scrubbing my hand over the day old scruffy stubble on my jaw, I stand here hypnotized thinking about her and realize I'm deceiving both of us. "No that's a lie Trist, I want her, but damn she's so closed off, and hurting, and lonely and I just...I need to know what to do." Stringing my words together rapidly, I judge his reaction before continuing. He's melancholy, but stoic so I carry on. "I don't know her well, but I want to know everything. She's incredible and I know that she has issues, but I want her, fucked up issues and all. I want to be there for her and whatever it is that she's going through." He studies me for a long time, almost too damn long, but I wait him out because I need this badly.

"I think you and Morgan need to talk. I know that you and your brother have some shit between you that's stinking up everything around and I believe the little stinker dropped by Granddad's house recently." I shrug. "Trust me man, you can't sort you and Breesan out until you sort you and Morgan out. Something tells me that you already know this. But hey, it's your life, do it your way." When I don't respond, he asks, "Do you know exactly what the cute redhead was doing at Granddad's?"

"Not a clue." Shaking my head slowly, I won't admit to him the reasons I've come up with for her recent arrival. "I damn sure don't want her here." Curiosity about Breesan reigns over Elise any day, but especially now and I'm perturbed that he shifted the subject.

"Yeah, okay. Well then let's head over and get some food."

We pull into the parking lot of Waffle Zone. Tristan parks his patrol car at the front door, and I pull along his car against the curb. Walking in together, the smell of sweet waffle batter and syrup assaults my senses and I debate my choices. Chocolate chip pecan waffles it is. Sounds delicious and smells even better. We get our food before he decides to share with me.

"She's ready. I'm, well, I'm just not," he says nervously, picking at his napkin on the tabletop. What did he just confess to me?

"Not ready for tonight or not ready as in you guys have never fucked?" Shocked by his confession, my words come out harshly.

"Crude much?" he glares at me. "Damn, Marcus hell no, we haven't done it yet. Anna is not some slut and I won't just fuck her. She's so much better than I deserve, and I will never want anyone except her. It's just there are things that have happened and she needs to know that I love her for more than her body," he explains exasperatedly, as he haphazardly digs cash out of his wallet.

Cautiously gauging his demeanor, I continue despite seeing him shift in his seat, possibly getting ready to leave this conversation and me. "Man, Tristan, I may not be the best person to talk to about relationships based on my history but –"

"Just forget it okay?" Wildly, throwing his hands up, he cuts me off, as he slides out of the booth dropping the cash for our meal on the table. "I've got shit to do I'll see ya around," he says decidedly. Daring me to push the subject, his voice is stern and his look is forbidding. I nod sympathetically.

Leaving the restaurant, Tristan gets into his patrol car and actually leaves me sitting there wondering what the hell is wrong with him. Something tells me this has more to do with Beck Walker coming home than his girlfriend's needs, but I could be wrong.

Either way, I know what he's going through on both accounts. As far as it goes with women and fathers, we're in the same boat. As much as I cherish what transpired between me and Breesan tonight, I don't have a clue what to do next, and I sure as hell don't look forward to seeing my father. Luckily with everything that is going on with the case, I don't have time to focus on my father's bullshit right now.

Kole got a tip that a large shipment is coming in and Dr. A will be making a special trip to ensure it passes without delay. As small as Willow is, we aren't equipped to monitor every dock on the island. He could bring it on his personal yacht and there's no way in hell we would be able to check each one. Damn near everyone on this island has an expensive ship. My duties to The Witch during the day and the team at night are kicking my ass, but soon they'll both take a backseat in my priorities.

### Chapter Seventeen

Morgan

After running into Breesan at the coffee shop a few days ago, I have been thinking a great deal about her. Thanks to another tip off by Anna, I found her rather quickly at her favorite bookstore. Damn, I'm so grateful she's all right. That bullshit at the club scared the living hell out of me. Hanging out with her, Anna, and Tristan after she was released from the hospital was actually pretty cool. Since the club incident she's almost a different person. I learned a few things about her, but she's still extremely closed off. I can tell I'm getting to her. Maybe she had the hell scared out of her too. Nearly dying will do that to you. I can't imagine losing her now that she's bored her way into my head.

Continuing to turn me down every time I ask her on a date is frustrating the fuck out of me. She's such a good girl, I don't typically do good girls, but she's more than that. Incredibly funny, attractive, and sexy as hell, she's tunneling her way into my heart and damn, she hasn't even confirmed if she will allow us to have a simple friendship. I've never had a friendship with a woman before. It's usually either business or sex with me.

With her it could be complicated since we have mutual friends. For the first time that I can ever remember, I actually want to pursue a friendship with a woman. I can't say that I don't want to still take her to bed, but being friends will delay that – temporarily.

Knowing Marcus claims her as his baby and seeing the way he reacted at the hospital, I feel urgency about moving toward a deeper relationship with her. As far as I know, they haven't spent any time together, and that is good for me. She and I have an established friendship, and he doesn't have shit with her. Upon my observation their reaction toward one another mirrors almost identically, but is it hatred or passion that burns in their eyes when they think no one sees them?

Either way I'm keeping my eye on him. We've had our share of complications when it came to another certain beauty. With the recent thrust of her focus back on us, I can't guess Elise's angle, but I know I don't want to include her in our mix either. However, opening that door again, Marcus may not be able to resist her for long. Perhaps Elise returning could be a good thing after all. She could distract his attention away from Breesan and allow me the chance to show her a different man, a better man, than she's seen in me before. Still, I can't help wondering what made Elise come here.

Acclimating myself to the new job all week has kept me from seeing Breesan as much as I want. Plus, I really haven't had much freedom since the afternoon of the big storm. Meetings, video conferences, and introducing myself to each staff member at headquarters, I haven't had any free time. Begging will grant me the relief I need to get the juicy little brunette to cave and agree to a real date, and I'm willing to grovel. She is a complicated little minx and when I'm around her all I can think about is taking her to my bed. Luckily, I have an outlet for all the frustrations she causes me – Waverly.

Finally finding some free time last night, I hung out at a beach bonfire. Jack and Ian have a place close by so I dropped by on my way home from the office. Last night was an epic night of Tanqueray and I definitely overdid it.

That's what led me to finding myself in bed with a sexy little kitten all curled up and warm in my arms this morning. Looking at her lying on her side facing me, I think back to the great sex we had last night. She damn sure knows how to distract me when work is demanding. The ungodly amount of alcohol I consumed helped, but she always seems to know just what I need. Sleeping with Waverly for the past year has been fucking amazing. She doesn't want shit out of me except what I give her in bed, unlike most women who whip out their claws the moment they know you have money. She doesn't do relationships, at least none that she's ever mentioned to me. She doesn't have a perfect halo, but she's an angel to accept that all I can offer her is a no-strings-attached lay. We are young and having fun – no sense in letting bullshit like feelings complicate it.

Tracing the pad of my thumb along the arched pattern of tiny stars that climb across her shoulder and up her sexy neck, I worship her artwork and feel a stirring for her. Tattoos are one of the sexiest fucking things I've ever seen on any woman's body. Driving her wild is easy. Just pressing my lips to just one of these sexy stars is all it takes and I own her. I've kissed them hundreds of times.

I smile, thanking the lord for stars. I'm so fucking turned on by thinking about it that I have to bite back a groan as my dick aches with need for my little star. Having just fucked her, I recall how her eyes are a mix of blue and white, perfectly blended as beautiful and crystal clear as what I imagine the heavens look like. Damn I want her again. A white sheet stretches across her chest, tucked under her arms. It covers her beautiful, small breast—the babe is a heartbreak waiting to happen and she damn well knows it.

Just not my heart. She belongs with any other guy. Guilt works its way into my heart. Staying over was a bad idea and I really should leave now. Why does she have to look and feel so wonderful lying in my arms? We really need to stop our little affair, but she is the closest thing to heaven in my fucked up world.

What the fuck did I just think that for?

Hearing her soft breathing change, I scratch my head, forcing away stupid fucking thoughts and turn my eyes to her face. "Hey." Glancing up at me through thick lashes, she catches me looking. Her eyes twinkle and I stroke my fingers up her tattoo again.

Mygod she's beautiful.

Clearing my throat, I chide myself then respond casually. "What time is it?" I ask apprehensively. Needing to get my ass out of her bed this very instant, I control my tone. Sleeping over again is not an option and I can't let her think this will keep happening.

Because it won't.

Her eyebrows draw tightly in frustration. "I'm not sure. Early? There's a damn alarm clock on your side of the bed." She sighs quietly before rolling over to face away from me.

Shit why do I always hurt her? Rolling my head around toward the nightstand, I see the alarm clock on the table and notice it is early, but I must leave now.

"Shit, I've got to go," I sit up on the edge of the bed. "I'm picking up my folks at the airfield in an hour." Moving a little too quickly causes instant throbbing in my head. I slap both hands on each side.

Shit, how much did I drink?

I feel the bed shift as she slides close behind me and drapes both arms around my waist, followed by a trail of kisses from my hip upward. Raising my arm, she stops only to lay her head on the bed next to my hip. I stare down at her until she smiles up at me. Reaching down, I tug a small wild strand of hair that is now a purple shade on the ends. We have amazing sexual chemistry and she definitely knows what she is doing. Her seduction skills can also be words used to describe an artist's masterpiece. She is evocative, unguided, grandiose, vivid and even pure.

I've never been with a woman more in control of herself and who gives me such pleasure. I am her only sexual experience, but you wouldn't know it by her ability to please me. She's more generous than I ever am to her. I lean down and kiss her. She runs her tongue along my bottom lip, encouraging my mouth to open for her treat. She swirls and flicks her sweet little tongue against mine as she lets out a soft little whimper. I pull away before I can't, and she pouts.

"Want me to hop in the shower with you? You soap me up – I'll soap you up," she asks in a husky voice, nuzzling against my hand.

Hell yes I do.

Reprimanding my thoughts, yet again, so I don't encourage her behavior I actually say, "No, as damn good as that sounds I'm going home first, I'll just grab one there. Do you know where we took my clothes off last night? I don't see any of my shit in here."

She laughs heartily. "That's because you insisted on taking it all off before we came up so you could howl at the moon in the buff."

"Bullshit," I snap and then groan from the tone ricocheting like bullets in my skull making my headache grow.

"I'm serious as hell Morgan. You drank a lot last night. Probably more than I have ever seen before. Are you ok?"

Staring at her for a while, I manage a nod, thankful for her concern. "Yeah babe, I'm great." I lie because I don't have answers to many things that are going on, but I haven't taken any time to sort it out yet.

Watching her fingers rubbing my thigh while she stares at me in disbelief, I focus on her fingers and change the subject.

"My grandparents are hosting a big party at my house tomorrow night for Tristan's graduating class. Can you come?" Asking sounds like a date, so I quickly add, "Bring your brothers if you want. Most of the club crowd will be working it or have invitations."

She smirks. "We'll see. Do I need to bring a date or will you be available?"

Feeling possessive over a woman for the first time, fury blinds me and desire to be the only one for her begins to consume me. Virtually raging internally over two emotions, I sit there deciding what to do next. I don't want her bringing anyone, but dammit she's never asked this type question before. My eyes narrow on hers as she slips her hand into mine.

"Bring whoever the fuck you want," I end up growling at her. Noticing a strange look move across her face, I know I've hurt her again. Suddenly I began worrying about the hold this woman has over me. I scrub a hand over my face realizing I'm thinking like a fucking idiot.

Jerking her hand away, I see the corner of her lips tip up. "Great. Now get your hung-over ass out of my bed, Mr. Walker." Jokingly she pushes hard into my ass with her feet, forcing me to stand.

Relieved by her playfulness, the desire of whatever the hell was happening subsides. Standing up, I pull the sheet along with me exposing her naked body.

"Hey, I'm cold." She laughs, grabs for it, but I'm stronger and she's left lying there not looking a bit bothered by her nudity.

Teasingly laughing at my triumph and wrapping my trophy around my body, she releases a soft sexy giggle, flips over on her hands and knees, and begins crawling toward me. Her eyebrows arch and there is a sexy 'Get your ass back in my bed' look in her eyes. Purring, she bites down on her bottom lip. She heats my blood to a boil in a way no woman has before and I can't stay away from her when she's taunting me. I love a fucking tease and she knows that I won't be able to keep myself from her much longer.

Fuck! Groaning, I run my hand over my face into my hair and grip before I'm undone and don't give a damn about anyone except for us.

"If you keep doing that shit I will be late picking up my parents. Barret is a real bastard too. And don't get me started on my mother. Adding her nagging to this fucking hangover, that is kicking my ass, and my head will explode. You'll be the death of me, babe. Is that what you want?" I drop the sheet leaving it lying on the floor.

I look around her bedroom for my clothes, avoiding eye contact at all cost. I look anywhere except at her and somehow seem to be in control, at least right now I am. I just don't know if I can maintain it. If I even slightly glance at her in my current condition I will take her again, because she is the most desirable woman I've ever slept with, and saying no is nearly impossible.

"Oh no, poor baby," she taunts in a sexy low whisper, "Do you think you will be in bad trouble if you're late? Will you get a spanking? Mm, I'll spank you now if you'll let me."

Glimpsing from corner of my eyes, I see her lightly tickling over her exposed stomach with long teal fingernails. Fuck. Turn away, man. Walking into the bathroom, I spot my clothes in a pile on the floor next to the tub and quickly I slip them on. Turning back around, I watch as she runs her hands all over her gorgeous body and my eyes bore into hers. Fuck yes I want her to spank me.

Instead of saying that, I smile and reply, "Baby, you are tempting, but I'll get more than a spanking if I piss them off."

Slipping off the bed fully naked, she pads over and stands in front of me in the bathroom doorway. She knows I can't resist her sweet hot body.

"Fuck Waverly," I warn. She is my temporary bliss, and I need to resist her.

Placing her hand on the outside of my jeans, she rubs roughly, just the way I like it. "Mor–gan." Moaning my name with her sexy raspy voice reveals her need is as desperate as mine. She strokes me while her lips brush along my scruffy jaw line. Her voice, still hoarse with sleep and a hint of southern accent, caressing my every nerve ending, sends me over the edge.

"Oh, good lord you make me want to be late." Consequences be damned, right now I need Waverly. "Get on your knees, Sweetness," I order; the rumbling deep within my chest offers a dominance that she always submits to eagerly.

The room begins to spin and everything blurs, distorting shapes and colors, from the surge I get using my controlled command. Closing my eyes, I grip the edge of the doorframe for support and force myself to take deep breaths until my heartbeat slows down to a manageable level. Opening my eyes again, I nod for her to begin. She doesn't even hesitate. Working attentively, she gives me exactly what I need to face my parents and satisfy me until I can see her again.

And that better be soon.

An hour later, still battling one hell of a hangover, I sit at the airfield waiting on a small private plane. My father and uncles spent the last month in negotiations with a private corporation reviewing plans that will benefit Walker Corporation Canada. That market is a fucking gold mine, and new idea development is where our business is heading now. That's where my role in the company lies, and I have ideas for new ventures. During next week's meeting, I'll mention my proposals for integrating cloning proxies and a way to expand the rationing of sustenance supplies for small islands all over North America.

Watching the jet make its final approach, I hear my phone chirp with a new text message.

TRISTAN: RENTS HOME YET?

MORGAN: LANDING NOW. SUP?

TRISTAN: @OFFICE NEED 2 CU ASAP

MORGAN: NO PRB. LUNCH?

TRISTAN: YUP, TACKLE Q'S.

Two hours later, I have them home safely so I meet up with Tristan for lunch at the small sports bar next to the police department. Arriving late, I spot him at a table near the back of the room. After maneuvering around the packed restaurant, I notice Tristan has an irked look on his face – no doubt due to my tardiness.

"Well, just get here when you can," he digs at me. Even though he's a stickler for time management, I can tell that he's just messing with me.

Our waitress drops off menus and the complimentary hush puppies – they are the best on the island. She's a cute redhead, petite, and appears several years older than me. She flashes a heart-stopping smile and I notice deep dimples on both sides of her face. She's new here. I haven't seen her since moving back and it might be time to get to know her.

No, not a good idea. I don't do nice girls, but when I do, it will be Breesan.

"Blaming your mother instead of me would be great," I tell him. "That woman travels large. She packs enough shit to supply the wardrobe for a small country. I went all around Europe with a single backpack, but the amount of shit she brought back is obscene for one tiny woman. I'm just going to say it, bro. Your mom is a hoarder. Your dad must wait days for her to finish packing all that shit." We laugh together at the thought of his selfish father waiting on anyone, even the love of his life.

"I'm just going to ask," Tristan begins. "What's going on with Breesan?" Not one for small talk, he just puts it out there. Luckily, I suspected this is what he wants to discuss.

"Not much to tell. I ask her out, she turns me down. We're friends. I don't expect her to change her mind anytime soon so we will be friends."

Feeling an unfamiliar bolt zap me, I am instantly overwhelmed with the desire to make Breesan mine. Unaware of where this feeling is coming from, I begin nervously rubbing my hands together. The waitress places two glasses of water on our table and I down mine in one gulp before catching my breath.

He stares quizzically at me another minute before resuming this line of questioning. "And what about Marcus?" he asks dramatically, pausing for the full-effect. However, I know him all too well and he's applying his police training so he can judge my reaction.

Clasping my hands in front of me on the table, I lean forward and smirk. "What does Marcus have to do with anything?" Probing for information myself, I know Marcus shares shit with Tristan. They have always been closer than the two of us, and he'll know everything.

"Cut the shit Morgan. I know about your fight last year and that it involved a woman. I couldn't give a damn about details, but let me be very clear here. Breesan is not some damn game or conquest between the two of you. She is like a sister to me and I won't have either of you hurting her. You and Marcus are closer to me than cousins, but I will beat the living hell out of you if something bad happens to her. She is not some little fuck-thing that you can drop after a one-night stand. So wipe that shit out of your twisted mind now," he snarls.

He's very protective of her, and I wonder if there is more between them. He is absolutely correct that my fight with Marcus last year was over a woman. Elise telling me that Marcus was cruel to her sent me into a wild rage and I was not going to let him get away with that shit. Plus, I was truly happy being there for her. Perhaps if he would have just been good to her instead of treating her like she's unworthy of his greatness he would still be with her, and we wouldn't have a problem now. No one except me sees Marcus for the piece of shit that he is because I know him and I can see right through his damn charade, a little known fact that drives him mad.

Our food arrives, giving me an opportunity to consider my options. Seeing random women, including Waverly, will keep me commitment-free. Or I can take the plunge by removing myself from the singles sites and pursuing something with a woman who piques more than my interest.

"Yeah, you got it brother," I reply to his demands. He shoves a piece of paper toward me. "What is this?" I take it and begin opening it, but before I can read what is written on it he answers and I'm too distracted to read it.

"Apparently the shit that happened recently has her reconsidering getting to know you. She likes you Morgan, so don't screw it up." He scrutinizes me severely.

Shocked by her forwardness in taking this step, I'm completely elated. "Dude, relax will ya? I've got this. She is safe with me. I'm not going to hurt her and if I do I fully expect you to pummel the life out of me. Here's a question for you now..." I state smoothly. Leaning back, he stretches out his long denim covered legs and runs his hand through his hair and grins.

"Shoot," he quips.

"All right." I sigh casually. "I appreciate the fatherly lecture, but what does Marcus have to do with all of this anyway?" I nail him with a pointed stare and his shoulders sag while he squirms uncomfortably.

"He wants her."

"What?"

Motherfucker. This is exactly what I was afraid might happen. I thought I would have more time, but he moves fast. If I know my brother, she falls into the class of 'Perfect Girlfriend' material for him. Breesan is the total package. Not only is she a pure beauty, but she's intelligent, confident, and tenacious. She's worthy of the fight. Even without him in the picture, she is one helluva challenge. Adding him is extra competition, but I'm not giving her up easily. He will go after her. I just hope she won't fall for him and get hurt like Elise.

"I'm not sure what's between them," he continues, "but I think their feelings are mutual. However, she's not exactly easily persuaded. Even if she shows him interest, there's no guarantee. I know you two hang out some and now she wants a friendship. You have no idea how fucking huge that is for her, Morgan. Take it slow and don't do something stupid like pushing her too fast. She's a smart girl – games won't work."

Dammit! Leave it to Marcus to zero in on the one woman who I would be willing to change for. Wait, am I willing to change for Breesan? I feel an urgency to bail out of here and every rational instinct inside me screams a warning to stay the hell away from Breesan Maxwell. If I take this chance on her, I'm giving up a whole life which right now makes me damn happy. But dammit all to hell, I am a man on a mission after all the times she's turned me down. If for no other reason than curiosity, I need to find out where this will go. If I can have a goddess like Breesan, I can give up the womanizing and partying.

"I'm fighting for her, so whatever he thinks he has with her won't mean shit soon." He simply nods.

Grabbing my keys from the table, I shake Tristan's hand and slide out of my seat. I'm meeting up with the guys and then later hooking up with Waverly. She will help clear my head of all Marcus' meddling bullshit. God I just need to get lost in her for a few hours, and then I can focus on keeping Breesan for myself, and out of my brother's bed.

"I'm glad we cleared the air. I'll see you tomorrow at the party." Popping a toothpick in his mouth and a peppermint in his pocket on our way out the door, he bumps unlock on his key fob. Just before reaching his truck he yells over at me. "Hey Morgan, don't invite Waverly over tomorrow." He smirks and I nod my head. Apparently, he is aware of the relationship.

Damn his investigative skills.

If Waverly gets anywhere near Breesan she could ruin the plans I have to win Breesan over. Knowing Marcus was with Breesan all night at the castle, I blame Waverly for distracting me and causing this trouble with my twin.

Thinking back to that night, I remember trying to catch up to Breesan after she left for the ladies room. On my way, Waverly grabbed me and pulled me into the castle's study. She began a full on passionate assault and I fell victim without regard for anyone or anything. I should have pulled my head out of my ass and left her standing there, instead of indulging in her sweet lips and tight little body. Now Marcus has his claws in Breesan and it's all because I couldn't control myself with Waverly.

I'll be damned! After silently vowing that he won't win her, I pull out the paper that Tristan handed me. It's Breesan's cell phone number. Hell yeah. Giving it to me now is symbolic and means that on her terms, she is ready to be friends.

What about more?

MORGAN: HEY IT'S MORGAN

BREESAN: HEY U

MORGAN: U MADE MY DAY. WHEN CAN I C U?

BREESAN: LOL, UR CRAZY! C U @ THE PARTY 2MORO

MORGAN: K C U THEN ;)

What the fuck? I just sent her a winky face. Disgusted with my teenage behavior, I slap my hand across my forehead, forcibly trying to rub away the embarrassment.

I want to work through this whole issue with Marcus and need to talk to someone. Marcus is out of the question. He won't talk to me and he damn sure won't give her up easily. Tristan won't pick a side and he's made his feelings well-known. Anna is Breesan's best friend, and she won't give me a chance because unfortunately, she saw Waverly all over me as we were leaving the club last week. Having dinner at the adjacent restaurant, Anna watched us get into my car and then sent me a text ordering me to call her. Oh boy, she unloaded almost every dirty word on me, well dirty for Anna, and then tells me I am a real prick – her way of saying bastard. After explaining to her that Breesan only wants a friendship with me, she calmed slightly.

What will I do about Waverly?

Waverly gives me as much freedom as I want and she's one of my closest friends. We have so much in common and I feel at ease with her. She is not looking for a fairytale ending. That is something that she has in common with Breesan, but I'm certain that's where the comparisons end. I'm attracted to both of them, even as different as they are from each other and that leaves me completely muddled.

### Chapter Eighteen

Morgan

Upon arriving back at Granddad's, I notice my parents and grandparents sitting silently on either side of the study. I stroll in casually, knowing that I'll be the buffer for their little group, and prepare myself for the tug of war. Crossing the room, I first kiss Gran on the cheek and then lean down as Granddad squeezes me in his mammoth size arms. Patting me on the back, he releases me and I turn to give my parents my full attention.

"Darling, you look thin. You must not be eating properly. It happens every time you come here," my mother says with a very snooty tone, directing all of her hostility toward Gran by shifting her eyes in her direction.

Gran smiles and responds for me. "Haleigh, you know that boy never misses a meal at our house."

Making an unladylike sound, mother continues her commentary. "Morgan, we haven't heard from you much this summer. I swear you act worse than your brother sometimes." There is no playfulness in her tone. Playing us against each other in every aspect of life is shitty and I'm used to it, but I can't lie and say that I'm immune. She is a cold-hearted woman, but I still love her.

"Mother, I've been working at the office day and night since coming home. Except for the welcome home party Granddad and Gran threw for me, I haven't had time for much else," I lie, not wanting her guilt.

"I suppose I'll allow work as your excuse, this time." Her smile is phony. She turns to my father. "Dear, have you spoken to Morgan about your plans for the company?"

Anything work-related piques my interest and she knows this. I wait for him to respond since Barret Walker is not the kind of man you cut off in conversation.

"Office topics are only discussed in the office. Only in the office! How many times have I told you this, Haleigh?" She flinches at his harsh tone.

He always speaks down to her, to everyone actually. Hating seeing the hurt in her eyes, I turn away because I don't understand why she lets him do this to her or why she stays with him. It's not love, it never was for them. My mom's father arranged their marriage. My father was a drunkard and a playboy who was destroying his life with wild women and drugs until she came along. Grandfather Jacobs made demands on him when he got my mother pregnant with my sister while they dated, using the word "dated" loosely because he only slept with women.

I'm similar to him in this way with my personal life. In business practices, we share the same unstoppable tenacity when pursuing our objectives. We also don't play well with others and are usually left to work things out on our own. That is where our similarities end. Character flaws we do not share are his arrogance, cruelty, and perverse authority.

My mother, Haleigh Jacobs Walker, is an exquisite woman with beauty and brains. If given an opportunity, she could run the WC as well as any of the Walker men. At times, she can be affectionate and caring, but her heart is damaged from the years of pain inflicted by her husband. I would give anything to stop her suffering. Looking at me now, she smiles while her eyes glisten with unshed tears. They won't fall, they never fall. She is a master at controlling her emotions after twenty-five years in a loveless marriage. Watching closely, I see her rein in strength before pursuing the conversation.

"You are right, dear. I made a mistake." She smiles apologetically. Ignoring her like always, he busies himself on his laptop and his tumbler full of whiskey. She sighs and turns her attention back to me. "We'll just talk about something more exciting, Morgan. What did you think about the sweet gift I sent you last week, Darling?"

Thinking back over the week, I raise both eyebrows while questioning any recent courier deliveries, but I'm at a loss.

"My apologies Mother, but I didn't receive a courier delivery recently." I look in Gran's direction, but she doesn't make eye contact with me.

"No, Morgan. This isn't something that came by courier. It was a special delivery in person." She smirks disturbingly.

"What did you do Mother?" Fearing a major Haleigh catastrophe, I brace myself.

"I sent the most decadent gift any young man, such as you, would enjoy. You don't know if you received it? I do believe you would remember this present, Morgan." Rising from her chair, she walks over and sits beside me and then takes my hand, drawing it to her lap and staring directly into my eyes. "Morgan, I have something that I want you to do for me. It's the most important request I have ever made of you, Darling, and I need to you really take some time to think about it. I want an answer tomorrow after the party."

Gran snorts, distracting me momentarily. Glancing up, I see her forehead crinkle sorrowfully.

"Mother, I love you, but I can't make any promises. Why don't you explain to me what's going on and I'll agree to think about it?" I really don't have any idea what she is scheming, but whatever it is has Gran in a tizzy, and that's never good.

"As you are well aware, your father and I have been out of the country on business. While we were in Cape Breton, we were fortunate enough to spend time with the Carringtons. I was most impressed with their family dynamic. They have a rather large family, six children. Stephan works in the Nova Scotia office under you father. As it turns out, the Carringtons are looking to merge with Walker Corporation by early next –"

The remainder of her thoughts halts abruptly when Barret strides over and lifts her, rather roughly, by the arm. She startles, but doesn't make a sound.

"This topic borders work, Haleigh. We just returned home so you will refrain from this line of conversation for the remainder of the evening. Let me escort you to our room, Haleigh." Dragging her out of the room, he tosses an order over his shoulder. "Morgan, come to my office in an hour. We'll discuss it then." Watching him manhandle her, my body goes rigid, but it appears that he is not actually harming her.

She offers me a melancholy smile as they leave the room. My mother doesn't get the respect she deserves from her husband, but she's never complained about it. Always being the good wife, she does his bidding, keeps her attitude in check, and in doing so she's locked herself in this hell. She will never realize her true worth and he'll never appreciate her. How they can choose a relationship lacking respect, or even love for that matter, is completely fucked up.

Hell I don't want to fall in love, but if I were to marry, she's going to have all of me or I won't be with her. My wife will be a woman worthy in more ways than her bank account or her family name. My father did what any southern-raised gentleman would do by marrying a woman carrying his baby, but he did it for business purposes only. If she would have been a woman from a lower class family, she'd have been paid off and he would not be in my sister's life. Their relationship is a business merger, bringing together the Walker and Jacob assets and contacts.

My grandmother's voice breaks the awkward silence. "Morgan, have you spoken with your brother yet?" Shit.

"He's not around much, Gran. I'll speak to him the next chance I get. You have my word."

"Well, perfect timing. He'll be here tomorrow."

She's not going to leave this alone. I want to placate her, but she's an obstinate woman who will stick to a topic like a dog with a bone. She won't be satisfied until everyone is happy and unified.

"Yes ma'am, I understand." I stand up from my seat. "I'm going to wait for dad in his office. You both have a good evening."

Making my escape before she drags Granddad and his opinion into the mix, I walk into dad's office and old memories flood me. I recall the many days that I sat under his desk while he worked. He would manage business from home on the weekends, nights, and every holiday. If I needed to speak with him, this would be the room to find him when he's home. It is in no way an attractive room. The decorating is minimal with large leather and dark wood furnishings. No family photos line the walls or adorn his desk. He does have one entire wall dedicated to himself.

The "I love me" wall, as I refer to it, holds his scholastic accomplishments, including his engineering degree from Stanford. I will soon have a Stanford degree of my own to add to my credentials. Following his path to run Walker Corporation one day, I will do whatever it takes to get there as quickly as I can, and moving to California for school is the next step.

This move finalizes my education and will fulfill Granddad's one request. I must have my degree before he turns over the reins to me. My father and uncle Beck don't know Granddad's promise, and it's going to blow their damn minds when I accept his offer. Staring at my father's Stanford diploma, smiling with a hint of pride in myself, I feel a strangling sensation grab my throat and begin gasping for air.

Am I having a panic attack?

"Morgan, have a seat." My father enters the room and my sudden anxiety resolves itself. Taking a seat in the large high back leather chair in front of his desk, I casually lean back. He makes haste, sits, and pulls a large file from his locked desk drawer. He places it in front of me and slides it forward. Glancing down, I recognize the name, but remain confused and look to him for an explanation.

"You need to go through this information and familiarize yourself with the Carrington Corporation before next week's trip. I want you with me when we meet with Ned to discuss the proposals enclosed in that file. Your input will be expected so don't dick around with this, Morgan. I don't want you looking like a dumbass when we get there. Whatever party plans you have for tonight, cancel them and study the shit here." Tapping his finger on the file he drills me to my seat with his hard glare.

I won't let him see me react to his brash attitude. He doesn't control me like he does his wife. Out of respect, I pick up the file, flipping through it while I nod my agreement.

"Do you have any questions?" Leaning against his chair back, he lets out a harsh breath saturated with disapproval.

"What's my role in the trip other than to be familiar with this company?"

"I'm glad you ask. Your mother hinted at it earlier and that's what I brought you in here to discuss. I expect you to show some restraint with this particular gift, as she likes to call it. I know your style, hell I lived it for years before your mother. Restraint is not your forte, but this is a delicate situation, and you will control all the fucking ideas sure to run through your mind. This family has an opportunity to join with an elite corporation whose interest in WC is proving to be ideal in moving us toward our ultimate goal, which is to become number one in the world as sustainable living developers. Ned more than wants us, he's got a fucking raging hard-on just thinking about getting in bed with us to form the strongest and best connected corporation on the planet."

Pausing, I slowly bob my head, absorbing all of this information and at that moment my mother quietly enters the room with us. Walking over to him, her eyes bounce cheerily between the two of us, clearly aware of where this discussion is going.

He continues. "We have always expected greater things from you than your brother and sister. You have more determination and want to be involved with this company, and they do not. Dad offered you the summer job. We too have a business endeavor for you to consider. And when I say consider, I actually mean I expect you to do it. You have the option of choosing not to, of course. But this will disappoint us and delay our goals for the future of Walker Corporation." His voice is gruff, and he pierces me with a stare that reads, "I dare you to defy me."

"Cut the shit, Dad. Whatever it is you want me to do, just say it and let's not play games. Neither of us is good at it so no need to start now. What do I have to do?"

"In the file you will see the contract we will propose to Ned. He's already seen it and has agreed to our demands. However, he made a few demands of his own. And one of them involves you. He wants you to marry his daughter."

I feel the air in the room go still as I stare at his stone face, waiting for the fucking punch line. There is none. He's waiting for me to respond and I don't think I can.

My mother moves around the desk and leans on it, clasping her hands together. "Darling, I know this is sudden and you're probably thinking that it's too soon, but I want you to consider that you don't have to marry her right away. So there's time for you to adjust to the idea."

"That's correct," my father says, cutting her off. "You don't have to marry her now, but you are expected to begin a relationship that will lead quickly to a proposal. Ned will wait for your commitment before he signs the contracts. Next week you will give him the answer he wants and we'll begin the process to move to the top of the food chain, where we fucking deserve to be." Dad crosses his arms over his chest.

I'm still dazed, and absorbing this information requires hard liquor. I stumble toward his liquor cabinet and pour three fingers of Johnny Walker, shoot it and refill the tumbler. While I pour the second down my throat, I notice my hand shaking uncontrollably and I slam down the decanter a little too roughly.

My mother breaks the quiet. "Morgan, we understand this comes as a shock, but I think that after you've had some time to consider all that is involved you will be satisfied with the result. We had your best interests in mind when we spoke with Ned and agreed to entertain his daughter for the summer."

Whipping around to face my mother, my hand grips the tumbler, almost shattering it. "Dammit Mom, I have to entertain some princess coming here this summer?"

"No son, she's already here. As I said earlier, I sent her here last week. Did Elise not come see you the moment she arrived from England as she promised?"

Elise! Fuck! All the air is sucked out of the room.

"Mother, Elise who?" I ask nervously. Certainly she doesn't mean the same Elise. There must be some mistake.

"Elise Carrington. I sent her here last week to meet you. She told me that she knows you and Marcus. It thrills me that you both are already acquainted. She is a lovely young lady and comes from one of the most influential families in the world." She smiles with pride and true happiness is etched across her face.

This makes her happy and I won't disappoint my mother.

***

Marcus

(Graduation Party – June 22, early evening)

As I roll onto my stomach, a reminder of what I did last night to earn the soreness I feel plays along my strained muscles and overworked bones. Kole's ass whooping during training, plus all-night surveillance on Breesan has me overworked, and my ass is dragging. I'm not craving brains for breakfast, but I feel like the walking dead, and sleeping late today is my cure.

I unlock my phone's screen to silence it before my alarm goes off, but I'm too late. The loud vibration startles me and I drop the phone on the floor. Stretching over I retrieve it, slide the screen lock, and flip through my texts. No messages, but I did miss a call in the early morning from Sam. It's time I tell her and the team about Breesan. I press the phone icon next to her picture and click send. Several rings and then I get her voice-mail. Deciding not to wait for the beep, I send her a text asking her to call me.

Lurching to my feet, I groan along with my aching muscles and slide into the shower. I spent most of yesterday thinking of all the ways I could tell Breesan that I want her, and I'm opting for honesty. I want her to be honest with me therefore I owe it to her. I need her to understand there is no malicious intent in my omission. I plan to tell her everything as soon as I see her. I just don't know how to tell her what I do. Can I reveal everything? As much as I want her, and I do want her so damn badly, I am not free and it's not fair. Well, fuck fair!

When I tell her what I do and the truth about what's going on, will I be good enough for her? Maybe not, but I'll be damned if I let Morgan anywhere near her. She's damn well too good for him, and he's taken enough from me. If it's the last thing I do, I'll keep him the hell away from Breesan Maxwell.

Half an hour later, I'm driving over to Granddad's. It's early evening so I guess I'm early for the party, although I don't really know when this particular bash starts. Hopping out of my Jeep, I make my way around the side of the house to the backyard. The music is pouring out the speaker system and the grill is smoking. It looks as though Tristan and his buddy Bates are manning it under the supervision of Granddad. I walk past the swimming pool crowded with nearly naked girls and drunken guys. Looks like I'm right on time.

"Pops!" I shout, catching Granddad's attention. He walks up, grabs my hand, and pulls me into a tight embrace.

"Hey son, are you just getting here?" There is alcohol on his breath and he is slurring.

"Yeah, it's a little early to tie one on, wouldn't you say?"

"Boy, you know I only drink to tolerate my sons." He chuckles. "Nah, I've only had three all day. Your Gran cut me off when the pit caught fire so it's all downhill from here." 'Three' is always his go-to answer when asked how many beers he's had.

"Where is everyone? I noticed Tristan walking in through the back door with food as I came up. Where are my folks?"

Delaying the inevitable reunion won't stop my dad from giving his two cents about my actions from last year. I stopped pleasing him years ago so I don't expect to do or say anything today that will make me look better in his eyes. There's not much that makes Barret Walker happy, but whatever does usually comes from Morgan. He is the golden child and I am the disappointment.

"Morgan and Breesan just got out of the pool and Anna hasn't made it over yet. Go find your dad and clear the air so you can enjoy what's left of the party. Oh, and send Tristan back out here. I think he's had enough of his father for one day. Besides, I have another twenty pounds of steaks left to cook up and Bates found a girl willing to let him kiss her. Heh heh." He throws his head back and roars his hearty laughter.

"Yes sir." Chuckling with him, I shake my head. If Gran hadn't already cut him off, I would tell her she might want to consider it. Pop is very opinionated and your feelings can be damned when he's lit.

Wandering back across the yard through the garden and patio, I hear loud, hostile voices coming from just beyond the doorway inside the dining room. As I reach for the door, Tristan pushes his way out, brooding and definitely drunk.

"Sorry Mac, you sure you want to go into that fucking war zone?" Mac is the one nickname I actually don't mind him calling me. After all, it's Granddad's nickname as well. He bumps into me again, on his way toward Granddad and the grill.

"Shit, Trist. Easy man, where's the fire?" I grab his arm and slow him down, but he continues walking away from the house, so I go with him. I need to get him sorted. He would do the same for me. Hell, he's played interference with Barret for me on more than one occasion.

"Dammit, I've had it with him and his bullshit. And your dad is his wingman. So take my advice and stay the hell out of there. Granddad's had a few, so you know their pansy asses are too scared to come out and face him." Tugging his arm away from my hold, he continues through the garden still intent on getting away.

"Is he on you about school again?"

"Fuck Beck, his opinions and self-righteous attitude mean shit to me now. And anyone else's for that matter." He growls, pinning me with a defiant stare.

"You still have family that will always have your back. I'm here if you need me Bubba."

"Hey!" he shakes his head, cooling down slightly. "I know you do. I'm not worried about that shit. You know I've got your six too." Seeing his anger subside, I feel him grab me by the shoulder. "By the way, Morgan and Breesan are in the house. I think she's in your bathroom showering from their swim."

Thinking of her in my shower is enough to make me wild. Shrugging off his hold, I force my feet to move forward. Urgency to get to her just intensified, knowing that she's in my bathroom. I charge directly toward the dining room door. I'll be damned if my father being inside is going to keep me from her. I'm getting pissed just thinking about the possibility that Morgan might sneak in there while she's undressed.

"Mac," Tristan yells halting me and then he jogs over. "Uh, she is...damn it." He shoves his fists into his front pockets of his swimming trucks. "You need to know that...she is..." Scraping his hands over his face he drops his shoulders and stabs me with a look of distress. "Dammit Mac. Morgan kissed her."

Jerking my head up, I give him my full attention. I'm drowning in an onslaught of feelings running through my body. Initially, regret slices through my chest, and then an all-consuming anger grips my body.

Ohgod it should have been me kissing her.

Motherfucker, I should have told her the truth about my feelings for her before now. It's my damn fault she let him kiss her. I know she feels something when she's with me, like I do for her. There's no way in hell she can feel the same for him. Elise.

Thoughts of him doing the same damn thing to me a year ago hits me hard and anger consumes me. He's done it again.

To hell with his bullshit, I can't do this with him again, not over Breesan. Drawing in a deep breath, I turn slowly toward the side access again. Elise.

"Oh, damn. Thanks for letting me know," I mumble back to Tristan.

Laden with heavy emotions my voice breaks, my eyes lower to the ground, and my chest fills with an intense ache. A fierce clarity jolts me back to reality. She is lost to me, but she never really was mine to lose. I enter the house through the side door that passes through the mudroom and then travel down the stairs to the gym. I need to hit something, right the fuck now and a punching bag will keep me from going to jail. I thought Breesan was mine.

It's the same shit all over again. Elise.

### Chapter Nineteen

Morgan

(Graduation Party – June 22, 8 hours earlier)

Staying home last night wasn't part of my plan, but after Barret's demands, what choice did I have? I decided that instead of picking up Waverly and the guys to go out, I would have them come over here. Unfortunately, she didn't answer my calls and when I got her voice-mail, I left a message letting her know the change of plans. I wanted to tell her in person that we will no longer be hanging out. No more sex-fests either.

When we started whatever it is that we are doing, we both understood the ground rules. She doesn't have any claim on me and I sure as hell don't want any claim over her, other than the occasional night of sex when I was in town. We aren't exclusive. Prior to Tristan suggesting I shouldn't invite her over, I had asked her, Jack, and Ian to bring some friends from the club and we'd join in on the celebration.

Now with Elise being brought into our mix, everything is going to get all fucked up. How can my parents think this is a great idea? Oh, that's right it is not about me, this is business. Fuck, it just had to be her. This complicates everything. Just when I decide I want Breesan, but can't explain what I'm feeling for Waverly, Elise gets added to the equation.

Without speaking with Waverly last night I'm not sure what to expect from her today. Since the night at the castle I've noticed a change in her and I don't particularly understand it. Whatever! I know she'll be here later. I just need to get to her before she encounters Tristan. I'm in no mood to take shit from him about her.

Sluggish from being up so late shooting pool with the guys, I drag myself into the kitchen where mom, Gran, and Aunt Gretchen are cooking a huge lunch, and plop down in a high back chair at the island. There are bowls of fruit and croissants, leftovers from breakfast, overflowing in the center. I pull a chocolate croissant off the top and take a big bite. It's a buttery flaky dream. Aunt Gretchen snaps my hand and shakes her head to show her disapproval and I shrug.

"Morning honey, stayed up late I see," Mom sings. She is always too peppy in the morning.

"Yes ma'am. Good morning Gran, Aunt Gretchen. Something smells amazing." They all beam up at me for the compliment. I stretch my arms over my head and feel the muscles ache in protest.

"Dad and Uncle Beck are on the driving range. Why don't you stop by the villa and grab your brother? It will thrill them to have you both join them! It's been ages since you four played," Aunt Gretchen encourages.

"Nah, I'm waiting on a friend to come over."

I glance up to see three shocked faces staring at me. I let them absorb what I said and then start the rest of the conversation because I would rather get through this part of the inquisition than have Breesan subjected to their scrutiny.

"Do we know this friend?" Gran smiles while placing a cup of black coffee in front of me. I take a huge sip and pop another piece of the delicious pastry in my mouth before answering.

"Yes Gran, it's Breesan Maxwell. She's a good friend of Tristan's." My mother is staring at me with a sad expression at the mention of her name. I know she expects me to marry Elise, but I'm not prepared to give up my friendship with Breesan yet. Clearing the air with Gran and Gretchen, and pacifying my mother, I add, "Before you ambush her, we're just friends."

Not bad for an unplanned response. They appear unhappy about having to pass on an opportunity to pounce on her for details, but they agree with coordinated head bobs.

"Great! Now I'm going to shower and then head out back to help Granddad with the grill."

"Son, is this the same girl who lives next to Anna Knight?" Mom pierces me with a concerned stare awaiting my response.

"That would be her." I hide my grin, knowing they can clearly see that I am developing a bit of a crush. I don't want to disappoint my mother.

"Oh, well that is interesting." Her voice drops to a curious murmur.

"So you already know her. Great, then there is no reason for me to worry about you dragging information out of her."

"Darling, don't forget about brunch with Elise tomorrow, and your father will be joining us." Her attitude rapidly shifts to displeasure.

I nod then kiss all three women before traipsing back up to my room and flopping down onto my bed where I fall into an instant slumber. A soft knock on my bedroom door rouses me from another deep sleep. Pulling myself up to lean against the headboard, I wipe my hand over my face and tug it through my hair.

"It's open," I call out while I roll over, searching my bedside table for my cell to check the time. It's after one. I assume Tristan's friends and Breesan are here already. I hope the she-wolves did not attack her like they promised. Looking up from my cell, I run my gaze up a pair of long sexy legs in a tiny yellow bikini to a flat, toned tummy, further up to a familiar pair of tiny breasts and long neck. She looks beautiful today. I want her, but in my room is not where she should be since I'm not sure I'll be able to control myself.

"Hey," she whispers.

That sexy purr sets off an alarm in my head. I can't understand my fear of her being here or what this means to me. I want to tell her the truth because we need honesty about what is going on between us, but I never want to hurt her.

"What are you doing in here?" My voice is deep and low.

Keeping my hands off of her isn't going to be easy. I can't help the smile that spreads across my face as she bounces over and plops down on my bed. Sliding under the covers and curling her body up next to mine, she tucks tightly under my arm, with her chest pressing against my abdomen. With her crushed against my side, her warmness and sweet honeysuckle scent engulfs me and I feel like I've just pole-vaulted into heaven. Looking at me from under her long dark eyelashes, she flashes a breathtaking smile. This feels so amazing, but I can't jeopardize us. Rolling her onto her back, I lean down close enough that my teeth graze her ear. Moaning she presses her body up to mine and I automatically grind back.

"Shhh. Being in here is definitely a bad idea for you," I warn, my lips pressing against her soft neck.

Raising my body off of hers, I move to get up and away quickly. Grabbing my bicep with one hand and running her other hand around my neck, she pulls me back down to her. She traces her tongue down from my ear along my jaw line and up my chin and I shudder as if I've been struck by a thousand volts of electricity. Her breath is warm, just barely touching my mouth as she hovers there waiting and innocently expecting encouragement from me that what she is doing is ok. When I glance from her lustful eyes to her pouty little mouth she takes it as an invitation to press her lips hard on mine. She tastes so sweet and my need for her is overwhelming. I push down hard on her mouth with my mouth, and her body with my body.

Being like this with her is wrong because I have other responsibilities. Not now I remind myself who I am, Morgan Walker. Being with her is just not right. But oh god it feels so right. Her hands tug hard in my hair, pulling me closer. There is no space between us, only a tiny bikini and my Calvin Klein boxer briefs. I can't get any closer either, but fuck, I need to get closer. My hands explore her hot body, knowing this will never be enough. But I can't have any more because I she won't be mine. My body tenses up and I draw away from her. Hearing her whimper from the distance I am putting between us, I roll away from her, slide off the bed and pace to the other side of the room while running my hands through my hair.

Shit! Shit! Shit! What have I done?

"Dammit, what the hell are you doing in here, Waverly?"

She looks hurt, but I have no choice. I need to end this fiasco now. "You invited me to the party. Or did you forget?"

Sliding out of the bed, she moves around to my side, taking several determined and seductive steps. She slides her hand sensually across her body teasing the fuck out of me, just how she knows I like it. Holding up both hands, I shake my head pleading with her not to do this. Moving her hand from her thigh, she traces up along the top of the waistband of her bikini bottom, making smalls circles with her fingers all along her abs. She dips one finger into her belly button, twirls it along the edge and then glides it in an upward motion to the underside of her breast running her hand along her porcelain flesh.

Her other hand moves to her hair, exposing her neck and revealing those damn sexy stars that own me. Turning my attention back to the first hand, I watch as she moves it up the side of her breast, touching the exposed skin at the top of her bikini. Stopping, she lifts her hand away from her body then slowly slips her middle finger into her perfect little mouth, twirls her tongue around it to get it all slippery and wet. I can't stop the growl that rushes out of my throat. Sliding the wet finger out, she traces from her mouth down her chin and neck and back to the top of one breast, skimming it along the seam of her bikini, before slipping her middle finger under the material and then down into her cleavage.

Her bottom lip tucks between her teeth tightly and I just want to suck it into my mouth tasting her glorious sweetness. That sexy hand grazes over the top of the other beautiful breast delving under the material with that naughty finger of hers. She releases her hair and the other hand is now on a slow, downward journey to the side to her stomach again, to the waistband of her bikini bottoms moving lower and lower. Keeping her eyes on her hand all along, she watches the entire slow, torturing journey of her exploring fingers. Jealous, I want to trace that exact route, only slower with my tongue. Glancing up to meet my eyes, hers are full of lust and want.

My god she drives me wild. Desperately, I want to pull her body to me and taste every inch of her. My body vibrates with an all-consuming desire for this sexy woman standing before me, displaying how much she wants me to take her. I can't deny it, I need to feel her, crave to taste her, and long to hold her. She moves closer. I'm running out of restraint. Our gazes lock and I am completely lost in her. Licking her lips with her pink tongue, I act only on instinct as my body draws closer to her. Grabbing her, I tug her tight little body forward and crush it into mine. This is a fierce kiss, devouring each other's mouths and now her hands work hard pulling off my shirt.

Wanting nothing more than to move us right back to my bed, but knowing that I just can't do that, it takes everything in me to rein in my self-control before she unmans me. Seizing her hands, I stop her explorations abruptly. She pulls her hands into one of mine securely and I grab her chin, lifting her face so our eyes meet. Pure desire blazing from her lovely eyes slams into me, proving she wants me as desperately as I need her.

I clear my throat and try to clarify the situation. "We need to talk, Waverly. I've had fun with you, but we can't see each other anymore. Babe, I don't want to hurt you, but I have commitments that I'm obligated to follow," I explain. Confusion breaks across her face so I add, "There's someone else."

Reaching up she slaps me hard across the face. Then she jerks away and dashes toward the door. Turning back to glare at me, her eyes flash with true hurt that covers her beautiful face. She stops at the doorway for an extended beat and waits. I give her nothing, no apology, no words, and no hope.

"You are a real bastard, Morgan!" Like a gale force storm she charges out of my bedroom, leaving me wondering if I will regret my words.

Extremely frustrated by her sexy display followed by her outrageous retreat, I must find a way to calm myself down since I plan on searching out Breesan. After rushing through a shower, I slip into a pair of swim trunks, foregoing a shirt. After all, this is a pool party. Grabbing a thick towel and shades off my dresser, I make my way down the stairs. I bump directly into a beauty with mesmerizing gray eyes, full of apprehension, and looking intently at me.

"Hi," I offer her with a smile, full of promise that hopefully eases her distress.

"Hi." Tweaking up, the corner of her lips increase to a full smile.

"Have you been here for very long?" Wanting to keep everything light today, I plan on just enjoying the entire day with her and then later I'll focus on taking her before Marcus can.

"Well according to your Gran, I got here just after you went upstairs for a quick shower. That was about three hours ago." She grins at me while quirking an eyebrow up high, waiting for an explanation.

"Ouch, that hurts." Placing a hand over my heart, I dramatically feign heartache.

"What are you talking about?" She giggles and I find that like the sweet sound.

She slaps my hand away from my chest playfully. Capturing her wrist, I trace the inside with my thumb and pull her close. She places her cool hands on my bare chest. Hearing a soft moan deep in her throat, I'm done for because she has such an intense effect on me. I like her sounds, and her touching, and I even like it when she slaps me.

"You seem upset that I didn't come down sooner. Am I mistaken, or are you actually happy to see me?" Teasing her makes her shift nervously from one foot to the other and it bothers me. Drawing her hand up to my mouth, I place a kiss on her palm.

Her body trembles and she locks her eyes on mine. "Yes, I am."

Now this is interesting. She is here to see me, and that is not the answer I was expecting. Grinning, I take a moment now that I know she is here for me and let my eyes take in all of her. She is so beautiful and her body is amazing. She's wearing a teal bikini that has the long string ties on the sides of her bottoms and a barely there top just covering her generous breasts. Growling out my approval of her swimwear causes her to giggle nervously. Shocked by my appreciation she steps away. This time I don't fight her retreat because I don't want to scare her off. In fact, I hope to get as close as possible with her tonight.

"Damn girl. You look good." I waggle my eyebrows. She rolls her eyes modestly at my truthful observation. "It sounds like there's a party outside. What do you say we get out there and join them on celebrating your freedom?" Biting her bottom lip she grins vibrantly and bobs her head yes, more excited than I've ever seen before.

Taking her small hand into mine, I excitedly escort her out back. Suddenly not ready to share her, I change course. Dragging her past all the partygoers playing in the pool and around the garden, we walk out the back gate. Looking back at her, I hope she won't resist as we make our way out to the soft white sand, but she continues to trail along. We kick off our flip-flops, walk the short distance to the edge of the sand, and let the water crash over our feet.

The ocean temperature is lukewarm and feels amazing. After guiding her out to the sandbar, I plop down tugging her with me. She stumbles, losing her balance and falls down onto my lap. I'm not complaining because I have hopes of getting her into a similar situation soon, but today I must take it slow. Sensing her embarrassment, I move her off me and make a joke to ease her comfort.

"Hey pretty girl, falling for me already?" She chokes on my stupid humor and then we laugh together.

"It is so beautiful out here. The sandbars are the coolest. We are separate, but we really never fully can be because it's all connected underneath." Picking up a stray stick, she draws circles in the sand between her bare feet. Distracted briefly by her teal-painted toenails,, I glance up and realize she caught me staring at them.

"Yea...Uh, yeah," I stutter like a dumbass on his first pre-teen date. "I like to be alone out here. Just take some time away from life stuff and general bullshit." I grin, hoping to recover from my stupor.

She stares at the house with a deep look of concern on her face and I'm curious what that's all about. I wonder if I should press her to tell me what she's thinking. Our conversation stalls and I begin to think that maybe bringing her out here was a bad idea. She seems comfortable with me, yet guarded. I don't know what to do to break through to her and get her to understand that letting me in will be ok. I've never tried to get close to any woman before, but I truly desire closeness with her. Reaching over I place a hand in one of hers. Interlacing our fingers, I tug her out of the remote location that her mind wandered. Shaking her head, she tilts it to the side slightly. Serious concerns lie in her sparkling gray eyes and I hope I'm prepared for what she'll reveal.

"Is she your girlfriend?" she asks. "The cute blonde?"

Struggling to keep my grip from hurting her hand, I realize she saw Waverly leaving from upstairs. Releasing my hold, I draw my knees up and place my elbows on each. I bend my head down and run both hands through my hair. It's confession time.

"Waverly?" I shake my head. "No. I've never had a girlfriend. I, – we are friends. She wants more. She doesn't say it, but I recently started feeling it. I may have led her on, but I'm just not prepared for that with her." I shrug.

Facing her, I see disillusionment in her eyes, I have definitely disappointed her. Why do I think I can ever have a normal relationship with a normal woman? Nothing will ever be normal for me again since I've got to marry Elise. Besides, I'll never be good enough for Breesan. And I'll never be strong enough for Waverly. Giving up on whatever bullshit fantasies I concocted about having something real, I push forward with my explanation.

"Look, this is awkward and I feel terrible. She wasn't supposed to be at the party today. You probably think badly about me, but nothing happened upstairs. Well, not exactly nothing, we kissed." I groan. "Dammit, I'm sorry Breesan. It makes me look like shit asking you out and then kissing another woman. You just got through telling me that you came over today hoping to see me and I go and screw it up in the first minute."

Letting out a huff of self-disappointment, I jump to my feet, walk to the edge of the ocean, and my toes sink deeper into the sand with each wave.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I look down at the wet sand covering my feet and ask for mercy. "I don't deserve it, but do you think you can forgive me and let me start again?" Silently, she continues sitting where I left her and I wait, desperate for her forgiveness. "I really would like to get to know you," I add earnestly.

"I'm not some fool, you know?" Coming up from behind me she moves to my side. I stand hypnotized by her question, unwilling to face her or respond to her accusation. "Anna told me you had never been on a date before, and I didn't believe a word she said." Detecting irony in her words, I remain unmoved, silently watching the waves rolling over our feet. "Besides, I saw the way she," she corrects, "Waverly is it?" I nod. "I saw how Waverly was watching you at the castle as you were walking over to our table on the night we met. Obviously there's something between you." She pauses and turns her body toward me. "If there is something going on, I wouldn't want you to break it off because of me. I don't have any claims on you. Ha, my god, just saying that out loud sounds so ridiculous." Watching her sideways, I see her jovially shaking her head. "We can't make this serious, Morgan. I'm perfectly happy with just being your friend. I don't date because I don't need the complications or distractions. And I don't need you feeling guilty about wanting to be with another woman. Let's get back to the party and have fun. Nothing here needs forgiveness."

Twirling around, seeing her face glowing with honesty, I can't stop the look of doubt that flashes across my face. Did I hear her correctly?

"Are you saying that we're cool? You're not pissed at me?" I ask, reiterating her words in a condensed version because I need clarification.

"We indeed are cool. Oh, and you better believe I am most certainly pissed." She crosses her arms. "But it's all directed at Anna. She seriously sold me some bullshit about you being a dating virgin, so desperately hard-up, and that I was the best choice to be your date that night. God, why does everyone feel like they need me to be with some guy? What's wrong with me being single? I've always been alone and I'm absolutely happy about it," she snaps, completely pissed now and damn, she really is so much cuter when she's angry.

"Ok, calm down. I don't want you to go hunt down your best friend and throttle her in front of all of your classmates." I hold my hands up, stopping her and then realize what I just said. "Well actually I'd probably enjoy seeing you do it, but first we'd need to get some Jell-O and judges," I joke, but the idea of her in this bikini wrestling her best friend, all covered in a slick, sugary concoction would be divine. She narrows her eyes at me so I retreat from the hole I'm digging. "I'm kidding, but really I don't want you mad at her. Hell, I guess I need to be completely honest too." She tilts her head, watching me closely. "I asked Anna to do it. Breesan, I've heard about you for so many years, and this summer is the first time we have been home at the same time. So I got her to use any means necessary to get you to agree to meet me. When Gran decided to throw that over the top welcome home party, I knew that was the perfect time." I shrug. "So if you're going to be pissed, you need to be pissed at me."

"You know what? There is something seriously wrong with the men in your family. Why the hell do you all have to be so charming?" She looks down at her toes in the sand and sighs before looking up at me again. "Ok, you win. I'm not pissed at you and I'll think about what to do with Anna. Come on." Motioning toward the house, she wades through the water.

We make our way to the suddenly crowded backyard. Smoke rolls from the bonfire. This party is getting crazy. Everyone's drinking and feeling no pain. On the pool side of the back yard the DJ set up his booth and stage and bodies pack the area. Opening with Sir Mix-A-Lot – a party favorite – he has them jumping and wiggling to the beat. One drunken guy is bumping and grinding on one of Gran's statues. He better hope she doesn't see that.

Joining with the fun, we dance too. When "Dirt Road Anthem" by Jason Aldean begins, I pull her close and together we sway. Draping my arms over hers and placing my chin on her head while her arms are hung lightly around my waist, I realize it feels good holding her, different, but good all the same. The odd rhythm of this song is one that has her in my arms one second, then pulling away wiggling her ass at me the next. She giggles at her silliness, and I let out an audible groan that she catches, but only acknowledges with a smile. Damn she is amazing. A burning desire to kiss her builds, urging me to taste her lips. I don't want to make moves on her too soon, but with her like this I decide to take a chance and see what happens.

The song switches to "Call Me Maybe" and every girl starts gyrating while screaming the words at the top of their lungs. Damn, lost that chance.

I roughly tow her by the hand, pulling her off the dance floor behind me. Before I can make my move to kiss her, she breaks our connection, fearlessly making an impressive dive into the swimming pool. After a moment, her head rises out of the water and she swims back over to where she left me standing. Following her lead, I gracefully dive over her and swim to the other side. She laughs blissfully and we stay that way circling around each other, splashing and in an odd way, bonding, for a while. As excited as I am about becoming more familiar with her this is not the place for it. There are entirely too many people in this pool.

"Join me?" I motion with my head toward the patio chairs, and she grins.

Climbing out of the pool, I pick up two plush towels and find one empty chair next to the bar. She snags it while I ask the bartender for a couple of waters. Passing her a bottle, I down half of mine in two gulps as she leans back against her chair. Boldly, I sit down on her chair next to her feet.

Unable to stop my eyes from roaming over her body, I smile again at the pretty little teal painted toenails that I was ogling earlier. Taking pleasure in her smooth toned skin, my eyes begin to move over her legs, well-formed abs, and ample chest. Her arms are nicely sculpted and yet still very feminine. And that neck...mm. Her necks looks like a place I would like to spend a lot of time getting to know on a very personal level.

My thoughts become an intense desire. A fire in me ignites a need to capture her wrists in my hand, draw them above her head and ruthlessly crush her mouth with mine, orchestrating an indecent exhibition for the voyeurs at this party. Any other time, any other woman would be painfully craving my touch, begging me to stroke and taunt her raw need, ultimately guiding her through an insane release and successfully wrecking her. I am notorious for shattering women in more ways than one, but not this woman. Sordid daydreaming about her doesn't stifle my needs, but I don't understand why it keeps happening every time I'm with her. It irritates the hell out of me that I don't have control over my own damn thoughts.

Dammit, why am I fantasizing again?

Focusing intently on slowing my breathing, I slide my hands through my wet hair, knocking out the remaining water and recovering control over my feral nature. The warmth from this late afternoon summer day begins to dry our damp suits and skin, and a tranquil look crosses over her face. Slowing her breathing, her chest rises and falls rhythmically, making her appear asleep. Averting my eyes from her beautiful chest, I covetously gaze over her magnificent and curvaceous body once again.

Noticing a scar on her left kneecap, I impulsively reach for it, wrapping my hand around the back of her knee and I trace the faint line with the pad of my thumb. Flinching from my unexpected contact, her eyes snap open to watch me curiously.

"Sorry," I offer, pulling my hand back, and draping my arm over my thigh. She smiles, shakes her head and closes her eyes again. I like the way she is so comfortable with me, and that she wants us to be friends. Unlike most women, she's not desperate for my attention and affection, which makes her even more desirable. She's so confidant and independent, truly the total package.

Placing my bottle on the ground, I lean over the lounge chair and place a hand flat on the back of her chair, right beside her waist. My movement causes her to open her eyes again. She raises her left arm to shade the sun while I push back a wild lock behind her ear and she intently watches my hand.

Opening my mouth to speak, she slowly raises her eyes to mine and we lock gazes. Wasting no more time I reach with my other hand, digging my fingers into her hair, gripping tightly, and angling so that she faces me. Bending down, I hover so close. Then little by little, I gently place my lips on hers. Softly, I graze over her full bottom lip with mine once and then I pull away, noticing her staring at me oddly. Closing her eyes, she slips her right hand up to tenderly cover her mouth in what appears as apprehension.

Remaining frozen like this for several moments, she finally blinks her lashes several times before piercing me with a direct, solid stare that holds me captive. I can't read her emotions so I wait for her reaction. Putting one foot on the ground, she twists her body around and her other leg quickly follows. Scanning across the loud, large crowd she worriedly chews on her bottom lip. Finally standing without a word, she walks away. She leaves me sitting here, frustrated, and not knowing what the hell she could be thinking. Shit. Mesmerized by what just happened between us, I remain on the lounge chair, and watch her walk inside the house. The kiss was too damn soon, I scold myself. I should have just honored her friend's only request like she wanted, but instead I had to go and force it.

Stupid. Closing my eyes, I shake my head at my stupidity and plop back on the lounge chair. Looking up to the brilliant blue sky, I spot Tristan, beer in hand, walking toward me.

"Hey dumb ass!" he jokes. Obviously he saw the kiss and now I'm in for a speech. "What are you thinking? Have you seen him yet?" He roams his eyes around the backyard and then glances up to the house in search of Marcus.

"Nope, haven't seen him," I say, effectively ignoring his questions about Breesan. I'm not going to explain anything. As much as I don't want to confuse Breesan, I want to make sure that she knows I'm interested.

Elise! Motherfucker I can't be interested in Breesan now because of my damn responsibilities.

"I need to get out of this wet suit. I'll see you later," I murmur over my shoulder at him. To distract myself from my stupid stunt, I walk over to some people I recognize from the club, making sure they're all enjoying themselves. Of course, everyone is happy and drunk. Excusing myself after a few minutes of mindless conversation, I climb the stairs leading to my bedroom. Since I didn't see her on my way through to my bedroom, I can only assume that the closed door going to Marcus's bedroom means Breesan is inside.

Stripping out of my wet shorts I decide washing away some of my humiliation under a steaming hot shower might clear my head. I immediately feel my tension recede down the drain with the soapy water. Alone with my thoughts, I finally analyze this damn day and my ever-loving need to fuck things up.

Most recently, the kiss with Breesan could be a mistake, but I won't focus on it ruining what we have. We can work through this from here. Either we'll be friends, or perhaps because of it we'll be more. Refusing to let something as small as a kiss, that was barely a kiss, be the reason to end our friendship, I decide to apologize again. Hopefully talking to her about why she walked away from me will reveal she's affected by me too. There was something in her eyes when I kissed her, and I have an overwhelming need to know the meaning of it.

But if I do that I'll disappoint my mother.

And what about the way Waverly affects me? Truthfully, it's a non-issue because I don't have true feelings for her, it's just lust. She satisfies me and I don't mind admitting to myself that I've enjoyed her more often than any woman. I was instantly hypnotized by what we share. After the first taste, like a drug addict needs a daily fix – I became a victim of needing more of her. Apparently she has the power to compel me and strip me of all reason, like a siren. Good to know.

Unfortunately, I must stay away to maintain some control and keep myself on the path to my success and happiness. I just wish I were free for a chance to be with Breesan. If she has feelings for Marcus I don't know what I will do. It's fucked up that I want her, but can't have her, and yet I don't want him to have her either. I'm so tired of being here.

Leaving my bedroom with my mind full of thoughts of two sexy women, I notice that Marcus' bedroom door is still closed. With my hand poised to knock on the door, I decide it would be best to give her some space. Strolling down the stairs I change course to find Marcus. It's time that I speak with him to get a read on how genuine his feelings are for Breesan.

Winding my way through from the front foyer, I walk back out to where the partiers have gravitated to the grotto and Jacuzzi. Not finding Marcus outside, I turn back to the house and look for him downstairs in the gym. He's sure to be hiding down there. It's where he spends most of his time.

In my search, I spot the guys and some of the regulars from Club Toxic sitting around the bonfire, and I make my way over.

"Morgan, my man, where the hell have you been? We've been doing shots and you, my friend are two behind. Let's get you caught up." Ian snaps toward the server and beckons for another round along with my two shots to catch up. Within a few minutes, we toast and I down my three shots while they knock back one each.

"Glad you both could make it. By the way, I'm actually very impressed. You got Ensley and Tox to come out. So, if they're here, who's running the club since the owner and the manager are both at my house?"

Tox owns Club Toxic and his girlfriend Ensley is the manager. They have a wait staff that, under normal circumstances, would be running the club, but most of them are here tonight working for extra money as valets or servers. Besides, most of their customers are here too so the club is likely dead tonight.

"It wasn't all that difficult. Tox asked Ensley if she wanted to see what a real mansion looked like and she went all girly on him. She even squealed. Trust me, we were there, it's not a cute sound." Ian shakes his head and laughs energetically.

"Apparently, Waverly showed up at the club unexpectedly and offered to work so they could cut out early and join us," Jack interjects. "I thought she would want to be here, but she said she needed the extra money. Besides," Jack adds, his words roll out sluggishly from all the alcohol he's consumed, "Her ex-boyfriend showed up and offered to help her bartend while she waitressed."

"Is that right? I didn't know she had a boyfriend," I rumble, hoping that they don't hear my jealousy. Maintaining control over my sudden irritation, I fight to show indifference, but it's jealousy I feel thinking about Waverly alone with him at the bar. I have a very uneasy feeling about this situation. And I don't like it. "Is she safe alone there with him? He's not a crazy stalker ex is he?"

"Nah, Tyle is safe enough. He actually talked to Jack last week, wanting to know if she was seeing anyone."

Tyle! My mind runs through the catalogue of people living on this island hoping to match a face with the name.

Glancing at Jack, I see him turn up a bottle of water as he bobs his head agreeing. "Some band is in concert tomorrow night that he bought tickets for while they were dating and he didn't want to take another girl. She said yes of course, it's Zane Brody, and there's no way she would pass him up. It's not often she gets excited for a band other than gothic so she won't turn it down," Jack states casually.

"Huh, maybe I'll go to the concert too. The last time I saw them was when I met up with Zane and the band the night they flew in to England to play for the Queen." I'm not sure why I shared that bit of information, but it is the truth. Zane is actually a very close friend.

"Really Morgan, what are you going to do at a country music concert? Besides you know it's sold out." Grinning confidently, Ian knows it will only take one phone call and I can get tickets to anything on this island, especially with Walker as my last name.

Shrugging, I hear my phone chirp with a new text and retrieve it from my pocket Simultaneously, Ian's phone rings and he answers it.

TRISTAN: GET TO THE STAGE NOW!

Watching Ian animatedly pacing beside us, I see his smile drop with a flash of fear running across his face followed by anger contorting his features. Also noticing his sudden mood shift, Jack promptly jumps to his feet rushing over to stand beside Ian. Shooting a silent exchange to his brother, Ian indicates they needed to leave. He pulls out his car keys when he hangs up the phone. I forget to reply to Tristan's text when I realize these drunk fools are planning on driving.

"Whoa, whoa man, you don't think you're driving after all you've had to drink, do you?" Shaking my head at him, I hold out my hand until he relents. "If you really have to leave now let me get Granddad's driver to take you. Is everything all right?" Ian doesn't answer.

The brothers follow me inside the house and I call the driver on the intercom to have him bring around the car. As we enter the house, Ian grabs Jack by the arm as if he's trying to imprison him and yells for me to grab his other arm. I'm a little nervous by what he might have to tell him if he is asking me to restrain his brother.

"Jack, we're going to Club Toxic. Everything is cool, but that was Bry. Wav hasn't made it home after she called him saying that the club was closing early and she'd be home soon. That was an hour ago and now she's not answering her cell. He wanted to know if we were on our way home. I assured him that we would leave the party now and see if we can find her. Just because she's not answering doesn't mean she's hurt so I need you to stay calm. I don't want you getting there and kicking Tyle's ass if they are just making up for lost time," Ian warns his big brother.

I didn't miss the fact that he was playfully suggesting that Waverly could be fucking the bastard ex of hers, but something beyond jealousy prevents it from registering. I'm sincerely afraid something bad may have happened. Dammit, I kicked her out of my bed, so why does who she's with, or what she's doing matter?

"Rogers has brought the car around front. Let's go," I order.

Not giving them a chance to argue, I lead the way out to the car then promptly reach for the front seat. If this Tyle guy hurts her, I will kill him. She is too precious for some jerk that would break up with her then try to get back together with her by bribing her with concert tickets.

Classy.

This will be the longest ten-minute drive of my life.

Mygod, Waverly please be okay. As we get in the car, I hear a familiar voice singing "Happy Birthday" over the speaker system, along with the loud, drunk crowd. I wonder, for just a second, if I know whose birthday it is today.

### Chapter Twenty

Breesan

(Graduation Party – June 22, 12 hours earlier)

Waking up to my cell phone ringing, I know that it's Anna by the techno ring-tone. I pick it up, click the answer button and put it on speaker.

"Hello?"

"Happy birthday my bestie!!" Today I am nineteen years old. Of course Anna would be the first, possibly the only, person to care enough to remember.

"Good morning!" Yawning, I stretch my arms above my head. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Duh, so that I can be the first person to wish you a happy birthday, but more importantly to tell you I'll be over in thirty minutes. So get dressed." I lethargically climb out of bed. "I won't take no for an answer. Get up! We are getting mani-pedis for the pool party today."

"Fine. I'm up, I'm up," I say, wishing I could have slept in.

"See ya!" She disconnects and I grin because I know I can always count on Anna to love me, even if I wish she didn't.

Taking time in the shower, I shave and buff every inch. I can't have anyone seeing me with hairy legs today. Plus, Morgan and Marcus will be there, and if either gets close enough to feel one prickly hair, I'll be mortified. Deciding that I'll be friends with Morgan, I need to talk to him and we need to reach an understanding first. I can't get serious with him, not when I feel the way I do about Marcus. Although, it appears that Marcus has a girlfriend. Do I wish that were me? Honestly, I don't even know if it's in me to be someone's girlfriend.

What the hell do I want?

I'm usually known to make a decision and stand behind it. Then sometimes I throw it out and make another. So what? I'm a girl, it is my right. Right?

Marcus was definitely jealous of Tristan and Officer Monroe during the storm. Trying to cover me up and forcing me to wear his shirt definitely gave his feelings away. My tee shirt was clinging to me and it was totally embarrassing so I was grateful, but he barely knows me so why was he jealous to the point of needing to protect me? Above all, I am so confused by what my mind is telling me about him. One minute I feel nothing but the same normal attraction any teenage girl would have to a very good-looking man, like a crush. Then other times my body zings to life and desire pools within me. It's an all-consuming magnetism.

Dammit get over this bullshit with him already. Just focus on building a friendship with Morgan.

Morgan does only want a friendship. I think, no I hope, that's all because I can't give him more. Fortunately for me, I'm sure he has other women to keep him entertained, although he seems determined to be with me. Maybe he's trying to hurt his brother again. If so, that's just fucked up. Realistically, whatever all this shit means is irrelevant and doesn't fit into any of my short- or long-term plans. Since I'm leaving at the end of summer, I want to squeeze every drop of fun that I can. I can't deny that I want to get to know them and an innocent friendship with Morgan is as good a place to start as any. Marcus is another story – I'm not sure what starting a platonic relationship with him would do to me.

Sliding up to the kitchen counter, I notice the coffee is already brewing. Being a late sleeper, Julia won't be up this early so I find it odd that she scheduled the timer this early. Hearing a sound on the back deck, I walk to the bay window to investigate. I look around, but from this angle I can't see anything so I chalk it up as my imagination. Turning away I distinctly hear Julia's voice. Stepping back to the window, I lean out and confirm it's her and she is on her cell phone. At the precise moment I decide to wait for her to finish the call, her volume rises. I honestly don't mean to eavesdrop. However, her angry tone and odd conversation startles me and I freeze with my face leaning against the window.

"...if I can talk her out of going to the party tonight, what time should I have her at the castle?" Lowering her voice, she checks the side door as if she is hiding something. "If I can't do it, you will have to go there. Katya and Karenna will already be stationed close by. Keep in mind your father and I are expecting you to do it today. After all it is her big day, she's finally nineteen." Laughing, she pauses listening intently to the person on the other end of this eerie conversation. "Excellent, then it's settled. Just let me know when it's done and pay the obscene amount of money that they require afterward. Oh, one more thing, I'm leery of Marcus. I think he's developing a bit of a crush on our little bug. Thank you for handling everything, Son." She disconnects angrily.

What the fuck?

Pandemonium overloads my scattered mind and I'm fighting against losing my shit. I break down what I overheard and try to make sense of the details. Obviously she was talking about me, but why does she want me at the castle tonight instead of at our graduation party at the Walker mansion? Tristan's grandmother planned this party several months ago and she knows that I won't miss it.

She said she's getting someone to come to the party to see me, but why? Since when did Julia remember it's my birthday – ever? She's never given me a gift for a birthday or holiday. Who would she want me to see today?

How does she know Marcus or that he would be crushing on me, if he is crushing on me? Most importantly, when the hell did Julia have a son? Ugh, this is so confusing. My mind is reeling. I can't ask her any of this since it's obviously meant to be a surprise. A niggling in the back of my mind warns that this is beyond peculiar behavior and it may not be a pleasant surprise.

Walking inside, Julia glares at me. Suddenly, a shadow passes across her face and her demeanor catapults to bizarre.

"Good morning bug – uh, Breesan," she chirps.

Sipping my coffee, I spit it out. Did she just correct herself and call me by my name?

"J – Julia?" I sputter, unable to say anything else. I am clearly looking at someone other than my evil stepmother and I don't know how to react to her being polite.

"I assume that since you are up so early on a Saturday you're meeting Anna. What are your plans for the day?" She asks sweetly, refusing to look at me.

Taking a large tumbler from the cabinet, she fills it with sugar and creamer then pours in the hot coffee and spins the top on securing it tightly. Sliding the cap open, she takes a quick sip then closes it all while still avoiding eye contact.

Standing here staring, I wait as the world rights itself again. Long quiet moments pass before she fretfully glances sideways at me. Does she suspect that I notice her bizarre behavior? Something has changed or she is up to something. I feel a lump form in my throat. Then I find my voice and answer her at last. "We're getting manicures then heading over to the Walkers' for our graduation party. We have plans to stay there tonight because I'm helping with the clean up afterward."

Asking anything of my plans or my life is completely out of character for Julia. She never wants to know details. Ever. I need to determine what her angle is with all this new concern and what plans she has for me.

"I'm not sure I want you staying overnight. Is that such a good idea?"

Narrowing my eyes, I watch her stand there, inscrutable. She never questions anything I do. What does it matter where I sleep? I would have to matter to her first in order for her to care about where I am, whom I'm with, or what I do.

"What?" I croak. Clearing my throat, I continue gawking at her and feeling my mouth go dry. "You really want me to answer that question? Julia, is something going on? Why are you asking me these things?" Quite honestly, I don't know how to have this type of conversation with this person standing in front of me. Mom mode is definitely not Julia's forte.

"Nothing is wrong. I wanted to spend some time with you and was hoping for dinner together. How about we eat dinner at the castle to celebrate your birthday? I can make reservations for eight. Then later I can drop you back at the Walker mansion. You only turn nineteen once and it needs to be special, so what do you say Breesan?"

What the hell?

Again, my head goes haywire with her performance. She really wants to take me to the castle. She remembers it's my birthday, she used my name, not Bug, and she mentioned other things that I cannot wrap my mind around. Dinner?! Frowning at her, I know the woman in front of me looks like my stepmother, but never in a million years would Julia ever say any of this to me. She knows how much I love the castle and that I would do anything to go there again, but why tonight?

Unsure of her reaction to me saying no, I brace myself for a verbal act. "That would be nice, thank you Julia. But could we go tomorrow night instead? This party is partially my and Anna's responsibility and...well, I don't want to let anyone down. Would you be upset if I ask for a rain check?"

Brooding, she pins me with a frightening glower as I nervously watch her pleasantries dissolve in literally a matter of seconds. "No, no rain check. Go to the party. Goodbye Bug," she retorts heartlessly.

Not even waiting for my response she walks out, leaving me dumbstruck in the wake of her schizophrenic episode. If my turning nineteen could cause Julia to behave so strangely I'm not sure if I'm ready to face the rest of this damn day.

Suddenly, I remember seeing something from the attic in the box I finally opened. Only having had a few minutes to sort through the paperwork, I remember a document mentioning a bank account for me. I wonder if she was planning on telling me about it.

What if she was going to give me the box as my gift? Shit.

Still frozen in utter disbelief, I spot movement to my right. Looking up, I see a smiling Anna. As always she's simply beautiful.

"Hey babes, you don't look so well. Is everything ok?" Standing in front of me with her hands on my shoulders, Anna stares with concern, deep into my eyes.

"I need to run up to my room for a minute. Stay here, I'll be right back," I say nervously.

A worried look washes across Anna's face and she grabs my arm before I can leave.

"What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

I shrug from her hold and quickly turn on my heels in search of the box. Rushing into my bedroom, I storm into my closet and snatch the drawer open that I hid it in.

"What are you looking for in there?" Anna whispers, scaring the shit out of me and making me jump.

"Damn, what are you doing up here? I told you to wait," I say reaching for the handle again. Sliding it open, the weight tells me what I know before I see it. It's gone. "Fuck, what the hell?"

A small, cold hand grips my shoulder and Anna leans in looking into the empty drawer too. "What do you have in there?" she asks nosily.

I don't need her knowing that I have possibly stolen something from Julia, but where the hell could it be? She never comes in my room, and Anna clearly didn't know what could be in here.

"Nothing, I'm just looking for a smaller purse to take with me. Let's go." Shutting the door, I see alarm on her face.

"You don't keep purses in this drawer. Is something wrong?" Anna inquires distressingly, glancing between me and the empty drawer.

I sigh deeply. "I'll tell you if we can just go now. Something's going on and I've got a weird feeling."

Shaken with the disappearance of the box, I grab my small gray wrist-let and overnight bag before running out the door. I need to get away from this house and get Julia's odd behavior off my mind, but I don't think I'll be able to shut up the warning signal that repeatedly crosses my mind suggesting that something bad is happening. I'll feel better when I explain everything to Anna.

"Shut the hell up!" Anna yells skeptically, standing in the middle of Nail Diva while holding a hooker-red shade of polish. "Where is the real Julia? She's been all 'Stepford-wives' for thirteen years and now all of a sudden she wants to pretend that she gives a damn that today is your birthday? I don't like it. You know I hate the bitch as it is because of the way she is with you, and now she wants to pull some mind-bender shit. No! And there must be some mistake about Marcus. Are you sure she said Marcus? How the hell would she know him well enough to think he has a crush on you? I don't even know that bit of information. It's all a bunch of bullshit. And another thing that I'm calling bullshit on is her having a son. Where the hell has he been all this time? No mother hides a son from the world for more than twenty years. She is definitely up to something, but you're not sticking around to find out what. Nothing about that phone call makes sense so fuck her and fuck the castle."

Freezing in place I stare at Anna while she freaks out unlike anything I have ever seen before. She never cusses because she thinks it's degrading. Then again, she has never been a fan of Julia's. She says that a parent like her should have her rights revoked.

Admittedly, I know it's not the ideal situation with regard to our dynamic, but I have never known parenting that is any different. Until recently, she's usually left me alone, which I have gotten used to and mostly prefer. Over the years the things that she has done to hurt me I have learned to take in stride: forgotten birthdays, unappreciated accomplishments, and leaving me to eat every meal alone at home.

Life wasn't always like this. Happier memories of long ago wash away some of my apprehension from Julia's call. Musing is pointless. Today is about what I am left with, and who cares for me, as well as whom I care about. It's a very short list: Anna, Tristan and maybe I can open my heart just a little more for Morgan, even if it is for just these two remaining months of summer, but where does Marcus fit in?

"Your toes look hot painted teal and they will match your bathing suit perfectly. I can't wait to see the look on all the guys' faces when they see you in that tiny bikini. Your body is amazing this summer. And I think Marcus and Morgan may actually lose it," she teases, excitedly laughing about the idea of tormenting them.

Distracted by the current issue niggling in my head, I share more than I should about the guys. "Morgan is cute. He's attracted to me, but I think he's seeing someone. Marcus confuses the hell out of me. I'm all over the map with my feelings for him. I'm also not convinced he is into me except for wanting to take me to his bed. I would never sleep with him, so it's a moot point. And I think he may have a new girlfriend."

Am I actually opening up to tell her my feelings? It's like my mouth is hinged open and I can't stop the crazy shit flowing out.

"Wow, I mean really wow. You've never told me this much before. Sorry, but I'm a little shocked. Okay, first you can't seriously be questioning if they are into you. You are so freaking beautiful and amazing. Even though I am your best friend, I wouldn't blow smoke." I laugh and the eye rolling commences at her first bullshit statement of the day. "With the way things have been between you and Morgan lately, I bet he is willing to give up other women for you. I'll admit that maybe he's inexperienced with relationships and romance, but he seems to want to try it for you. Marcus, he's a tough cookie, you already know all of this, but he's different around you." She's so animated it's scary. "Dang girl, he told you he wants you, right? Want to know what I really think?" Do I?

"I don't think so." I giggle nervously, quickly changing the focus back to Morgan. "Maybe Morgan's never been in a serious relationship, but are you sure that he has never had a girlfriend? I have a feeling that it couldn't be true. He is over confident and relentless on wanting a date. I really like that we have a very relaxed dynamic, too."

"Sweet! You will make a cute couple."

Convinced that Morgan likes me, she locks it down that we're now a couple. I don't know how to explain to her how strange things are between us and how confused I am. I haven't even admitted to myself how I really feel about him. I'm still a little scared to feel anything because I don't want to get hurt. Between the two of them, of course Morgan is the safest bet because Marcus holds the power to hurt me just as much as Anna does.

Does she realize if something happened to her I would crumble?

Refusing to let my mind drift to painful thoughts of losing her, which I know will happen soon enough with her and Tristan moving away to California for school, I try to focus on the relaxing massaging chair and being pampered in the salon. It doesn't help. My mind goes straight back to searing jade irises.

Marcus. My heart whispers a call to him. Dammit, I'm so stupid for thinking that I can let him in. If he somehow manages to get around the protective walls I have built up, he will hurt me even more than I can imagine. Part of me wants so desperately to give in and be with him, but I am scared of the pain that goes along with letting him get too close. He holds part of my heart already. When the summer, and eventually our relationship conclude, he will leave me broken. It's settled, I must keep my wall up, but I have a feeling that spending time with all of them tonight may break through my fortress.

"Anna, I don't want to date Morgan. I never said, nor am I saying now, that I want to date him. Why do you think I want to date him? Because I don't," I stammer insistently.

"Ok, so I think we have established that you don't want to date him. Or do you need to tell me one more time?" she says mockingly.

"Oh, shut up! I just don't understand why he doesn't date, if that is the truth." Eyeing her suspiciously, I wonder if she will relent and admit she's lied. "He's really attractive. I'll admit I'm attracted to him. It's really difficult to believe that he's never been out with a woman. Don't you think it's odd? Besides, I noticed the cute blonde at the party. She was mesmerized by him, practically drooling."

"Breesan Maxwell, you like him. You really like him! What are you waiting for? Go out with him. He wants to date you." There is hope in her words and a spark in her eyes, but she's so off the mark on which man I want to date. Did she listen to anything I said after saying I was attracted to him?

An hour later, feeling better after being with Anna, I park my car at the Walkers' estate. I don't even hesitate as I grab my overnight bag since Tristan insists that Anna and I will be staying over. I have never spent the night here, but Anna assures me that his family is totally comfortable with it. I'm here early to help with set-up for the party. Anna said she had a few errands, which I know is a smokescreen. I've begged her not to do anything foolish for my birthday, I can't stand the attention. Shrugging off my pleas, she says that she'll be late returning. Completely vague about what she's scheming, she mimics the whole twisting a key, locking her lips tightly, leaving me no other choice except to surrender the fight. Whatever it is, I hope it won't be too over the top. Yeah right, like I should expect anything less from Anna Knight.

Reaching for the door, I stumble when it is suddenly yanked open. Before I can catch my balance, a pair of large dark hands grabs hold of my upper arms, stabilizing me. Out of reflexes alone, I grab him around the waist and feel very firm abs and hip muscles, like those unbelievably spectacular, praiseworthy, lethal (and every freaking adjective you can think of to describe how yummy they are) muscles that you see fitness models proudly displaying all over Facebook and on Fotog websites.

My god, are there any average looking men in this family?

Finally done gawking, I look up to see a pair of the shiniest blue eyes I ever seen. Heavenly blue could be the only words to describe these eyes because nothing on earth could come close. Realizing they are shining with humor at me, I remove my hands from his waist, reach up for his arms and then pull them off of me. Then I take several deliberate steps back. My retreat allows me an opportunity to check out the rest of him, which is a bad idea because taking a few steps back was not nearly far enough from the male in front of me for my safety.

He is a different type of handsome. Not pretty like Marcus and Morgan or beautiful like Tristan, this man is ruggedly handsome with a very sharp jaw line and perfect chin. His hair is cut short. It's what I hear the guys refer to as a high and tight – short hair on top, but nearly shaved on the sides and back. He looks military, which would explain the magnificent abs and rugged look. He's in his mid-twenties for sure. No high school guy looks like him, at least not the ones at my high school.

Doing my best not to openly stare at his body, I sneak one last look and notice he is definitely over six feet tall. His neck and shoulder muscles are very thick, causing his plain white tee shirt to stretch across his chest. The material is pulled so tight that I spot several tattoos on his arms and on one shoulder. He is also wearing dark washed boot-cut jeans with tears on the thighs and knees and worn-out brown cowboy boots. Yes, this man is indeed intense. His smile is completely covering his face and he isn't just smiling, he is laughing.

"Excuse me," I demand brusquely.

I walk past him through the door, but he decides at the last minute to jump in my path and open it for me. In this maneuver, he completely blocks my entrance, which only further frustrates me. I blow my bangs off my forehead and prop my right hand on my right hip, agitated and determined. Towering over me in this proximity, he is intimidating, but I refuse to budge. Clearing his throat, he runs his left hand around to the back of his neck while leaning his head over and slightly squinting his eyes, as if he is sizing me up or possibly recognizing me.

"I don't believe we've met. You are?"

He wants answers? Well, that's a riot. Who does he think he is, and why am I suddenly angry that he's asking me a simple question. Before becoming too defiant, I reign in my temper and respond.

"Breesan, friend of Tristan, and you?" I'm proud that I got that much out, under his intense gaze.

"Well, very nice to meet you Breesan. I'm Rhys, friend of the family." Laughter mixes with his words as he steps to his left, allowing me inside. Motioning with a hand for me to go ahead, he quickly places it on my stomach instead, stopping me again.

"So you're the birthday girl? Well, I hope you get your birthday wish."

Winking, he walks away toward the back yard as I shake my head to free myself from the weird encounter. Lowering my head and willing my body through the doorway, I finally make my way into the crowded kitchen.

The Walker women, Gran Aileen, Tristan's mother Gretchen and Morgan's mother Haleigh, are all hovering over the island, putting various side dishes together as well as delicious desserts.

Gretchen spots me first. "Breesan Maxwell, well my goodness it's been ages since I've see you. You're so grown up now. And aren't you just the cutest little thing. Come on in." She wraps an arm tightly around me, sincerely pleased to see me. Spinning us around, we face the other ladies as she makes introductions. "Sis, this sweet girl is Breesan Maxwell, Brendt's daughter. Breesan this is my sister-in-law Haleigh, and of course you know Gran." She releases the hold she has on me.

"Hello, Breesan," Haleigh says despondently. She's pleasant, but her tone is unhappy and she looks at me like I've offended her just by being here.

"Nice to meet you ma'am," I reply.

Flinching apparently from the respectful word I use to address her, she stiffens and I gauge from her body language that she is irritated. Gran walks around the island toward me as Haleigh clarifies her obvious dislike of the usage. "No dear, I'll not have any of the 'ma'am's', please just call me Haleigh. I understand that you have met my son Morgan and were his date for his welcome home party." Beaming in delight as she mentions Morgan's name, Haleigh observes me closely as Gran pulls me in for a sweet hug with both arms, strong and lovingly. I'm instantly bothered that she doesn't mention his twin brother.

That's odd.

"Yes ma... I mean, that's right. He's very nice and charming."

This draws a loud cackle from all three women, Gran being the loudest. Dropping her hold on me, she squeezes my hand supportively.

"Oh dear, all of the Walker men are indeed charming, sometimes to their own detriment. We tend to get everything we want from them because they were raised to be polite and refuse to have any of us unhappy. Not that I would ever have to stoop to such means. Mac is the world's-worst to overindulge and I can't stand it. Now my sons, they indeed love to shower their wives with their hearts' desires." Shaking her head with annoyance, she huffs.

"You just missed Morgan." She changes the subject so fast I nearly get whiplash, but I also feel oddly relieved. "He ate some breakfast then walked back upstairs to take a shower. He should be down shortly, if you want to sit. I have plenty of leftovers."

"Oh uh, yes, thank you, coffee only please. I actually had breakfast with Anna before coming over. I'm here to help however you need me, so please tell me what needs doing and point me in the right direction." I find myself hoping that whatever tasks she has for me will get me out of this kitchen and away from their questions and odd looks.

"Oh, well that's nice of you to offer, but we really are done with everything except this last bit of food. I tell you what, how about you go take a walk down at the beach. I'm sure you have a bathing suit in that bag of yours. Get changed and head on out. When Morgan comes down, I'll send him out there to you." Gran smiles, radiating sincerity.

"Only if you're sure, I really don't mind helping." Hopefully she will not change her mind. Then I can get out of here and away from Haleigh's weird vibes.

"No, now get out of my kitchen." After swatting my backside, she playfully pushes me through the kitchen door to the bedroom I'm staying in tonight.

Spending the next hour on the beach, I walk, lounge, and relax until I hear noises coming from the pool area. Walking up the beach access stairs onto the stone covered patio, I notice many of my classmates have arrived. Eating, drinking, and playing, they are enjoying the beautiful day at the Walker estate while I am waiting for a man who was supposed to be down here by now.

Making my way around the pool area I discover many of the jocks are beginning a game of beer pong. Standing in the middle of them, I see a smiling bronze-haired beautiful man. Already spotting me, he strolls my way. I hope there will be an opportunity for him to help me clear up some of my confused feelings. He picks me up into a full embrace, making my feet dangle off the ground. I can't stop the giggle as he jiggles me around. Laugher deep from his chest echoes around the back yard and he growls in my ear while setting me back down, but he keeps his arm around my shoulder.

"Hey Baby doll, happy birthday! I heard you were here, but I haven't been able to get to you. I have been pulled in every direction since getting back from the store. Sorry about leaving you alone for so long," Tristan apologizes. "Have you seen Morgan yet?"

"Hey yourself, and thank you," I shake my head. "Your Gran said he was taking a shower then she was going to send him out to me. That was over an hour ago." I shrug.

"Well hell, he probably passed out again. He stayed up until early this morning with friends over. I need to drag him out here and dunk him one good time. That'll wake his ass up." Pointing at the swimming pool, Tristan goes into brother mode. I appreciate him for it, but it's always too much.

"Nah, let him sleep," I demand. "Besides, Anna's not here yet so I'll just keep you company until they grace us with their presence. Is Marcus coming?"

Laughing, he drags me along with him toward the patio table. Avoidance is out of character for Tristan. Something must be bothering him. Picking a chair facing the group of guys playing beer-pong, he gets comfortable. Leaning back, he stretches out his long tan legs, props an elbow on the table, and places his other hand on the back of his neck. He drops his head back, closes his eyes, and then lets out a long breath.

I wonder what could be bothering Tristan. He never complains. Usually the one to encourage me and everyone else, he is currently putting off something that registers as discouragement. I don't like prying, but Tristan is one of my closest friends and I can't stand to see him like this today, or ever.

He is my friend. I smile realizing that is the truth.

"Are you all right?" Appearing to zone out, he doesn't answer my question.

Tapping my hand on the table, my move startles him and he flinches and then sits up straight. Placing his elbows on his thighs, he dips his head down into his hands and rubs his temples in an aggressive manner, making me uncertain as to whether or not I should press the issue. After another moment he lifts his head. His hair pokes out and up in all directions, but his eyes are so sad, so unlike Tristan. He is drilling me with a look that clearly means he's struggling with something big. Getting up from my chair, I walk around to face him. I drop onto my knees in front of him and grab his hands. And then I wait.

"My dad, he hasn't even been back for twenty-four hours yet and has started in on me about school. I'm trying. I'm really doing the best I can to keep my shit together, but he is pushing me so hard B. I don't know what to tell him and he won't get off my back. God, I'm so tired of all of it." Looking at the ground he looks lost, so I shift to sit down at his feet.

"But you're going to school, Tristan, what else could he want from you?" I am proud of him in all things, but also concerned with his anguish.

"That's just it. I'm going to school, but he expects me to go to Stanford, and that's just not me." He shakes his head. "I can see me joining him and the rest in the family business eventually, but I have other plans, ones that he wants me to forget about. He's relentless. It's going to be a long summer of being hounded by him." I twist his fingers through mine and slowly smile up at him, catching his gaze.

"If you're here one day and gone the next, why not live life without regrets? You can decide your path, your priorities and do what is right, not necessarily what is expected. Following your dream, not your dad's, will make you happy. And Trist, if anyone deserves to be happy, it is you."

Grinning, he pulls me off the ground to sit on his lap and wraps me in a hug. I feel something inside me crack, but this is different from what I felt when I was held by Marcus. This is a love that has nothing to do with desire. He loves me, but not for what he can have from me or because of what he can give me. Tristan just simply loves me as his friend. It's a long embrace and he chooses to finally release me after hearing his granddad yelling at one of the drunken beer pong jocks to stay away from his pit. My throat feels thick with emotion.

"I'm going to school with you," he says it with certainty. Shaking my head in confusion, I understand his meaning, but I need to hear it again.

"What did you just say?" Holding my breath, I wait for his explanation.

"I was offered a full ride to play football. I can get a degree in criminal justice there and then come back home to work for the police department. It's what I want, what I've always wanted. Dad has no idea because he never asked me what I wanted. I haven't accepted their offer yet, but I am planning to."

He looks so pleased in this moment, and yet, he doesn't know what this means to me. Even though my freedom could be diminished by him choosing the same school, I decide to join his happiness. I hug him around the neck so hard that he begins to choke.

"Sorry." I release my hold on him. "You're going to college with me? Ok, does Anna know you decided not to go to Stanford? What about your plans with her?"

I have a million more questions, but I feel like I'm about to have a panic attack. My best friends are supposed to go away to California while I go to school alone in Miami. While building my walls for three years, I expected to deal with what it will do to me and how it will feel to be alone, completely alone for the first time in my life. It's selfish, but honestly, I am scared to death to hope that what he is saying is true. I can't tell him how happy his decision makes me.

"You're stuck with me now, so you'll just have to get used to it," he jokes, but the truth is he doesn't know how much I really need him with me. "Of course Anna knows, but we have different plans now and she's actually really happy about it. She wants to tell you everything. Are you pissed I'm still going to be around?"

"Not pissed." Shoulder bumping him, I stand and change the subject, not wanting to talk about this any longer.

"It's already afternoon, I think I'll go inside and see if I can find Morgan. Do you want to come with me?"

"No ma'am, there's a beer pong game waiting for me to win it." Smiling with a bit of lingering sadness he points toward the rowdy crowd.

Once inside the house, I decide to change into my swimsuit. Walking out of the dining room, I notice the cute blonde from Morgan's welcome home party jogging up the stairs. Dressed in a pale yellow bikini, her body looks amazing. Slinking up, she looks like a gorgeous sex kitten. She is tall, tan and there isn't one ounce of body fat on her. Sneaking over to the stairs, I peek through the upper banister. She walks with purpose and confidence as she makes her way to Morgan's room. Huh?

Finding my way to my room, I open my duffle bag and begin digging out my brand new teal bikini. It really is more risqué than anything I would ever choose for this party, but I have a nice body and my sneaky plan is to find out if Marcus really is attracted to me by wearing this tiny bikini. He won't be able to mask his true feelings while I'm wearing this thing. Seriously, it is just a few strings tied together for god's-sake.

That was the plan before I saw Sex Kitten climb her way up to Morgan's bedroom. She instantly reminds me that Marcus has a woman too. She's beautiful, and older. If she is what he wants, then I have no shot with him.

What was I thinking? Of course I don't. He is so far out of my league.

"Dammit." I didn't pack another suit so what the hell do I do now? Literally standing here staring at my bag, I wait for the answer to jump out. Until then, I'm unsure what to do. Now what? Anna isn't here and I have no one else to borrow one from. Slowly dropping the suit back on top of my bag, I sit next to it at the foot of the bed. I bend over with my elbows propped on my knees and then drop my head into my hands, shaking my head, embarrassed.

Ohgod I'm so dumb. What was I thinking? Marcus doesn't want to be anything more than friends and neither do I so why does some cute blonde sneaking up to Morgan's bedroom bother me? Ugh. Groaning, I pick up the bikini and stroll in to the bathroom.

Screw it. Marcus doesn't have to be into me, but I'm wearing the freaking suit and I'm going to look hot in it.

Within a few minutes I'm walking out of my room after checking my phone. No messages from Anna. I drop it, along with my iPod and sunscreen, into my beach bag. Slipping on my sunglasses, I find my way to the backyard. Just as I'm approaching the stairs the cute blond bangs into me, nearly knocking me down.

"Ouch, oh hey," I say. "Sorry. I didn't see you coming down."

Looking at her, I see her eyes are glossy. It's clear she has been or is about to cry. I feel awkward, but don't know what to do. She keeps walking toward the door so I continue on my path to the pool, away from her and whatever has upset her.

"Hey, he's all yours Breesan," she yells out and I freeze just steps away from the door leading outside.

What the hell? "No."

Spinning around I see that she's already moved from where I left her. I walk back over in time to catch the front door slamming shut. Seeing her run to a car parked in the front of the house, I watch her climb in, wipe her eyes, and look up at the house where I'm staring back. She turns her head to the road, driving away in a dust cloud.

Standing there hypnotized by her words, I swirl them around in my head for a few minutes, and try to understand exactly what she means by "he is all mine." I don't want Morgan like that. Why would she say that to me? She obviously thinks that there is something between him and I, but there isn't. What could have happened in those few minutes? It must have been serious to make her cry and run away from his bedroom. Just a few minutes before, she had sauntered in his room with uber confidence.

I swiftly march in the direction of the stairs, needing to get out of here like now. Standing on the bottom step is a very sexy man with green eyes, taking in every bit of me.

Oh damn I'm wearing the bikini. He's grinning with approval. It appears that I affect him. Morgan.

He doesn't owe me an explanation about why she was in his bedroom, or why she left the way she did, or what their relationship is. None of it is my business. Shrugging off whatever I'm feeling, I just decide to get lost in those beautiful eyes and have fun. I grin at him and he smiles a real smile at me, one that makes his eyes sparkle.

### Chapter Twenty-One

Breesan

(Graduation Party – June 22, a few hours later)

Morgan kissed me. Plopping down on the bed in my room, I stare at the ceiling rewinding everything that just happened. We spent the past few hours dancing, laughing, and getting to know each other. Our talk on the beach cleared up some of the questions I had about Waverly. Deciding while he was in the heart of his confession that I have feelings for him, I tell him that I want his friendship. This will most likely change the next time I see him, but whatever being his friend means or becomes, it should be based on honesty. No matter what feelings I sometimes have for him, I have to remember that and focus on it. He's not going to get to me, like Marcus does.

Earlier, while sitting on the pool patio with Morgan, the late afternoon sun was settling over the horizon with the last few remnants of daylight. I was absorbing the warmth of the twilight along with the pleasure of being with him. It all changed so quickly. I don't know how it happened, but Morgan kissed me. Shocked – completely and utterly stupefied – I really thought he understood that I wanted a friendship with him and nothing more, certainly not a relationship that included kissing.

When he kissed me it was so soft and light that if I hadn't opened my eyes, startled by the tender touch, I might have missed it. Surprised and confused, I remained silent, as did he, waiting for my acknowledgment.

With my brain numb, my body took over on autopilot. I couldn't speak, but I couldn't stay there under the scrutiny of his heavy gaze either. And what was that look saying to me? Was he hoping, fearing, or yearning? Did he actually want me to respond? What the hell did he want me to say or do? Doing the only thing my body would allow, I stood up and walked away. In two minutes I found myself back in my room, alone.

My mind shut down, my movements became automatic, and I found myself taking a shower. I don't think I was trying to wash the kiss away, but. I scrubbed my lips with a soapy cloth until they became swollen.

Now I'm lying here on the bed, trying to decide what my next move is. I have to face him and I need to do it now. I just wish I could get Anna to respond to my damn text messages. She has been MIA all day and I'm beginning to freak. If she were here, she could talk me down. Even though she would be completely romanticizing the entire day, I still want her here.

Giving up the internal battle, I choose to face Morgan head on. I leave my bedroom and climb the steps to his room. Standing at his bedroom door, I reign in my nerves and finally give it a couple of quick knocks. No response. I try again, but still no answer. He must have stayed outside where I left him. I don't want to do this in a public place so instead I make my way down the hallway. I choose a random door and by chance walk into the family room. I cross the wide span of this large room and switch on the lamp sitting on an end table. The room is empty so I decide to take refugee here until I hear back from Anna.

Dropping down on the chaise end of the brown leather sectional, I draw my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, trying to relax. I search the room for something tranquil to meditate on. Surveying the large, dark space, I notice that this is a man cave. A very large screen television across the room takes up the entire span of the wall, surrounded by shelves housing thousands of movies and video games. The room looks lived in, as if a family spends time together in here, watching a show, playing, or maybe just talking. I want this kind of life.

A sudden feeling of loneliness crashes down on me. The weight of my sadness is dominating and jolts me back to reality. The fact is that I can't have love, I'm undeserving. I feel melancholy, and envious of the family that lives and loves here. I don't know a life like this with a mother, father, and grandparents, people to do life with.

The pain is almost too much for me to bear now and silent tears burn my eyes. I'm crushed by my whispering fears. I want to stand against the voices and fight the lies they tell, but the reality is every day, always, I stand alone. Instead of sitting here allowing the emptiness to consume me further, I rise off the sofa, needing to leave, but as I stand with my hand hovering near the lamp, I'm unable to switch it off. An unfamiliar emotion moves through me, a longing deep in my chest, of hope. I want to stay enveloped in this room and the love radiating from it.

Crack. Fat tears drop from my eyes. Standing alone, washed in soft radiant light, I fight against my demons. It's a long overdue battle. Once it starts, I'm not sure I will come out the victor.

Early in life, I learned never to hold on to hope because it's foolish to be expectant. I've only hoped for one thing in my life, my dad coming back. Other than his love, I can't see love finding its way to me. Still rooted in place, struggling to overcome the pain from my lonely breaking heart, I know I must escape before the depression consumes me completely.

I break free from this self-pity that takes me over. I feel it. I'm just moments away from some bizarre destruction inside me, a crisis threatening to burst through. I want to love, and be loved, but I can't and I never will. This is not the place to allow such ridiculous thoughts and I refuse to face all of this crap here and now.

I force my hand, flipping the lamp switch off, and turn around to leave. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, rising up toward the doorway and I'm about to take a step, I'm struck still.

Marcus. He's here, taking up the full width of the doorway, watching me. Quickly I run my hand over my face, wiping away the last of the wetness under my eyes. His beautiful body is covered in a glistening sweat, melting into the dark shadows of his shirt, staining it. He has been working out. That would explain why I haven't seen him today. Gazing at each other, our eyes lock and his is entirely feral.

After a wildly charged moment, his look shifts to a glare. Is he angry with me? Does he know that Morgan kissed me? Does he know that I didn't reciprocate the kiss? He knows, or he thinks he knows. Maybe he is pissed at me, but it was one stupid kiss and once I talk to Morgan it will never happen again. Why is he so angry?

Whatever! My defenses shoot upward and anger begins bubbling up, reacting to the agitation his body displays. We need to talk, but am I prepared to hear him tell me again how we can't be together? I'm done trying to figure it out and I don't even know why I thought I would want to pursue something with him.

Walking into the room he stands right in front of me, towering over me and utterly intimidating. He doesn't lift a hand toward me, but strangely I can feel his body is reaching out and a part of me is so fucking ready for him. I don't know how to classify what is going on, or why I react to him the way I do. Can I refuse to listen to my body's cravings when my brain is trying to tell me something is different with Marcus tonight? I'm drawn to him now more than any occasion before, but if I open my heart to him it could be my funeral. A funeral for the lonely birthday girl. Whatever he's doing to me it is something that I want to risk life for. For one brief moment, I question everything I built my life on and realize I've been so stupid. Failure and heartbreak be damned, I want Marcus Walker.

***

Marcus

Ohgod she's here, in my home, the place where Morgan, Tristan, and I spent many nights growing up, playing, and hanging out watching television. She's here, and I want her here. The world stops spinning and everything falls away except her. Life doesn't exist outside of the steely eyes of my beautiful goddess. I've fought every instinct in me to stay away before now, but I can't allow any more boundaries to block us. Dreams of her have consumed me. I've been fooling myself, denying what is so strong, my singular desire is her. A desire unlike any I have ever felt. She is a fire burning, consuming every fiber of man that I am. My doubts have kept me from her, but I can no longer resist. The need to hold her consumes me and I tell her I want her, but it's so damn much more than want. I need Breesan Maxwell.

Her eyes say she wants me while her body screams with desire. Standing right here before her, I am moments away from taking what belongs to me. Inches from consuming her completely, my face lowering towards her and taking in her scent, I notice her body's reaction to our closeness. Her chest rises and falls erratically creating a burning desire for a love that only she can stoke. I know it, as I know how to breathe instinctively, I'll never be the same after I take her sweet mouth. I squeeze my eyes together and do my damnedest to breathe through this moment.

Can I allow this to happen between us? I've anguished over the fallout, but honestly I don't have the strength to stay away from her any longer. Opening my eyes I look to her, waiting for a sign. I need her to decide if she wants us or she needs to retreat and tell me no. I need her to stop this because there's no way I can. Once I kiss her I will never stop and I will belong to her absolutely.

Breesan yields one step toward me and that is all the invitation I require before I move in. I cradle the sides of her face with both hands, tunneling my fingers into her ponytail, and tug it back. Moaning from my dominance, she melts into my arms, and I shiver at such a magnificent sound. Then divine instinct takes over and we experience our first kiss. Moving my mouth ruthlessly against hers, I feel this kiss propel straight through me, into my heart and my soul, and it is perfection. Accepting me and this moment completely, she parts her lips for my tongue and I capture every bit of her mouth, affirming her as mine.

Mine.

So much sweeter and softer than I imagined, she is my tranquility, soothing rigid scars others left behind. Every night my dreams are filled with holding and kissing her, protecting her, and never letting her go. Frantically moving against her mouthwatering lips, I spin out of control while accepting the reality that there will be no other woman that will belong to me. Moving my body into hers, I press roughly with my hips. Then placing my hand on hers, I pull her toward me. Taking my lead, she willingly jumps into my arms, wraps her legs around me, and I cradle her closer.

Turning slowly and carefully, I move us toward the sofa. She wiggles, trying to press her body closer into me, eliciting a deep, gratifying rumble from my chest. I stumble slightly, but clench my arms tighter, cocooning her. I balance upright until I feel the back of my calves touch the edge of the sofa, and then drop down hard all while keeping her straddled on top of me. I grunt with the pressure of our bodies crushing together and she smiles against my mouth. All lucidity falls into a singular serene response. I fucking love her smiles. Aggressively she runs both arms over my shoulders, crossing them tightly behind my neck and then she kisses me. Warm, hard and like she wants to be loved, her kiss possesses all of me.

Pulling away to catch our breaths, I lower my mouth to her shoulder, kissing and sliding the tip of my tongue up the side of her neck. Her pulse rages against my lips as I slowly make my way to her ear. I nibble her tender earlobe and press a soft kiss to the spot behind it. She allows a sensual moan to escape her mouth. So sexy, that little sound drives me onward.

Consumed with our pleasures, she throws her head back, digging her fingers into my hair and urging my mouth around to the front of her neck. Taking my time, savoring every inch, I kiss along her collarbone, placing several open mouthed kisses from one bare shoulder moving up and around her luscious neck. I savor her, my lips trail slowly over to the other sexy exposed shoulder before I reverse the path, this time using my tongue, and little by little lick my way back. Softly I bite her shoulder then press a tender kiss on my mark. She groans her gratification and oh what that does inside me.

Overindulging, I press my lips over every inch of her uncovered flesh, pleasuring the erogenous points on her delicate neck and ears. Her hands wildly roam up my arms, along my shoulders and neck, and then finally rest on the back of my head again. Gripping tightly she pulls my hair, forcing me to nuzzle the space just at the base of her neck and I slide my nose up and down there for several moments. She groans in protest, willing me to use my mouth. Intoxicated by her warm and sweet scent, I want to stay right here and breathe it in. God, I love this spot and I'm lost in a wild sea of desire to keep her in my arms like this forever.

My left arm, cradling around her waist, presses her body tighter against me, while my right hand tangles around her ponytail. Tugging it back gently allows me full access to kiss my way back around to the farthest place my lips will reach on her neck. Seizing the clasp holding her hair, I pull it free, feeling her soft hair fall gently over my arm. This small sensation tickling against my skin forces a shudder through my body. Needing more, I push and pull so forcefully, leaving no space between us anymore.

Rustling her hands through my hair, she pulls my head back harshly, forcing her mouth roughly on mine again, diving in for a deeper kiss. My heart crashes hard inside my chest. She kisses me breathlessly, fiercely and not like the innocent girl I thought I knew. I give myself over and kiss the hell out of her. Hands wild, bodies grinding and heartbeats matching, this is so right – we are right. She groans her appreciation in my mouth, confirming my thoughts.

The next moment doubt slams into me.

Slowing our kiss, I regretfully pull back from her mouth. She leans her head back, offering an invitation to her neck again, but I remain unmoving. Looking at her flushed face, I am struck deeply by a new emotion in my soul because of this unbelievable woman. My god I am in awe of how she has totally consumed me. But is she mine? Returning back to reality, her eyelashes flutter open and she pierces me with a profound, yet soft expression, owning me with those gorgeous gray eyes. A small smile sneaks across her now swollen red lips and I'm forever lost as hers.

"Hi," she says breathlessly.

I urgently search her face for signs of recognition. I need to know for sure that she wants me, and not my brother. Moments seem like a lifetime before she pulls away from my hands and further out of my embrace. Leaning back, she watches me with a puzzled look and I wait, dreading the next words out of her mouth. I'll be crushed if she doesn't know it is me that she's giving herself over to. I take a deep breath to calm my crazed body and ask her what I fucking desperately need to know.

"What do you need, Breesan?" I ask nervously, my voice hoarse and words rushed.

She looks stunned momentarily. This is it. She knows exactly what I'm asking. Will fate be this cruel to me, again? Can I have this desirable woman that already possesses me heart and soul? Or does she finally belong to him after their kiss?

She wavers briefly while looking, searching, deeply into my eyes. "My god you, I only need you Marcus," she whispers fearlessly.

She releases a hard breath and I claim her lips with a soft kiss, cherishing her. She is mine. We remain in this tender connection for many long moments. Moving slowly along her jaw, I kiss softly before finally resting my face again at her tender neck.

"I claim you baby," I whisper, grazing my breath beside her ear. She will never be Morgan's. "No one else will be enough for me Breesan, ever. It's you baby. Do you understand me?" Eyes closed savoring the pleasure my mouth gives her, she lazily bobs her head. "Say it!" I growl dominantly, vibrating against her goose-bump covered neck.

Mute, passionate, she violently pulls me against her mouth, giving me her wordless answer. Nibbling and sucking, I let her take everything she needs. She stops kissing me, then rests her forehead touching mine.

Liquid gray pools scorch boundlessly within my soul, destroying all my uncertainties, and then she whispers, "Yes I'm yours Marcus. Oh god, I need you, please don't ever let me go," she cries desperately, soft words hitting me like a wrecking ball. Her agony is bared and I'll never let her experience it again.

Never!

Thank you sweet Lord, for making her mine.

Kissing again, she moans into my mouth as I wrap my arms around her and she grips my shoulders tighter. She pulls her lips away from mine brushing her lips down my neck. Panting wildly, she stops indulging and presses her cheek flat against my neck. A shiver makes its way down her body and I have never felt anything more alluring in my life. I pull her tight against me, just needing all of her enveloping me. We struggle to catch our breath, hard bodies furiously intertwined, but this break gives us time to silently absorb the significance of our words.

"Marcus," she moans softly, her voice thick with passion and emotion. It engages my natural instincts to soothe her. I rub her back and stroke her hair while I wait for her to continue. "This was not planned. I didn't know, I didn't think you would come in here and it would be like this between us."

"Ssh baby. I didn't know either," I assure her.

"No Marcus, I didn't mean for us to kiss." She huffs. "Dammit, I don't want you to feel guilty, but I do. My god I feel really guilty. Can we just – let's just forget it happened? Please." Rushing through her words, she averts her eyes.

I pull her body away from me so I can look at her. She refuses to make eye contact, so I take her chin gently, willing her to see and feel how serious I am, but she closes them.

"Baby, I will never forget kissing you. It's something I've wanted to do since our first flirty encounter. Since the night in the castle, dancing on the balcony, holding you close to me, and staring into these gorgeous gray eyes, I have never wanted anything more. The only thing I regret is not kissing you that first night. I knew then that once I tasted your sweet, suckable lips I would never want another." Smiling like an idiot, I lift her face, forcing her gaze to fall into mine and her seductive gray eyes grab me with a fierce hold.

"I was right, Breesan. You already know I want you, but there are things that I want to explain to you before we go further. But baby know this, I damn sure want to go further." Nodding, she nervously licks her lips and I can't resist licking them too. Feeling her smile, I run my tongue along her bottom lip then softly bite it. She whimpers so sweetly. "Do you like that baby?" I ask releasing her plump lip, she pulls away nodding, and her eyes remain filled with wild desire.

Reddened cheeks call for my touch and I softly place my hands on the sides of her face, caressing my thumbs over her blush. Her whole body trembles from this single, tender contact.

"It's nice and you are...the most incredible kisser. But, we really shouldn't keep doing this. It's...," Pausing a beat, she struggles taking a deep breath. "This is cheating and I can't do it." She tries to pull away from me, but I tighten my arms, unable and unwilling to let her go. Confused, I wait for her to explain because I truly don't know what she's talking about. Unless...oh shit. She couldn't have made a commitment to Morgan after only sharing one kiss with him.

Fuck that. "No." Shaking my head I growl low and deep, "You are mine and you're not going any damn where. No more getting upset and running from me, Breesan. I just can't take that shit again. Talk to me, baby. Why do you think this is cheating?"

I refuse to believe she could be his, but if it is true I need to hear the words from her mouth. Her body stiffens while her face screws up with regret.

"Don't tell me not to run away from you because it is you who should be the one walking out of here. I don't want to play games, Marcus," she hisses. "If you think kissing me is appropriate while you have a girlfriend then that's fucked up."

A girlfriend? Is she joking? Her eyes are serious and there is no humor in her words – definitely not joking.

Placing my hands on the sides of her face, I say, "I don't have a girlfriend and I'm never going to play games with you. Who told you I have a girlfriend?" I wonder if Morgan set me up, making her believe I'm with Elise. There's no way I'll ever go back to that unrestrained evil.

"I saw you. At the bookstore," she whispers.

Confused, I run through my memory of recent trips to the bookstore, but come up blank and tell her, "No, Baby, I haven't been to the bookstore."

Narrowing her eyes on me, she studies my face for the truth, because she thinks I'm lying. Something shifts in them making the silvery-gray a dark slate tint. Running her hand through her hair, she looks toward the door. I'm losing her.

"Yes, you were!" she practically shouts in my face. "And you were with a really beautiful woman in front of the bookstore. You looked very close, like intimate." I shake my head. A mix of anger and pain flash in her shimmering eyes. "It was obvious by the way she was touching you, and in public too. If she isn't your girlfriend, is she..." Her eyes grow wide. "Is she one of the women you just screw?" Her jealousy is palpable. Suddenly I remember exactly the day she is talking about. Before I can explain she growls, "Dammit, she is one of your women, isn't she?" With her hands on my chest, she pushes away.

Relief washes over me in a wave and I can't help laughing. Her face twists in confusion. I stifle my amusement and lay my forehead to rest on hers. I look intently into her eyes so she sees the truth in mine.

"Don't!"

"Breesan, that beautiful woman is my sister." Relief washes over her features as she relaxes again. "I'm staying at her place until I can find one. Sam met me at the city center that day because we were condo hunting." I don't tell her the whole truth, but I plan to tell her everything soon. We have a lot to discuss and I'm not going to allow anything in our pasts to come between us. "I want to tell you everything, but here at this party is not the place to do it."

As she nods her head, her lips turn up and the brilliance of her smile knocks me out. "That really is good news. I was afraid. I thought she was one of those women ..." She trails off as the sweet blush on her cheeks creeps down her neck.

"No." Smiling wickedly, I shake my head, relieved that we cleared this problem up. I place a sweet, feather light kiss on her forehead and she sighs contently.

"Okay, I believe you, but there is something else that I want to talk about, and it can't wait." She clears her throat before taking a solid breath. "Something happened earlier with Morgan." I tighten my grip on her. She places her hands on my shoulders and then presses her forehead to mine. "Hey, there's nothing between us."

"Nothing?" Discerning her statement as she confesses, I relax seeing her features are delicate and feeling her voice, like an elixir, soothing my uncertainty.

"I don't have feelings like that for him. And, I don't believe he really meant to kiss me. He was caught up in the moments we shared this afternoon. Just having fun seems outside of normal for him with a woman. I haven't talked with him about it, but I think it's just the way he is. And I just happened to be the woman he was with today."

I shake my head completely confounded. "You are amazing. You really give him a lot of credit. I know Morgan very well and I can tell you that he wants more than friendship with you."

She laughs softly while shaking her head deliberately. "I'm not naive. He is a player. A very good player, but he didn't get anything from me in that kiss. I didn't even react. Well, except for getting up and walking away from him. I just left him sitting there while I turned into a damn robot and went to my room." Her nose crinkles admitting to such a dorky reaction. She is usually always prepared and reactive.

"Morgan is a big boy and it's about time he got a taste of rejection. I'm just glad I refrained from hunting his ass down and beating the hell out of him when Tristan told me about it."

Narrowing her eyes, she looks surprised. She runs her hands up my shoulders and neck, lacing my hair in her fingers, and pulls me close. Her forcefulness causes me to growl.

"You knew he kissed me," she states seriously. Letting her absorb my slip of the tongue, I nod slowly. "The kiss didn't mean anything but what if –"

"No," Before she can say more I cut her off. "His kiss is unequal to the significance of our kiss. You know it is impossible Breesan. We've been craving each other since the first night we touched. I know it left me breathless and it fucking killed me walking away from you. Hell I don't know anyone who feels a tingling sensation, but baby when you touched me it was like I was shocked back to life." Placing both hands on the sides of her sweet face, I rub my nose on the end of hers and she smiles sweetly.

I need her so fucking badly. "I tried Breesan. I really tried to stay away from you. And I said some stupid shit just to keep you away, but I can't do it anymore. Fuck baby, my conscience recognized you as mine even before I did. You torque my heartbeat and steal my breath. You fucking own every one of my damn dreams and now..." I glance between her eyes, riveted by my confession, "Now I have a reason for happiness again. And, it is right here." I slide the pad of my thumb over her mouth and she rewards me. "This smile." Lying in the curve of her lips rests the crux of my universe. "It's everything."

"Do you really feel all of that for me?" Her eyes lower, settling on my mouth. As if it were impossible for me to feel this much for her so quickly, she needs to see the words coming from my lips.

"I mean abso-fucking-lutely everything I say. Before you over-analyze what's happening, please tell me, am I..." Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, pray then release it and whisper, "Is us being together what you want?"

Scared to death of her rejection, I slowly open my eyes again. More than anything, I desperately need her desire to echo mine. The intensity of the slate tinted windows to her soul shows so much inner-turmoil. She battles a natural self-preserving instinct due to her unfamiliarity with such intense emotions – emotions that she forces away from every person that tries to love her. As much as I want it, I can't rush her. This will be her choice. Can she lower her defenses and experience all that this relationship has to offer? My heart pounds hard in my chest, rapidly increasing as I anticipate her response. This feels like falling in love and I'm desperate for her to want us, too. Please want me, too.

"I..." she stammers then bites her lip.

"What is it, Baby?" I whisper my plea, nuzzling against her cheek.

"Marcus, there are things about me that, once you know them, I'm afraid my appeal will turn to disgust for you." I narrow my eyes. "I know what my heart wants, but my head is saying something different, and without exception, I always listen to it." A glistening in her eyes signifies a splinter in her tough façade. "Answering your question honestly, I can't deny how I feel about you. It's unlike anything I've ever experienced. I need you, but I don't know how to do a relationship." Trembling, her tears slip down her flawless skin. I cradle her close, willing her to continue, and I give her my full attention. "I'm not invested in any relationships Marcus, not even with Anna. She cares, maybe she even...loves me, but I push her away. I do it to protect myself." Against my neck, she confesses, "I'm scared because my heart has been torn apart before."

My god she's shredding me. How do I reassure her that I will never hurt her?

She continues, "I've loved. I love my dad. I don't know if I'll ever get him back and I'm so scared to accept that he's gone." She runs her fingers through the hair behind my ear taking several long breaths, while I make small circles over the small of her back. And I wait. "When I do accept it, I will be empty. Because it will kill me to lose him forever. That is why I don't date. That is why I don't have friends. I've been keeping people out for so long that I don't know how to let love in."

Burying her head in my chest, she releases hard sobs and I'm barely hanging on from her heartache. There's so much more to her than what meets the eye. She is a tough, brave, and beautiful young woman, but underneath all of that, her heart and spirit are completely broken. I've never seen or felt so much anguish. She actually doesn't know what it feels like to be loved. Since meeting her, I thought she was tough, but she is more than that. She is strong. Stronger than any person I've ever met. I've watched her under surveillance, around her friends, and those few times when we were together. Putting up a shield to block her true feelings, she's made herself numb for so long. Now this thing between us is pushing through that protection, awakening her, but it is I who is revived because of this new beginning with her.

After some time, her cries soften, but the pain remains. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and pulls her hair away from her face. I feebly attempt to help her, pushing a few strands off her damp cheeks, rubbing away the rest of her tears with my thumbs. I place a soft kiss on her swollen lips and on each of her red, puffy eyes. Pulling me to her again, she hugs me, a real hug that reveals affection that radiates inside my soul. She has no idea how much she soothes me, too.

Can I fall for her any more than I already have?

Lifting her chin, I meet her eyes. She narrows them, scrutinizing my reaction now that she's calm. Is she afraid I'll run from her disclosure? Hell that is the last thing I can do. No matter how hard she tries to talk her way out of us, or squirm away from me, I will follow her and love her.

I love her. As shocking as this thought should be, it explains everything. Her crossroad is giving herself, battling against every learned instinct. Even as ready as I am to confess my feelings, she's not ready to hear them.

With conviction, I tell her, "I'm scared of giving myself to you and getting hurt too." And it's true. What Morgan and Elise did was bad, but I was strong enough to walk away from both of them with my heart still in one piece. Giving it to Breesan, and then losing her will shatter it entirely, because I know that this is real. I feel it with every fiber in my body. "I would give anything for us to have assurance that I'll never leave and that you'll never hurt me. You know we can't make guarantees like that. But, I promise not to push you away, and I will catch you when you run. I promise that I will fight with everything in me to be right here with you, and I will never force you to do anything that you're not ready to do. And, I promise giving us a chance could be the best thing to happen to both of us. I want us Breesan." She nods, never taking her eyes off of me.

I continue, "When you were attacked at the club, I was destroyed, Baby." Memories of that night, or guilt, stretch the pain across her forehead into wrinkles. "I thought you were lost to me before I even got the chance to tell you how I feel. Then afterwards, I didn't know how to say the words. I still don't know how to tell you everything, but I'm going to be right here with you, every second of every day, and you'll never be alone," I finish confidently, knowing that I mean every damn word.

"OK," she says slowly, while running her eyes all over my face. She's still searching for lies, maybe? She just has no idea how truthful this is. "I won't lie to you Marcus. I need you to keep your promises. And before we can start a relationship I'm going to need more time. I'm sorry. Can you be patient with me for just a little while? I want to trust you." She shakes her head. "No...I do, I already trust you, but I've never had a boyfriend. I've only been kissed twice in my life and they were both today. I don't know what you expect from me. I only hope I can give you what you want." Knowing Morgan was her first kiss kills me and my heart clenches from the sorrowful graven that remains. Like a diamond carving into steal, the image will never fade.

Brushing my fingers through her hair, I promise, "We're going to take our time. I won't rush you into anything you're not ready to do. But, make no mistake, Baby, I'm so fucking head over heels for you." I laugh nervously, nearly confessing my love for her.

Biting down on the corner of her bottom lip, she nods and confesses, "Me too."

I didn't expect her to admit that bit of information. Kissing her now, I take my time savoring not only her taste, but our declaration still fresh from our lips. Confessing fears and acknowledging what is between us is the pathway that will heal our pierced souls, and we need this connection even more now.

"Do you see my smile? I haven't had a reason for one until now, until you," I confess proudly. She smiles back and mine broadens because of it.

Damn what this girl does to me? It scares the shit out of me to think that I have to tell her about working for her stepmother. But I am telling her. There's nothing that I will ever keep from her. I don't want her to feel betrayed by me, ever. My job with the task force is dangerous and I need for her to know everything so I can protect her. She lets out a long satisfying breath.

"When can we be alone again?" she asks smiling shyly. Knowing she wants to spend more time together invigorates me.

"I work tomorrow. That's something I need to talk to you about, too."

"Oh, yeah I guess since we're seeing each other you probably can't do your job anymore. Or do I need to quit the gym?" she asks regretfully. She means my jiu-jitsu instructor job at Kole's. There's no way she knows about the others.

"No, it shouldn't be a problem. The classes are private so it won't affect anyone, but that's not my real job. Breesan, I work for the government. I'm in law enforcement and I've been working for the joint task force that's tracking down a drug cartel working in the Gulf of Mexico." Her expression echoes shock and if this shocks her then she'll be fucking blown away with the rest of my confession.

"What the heck are you two up to in here with the lights off?" Storming into the room, Anna's sudden appearance causes Breesan to jump off my lap. She stands quickly, taking several determined steps away from me. I can't have her moving too far away from me so I stand too and move beside her.

Nervously, she adjusts her clothes and rapidly tugs out the clasp that is barely hanging in her messy hair. I grin knowing I'm the reason it is chaotic. Quickly whipping it back into a tidy bun, she piles as much of it as she can wrangle on top of her head. She bites on her bottom lip so hard I'm afraid she's going to draw blood. Reaching over with my thumb, I ease it out of the biting hold. She cuts her eyes at me and I shake my head with a smirk on my face that I hope eases her nervousness.

"Don't do that," I warn softly.

"Are either of you going to answer me? Clearly you were kissing him, Breesan. Let's skip the part where you try to deny it. Why doesn't one of you explain to me what is going to happen next?" Anna's snippy tone toward Breesan, along with the acknowledgment of our kissing, calls to my feral nature and awakens a raging beast. I growl deeply and she directs her attention to me. "And you better be careful acting all beastly toward me. I'll neuter you where you stand Marcus Walker!" She glares at me.

A strange giggle comes from the adorable woman behind me. Apparently my beast mode jumped into action, pushing her behind me, blocking Anna's attack on the woman I love. Pulling me by the arm until I turn and look at her, she smiles and in an instant my internal beast calms. She leans in close and speaks softly enough to prevent prying ears from hearing.

"She keeps a pink switchblade in her front right pocket at all times. She may or may not know how to neuter you. I'd rather you didn't provoke her to test that threat. I'll talk to her. Can you give us a few minutes?"

I absolutely do not want to leave her and it has nothing to do with Anna. My body is drawn to her and I can't stand being away from her. She nods her head encouragingly, and begrudgingly, I mirror her movement. Leaning down, I cup her cheek with my hand. She closes her eyes at our contact, allowing a smile to sneak across her perfectly kissed lips. For the second time today she takes my breath away. I kiss her softly on her cheek, and then brush my thumb over the spot. Her eyelashes flutter and I pause until she opens them.

"I'll be right outside that door," I point, determined for her to know I'm not going anywhere. "And I'll expect a kiss when this girl talk is over." She laughs and promises to make it a good one. "Make it quick, Anna Banana." Provoking her enough to hear her release a loud huffing noise followed by a slamming door, I laugh proudly.

Once in the hallway I check my phone, noticing I have a missed call from Tristan. I seriously need to check on him. Staying in the gym all afternoon I effectively missed the party, but most importantly avoided my father. Rationality kicks in and I think about what our next step will be.

Dammit. I didn't get to tell her about my jobs. I want her to know tonight but I'll wait until tomorrow when she's had some time to sleep on it. I pray she doesn't change her mind in the meantime.

### Chapter Twenty-Two

Breesan

My protective lines fade. I've let him in and it feels incredible. With Marcus I say goodbye to my old life because tonight all things change and I don't want to be broken anymore. After giving him what I've never given another person, all of me, I smile at my courage to put aside the darkness of my solemn fortress world. As I watch it fall away I realize that I had allowed my sadness and isolation to lead me to a lonely and twisted existence. Acknowledging it secretly to myself, I actually feel the cracks in my heart slowly healing. Could this be real?

No doubts, it is real.

Glancing up, I see Anna standing with her back against the closed door, her arms loosely draping around her waist. She has the biggest, stupidest smile on her face and I dread hearing what she has to say. However, I'll listen to her all night if she doesn't require me to tell her how I feel, because I can't do this with her. I need time to process everything I'm feeling for him. Confessing things to him was easier than I would have ever guessed. I want him to know everything. And if he can keep his promises, I will tell him everything. He also has things he wants to tell me, and I wonder if some of it is about his brother being with Elise.

"It's been eight hours since you left me here. Are you going to tell me why?" Tightly crossing my arms, I wait for her smartass retort and she doesn't fail me.

"It looks like you've been entertained in my absence. So, what's the problem?"

Her eyebrows draw into a tight pinch on her face –a highly unusual move for her. A long silence ensues, and we're both too stubborn to budge. Finally, she gives, breaking the silence and I giggle at her annoyed grunt.

"Oh heck, Breesan, I know better than to push you on this issue with Marcus or anything for that matter. I know you won't talk about this now, but let me just say I'm glad you're with him. Marcus is a good guy. He's perfect for you – you're perfect for each other. Secretly, I was really hoping that you would pick him. I pushed Morgan on you because he wasn't your type, at all, making him safe in the non-boyfriend way. There's no way to tame that player and you need someone who isn't so experienced. But I think Morgan will be a good friend for you. Whether you like it or not, you need friends in your life, Breesan."

Pausing, she presses her lips together and then she huffs. "My god you are the most stubborn person I've ever known. Honestly, you and Marcus are so well matched I actually thought it was never going to happen because neither of you would budge." She shakes her head dramatically, "If you want to talk about it, please promise you'll come to me. You don't need to do this alone, I'm here for you and I always will be."

Tears burning the back of my lids threaten to expose how vulnerable I am to her words. Taking the shoulder she offers at the moment would be helpful, but for now I must face this alone. I catch my breath, nod and see her step toward me tentatively, as if she wants a hug. She stops short, instinctively knowing that I'll react by stepping away.

I push through the overwhelming urge to cry and ask, "I don't think tonight is the best time to talk about it anyway, so can I get a rain check?"

She's not stupid and she knows very well that my delays usually end with that being the final word on the subject. I have a feeling she's not letting this one go. Stepping away from me, her mood becomes radiant instantly.

"We'll do it your way," she nods. "Besides, we have other stuff to do, but are you sure you're okay with everything that happened here? Whatever that may be." Nodding slightly, I refuse to give in to her new approach on gaining information. "Fine." She smirks and takes my hand, leading me out.

"Hey, slow down. Where's the fire?" I tease.

Opening the door, she reveals a smoking hot man standing across the hall. His back rests against the wall with one leg bent and his foot pressing just above the baseboard. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets. The tension rolling off his body in heavy waves fades the moment after his eyes scan over me, confirming that I'm fine. I stand there in silence until Anna's laughter startles me. He moves, pulling me closely against his body. Apparently, he's cashing in now on his payment for waiting. Lifting my face to him, I watch one corner of his mouth twitch in amusement and I'm uncertain what has sparked his humor.

"She didn't have time to spay you. I guess you two worked things out," he jokes.

"I would never!" Anna shrieks, causing us to laugh heartily.

"No, we're good," I reply. Looking back over my shoulder, I see Anna smiling and agreeing with my summary of the situation. "I think someone mentioned a party outside. Shouldn't we get back out there?" Before I can walk through the door leading out to the back yard, Anna stops me.

"Wait, I want to give your gift to you inside, away from everyone." Reaching under the bar adjacent to the dining area, she pulls out a package. I flash a look of annoyance at her. Clearly she's disregarding my specific request for no gifts this year.

"Before you start in on me about not giving you a present, I need to say something. This is the first year I've gotten to celebrate your birthday with you. You can't deny me this one thing."

I'm not surprised, but with the mention of my birthday I suddenly can't look at Marcus. I'm not sure how I feel about him knowing it's my birthday today. Anna's given me presents for every birthday, but she's correct about this being the first one we've spent together since I was five. Needing a second to breathe, I nod my head and glance down at the packages. It's obviously important that I accept these without argument.

Going against my gut feeling to refuse, I pick the smaller package, but she quickly takes it back, swapping it for the larger one. Taking a few seconds to ease off the bow that's twisted around it, I successfully untie it and toss it at her. She giggles then bites on the skin beside her thumbnail. This is Anna's biggest tell when she's nervous. My reaction and acceptance of her gift is important to her.

Sliding my fingernail along the edge, I carefully cut through the tape and slowly lift up an edge of the paper. With the first panel of paper pulled back, I see it's a leather bound book. Removing the remainder of the paper, I flip the book over and see that it's a photograph album. I look up at Anna and I'm shocked into silence when I notice the streams of tears racing down her pink cheeks.

"Hey," I soothe.

"It's for this summer." Sniffing, she clears her throat and averts her eyes. "Um...you don't have one picture of us." Now struggling against the emotions thick in her voice, she swallows several times, picks at an invisible string on her dress, and then stutters through the explanation. "There's not one framed photograph of you in your house either." Her chin quivers and she manically swipes both cheeks at the relentless tears.

Feeling like a vice is cinched tightly around my heart, squeezing so hard that I might pass out, I struggle keeping my shit together. While releasing a loud ragged breath, I feel the tears slip from my closed eyes. She pulls the album from my hands and places it on the bar. Reaching a hand toward me, she expects to comfort me, but I'm still too frightened to give in so I just stare at it. Long, slender fingers stretch out in expectation until I finally accept them. Staring at the unfamiliar connection, I sniff back the onslaught of pain as she laces her fingers through mine and squeezes. I look up to face her just as the words roll out of her mouth.

"I love you," she professes. Melancholy tear-soaked brown eyes bore into mine.

What was an impenetrable barrier mere weeks ago recently began cracking, but now here I stand watching as an implosion turns thirteen years of gut wrenching, emotional labor from a crackle to a crumble. Uncertain how it happened, but fully aware that my perfectly crafted and solid wall, that I've desperately depended on as my only true friend for so many years, just fell to my feet in a sprinkling of ash and there is nothing left.

No longer having protection from the assault of emotions, I am bombarded and rocked as she wraps me in a hug, and I reciprocate eagerly. We've never had this form of contact in the past. She respects the boundaries I've forced on her until now. She trembles along with me in the most beautifully expressed form of love I've ever experienced. A wordless exchange passes between us in this brief moment in time, though it feels like a lifetime to me.

Stepping out of our embrace, I catch the tears dripping off my chin with the back of my hand before offering a weak smile and mouthing the words "thank you". Her smile is a genuine brilliance, one that I've never witnessed so bright before on her beautiful face. My acceptance of the gifts, as well as her embrace, pleases her. Doing what no one has even tried to do before, she's made our surface friendship a full-blown consumption of my heart.

I'm still feeling the heaviness of our exchange, but like a switch, she flips her somber attitude to a contagious laugh. "Seriously girl, how do you not have one silly duck-lip or over dramatic pose on your cell?" Reaching down, she squeezes my forearm, gaining my attention again. "Breesan, really I want you to fill it before we leave for school. I have a matching one at home and I plan on practically assaulting you with the flash on my camera at every opportunity. At the end of summer our memories will be captured and bound together for us to pull out when the distance between us becomes too much."

Speaking of distance, I want to hear more about the news I heard at the beer pong table. "Tristan told me today that there are a few changes to your plans. He said you want to tell me about them." Watching her face shift, I witness a sadness I've never seen before. Glancing from me to her hands, she bites on the inside of her cheek.

"I have some exciting news. Tristan and I are working the details out later, how we'll deal with everything, but I'm moving to Paris in September."

This is not what I expected. An unusual sadness moves in, chilling me to the bone and I freeze, both physically and emotionally. Knowing she would leave me and go to California for school was something I accepted, but I was never prepared for Anna moving to another country. Searching her face now though, I see how happy she is about her plans.

"I'll stay with my aunt and intern at one of the top fashion houses in France. It's what I have been dreaming of all of my life and it's really going to happen." Her happiness reassures me. She's beaming with joy and excitement about her future.

I'm happy for her, because I know it is something she's wanted since we were children. Every spring break she stays in Paris with her aunt and when she returns home she talks for weeks about which fashion show she attended and which famous designer she met.

"That is amazing news, Anna. I'm really happy for you. So, it really is okay with you being away from Tristan for so long and so far apart?" I'm concerned for both of them because they've always had each other and I'm not sure how well this will turn out. Something tells me it could be bad.

"Of course we have reservations about the separation, but he's happy for me. And I'm so freaking happy that he's going to school with you. That is the best part of all of the new changes. You won't be alone," she states happily.

"But you've been together practically a lifetime! I don't want anything to come between you." Looking into her eyes, I wait for her to persuade me once again that this is best for everyone.

"We love each other and nothing will ever change that fact. Even if I'm on the other side of the world, Tristan will be the love of my life. And I think he's kind of crazy about me too." Winking at me, she means every bit of it and I nod knowing it's true.

"Here," she says, handing me the other gift.

This time I don't give it the nice handling that I did on the previous wrapping. Shredding the paper, I see a box with a picture of a camera on the side. Lifting my eyes back to her, I see confidence. She isn't guilty about spending an insane amount of money on this gift. Trying to downplay the magnitude and importance these items offer, she begins clearing away the mess of paper and bows.

"Thank you, Anna. It means so much that you did this for me."

Popping open the box, I slide out the expensive black and silver, top of the line, digital camera. I let out an exasperated breath, but rather than getting upset, I let it go. Flipping off the lens cap, I swiftly power it up and snap two quick Anna pictures. One extremely close duck lips shot. The other, her hand resting on her forehead, eyes cast upward displaying her perfected over-dramatic pose. Scanning back through the shots, we laugh together. In a maneuver I wasn't prepared for, she twists the camera out of my hands and with her free hand she waves, indicating she wants me to move close to Marcus.

Marcus. Still standing behind me, he's remained silent through our emotional meltdown and I hadn't been brave enough to look at him. Until she waved me toward him, I had hoped he would feel weird about our moment and decide to leave us. Not a chance. In fact, he was the sole witness to an unprecedented event. At the commanding flip of her wrist, he moves closely behind me, wrapping both arms through mine and securing them by locking his fingers at my waist. I gasp in a quick breath at the comfort his arms offer.

"I don't mind watching all the sweetness between you two, but this is not going to lead to a naughty photo shoot, Marcus." Joking she winks at him, causing my cheeks to burn hot.

After snapping a few shots, she flips through the pictures and I smile seeing her so happy. Marcus' face lowers next to mine. I turn too and my cheek brushes his. The familiar zapping runs along my sensitive skin and from his full-body shiver, I know he feels it too. Thankfully, he chooses not to acknowledge it in Anna's presence. He does, however, place a soft kiss on the point of contact and then nuzzles my neck.

Sliding his nose up and down my neck, he causes gooseflesh to rush all over my body. Heavy pounding in my ears alerts me that I'm getting aroused, and that's not acceptable in front of anyone, but especially not in front of Anna. Pulling away, my uneasiness elicits a deep laugh from him. I lightly shove him on the arm, but give in and laugh along with him. Grabbing me, he roughly pulls me back against him.

"I wish I would have known it was your birthday, Baby. Happy birthday," he whispers near my cheek. "I hope the gift I gave you earlier will be enough for you until I can give you the real present later." He winks seductively. Jerking my head around, I see Anna's mouth hanging open and she is literally, for the first time in all the years I've known her, speechless.

"He's kidding!" I squeal, but catatonic Anna doesn't even flinch. I pinch his side and point out, "Dammit, look at what you did to her."

He roars with laughter causing her finally to regain awareness. An uncontrollable laugh possesses me for the next solid minute as she moves her head looking between us and she's completely dumbfounded, expecting an explanation. I slide the empty camera box and photo album across the bar against the wall and out of the way. Alert once again, she yanks me by the hand and starts out the back door, where the party is definitely louder than before I left Morgan.

Dammit. That reminds me, I need to find Morgan. He'll see me with Marcus and know that we are ...together. I really want to be the one to tell him, it's only fair.

"OK you two. Follow me to the DJ booth." She barks out orders as we get separated in the large mass of bouncing bodies gyrating to the techno rhythms.

Holding hands lightly as we work through the crowd, my hand is suddenly ripped from him. Startled I come face to face with a tall exotic woman who smiles momentarily. Staring curiously between me and Marcus, she quickly continues on past us. Grabbing me again, Marcus' hold is now a death grip pulling me along, until he suddenly stops. Turning around to face me, he steps within millimeters, looking down at me with smoldering emerald eyes. He is a big man, towering over my petite frame by nearly a foot. There absolutely cannot be a sexier man in existence.

His short, dark brown hair is velvety soft to the touch. Lifting my hand, I force my fingers into it, aggressively gripping the strands. Feeling my desire heat up, my face betrays me as the color darkens to the deepest shade possible. He groans deep in his chest at my fierce strength. Or is it because of my embarrassment?

"My god when your skin turns that red I want to place my lips right here." Laying his palm down on my chest, he rubs his thumb in the dip at the front of my neck and stares completely entranced. Turning his hand over, he so achingly slowly drags the back of his fingers across the tops of my breast and then down my arm. In his travels, he lightly brushes against the edge of my breast and the sensation completely rocks me.

Shuddering, I lean into him. He pulls me flush against him with his free hand while the other continues to travel down the side of my body. Both hands land hard on my ass, forcing my hips into his. Now I can feel his hardness pressing into my stomach. We sway to the gyrating beats. This demanding contact seals two severely frustrated bodies together.

"Oh, fuck baby," he groans, and squeezes my ass harder.

His words and movement force a rather loud and raspy "Yes" from me.

Noticing how dry my mouth is from the excitement, I lick my lips, an obvious invitation for him to follow suit. Lightly licking my top lip, he tenderly slides along the edge to the bottom and then he gently grabs it between his teeth, growling playfully. He smiles, still holding my lip prisoner. Apparently, I need to refrain from that gesture when he's around, at least while we're in public. These copycat moves could get embarrassing. Looking deep into my eyes, he begins moving our bodies again. He lowers his face down, and places warm, wet lips on top of my shoulder before kissing his way up to my ear.

Out of nowhere, he breaks through the intensity of our moment with a hardy laugh.

"Damn girl you make me want to be naughty. I seriously want to grab the closest person to us and tell him about the pen-pit in the bottom of your purse, just so you'll punish me with those bad things you threatened that night in my truck." He sears me with a wicked grin and hooded eyes.

Even though he's being playful, it's not helping me at all. I want him, but then again, when do I not want him? Grinning down smugly at me, he strokes his nose lightly over mine. Apparently this is his favorite display of affection. I must admit, I think I love it.

Love?

### Chapter Twenty-Three

Marcus

(Graduation Party – June 22, present time)

"There's Tristan by the DJ booth. As much as I'd rather stay right here and hold you all night like this we should go over." She groans in protest and I kiss the tip of her pouting bottom lip, which brings out my favorite smile. "Come on, before Anna stalks back over here and tosses you over her shoulder." Laughing together, we know that is exactly something Anna would do, if she could. Taking my hand, Breesan guides me over to join them.

Walking up, we see Tristan, Anna, and a few other people huddled around the DJ booth. Tristan's laughter carries loudly across the back yard, indicating he's over the shit with his dad from earlier. I'm glad he's not letting Beck's selfishness ruin our party. I slap him on the shoulder and he nods, signifying that all is well.

Shifting my eyes around the immediate area, I'm surprised that Morgan isn't out here looking for Breesan. I'm not sure how he's going to react when he sees her with me, but honestly I really don't give a damn. He wants her, but she's made her choice. I am hers. If he tries to come between us, I'll fucking beat his ass. Having major issues already looming between us, it was made worse with his betrayal of me with Elise. This most likely will just add to it – a fact that I'm fine with. I just hope Breesan can deal with his selfish issues. Together we will handle anything that comes our way, including my greedy twin.

Lacing my fingers through hers, I glance over at her as we intrude on their conversations. Her lips curl upward, accepting my forwardness in front of everyone. Knowing she really is okay with them finding out about us, I smile like a fucking idiot.

"Hey! It's Marcus and the birthday girl. Happy birthday B-cup." Squeezing his eyes shut, Tristan doubles over laughing at his lame joke. He stops abruptly when Breesan launches out of my arm and punches him repeatedly in the arm.

"You big ass," she growls. "That's not funny!"

Throwing his hands up, he swiftly imprisons her fists and uses her arms as leverage to twist her away from him. Wrapping his wide hands over her, he effectively traps her in an embrace before placing a kiss on her hair at the top of her ear. She growls and shrieks as she wiggles out of his grip. He laughs louder and so does the rest of the group.

"Hey Brees, happy birthday," Tristan's friend, Bates says, interrupting their playful exchange by pulling Tristan away. "You gonna let little Breesan hand you your ass, Tristan?" he teases.

Nodding while rubbing his arm dramatically, Tristan responds, "Aw, my little B loves me and she knows it." Oddly, he chooses this moment to whip out his phone and send a text.

He doesn't notice, but I see her body tense for a millisecond. Shifting her eyes to me, our gaze connects and the fear suddenly recedes, allowing her body to relax. Not realizing it, I was holding my breath in anticipation of what she might do upon hearing those words, but she did well. Moving swiftly I'm on her in three strides and pulling her close against my chest, hoping to ease her anxiety. Truthfully, having her away from me for a second is just too long now, even if it's only to play with Tristan – my favorite person in the world. Wrapping her arms around my waist, she tucks her tiny body under my arm.

Mine, my heart sings.

Kissing her lightly on the forehead cautiously, I am thrilled that we can be this close so soon after admitting our feelings. She rises up on her toes and tilting her face, offering her sweet lips and I gladly take them. It's a short kiss, but the value it holds means more than any amount of money in the world. She's claiming me and allowing me to claim her in front of the very people she cares for – even if she doesn't like to admit it.

"Hey Sweetheart, don't you have something to give her?" Tristan grins at Anna.

Looking between him and Breesan, Anna nods eagerly. "I was going to wait for Morgan, but apparently he's missing," Anna says, concerned, as she scans the back yard for any sign of Morgan.

Feeling the nervous energy rolling off Breesan in waves, I push a wisp of hair behind her ears, then lean in and place my mouth lightly against it. "Is something wrong baby?" I ask comfortingly.

Nodding she turns her face toward me, the action causes her cheek to brush my nose arousing a fierce desire in me. I pull away some, but not entirely, in order to regain control.

"She's up to something. She's been gone all day and she told me she had to meet someone. She's already given me gifts but I just have a bad feeling something else is happening." Despair lacing her voice, she shivers in my arms and I give her a comforting squeeze.

I search around the perimeter. Nothing about the whole evening is normal, but I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary. Spotting Rhys sitting on the patio talking with a cute young girl, I make eye contact with him and nod once. He immediately walks over to join us. Upon his approach, I feel Breesan tense then clear her throat nervously.

"Hey Breesan, friend of Tristan, we meet again." Smirking, Rhys arches an eyebrow up at her, which is too suggestive in my opinion. She places her hands on her hips, watching him as he stops right in front of us.

"Rhys, isn't it?" she asks him.

Spying my arm encasing her, his eyebrows drop and draw in while his eyes lift up to mine suspiciously. Simply shrugging off his problem, I tighten my hold, refusing to let her go. A twinkle in his eyes tells me that he is fully aware of what's between us. Proving himself a real gentleman, he keeps his mouth shut about it.

Turning his attention back to Breesan, he nods his head at her. "Yup, that's me Doll. Looks like you got your birthday wish." He laughs vigorously.

Looking up at me through her thick lashes, her cheeks turn pink. What is this all about? "Uh, no...I didn't make a wish. He just happens to –" Rhys cuts her off.

"No need to explain it to me." Winking at us, he turns, directing his attention toward the rest of the group. "I've got a weird ass question for y'all." The group gives him their full attention, "Can someone tell me what the fuck could make someone's feet turn green?" Laughing again, he looks absolutely dumbfounded and everyone busts into a loud laugh while I toss him a confused look.

"It could be a medical problem," Breesan answers confidently.

"Yeah, some kind of gnarly foot fungus where you lose a toe," Tristan adds. Everybody's face distorts in disgust, while roaring with a unified "Eeeewww."

"Nah, it's probably from Jell-O wrestling," Bates adds his theory into the mix, making us laugh harder. "What? Dammit, it's true. I dated a girl that wrestled," he defends good-humoredly.

"Ahhhh, that would explain it." Bobbing his head, Rhys grins proudly. "The little hottie I met here tonight works at the strip club off Stingray Avenue." Still laughing, he nods in the direction of the woman left sitting on the patio when he came over.

In unison everyone looks her direction. Seeing us watching her, she waves and the group erupts into another round of delirious laughter. Tristan and Bates fist bump Rhys, offering their congratulations. Smiling proudly, Rhys' eyes land on Breesan again, and she returns the gesture.

"Okay guys," Anna giggles, "I hate to interrupt. Well, actually no I don't. I need to do something and it must be done right now." Taking the microphone, she begins yelling at the crowd. "Hey ya'll, shut up." The crowd groans, but settles quickly. "First, I want to say thank you to Mr. and Mrs. Walker for hosting this kickass party for us." Whooping and hollering fills the air as Breesan and I clap. Smiling at each other, we know that if not for this party we may not have made our true feelings known. She reaches out for me shyly. Taking her hand, I kiss the back of it then lace our fingers together.

"And I want to thank you all for coming. This grad party was planned months ago. For those of you who don't know, today is a monumental occasion. Not only do we celebrate our freedom, but we are celebrating Breesan's birthday, too." The screams grow louder now and Breesan frowns. Her eyes are daggers at Anna. Squeezing her hand, I rub my thumb along her knuckles in an attempt to soothe her.

"What the hell Anna?" Breesan growls angrily.

"It's cool Breeze. You are going to love this," Tristan draws out his words, defending his girlfriend's actions and Breesan steadily shakes her head.

"No, whatever you are doing stop it now, please. Anna, please don't do this." Voice trembling, Breesan's stress continues building, but Anna just smiles back at her.

"Breesan we have a surprise for you. Come on out!" Anna yells into the microphone. Breesan's body goes stiff and I'm on full alert.

Five young guys dressed in skinny jeans and t-shirts walk from behind the tall DJ booth. Recognizing the men, the crowd begins screaming and whistling. I get a good look at the guy lingering in the back of the group and realize that I recognize him.

"Happy Birthday, Breesan! Everyone welcome to the stage Zane Brody and the band."

Again the crowd goes crazy as the band members walk over to the small stage, previously being used as a dance floor. Hopping up, they grab their instruments, and Zane grips the microphone.

"Dammit," Breesan spits through clenched teeth.

"What's up Willow?" Zane bellows igniting more screams from his fans. "We have a birthday girl in the house. I'm going to need everyone's help singing to her. So on three. Let me hear you, one, two, and three."

The volume is deafening as the drunken crowd croons out the words. Breesan, still slightly in shock, plasters on a smile, completely fake and absolutely forced. Finishing the song, the band begins playing one of their own hits that everyone here is familiar with and our small group begins dancing around.

Raising Breesan's hand over her head, I twirl her around. She smiles and I ask yelling over the music if she's okay. Nodding enthusiastically, she rewards me with a real smile, breaking across her face. I feel relief that this wasn't too much for her. I just don't want her running away ever again. We dance like this for the next half hour. Jumping onto the stage with Zane, Anna whispers something in his ear then hops off and strides over again.

"Hey Breesan, I've got one more gift for you." Anna points to the back patio.

Only our small group hears Anna but it's obvious the band knows because their volume lowers drastically. Looking in the direction she gestures, I see a girl standing on the patio walking toward us, and then notice Breesan nervously looking between the girl and Anna. She is in her mid-twenties with the same hair and eye color as Breesan. I look at Anna who is staring at the girl expectantly. I search the new girl's face and she doesn't appear surprised by their similarities.

"Do you know her, baby?" I ask Breesan. She slowly shakes her head. The girl stops about four feet away from Breesan. They diligently observe each other in an exaggerated silence. Stepping up to the girl, Anna wraps an arm around her.

"Breesan, I want you to meet a very special person. Wren, this is Breesan." Wren holds her hand out to Breesan. Sighing heavily, Breesan accepts it, shaking it slowly. "Breesan, when I was visiting Aunt Faith in Paris during spring break I met Wren. We got to talking, and well, Wren is your cousin." Dropping the girl's hand, Breesan takes several steps back, bumping into me. I hold her securely, offering comfort and keeping her from running away until we know what the hell is going on. Covering her hand over her mouth, her eyes widen and are wildly roaming the area. She definitely wants to run. "Breesan, this is a good thing honey. You have a cousin and an aunt – your dad's sister."

"Anna, can you give her a minute?" I suggest. Trying to stifle my anger and disappointment, I demand a few minutes to help her process all this bullshit thrust upon her.

"Yes, of course, whatever she needs," Anna responds, turning away she escorts Wren to the stage where the band begins playing loud again.

"Hey." Lifting her chin with a finger to face me, I notice her eyes are glistening. I hold her gaze for a moment trying to read her expression, "Are you all right?"

"I don't believe it. How is this possible? I can't believe that I have a cousin alive, and an aunt. Where have they been? Why didn't Julia tell me?" Julia. Pausing, she looks suspiciously over at Wren. "Is this what Julia meant this morning when she said, 'you'll be there'? No, that doesn't make sense. I'm so fucking confused. Ugh, nothing makes sense anymore." Rubbing her hands nervously over her arms, she argues with herself.

I don't know what Julia has to do with this, but if that evil bitch is involved this won't end well. Looking around for Rhys again, I scan the area for anyone that may look suspicious and to see if I spot anyone on Julia's payroll. Rhys, who was dancing with green feet girl, makes his way over from the stage. Moving over to him, I leave some distance between us and Breesan.

"Keep your eyes open. I don't know what the hell is going on, but Breesan just mentioned that Julia said someone is supposed to be here. If she meant the girl dancing with Bates it might be okay, but Breesan doesn't seem convinced. Is anyone else from the team here?"

Shaking his head no, he quickly pulls out his cell. Shifting into our law enforcement roles, the training rapidly kicks in. "Rhys, the young girl with Anna, she's Breesan's cousin. Keep an eye on her too. I don't think she's a threat. Just watch her." With a nod, he walks away, dialing Kole and Sam.

Rejoining Breesan, I watch as she moves her eyes along the crowd searching for someone. Man my fucking alarms are going ballistic. I need all the information she'll give to get down to the bottom of Julia's bullshit.

"What were you saying about your stepmother, Baby?" I coax. Drawing up her hands in mine, I see the confusion thrumming through her wildly.

"It really didn't make sense. Earlier today, she said someone was supposed to be at the party tonight. But it was what she said afterward that sticks out now. She said 'don't let Marcus see you do it. He's developing a bit of a crush on our bug.' And she calls me bug." Her expression changes to worry. "How do you know Julia?"

"That's something that I was trying to tell you earlier. We really need to discuss this at length. Right now is not the best place or time, but I promise I will tell you every damn detail. You just have to trust me first. Can you trust me Breesan?"

Hesitating, she scans my face. I've seen her do this before. It's like she is watching for signs of deception. Lowering her guard, she nods slowly.

Eyes focused on the ground, she sighs, "I trust you completely, Marcus, but I am so damn confused right now. I don't like the strange feelings I'm getting." Slowly lifting her eyes again, she watches Wren on the stage dancing with her friends. "If Wren really is my cousin, I want to get to know her, but something is so off about this whole damn day. Fuck, it is so out of character for Julia to do any damn thing for me. She's never even told me happy birthday in nineteen years, until today. Then she offered to take me to dinner at the castle. Not once has she allowed me to go there. Do you understand how fucked up this is? I'm sorry for freaking out on you like this, but what the hell is she doing?" Breesan begs, shaking her head wildly.

Noticing Anna standing only a few feet away from us with concern covering her face, Breesan lets out a ragged breath, but before I can respond to everything she shared, she walks over to Anna.

"If you're upset by this I'm really sorry. I thought I was doing something amazing for you. I would never do anything to hurt you." Anna's voice is regretful, but her sincerity shines through. Reaching a hand out, Breesan fully accepts her explanation. I know Breesan is upset, but being angry with Anna isn't the issue, Julia is.

"I know that, Anna. I really do. It's just that something is weird about all of this, adding to what Julia said this morning. I'm not mad at you. I am totally shocked, but thank you for this, for bringing Wren here. It's okay, really."

The worry marring Anna's features switches effortlessly to happiness and she hugs Breesan tightly to her. Anxiously scanning the area, I notice Rhys raise his hand and throw up two fingers, indicating Kole and Sam are en route. Having backup fills me with relief, but I keep getting a strange awareness that something bad is going on. If in fact something bad does happen, and it is Julia's doing, then I'll make sure that she fucking pays.

"I'll be back in two minutes," I tell her. "I need to run inside for something. I promise it will only be two minutes okay? Just go over to the stage with our friends and I'll meet you there."

"Yeah of course," she waves a hand. "Don't worry about me please. I'm really fine but I'll go over there and wait for you." I kiss her sweet lips hard.

Panic begins to build in the pit of my stomach and my nerves become jittery. Needing more comfort from her, I gently grab the sides of her face, deepening our kiss and she moans. That's all the encouragement I need. Sliding my tongue into her mouth, she opens easily for me. Mygod I love kissing this beautiful woman. All too soon, I pull away and she smiles at me.

Jogging off toward the house, I make my way through the unruly crowd. Once inside, I run to my bedroom. Quickly unlocking my gun safe, I retrieve my duty weapon, locking the clip in place and slipping it in my front waistband. Noticing my badge and cell phone lying on the nightstand, I snag them and head back outside. Stepping onto the patio, someone suddenly grabs my arm. It's the woman who bumped into me and Breesan earlier. Clearly drunk, she has a wicked grin fixed on her face as she scans me from head to foot. She is a beautiful woman, a little older than me with dark brown medium length hair.

"Hey sexy, looks like you might be lonely, if so, I'm available," she purrs, chewing her bottom lip. Placing her hands on both of my hips, she tries rocking them into hers, but I halt her movement shaking my head. She just smiles up at me. Apparently she finds this reaction to be teasing. Now left with absolutely no choice, I am forced to be rude.

"So you're available huh? Looks like you're going to stay that way." Pulling out of her embrace, I turn walking toward my friends and my baby. I love calling her my baby.

"Fuck you, Morgan," the beauty screams at me.

Realizing she confused me with Morgan, I smile while glancing over my shoulder. "Wrong twin, Morgan's gone."

Perplexed, her eyes widen. "Mother fucker!" Quickly turning around, she runs toward the front of the house.

Chuckling to myself, I turn around and search for Breesan and find her dancing with Tristan. I make my way to the front of the stage, where they are all dancing on the edge. Anna and Tristan blissfully laugh while doing a twirl boomerang dance move, where he twirls her and then she twirls him. Bates dances suggestively with Wren. The girl may be Breesan's lookalike, but their personalities are far from similar. Wren is totally uninhibited. Locating Rhys near the patio again, I have accounted for them all. I don't think being center stage is a good idea for Breesan. Maybe if she's on the ground level my nerves would settle just a little.

Looking up to Tristan, after several attempts, I finally catch his attention. I point to the ground and mouth for him to get down. Laughing wildly, he shakes his head no while continuing to dance with Anna and Breesan. Disappointed, I walk around toward the stairs located on the side of the stage. Just as I put my foot on the first step, I hear a familiar sound. Pop.

***

Morgan

(Graduation Party -- June 22, present time)

"Rogers, it is imperative that you get us to Toxic quickly. I'll cover any tickets you get for speeding but you will be speeding. Now go!" My peculiar response is a growing concern for me. I can't understand one damn emotion that I'm feeling at the current moment, but I can't focus on that shit now. Later, I'll just think about it all later. "Faster for fuck's sake, Rogers!" I snap again at the elderly driver.

"Hey, I want to fucking get there in one piece if you don't mind, Morgan," Ian calls from the backseat. "Fast is good, but alive is better. Just get us there in one piece so we can make sure she's alive," Ian soothes. The man is making me fucking crazy. This is his kid sister and he's fine with us driving at normal speeds. I don't think he understands the seriousness in the situation. If Waverly is alone with this Tyle and he gets aggressive, she won't be able to fight him off. Thinking of him harming her makes my fist squeeze tightly and I'm fucking angrier than hell now.

"Shut the fuck up, Ian. Morgan is right. This is our baby sister. I don't give a shit what the damn law says, get us there now!" Jack leans forward and pats the driver on his shoulder. "You can understand how protective we are when it comes to our baby sister. I apologize for being so damn crude, but I'll kill that fucker if something happens to her."

Suddenly, I realize I've left the party and Breesan without apologizing to her. I hope she'll give me the opportunity to explain. I know it is fucked up that I kissed her, but I really do feel something for her.

Could it be love? When I first met her, I felt an immediate attraction. Tristan telling me Marcus wants her provoked an irrational response in me, making me desire her even more. Most of the time, I don't give a second glance to the type of women he dates. Breesan is different from his usual type. With me, she's fun and being with her is easy. It's a dynamic unlike anything I've shared with another woman.

She is a contradiction in many ways. As much as I like her confidence, I see that she hides vulnerability behind it. I don't get where her vulnerability comes from, but I can appreciate that it's made her a strong woman. She will never do something because someone else expects her to do it. Unlike me.

I know she has feelings for me, but defining them now is nearly impossible. That fucking kiss; why did I do it? Watching her walk away from me answered some of the questions I'd been stewing over. She's a great girl, but I think friendship is all that we have. No, there is definitely something more. I love her. Not the kind of love where I give her my whole heart, but she absolutely has a piece of it, a very important piece. I hope she doesn't hate me now.

Now the bullshit with marrying Elise is thrust upon me. My parents expect me to marry her and I will. My role in this family suddenly carries a grotesque responsibility. She's not the same woman I met last summer. Or maybe she was and I was blinded by her belonging to Marcus. I can't love her, but that's not what my parents require. Hell they don't even give a damn about each other. Fuck, I never saw this shit coming, but it's not possible for me to turn my back on family obligations. Hurting my mother and disappointing my grandfather is not an option for me. Sam and Marcus have done that too much already.

Waverly. Until this morning, the relationship we had is all that I've ever wanted. From the start, it's always been casual, comfortable, and fun with her. Dammit, everything about her is absolutely amazing. When she smiles at me with those dark lashes lowered, and eyes smoldering my mind goes fucking crazy.

What the hell am I thinking? Do I want more with Waverly?

Breaking me out of my thoughts, the Collins brothers arguing are making me go insane with their bullshit. Maybe their concern for her is what's really making me question everything now. That must be it.

Arriving at Club Toxic, I notice a motorcycle parked next to Waverly's car. Rushing out of the car, I head straight for the entrance behind Jack, who begins pounding his fists on the metal frame of the glass door. He gutturally yells her name repeatedly with no response. After a few seconds, he is cussing and I begin to panic. Shattering the glass or ramming the damn car through it seems like a fucking genius idea. Thankfully, one of us is not a dumbass. Ian yells our names from the side of the building. Slapping Jack on the back, I nod toward Ian and we jog around, quickly rushing inside.

Quickening my pace down the long hallway, I yell back at them, "I'll go up and ya'll check the storage rooms and offices on the bottom. Yell when you find her."

Thinking only about saving Waverly, the urgency to find her pushes me at a rapid pace and I take the stairs two steps at a time. Upstairs, I scan the open area of the VIP bar before proceeding toward the back storage area behind the bar.

Shoving hard against the door with my shoulder budges it slightly, but the heaviness of it delays my entry, so I push again. Opening fully with the second attempt, I can see in the dim lighting a woman's partial silhouette. Allowing my eyes to adjust in the darkness I can tell that it's not just a woman. It is a couple lying intimately on the sofa. Within three long strides I am standing over them. Straddling him, she faces away from me, but I would know those damn stars on her neck anywhere. Her top and bra are discarded and the douche bag is fully nude. Leaning over him, she kisses along his chest and moves lower while grinding her body on him. Hearing the guy's satisfied groan at her pleasuring him with her mouth and hips, I growl angrily. The echoing in the nearly silent room causes her to jump. Squeezing her arms around her chest to cover her breasts, she turns to face me.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Waverly snaps.

I grab her violently, pulling her exposed body to me. The bastard lying under her shoves off the sofa swiftly and crosses the room, grabbing for his clothes. I shove her back down on the sofa and lunge at him in two strides, I'm on him. I strike the side of his head with all that is in me and it snaps back brutally. His body drops like dead weight. A feral growl releases from deep in my chest, prideful and pissed.

Hitting him once wasn't enough, this time I plow my heel into his gut. Madder than a motherfucker now, I turn and face Waverly. Stalking back over, I snatch her discarded clothes off the floor before I grab her roughly by the arm. Flailing her arms and digging in her heels as I drag her out of the room, she begins cussing me for everything I'm worth.

"Stop! Fucking stop now!" Waverly's screams turn to whimpers. "Morgan, please."

Dragging her to the bottom level of the club, we run into Jack. His eyes jump from me to her and then up the stairs, searching for whoever got her into this state of undress. Clutching her arms around her still naked chest, she attempts to cover herself. Seeing her vulnerable and nude for him, forces all of my sensibility right out the damn window and somewhere deep inside me, something snaps, and I toss her crumpled clothes at her feet.

"Get dressed. Now!" I bellow, my body raging with adrenaline that matches my tone.

"You...bastard. Who in the fuck do you think you are? I'm not your damn property, Morgan Walker. You can't barge in here and do whatever the fuck you want."

"No you are not my property, but what the fuck, Waverly? Will you just screw any dick that swings your way?"

"Walker, who do you think you are, talking to her that way?" Jack interrupts.

Shooting him a vicious look, she screams, "Stay the hell out of this Jack." She turns back to me. "You have some nerve showing up here tonight. If I want to screw my ex-boyfriend, or any man for that matter, then that's what the fuck I'll do. You don't own me, and you certainly don't want me. You made that very clear this morning when you kicked me out of your goddamn bed. We're over! You need to leave now."

Shoving her shirt over her head, she pushes past me and rounds the bar. Hastily filling a shot glass, she downs the amber liquid then turns back around. I glance at Jack. The rage look in his eyes tells me that he understands that I've been fucking his sister and he is about to kick my ass.

"Morgan. What part of "get the fuck out" do you not understand?" Growling, she slams the glass on the bar and glares at me like she's praying for my head to burst into flames.

Why can't I leave her? Why do I suddenly need to comfort her and take away the pain that I've created? This is fucking stupid. I thrust a hand through my hair, watching her beautiful eyes pool with tears. I can't be with her. We should never have started this bullshit in the first damn place.

"Hey, I found Tyle." Laughing from upstairs draws our attention. Standing there, Ian holds up the fucker I just punched. "Seems like he got knocked the fuck out."

Seeing the son of a bitch reminds me of what she was about to do with him. "You know what?" Walking away, I push violently against the front door. "I'm done with this bullshit. You want to be a whore then be a fucking whore."

"You son of a bitch," Waverly yells before running out the door behind me. She jumps on my back, slapping me hard several times on the head and neck and continues screaming, "I hate you! I fucking hate you, Morgan! I hate you! I hate you!"

She strikes me several more times before I can finally knock her off my back. I spin around and she lands hard on her ass. Kicking gravel while scrambling to get back up, she screams hoarsely and indistinctly, but I cut her off.

"No!" I bark, pointing at her. "Stay on your knees." I grin venomously. "It's where you fucking belong." Turning on my heel, I leave her crying on the ground. She lets out a loud screech as I reach the car. Tossing a serious and cold look over my shoulder, I yell, "Fucking hate me, Waverly." That's exactly what we both need.

Climbing into the backseat, I order the driver to leave. He pulls out of the parking lot, leaving dust from the gravel lot billowing behind us. That fucking whore. A deep rumble starts in my chest. I need to fucking hit something now. Slamming my fist into the headrest in front of me repeatedly, I chant with every strike.

"Fucking. Little. Bitch!" Unsatisfied with my assault on the car, my anger rises and I all I can see is red. I bark at the driver, "Take me to the fucking docks." I'm not dealing with any more bullshit tonight.

We pull up to my parent's yacht within a few minutes. After telling the driver to leave, I walk down the long pier to the double-decker cruiser, Dolly. Unlocking the door, I latch it back behind me and quickly spot the liquor cabinet.

That is exactly what I need.

Half an hour later, I've downed three glasses of bourbon, but it is not calming my rage.

"Waverly." Growling her name loudly urges my hatred to grow. A half bottle of whiskey in one hand and my tumbler in the other I stand on the deck of the vessel, overlooking the rolling ocean.

"Fuck!" Sloppily pouring another shot of bourbon, I down it quickly.

Hoping that drinking it faster will help dull the pain, I shoot another. The liquid burn feels good. I sigh with the blaze that shoots down my chest. Destroyed by liquid fire is better than destroyed by a woman. I knew better than to get mixed up with her the minute I laid eyes on her. But god, there was something about her, something so...it was everything and she was perfect. An unfamiliar ache moves into my chest.

Maybe it was her innocence.

"Ha!" I snort and take a small sip the woody liquor again before mumbling, "What a fucking joke! I'll bet that's not the only bullshit lie she told me. She probably said and did everything just to trick me."

Tipping the tumbler of warming elixir again, I plop down on the deck seat. I take a slow, controlled sip this time. Blowing out all of my breath, I lay my head back against the thick padding on the back of the seat. I stare up at the stars. Twinkling, happy, bright stars, they piss me the fuck off.

"Fuck you, stars!" I scream furiously, unable to stop my mind from flashing to a set of sexy stars tattooed on the back of the sexiest neck I've ever seen. "Ugggggggghhhh! She thinks it's over? She's never been more right about anything. Was she actually going to fuck that little douche bag?" Groaning maliciously, I laugh at the memory of knocking the son of a bitch out.

He has no idea that he is the first person I have ever hit out of anger. I don't know what the fuck came over me. Seeing Waverly straddling a naked man made me snap. I would never hit another guy over a woman. They're not worth it. That thought holds me for some time while I watch the moon bounce across the sky. I don't know how long I stay here, but soon I feel the making of a terrible headache. I rise up slowly, making my way back inside.

Crossing over the threshold of the cabin, I hear female voices carrying across the water. A scream echoes loudly. Stumbling from the sound, I slam hard into the door jamb, but catch myself before falling on my face. I place my hand on the wall for balance, shifting my weight properly to right myself just in time to hear another voice, deeper tenor than the other. Sounds like another fucking lover's triangle, I think. Searching the pier in the dark, I see the fighting people making their way toward me. They stop at the yacht across from mine and all three of them board the deck. The full moon light casts an eerie glow over their ship, the Catching A'rea. Screeching relentlessly at the smaller woman, the taller one continually calls her a fuck-up. Something about this whole scene sets my nerves on edge. I step back out on the deck to get a better look. The strobe from the lighthouse provides enough light for me to see. Scolding both women, the man pulls the smaller woman to him for a kiss. His actions appear to piss off the taller woman, who stomps away. The man keeps holding the other woman in a passionate embrace. Satisfied that the domestic entertainment is over, I go back inside the cabin.

After pouring one last glassful, I return the decanter to its home. I drink half of it while wandering to the back of the boat. Opening the bedroom door, I place my glass on the night side table, slip off my clothes and slide deep under the cool cotton sheets. My cell phone rings and vibrates in my jean pocket, lying on the floor. My mind scans through important people that may be trying to get a hold of me, Mom, Barret, Marcus, and Elise.

"Fuck the lot of you," I scream at the inanimate object.

My outburst is also a nod to the rest of the world with the same sentiment. Right this very moment, I release myself from all fucking obligations. Family or otherwise I am done pleasing everyone all the fucking time. I will never be anyone's bitch again. It's time I do shit for me and damn the consequences.

Lying here for an hour, my mind still won't shut off. Plus, the rocking motion of the boat is too much. My eyes roll up and I feel nausea hit my stomach. Sliding out of the bed, I fall, landing on my clothes pile.

"Fuck!" I groan loudly.

Sitting on my ass, I release a trail of cuss words while scrubbing my face with the heels of my hands. Feeling tightness in my chest, I lift my hand, placing it over my heart and rub deeply. Unable to see shit in the dark I use my hands and crawl along the floor to the bathroom. Switching on the light, I go blind momentarily from the stark white walls reflecting the ungodly megawatts of the light bulb. I groan but proceed to the toilet to take a piss. The nausea passes after running a wet cloth over my face and I stare at myself for a while.

"I don't even know who the fuck I am. Or what the hell I want. All I know is what everybody else wants for me."

Desperate to disengage my brain with sleep, I make my way to the bed. Sliding back under the sheets, I quickly feel the pull of sleep. My mind drifts, and sorrow begins to fill my heart. Opening my eyes, I find my fist clutching tight against my chest, covering my heart again. I tip my head back, looking toward the ceiling and come to grips with the loss of my Waverly. Squeezing my eyes shut, I shift onto my side and allow my mind to wander through the months of memories one last time.

Over the past two years, I spent an obscene amount of time looking from her toes back up to her face. Studying every delicious inch of her, I learned every reaction she had to my touch, my mouth and my dick. It was a self-sacrificing act on my part, but someone had to do it. I smile sadly. Time and energy meant nothing while I lavished her. Those long, toned legs were the first things that drew me to her, after her ball-busting attitude, of course. My mouth, nose and fingers have explored every ridge of her flat abs and smooth hips to the point of lunacy.

The memories have me licking my lips in savage desire.

Her beautiful chest is the exact amount of breast I prefer. It is one of her favorite places for me to spend time too. Gliding her hands over every inch of my body, exploring and teasing, she drives me out of my fucking mind. Incredible. She never stopped until I was thoroughly satisfied every time. Her touch has the power to heal me, but her desire to please me is the most amazing part about her. She never demanded anything or expected shit from me.

My absolute favorite place on her body, besides her lips, is her neck. Fuck! Her sexy, long neck and those mind-numbing cascading stars own me. I've never been to a better place in my life, not physically or spiritually. Placing my lips tenderly on those tattoos, I am rewarded with gooseflesh every time. Sliding my nose slowly up and down, I successfully extracted a groan every time. Whispering all of my damn heart's desires there, I am accepted with a silent embrace every time. In that embrace she got me. Waverly understands.

Then there were those fucking pouty lips. There aren't enough vivid words to describe my obsession. I am obsessed with the feel of them on me, everywhere. Then there is the taste, a combination of the sweetest flavors known to man and they're all mine...FUCK! She's not mine. She never was.

I'm such a piece of shit.

"Waverly, I'm sorry," I whimper remorsefully.

### Chapter Twenty-Four

Breesan

Bang...

One second: loud music, dancing, laughing, fun, family, friends, love and everything.

Bang...

The next: screams, running, crying, fear, shots, blood, loss and nothing.

Bang...

Panicking at the sounds of random gunshots, I watch the most important people in my life dancing on the stage right beside me drop off the back. I freeze.

Chaos.

"Rhys!" Screaming, Marcus grabs for me. "Breesan, move!"

Pop, pop.

Suffocating with panic and fear, I can't breathe or think clearly. I struggle, desperately, to hold on to some semblance of sanity, but I am stuck motionless, surrounded by haunting screams.

Anna, Tristan, Wren, Bates, Rhys, Marcus.

I have a choice: either stand here as an easy target or move. Glancing down at the fear in Marcus's perfect face, I quickly drop into his open arms. After throwing me easily over his shoulder, we run as more shots whiz past us.

Pop, pop, pop, tap, tap.

Fleeing bodies jam into us. I stumble and fall on the hard ground, and Marcus leaps back up and grabs my hand, pulling me back to my feet.

Pop, pop.

Pieces of concrete fly off the large topiary pot in front of the DJ booth. Marcus moves behind the large booth, sets me on the ground and orders me to remain hidden behind it.

Drawing a gun from the front of his pants, he leans around the wall and shouts, "Rhys, over here! Behind the DJ booth. Get down Breesan!" Pausing to focus, he takes aim.

Pow, pow. I noticed the sound difference his gun makes from the ones shooting at us.

Pop, pop, pop. Shots fly near Marcus and my heart trips violently.

Ohgod, not my Marcus.

Rising up to check on him, I see him jerk his head toward me.

"Baby, stay right there please. I've got to get a better visual and stop this motherfucker now!" I nod because I absolutely can't do any other fucking thing.

Aware but not processing, my mind is a jumbled chaos and I am thinking total nonsense. I feel numb. I feel lost. I'm not even aware Marcus is beside me again until he drops a kiss on the top of my head and moves around the wall.

Bang.

Again there is more shooting at Marcus. Turning my head, I see him on the other end of the booth, rolling along the ground away from the stage. The shots keep coming. They're so close, so loud, and shattering everything around me.

Pointing up, Marcus yells, "Rhys, on top of the house!"

"I've got him, Marcus. Stay down and let me get this motherfucker," Rhys screams back from somewhere close. Marcus backs up behind the retaining wall again.

"Fuck! Breesan, don't fucking move! All of the shots are aimed at the DJ booth. Don't move baby! Do you understand me? I need you to stay behind this wall!"

Nodding my head in a jittery movement, I acknowledge his order, but I don't understand his meaning.

The shots are aimed at the booth. Why are they shooting the booth? If they're shooting the booth, why can't I move? They're not shooting at me. My brain jolts with a crack of sound. I stare straight ahead. Shattering pieces from the top of the DJ booth fall over my head while leaves from the topiary blast passed me. I see Marcus move away from the protection of the wall to shoot again. Deep, crushing fear engulfs me.

No Marcus, please don't leave me. Hugging the edge of the booth, he's doing this alone. I need to help him fight.

Tap, tap, tap.

Uncontrollably, I yelp at the closer sound.

"Fuck," Marcus yells.

Pop.

One shot goes through the booth and over my head in a deafening crack. Heartbeats pulsing, that's all I hear. I see Marcus' mouth moving, but I can't hear him. Screaming, he moves within inches of my face and grabs me. After I cover my hands over my ears, he understands instantly. He quickly pushes me over so that I'm lying sideways, positioning my body so that I am no longer parallel to the retaining wall. Mouthing the word "smaller," he curls his body inward, indicating that I need to tuck my body into a ball. Understanding, I nod and mouth, "Low."

Tap, pop, pop, pop, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Rolling into the fetal position away from him, I see Anna and my reason to fight awakens. Lying behind the band stage, she is covered in blood. Huddled together, Wren and Bates are behind her. All eyes lock on me. Waving his hands violently, Bates begs me to crawl to them while Wren grips him tightly with tears streaming down her face.

"Help them! Marcus, help them!" I think I scream loud enough.

It's all too much and needs to stop now. My desperate obsession is now to get to them. Tears begin burning my eyes, pouring uncontrollably down my face and I don't care.

Ohgod Anna.

Opening her tear stained eyes, they bore into me. She's scared. Dammit, I must help her. Wrapping around Tristan, she clutches him tightly, trying to hold on for life. Watching her, I realize I'm dying at the visual of her body acting as a shield to his.

Tristan.

She's covering him completely and he's not moving. There's blood all over the ground near his head. Her hand lies on the side of his head where a bullet struck.

Mouth wide open, she screams and cries.

The silence is killing me now.

Move! I need to fucking move.

God, please help them, I pray.

Rolling my head around, I see Marcus firing his weapon, ducking back and firing again. I move my body to get up on my hands and knees. After another shot blasts the chair in front of me, instead of hearing it, I feel it and wobble. Dropping onto my stomach out of fear of getting shot, I feel Marcus crawl on top of me, encasing me completely.

Hush.

Gripping my arm roughly, Marcus jerks me off the ground and we run in the direction of the house, past debris scattered all along the backyard.

No. Not this way. This is the wrong way. Frozen bodies press against the back of the house, fear etching in every face. Everything except our pace is in slow motion. Stopping our forward motion, I tug my arm free. Marcus stumbles and turns to look at me. I shake my head violently while crying and turn back around, looking toward Anna and Tristan. He frowns when he grasps what I need, and shakes his head at me. Taking my arm again, he repeatedly yells, but still unable to comprehend his words, I pull hard against his grip. Only focused on them needing us, I twist my body and arm, forcing my escape. Releasing my arm, he shoves roughly toward them with his body shielding me and we race around toward the back of the stage.

Noticing us coming around the side of the stage, Anna's eyes widen and I instantly drop to my knees. Tears streaming, she fiercely shakes her head and screams his name. I embrace her hard. Holding and rocking her, I stare at Tristan's beautiful face and cover my hand over hers.

Ohgod Tristan. Please be okay. Please God, please.

For nineteen years, I only allowed these special people to hover on the outside of my solitary existence and because of that I was living half of a life. It was bad, but I was never alone. If not for Anna and Tristan breaking through, I would have been in hell. They broke every piece of the damn wall I constructed and now they're in.

I can't lose them tonight.

Crying and shaking together, we desperately hold each other. I try, but I can't take my eyes off Tristan. Tightening around my arm alerts me that someone is pulling on it. A paramedic kneels on the ground beside me and shoves me away from them. I fall over and land hard on my elbow and threads of pain stream up my arm. I shift my eyes around spotting Bates and Wren locked together against the stage. Trying to be brave, they look confused and anguished. Bates is Tristan's closest friend. He looks scared to death.

Marcus stands over me, running his hand down my hair methodically, attempting to soothe away both of our worries. He quickly pulls me off the ground into his arms, embracing me for dear life. Pain in his eyes is reflected in this hug, but there's something else that I can't define, an emotion that I'm unfamiliar with. I hate seeing him hurting so. Standing in front of me is everything. Desperately needing to hold on to all that I have now, I grip him tighter. My hearing is still distorted, but I hear a muffled sound, almost like a strangling noise. The medical personnel lift Tristan off the ground and everyone steps back giving them room to work, except for Gran. Covering her hand over her mouth, she stands beside Tristan, now lying on a stretcher. My heart is raw emotion at this sight and fierce sobs rack my entire body.

Marcus holds me tight. "Shhh, Shhh, it is going to be okay my baby. Can you hear me?" I hear his words, but I can only cry. "Tristan, fuck, hold on Bubba!" Our friend, once boisterous, is now comatose. The large group has dwindled to a handful and the air is still. Tristan's face is tightly drawn and blood stained, and his body is lifeless, so unlike the Tristan we all know and love. Gran's cries shake her tiny body. Granddad supports her with his arms lovingly around her waist, as tears flow freely down his face. He swipes them and clutches her tighter.

We all wordlessly watch as Tristan's motionless body gets placed into the back of the ambulance. Climbing in the back with him, Anna's red eyes bore into me and I stretch my trembling hand out toward her. Drawing my hand to his chest, Marcus nuzzles against my hair hushing and rocking us.

"Baby, he's tough," Marcus says softly to me before turning to his grandfather, "Granddad, can I drive you and Gran to the hospital?"

Granddad shakes his head. "Come here son." Keeping one arm around Gran, he pulls Marcus into a strong hug. "You're right about that boy. He is tough and so are we. He needs all of us Marcus." Looking down at me, he winks then places a soft kiss on the top of my head.

The message is loud and clear. Together we'll get through this. I offer a sad smile in return for the serenity he provides me. While his family suffers through this horrible event, he is kind to me. How is it possible to feel so much raw emotion in one night that I have never felt in a lifetime? Other than losing my father, I've never been around so much tragedy.

"Did you hear me, Baby? Fuck, don't let go of me, Breesan," he mumbles near my ear.

Holding me from behind, he continues to speak his pleas softly. I twist around in his embrace and wrap around his waist tightly. Uncontrollable tears fall for the friend that's fighting to keep his life, for the friends that need him to hold on, and for me. It's fucking selfish as hell, but I don't give a damn. I am consumed with wanting their friendships now more than ever. As a reflex action Marcus keeps running his hand down my hair. I sniffle and peek up into sad green eyes, and again I pull him snug against me.

"We...we should go to the hospital with them," I croak, my throat rough from crying.

"Yes," he says simply.

With guns in hand, Rhys and Kole run toward us and I begin shaking hysterically.

"It's OK, they're with me," Marcus soothes, holding me tighter.

"We lost them." Breathless from the run, Kole leans over placing one hand on his knee gasping for air. He raises his eyes to me and grunts. Moving toward me, he grips my arm, but I don't want to leave Marcus. As if reading my mind, Marcus tightens his grip.

"No, I've got her Kole," he growls. "How the fuck did they get away from you? He was shooting from the damn roof. Don't tell me that a motherfucker, on top of the damn house with a fucking assault rifle, shoots my cousin in the head, shoots repeatedly toward my girlfriend and we fucking lose him!" Consumed with rage, Marcus shakes.

Rubbing lightly on his back, I hope he knows I'm here for him. I understand where the pain comes from and where he is right now, it's all normal. He's in shock. However he needs to be, to deal with this shit, is how I want him to be.

Stepping close, Rhys speaks softly into Marcus' ear. "You've got questions? We all do. But we need to do this away from everyone. The girl –"

Marcus abruptly cuts him off. "She stays with me!"

"Fine, let's move to the patio," Rhys surrenders.

Before walking away, Marcus turns to Bates. "I know you just met Wren, but she's Breesan's cousin from out of town. Hell I don't even know..." Trailing off, he plows his hands through his hair.

"Marcus, don't worry about her. I'll make sure Wren makes it safely to her hotel," Bates finishes for him. Smiling compassionately while looking over her shoulder, Wren silently leaves with Bates.

Sighing heavily, Marcus places his hand at the small of my back, guiding me. We follow Rhys and Kole over to the empty patio. My mind is on overload and my movements are mechanical. I'm barely keeping it together. Removing us from the diminishing crowd, the questions begin like rapid fire in my mind.

Who would do this? Why here? Why Tristan? Are we safe here? Will it happen again?

Fear bears down on me now and I breathe deep, making a loud rattling sound and Marcus glances down at me. Nodding, I let him know wordlessly that I'm fine. A vibration in my back pocket alerts me and I remember that's where I put my phone. Refusing to let go completely, he allows me enough freedom to retrieve it. Leaning slightly out of Marcus' embrace, I take out my phone and quickly flip through to open my texts. What I see scares the fuck out of me. My heart seizes when I read the flashing text message.

UNKNOWN CALLER: HE'S NOT DEAD. YET.

NO!! All air whooshes out of my chest.

"Breesan!" My name is an echo of Marcus' voice.

Muffling sound, darkness, and then nothing.

***

Marcus

"Baby, can you hear me? Fuck! Get a medic over here," I yell at Kole and Rhys.

I don't give a damn who comes, but someone better help me. I've never felt a pain as bad as the ache in my chest at the moment.

I just got her. If she shuts me out I'll go fucking crazy.

Sitting on the ground with my legs stretched out, I drape her entire body over me. "What the fuck happened?" Kole growls angrily. Kneeling down, he places his hand on her forehead and lifts an eyelid open.

Pushing his hand away, I snap, "I was just standing here holding her when her body went rigid, her eyes rolled up into her head and then she fell."

Jogging back over with a medic, Rhys drops down beside him. The medic checks all of her vitals and then informs me that she is in shock.

I think to myself, well no shit, we all are, fucker.

Refraining from snapping another person's head off, I thank him instead. She's physically okay and this is her mind's way of coping. I relax somewhat and focus on the shooting incident.

"Can anyone tell me what the fuck that was all about? Could Dr. A know I'm in with you and that we're getting close? Is he the reason my family is suddenly a target for some chicken shit sharpshooters?"

"There's no fucking way he knows you're in with us Marcus. I don't think this was about you. Did you see that fucker's trajectory? In the midst of all that bullshit he focused on one target." Nodding at Rhys conclusions, I understand, but I don't want to admit she was the target.

"I'm calling HQ and asking them to send in a sweeper. If we can get a couple of guys in the area they might pick up a trail. Then we'll get Mantracker on him."

Mantracker is an alias for Tac Sloane. He's the bloodhound on Stealth Team. Stealth works like the US Navy Seals. You'll never hear about Stealth on the national news because for all intents and purposes, they don't exist. No one's been able to elude Mantracker, so if they bring him in, we will get those fucking bastards. Making them beg for their lives as I rip them apart, limb from limb, is my goal. They will fucking pay.

"We've got the city cops here now, but Baldwin County is sending an investigator. It's their jurisdiction. Shit. To be safe, they need to go ahead and send in the whole damn Criminal Investigations Division." Pacing in front of us, Kole inhales deeply as he continues to explain, "Until we know why the fuck someone would be shooting at her, we'll let them work the case. If we link Dr. Asshole to this shit, we can fight over jurisdictional boundaries then," he mumbles sorting through the bullshit. Stopping every few seconds, he looks between me and Breesan.

Continuing his phone call, Rhys stands a few feet away allowing me to hear some of his directives from HQ. Worry is etched across his face. Seeing Breesan go down, he squeezed his cell too tight and damaged it. This girl has an impact on more lives than she realizes. Someone tried to kill her. Trembling, I think about how I nearly came apart, trying to protect her through all of the gunfire. Closing his bag, the medic tells me she needs rest and assures me that she will be fine. I thank him for checking her and nod at his instructions before catching Kole's disapproving look.

"I'm putting her to bed. Keep me posted." Kole grunts, reminding me of his jealousy. Morgan. Fear strikes me when I realize I still haven't seen Morgan since the gunfire erupted. "Has anyone seen Morgan?"

"I think he left with some friends before you even came outside," Rhys says, still on the phone with headquarters.

Lifting Breesan's petite body in my arms, I draw her close and her face nuzzles against my neck. My heart clenches and then thumps hard seeing the sadness etched in her lovely face. Lovingly, I squeeze her to my chest, making my way through the now empty house.

Dammit Bubba, hang in there you little shit, I silently pray.

Taking the stairs up to my bedroom, I twist the knob, forcing the door open with my shoulder. Gently, I place her in the bed and stand frozen, staring at her. My baby. Who would want to harm a hair on her sweet head? Thinking back to the crazy moments just before the shooting began, I recall the words she said. Julia is involved in this and I know it, like I know my own fucking name. Which means Dr. A orchestrated tonight's shooting.

But why Breesan? It's not like we have been together long. It was just tonight that we found our way into each other's arms, finally giving over to our need for each other. He couldn't know already. No, this attack was planned well before tonight. What good would killing Breesan bring him? Nothing.

There must be more to his involvement with Breesan than the DEA could know. I need to run this by the team and move her into top priority for protection. This won't fly with Rhys. As much as he seemed concerned with her tonight, he'll just tell me that this is not our department, and order me to let those guys handle it. But if he knows what she means to me, he'd believe differently.

That's it then. I must tell everyone how I feel so that I can protect her.

Morgan. Morgan will complicate things between us – it's a fact. Even as bad as things are between us, I need to know Morgan is alive. I send a text and get no response, so I call him. Voicemail. Fuck.

There is nothing more I can do now except crawl into bed with the woman I love and stay that way until dawn. Hovering over her at the edge of the bed, I stare at her face for the longest time. Her features are still tight and between her eyebrows, she has a deep worry wrinkle that appears to be twitching. Her mind isn't completely shut down. She's in protective mode, but she's worrying about too much shit in there. Tracing my thumb over the convulsing spot eases her tension. Hearing a sharp intake of breath, I watch her chest quickly rise and hold for a few moments. She releases it slowly followed by the sweetest fucking sound I've ever heard.

"Marcus," she whispers in her sleep.

Shuddering, I brace myself, slamming a hand against the headboard before I collapse. With my other, I manage to continue rubbing the pad of my thumb over her forehead and along the side of her face. After a few minutes all signs of turmoil recede and she relaxes. Realizing how desperately tired I am, I lie down beside her. She rolls away from me, slips a hand under the pillow and tucks her knees up to her chest. I reach down to slip off her shoes and socks before pulling the duvet from the foot of the bed to cover her. She looks comfortable.

Deciding it's time for a shower, I reluctantly leave her side. In the bathroom, I grab a towel and place it on the counter beside the shower stall. I turn the water on full blast, waiting for the steam to begin rising and then I strip naked, slide under the scalding water, and finally give in to my pain. Bracing both hands against the wall, I drop my head down, allowing the water to penetrate deep into my tight muscles and blend with my tears. The stinging heat soothes my neck and back, but I wish it could do the same for my heart. Seeing that fucking shit play out like it did tonight has left its mark. Losing Tristan... NO. I refuse to think about that shit.

Raking my hands down my face, I feel somewhat better after taking my time showering. Two-day stubble on my jaw is scratchy and itchy, but I decide that it's acceptable and forgo the extra steps. I towel off slowly. My mind is on overdrive, still running through the events of the night, and my movements are mechanical. Searching for something comfortable to wear, I slide into a pair of sweats and walk back into my bedroom.

In the darkness of the midnight hour, the moonlight streaming through the window is bright enough that I don't need a light on. Reaching the bed, I pause. It's not the fact that I forgot that Breesan is asleep in my bed that startles me. It's how perfect it feels seeing her lying here.

Looking across the room at the large chair waiting for me, I shake my head. The right thing to do would be to sit my ass down in the chair and let her rest alone in the bed. It absolutely is the right thing to do in my grandparent's house. It's just not what I'm going to do. Come morning when she wakes up and sees me in bed with her she could get upset, but that is a risk I'm willing to take. Because I can't tear myself away from her now.

Lying flat on my back, I drop my head onto the pillow. Being a gentleman, I decide to stay on top of the duvet that she's snuggling under. Keeping it between us as a barrier is a good idea. I turn my head, facing her. Her left hand tucks under her face while her right lies palm up on top of her pillow. She looks content and peaceful. I wish she could stay that way. Maybe the rest she's getting now will help. The next few days are going to be pure hell. Watching her while on duty for so long, I know that what happened tonight is going to fuck her up. If she is the intended target and the shooter got Tristan instead, it will fucking destroy her and she will blame herself.

Groaning quietly, I rub a hand across my face. Still looking at her, I drop my arm above my head and slide it under, using it as a prop. With the back of my free hand, I stroke the side of her face softly. Her breathing increases slightly and I still my hand. I would be so damn happy to see those intense gray eyes staring back at me, but I don't want to disturb her. She takes several deep breaths before her rhythm regulates again.

Rolling on my side leaves our faces just a few inches apart. I let my hand slither up the bed, place it gently into her palm and then stare at our connection. I feel a small squeeze from her and snap my gaze up to her eyes. I'm disappointed again to see them still sealed tight. However, I feel a bit triumphant in the smile she gifts me upon our contact. She responds so well to me.

I smile proudly and whisper, "I know how you feel baby, you do the same damn thing to me, and I fucking love it."

I am so grateful that we got the chance to reveal our feelings for each other before all this bullshit happened. My heart thuds and I can't escape the pain crushing me from the inside out any longer. Closing my eyes, I feel the burn of tears stinging harshly working to get out. I swallow hard several times and then release a ragged breath. I can't believe that I feel so strongly about her.

In the shortest amount of time possible she's gone from being a job, to a distraction, to a desire, and now she's my world. Someone wants to take her. I will never allow that. There will never be anyone more important to me than Breesan Maxwell. Taking her delicate hand in mine, I twist it then lay my lips against the back. I place several kisses there and then gently slide it under my cheek. Nuzzling against her soft flesh, my skin warms and so does my heart. I watch her sleep another moment and before sleep takes me completely under I whisper, too soft for her to hear, "I love you Breesan." A second later, I'm dreaming.

### Chapter Twenty-Five

Breesan

How could things go so wrong? I'm so damn confused about everything. My head pounds with a debilitating headache. Everything that happened last night starts out as a blur, but reaching deep in my mind I seek out the horrifying events and bring them clearly to the forefront of my mind. Could I have done anything different to prevent the hell that collided with my world and nearly destroyed my meager existence?

The day started out as a good day to turn nineteen, marked initially by spending time with Anna. The exciting news of going off to school with Tristan, instead of being alone for four years, made the day better. It progressed again when I finally defined my relationship with Morgan, agreeing to be friends. Until he kissed me. Deep down I don't think it means what he may have wanted it to mean.

Then there is Marcus. His name alone causes me to grin like a silly schoolgirl who got kissed by her lifelong crush. I'm so caught up in his affection for me. He really cares for me unlike anyone before. As much as I try denying it I can't. Actually I've felt it for a while now. The first time we met he did things out of care for me. He is a good man. Good doesn't even come close to describing him. And what we shared – an understanding and an acceptance.

He's changed everything for me. My defenses were set in place for years, but in a matter of a few weeks he caused every piece to collapse. Easing the pain that I've felt all of my life, never knowing what love is like, he makes me want to give up my old life and be all that he needs. He holds my frail heart within his strong grasp and I know he'll handle it with complete care. It's irrational for me to feel this way for him so soon, but I know he won't betray me. He will never intentionally hurt me or leave me feeling unworthy. It's in his eyes. I'm gifted in reading truthful expressions. He tells me that he feels something equally or stronger than what I feel. If it were anyone else that looked at me the way he does, with love, I would have bolted rather than offering myself to him.

Without a doubt, my heart knows he is the one. Admitting it to myself is easy, but am I ready for him to know it? I may have wanted that, if the rest of the night would have stayed good. Anna's gifts, all of them, including Wren, made me very happy. Finding out that I have a living relative causes my heart to leap with joy. Soon after, my world flipped on its ass and now I'm reeling from the after effects. I could lose everything now. Tristan. How could someone hurt one of the best people God ever created? It doesn't add up. I'm not stupid. I know too many of those gunshots were directed at me. Someone was trying to kill me. But was Tristan an accident or was he intentionally shot because of his involvement with me? I want to hold on to hope that everything was random, but I heard some of the things Marcus and the other guys were talking about.

"Mm mm." A deep groan in the silence startles me. My eyelashes flutter and my vision adjusts after a few moments of extreme focusing. I don't move in fear of the source of the sound. Lying flat on my back, I steel my nerves enough to chance a look. Without moving my head I look sideways to see that lying on the bed next to me is a large body. From the deep snoring sounds it is definitely male.

In my nervousness, I take a deep breath, inhaling cinnamon and sandalwood and instantly a comfort settles over me. Marcus. Turning my head slowly, I see his handsome face turned toward me with my hand under his cheek. Oh god. If I was asleep I can't imagine how I could have done something like that. I've never slept in the same bed with someone before so I guess it's possible. This is so embarrassing.

Easing onto my side, I face him and ever so slowly I pull on my hand attempting to remove it from under his face. He moans and I watch as deep frown lines pop up on his forehead. His hand slides up and clamps down on my wrist, trapping me. Chewing on the side of my bottom lip, I feel a slight panic begin to rise. Focus. Shutting my eyes, I take a deep breath in and release it, repeating this process many times. My meditation method mixes with his snoring tempo, calming me.

I open my eyes once again and lift my head, noticing the clock display indicates that it is early. With the help of the lingering moonlight, I can see that I am in an unfamiliar room, but I can tell that we are still at the Walker estate. I must be in his bedroom. Continuing to scan the room I notice all the personal items and sport memorabilia. I smile at the thought of a younger Marcus here during the summers. While Julia sent me to travel as far away from her as possible, he was growing up in this room. In the darkness, I can still make out a full bookshelf beside a messy desk. It's comforting to know that he's not a total neat freak.

Taking in the large room, inch by inch, my eyes finally return to the man beside me, resting peacefully. My gaze drifts from his face downward, and I blush noticing his nakedness. My god! His body is perfection. I can't see details, but I do notice several tattoos. My mouth begins to water and I shudder, knowing I shouldn't be in bed with him. Ugh! Just don't look.

I focus on his face. His features are so striking. When he's not sleeping on it, his dark brown, slightly wavy hair stands up in the front a little more than an inch. His brows are the perfect shape to accent his long dark lashes, revealing those tranquil, deep, green eyes. Today his jaw line is covered in stubble, enough to tickle when he kisses me.

That reminds me of how much has happened since he crossed the family room and stood in front of me, daring me to come closer. I threw away my reservations and challenged him by stepping up. He couldn't stop, and I didn't want him to and now? Confusion. Our feelings are new and I'm not sure what impact everything that happened last night will have on us. Memories of our first kiss and then our confessions cause my heart to falter. Fear of losing what I just found pushes my heart rate up again. Dammit!

My lifetime fear is loving and then losing. Nervously, my eyes jump in some crazy movement scanning his face. Memorizing. Why? He's the reason I can hold on. Unless he decides he doesn't want me, I'm not letting go of him. I actually care now and it will crush me to go back inside the fortress. Some say I live a sad life and it's true. By my choice, I did. I feel as though my soul was waiting for him. And now that he's here, I want to feel it all. I choose life, I choose Marcus.

"Baby?" he groans, with sleep thick in his voice. The sound in the silence startles me. He squeezes my wrist. His touch, his voice and the name he calls me make my heart thump with excitement.

I smile. "Shhh, go back to sleep."

"How are you feeling?" His eyes remain closed, but he pulls my wrist to his lips and firmly presses them to my pulse point.

The heat from his lips causes my heart rate to spike. Mmm, that's nice. He lifts his lids, and in the partially lit room, I can see the heat resting in his burning sage-colored eyes. Our desire aside, I wonder what our life is going to mean now.

"I don't know," I whisper, uncertain how to answer his question, and uncertain about my thoughts of us. What happens next between us?

He nods. "We don't have to talk. If you want to go back to sleep it's okay. I just needed to know I wasn't dreaming."

I stretch my entrapped wrist toward his face. He allows the movement. Touching his cheek, I'm awestruck at the delight as he closes his eyes savoring our connection.

I love it too Marcus.

"This is real," I assure him, meaning my touch, but something more is expressed.

It has begun. Just how deep those three words reach into me is mind blowing. He touches my very essence. More than a soul mate, he is part of me. Harmoniously joined to him, I am finally whole. Being without him again would leave me living half of a life.

Studying me at length, he searches the depths of my eyes while conveying an utter longing. Does he know that he reaches me so much deeper? Could he feel something more too? Finally, taking a deep breath, he exhales slowly before speaking.

"Breesan, may I kiss you?" he asks so sweetly and softly. His question echoes the fear in his features, dominating his expression. His eyes are dilated, worry lines mark his beautiful face and his lips are drawn. What could be scaring him? He needs, not just wants to kiss me.

Love explodes in my chest.

Tears fill my eyes as I nod and watch him shift to rest over me. I underestimated how desperately I need love and contact until Marcus hovers over me, piercing me with a forbidden look. Awareness lies in his eyes. He knows the importance of this moment. He's truly seeing me – the woman who hides – a woman who is lost, flawed and unloved. His dark eyes lock with mine sharing so much passion. His breath, warm on my lips, elicits a new sensation that moves into my soul.

He roughly places his hand on the back of my neck, tilting it. The action causes my chin to lift upwards which allows him full access to my neck. He navigates his mouth from my chin, down my throat and around to my ear. Gripping the sheet beneath me, I release a shaky breath. He lightly licks the edge of my ear and then blows delicately on the now stimulated area. Sensations crawl along my body, generating a moan, followed by a needy whimper. I had no idea that I am so wanton.

His touch controls my body, and it's complete and unadulterated ecstasy. He banishes a decade of suffering in these moments of delirium. There's no part in my head and heart that he hasn't affected. I crave for Marcus to possess what's left of me.

The need for him to kiss me blazes. I'm desperate, but he continues running his tongue along the edge of my ear stopping only to suck and nibble. Biting once, he covers the tender spot with soft kisses. I whimper again because it is driving me fucking wild. I writhe beneath his lips, conveying my desires for him to devour my moans with his mouth.

Please kiss me.

"Oh, Baby I'm going to kiss the hell out of you, but first I need to taste every inch." His mouth on my ear vibrates all the way to my core.

FUUUUCCCK! "Oh!" I yelp at his boldness. My body ignites with feelings I've never experienced.

He moves his body to settle between my legs and instinctively I feel a need to move against him. My groans increase encouraging him to push against me. The pleasure and pain of our contact is heavenly. His hand on my shoulder slowly moves down my arm to my elbow. He follows the movement with his eyes and I watch him. This slow torture tickles, but the feeling sends waves of adrenaline through my body. He grabs my elbow and lifts it above my head, guiding my hand to hold the railing on the headboard. Then he drags his hand down retracing his path, under my arm, past my ribs down to my hips. Gripping the hell out of the headboard, I briefly loosen my hold, knowing that if he keeps doing this to me, I could crack the wooden slats. He uses one knee to spread my legs further while his hand continues down my thigh, stopping to grab behind my knee. Lifting my leg around his waist allows him better access to grind into me.

Ohgod he feels so good. I need this. He kisses me like he wants to be loved.

"Marcus. Don't please – don't stop."

Did I just say that? Releasing the death grip I have on the slat, I place my trembling hands on his arms. Uncertain if it's what I said, the intimate contact or our actions, he abruptly stops all movement. Whimpering in protest, I grip his arms refusing to let him think I don't want this. I so desperately do want it. Blinking several times, he slows his breathing and stares into my eyes. It's a fierce stare and my heart beats wildly because of it.

"Did I do something wrong?" I ask nervously, "I can do better. If...if you teach me."

"Baby, don't be afraid. I will never hurt you." He sighs deeply. I nod trying to be brave because I don't want anything to disturb our moment.

Every feeling I've denied for so long climaxes at this moment. I've been afraid to fall for a man. My fears are no longer about being hurt, but missing out and not experiencing him in every way possible. He fills the void that no other soul has been able to find.

"I'm not afraid of you. Marcus, I want this, you, us...I want us." He grins down at me.

"Baby, you've got me. I just think maybe we are moving too quickly. It's my fault. I can't fucking resist you. I never could," he groans remorsefully.

"Yeah." Completely shocked and amused, I snort in a very unladylike way. "You did a damn good job resisting for a while."

He smirks. "Hell, no I didn't either. My mind left the moment I laid eyes on you. I was miserable, and I pissed off everyone that was around me. I couldn't sleep, and when I did my dreams were constantly filled with a brunette that fought me on every point." He laughs as he rolls off of me and waggles his eyes. "They were intense dreams. Well, all except for the one where you kicked my ass in the gym."

He keeps laughing at this so I push him onto his back. Risking looking foolish, I climb on top of him and straddle his warm abs. Leaning close to his face, I stare intently, my mouth set in a tight line. He chuckles at the move, but becomes aware of our new position quickly. I flash a tempting grin at him and wiggle my hips just a little. His eyebrows quirk and his lips stretch into a devilish grin. Finally having the upper hand over him, I moan softly and move seductively. With both hands, he immediately grabs my hips and then shakes his head.

"No ma'am. As bad as I want to make love to you right this moment, I can't. I want our first experience to be about you and me. Right now there are so many outside factors pushing their way in, we are crowded in this bed." I nod.

Releasing my hip, he scrubs his hand over his face, digging his fingers into his wavy hair while piercing me with his emerald eyes. "Breesan, we really need to talk. I've done things I'm not proud of but I can't keep them from you. I need to get everything off my chest before we move into this next phase of our relationship."

"Marcus, I trust you. I can't explain why I feel this way, but I do. You tried not to get to me. You pushed. I pushed back. We both believe what we are doing is for the best. The truth is, you see right through me. We may be moving fast according to other people, but what I feel for you I've never felt for anyone...ever. I never thought I was worthy of a being together with someone like this. I know I'm young and perhaps foolish for saying all of this, but I want this relationship."

"Baby, you are priceless. I wish you would value yourself as much as I do." He kisses me softly and then draws my body to lie down on him. "And that's why I want to do things differently with you." I nod my head against his shoulder.

Sighing loudly, I rise up and look at him seriously. "If you want to talk then I think I need to move. Otherwise I'm going to be distracted by your touch and I won't concentrate on what you're saying." Laughing, he slides me to the other side of the bed.

"Well, first you already know I'm in a joint task force with the DEA, but I didn't get to explain everything. I work with Rhys, who you met last night. Kole and my sister, Sam, are on the team also."

I interrupt. "Kole is in law enforcement?"

"Yes, the gym is his cover. He owns it, but Shaylyn runs the day-to-day aspects. He is our tech-guy. All the latest and greatest gadgets make their way into Kole's hands and then we get them." I'm in shock. He pushes on. "My role is surveillance. I have a few other small responsibilities, but basically I trail a target and monitor his or her movements. In some cases I do this from a distance. The target usually has no idea I exist. In other cases, I assume a predominant roll in the target's life. The job I'm currently working requires me being undercover."

My nervousness causes me to begin to fidget. He notices my restlessness and stalls his explanation, taking my hand in his and bringing it to his lips. He soothes me and I'm thoroughly distracted.

"Okay, I'll take that back now," I tease, effectively pulling my hand from his grasp.

I sit up and face him. He rolls onto his side, propping his head on his hand. He reaches down and scoops my hand back tugging me down to him. I catch myself before falling on him and he stretches up to place a sweet kiss on my lips. I laugh and shake my head. He's not laughing, just staring at our interlaced hands.

"I need to finish, Babe." He sighs.

I know that whatever he wants to tell me is important and it involves me.

### Chapter Twenty-Six

Breesan

"There is a large group working out of Willow that has been around for more than twenty years supplying drugs to the United States. They are big-time drug dealers and the leader has eluded the DEA during all of that time. We received information a few months ago on a possible contact that was involved with him. Since then we've been trailing the target. I picked up a security job working for the target and do extra-surveillance when not working at the gym." So far his story doesn't involve me, so I relax until he looks at me sadly.

"What's wrong? You look sad all of a sudden," I state.

"I want you to know that when I met you at Morgan's welcome home party, I really did not know it was you. I told you that I would never intentionally trick you. I was working that night. Earlier that day, I lost the subject but I caught up to her there," he explains.

I continue to listen and something about his tone begins to send a little tiny niggling thought to the back of my mind. My sensors are starting to send out alarms. I have a feeling I'm not going to like the rest of his explanation.

"Breesan, have you ever heard of someone called Dr. A?" he asks. My hand freezes in place and I shake my head.

"I didn't suspect you would, but I thought I would ask. Your stepmother, Julia, is the target and I've been trailing her since the beginning of May. I had to go undercover to get close, so I work security for her. Most of my responsibilities have been driving her to meetings at the castle and surveillance...on you. She does require –"

I interrupt again, "Wait! I don't think I heard you clearly. You've been watching me?" My mind is a scrambled mess, unable to form one clear thought. I stare openmouthed waiting for him to tell me that I misheard, but his expression is dead serious.

"Yes," he nods. "On her order, I have monitored your routine. She told me some, but not exactly why she wants you followed. I assumed it was for your safety. Who you meet, and where you go." He releases the hold on my hand as he slides up the bed, resting against the headboard, putting distance between us. My heart hammers in my chest. Ohgod please don't betray me. "Breesan, I've never told her anything private. She knows basic information. But the last thing she requires me to do is monitor your communications. Your cell is bugged – phone, email, and text."

He accessed my phone, my email, and my text? Does he know about the text message that I got last night after Tristan was shot?

Marcus continues explaining about why he was stalking me. "It was to include Facebook, if you had one. I'll admit, I thought it was weird for at nineteen-year-old woman not to have some, if not all, forms of social media. But after a short time I realized you are unlike any other nineteen year old woman that I've ever met."

I snort with indignation and my agitation builds. "You're serious! I may not have a life per se, but what I do have is private and that shit pisses me off!" He nods, but he lets me keep ranting. "Do you know how illegal that is? Of course you do. You're a damn cop. I feel like a fucking knife has been stuck in my back." I freak a little. OK a lot. My fists clench tightly and I punch the pillow in front of me.

"I never needed to tell you a damn thing about me. Did I? You knew how pathetic my life is already." My voice drops to a whisper. "And the shit I told you about me in your truck. It must have sounded like some pathetic cry for help." My breathing is ragged while my hands tremble with anger and fear of being so exposed. I'm in full meltdown mode – a panic attack is looming. "Fuck," I mumble in frustration.

Fully observing his face, I scan his features for any sign of deception. Nothing. He intends for me to know everything. As much as I'm probably going to be sick by what he reveals, I need to know. I regain my composure and whisper, "Go ahead. I need to know it all."

"It's not my intention to make you feel this way, but I understand it. I know things about you, yes. But most everything I know is what you've told me." He chuckles softly, causing my eyebrows to draw in. "Every other woman in the world tells everyone everything, but not you, Baby. You're mysterious, intriguing, and...addictive. Remember the night you went alone to the movies? That was the first night I observed you. I sat three rows behind you and watched you watching the movie while crunching popcorn and goobers together." Winking playfully, he smiles at my preferred snack combo. "My absolute favorite movie snack, too, by the way," he adds. Shocked, my mouth drops open and he chuckles again. "You laughed a few times and I'll admit I thought to myself, "What girl laughs at that level of blood, violence and gore?" But you did it more than once and I lost my heart that night."

I smile at the memory of the night he's recalling. Slanting my head, I look at him more closely.

"What is it, baby?"

"I remember, you kind of creeped me out that night. Especially with us being the only two people in the theater. Plus, you sat directly behind me. Total creep factor, you might want to work on that in your stalker-creds," I think some more. "Wait, how often do you watch me? And you're sure you don't know why she wants you watching me?"

He nods. "Answering your last question, I told you I would never lie to you. I honestly don't know what her deal is. As for trailing you, I usually watch you in the afternoons from the time you leave home until you return. I've followed you to the library, to meet Anna, to Orange Beach when you went with a group to Flora-Bama." He grins proudly. "I was impressed when you played the hell out of that guitar." I blush at his compliment and knowing that he's heard me play. This is real exposure and it scares me. I wasn't ready for him to have full access to everything about me so soon.

"This is so not fair. You know everything about me and I don't have much on you." I shake my head and with a resigned sigh, I give him a pitiful look.

"Sure you do," He grins and lifts my chin up with his forefinger to look deep into my eyes, "Have you forgotten the night in my truck?" Hell no.

Forget one of my favorite Marcus moments? I would have to be a fucking loon. That was the night he pulled me into his arms and held me closer than anyone before. And my heart knew then. Lost in the memory of that night, I realize it's quiet. Raising my face, I see him staring back at me with hooded eyes. He's remembering that night too. My desire for him is an inferno. I feel completely disoriented and need to get control of myself better when I'm around him. At least until I get more answers about Julia's involvement in tonight's shooting and Dr. A.

"What are you smiling about, Baby?"

"I could ask you the same question," I reply softly, not wanting to answer that question just yet. "Let's get back to you, okay?" Knowing that if we don't, he'll know soon about the inferno he has stoked to life inside me.

"Yes." He nods. "I need to finish. Then I want to go by the hospital and check on Tristan." My heart jolts at the mention of his name.

"Oh god, Marcus we should already be there." I slide around to get up, but he grabs me trying to slip off the edge of the bed.

"No, we'll finish this first and then go. You need to know everything now," he says adamantly.

"But, you're not at the hospital with your family because I blacked out like an idiot. I feel horrible, Marcus. What will they think of me now?" Turning a blistering red shade, I allow him to pull me to him, my head to his chest, my arm draped over his bare abs. Shivering, I pull my hand away, place it on top of my thigh and grip tightly, nearly causing a bruise.

"Besides Gran and Granddad, I'm not sure who all will be at the hospital, but you don't need to worry about what they think," he assures me. Bobbing my head slowly, I still can't believe he would delay being with his family to stay here and tell me about himself. What's so important?

"If you're sure, but stick to the facts because I need to get there and so do you. I still can't believe what happened last night." I shake my head. We remain silent for a few minutes, just holding each other. Horrible scenes of panic, blood, and tears rush through my mind. I intentionally shiver trying to shake it off.

"Dr. A is a drug lord." My body tenses as he begins his explanation. It hits me: Marcus has a dangerous job. I wrap tightly around him and he sighs. "He's been using Willow as a transport hub to smuggle drugs into the U.S. We're sure he has most of the dock and customs workers on his payroll. It took the Department nearly fifteen years to get information on him. He's a fucking ghost. We've narrowed down some things on him, but no one has verified his identity. One of our guys got lucky while he was on a fishing trip a few years ago and spotted his vessel leaving a port off Willow. We trailed his yacht by satellite through the Atlantic, losing him near the Virgin Islands. The trail went cold after that and stayed that way for a long time. We set up a team to monitor the Willow port for more than a year, but no one spotted him.

"Finally, two months ago, Sam got a tip that his ship was spotted leaving South America heading north. We worked quickly, integrating me back into life on Willow so I could go undercover." Taking a cleansing breath, I prepare myself to accept what he's telling me. "All communications from the island are being monitored. If you live here, your business isn't private. Everything runs off satellites or cell so we've got every facet under surveillance." He pauses to make sure I'm still with him. The break gives me the chance to ask the questions burning in my mind.

I scoff loudly. "How in the hell could Julia be involved with a drug lord? She couldn't. This is crazy. I mean she's a real bitch and I can't stand her, but that just doesn't make any sense. Could your intel be mixed up on the communications coming from Julia?" I begin laughing at the preposterous idea.

He shakes his head before answering, "They've verified everything. Hopefully, we can prove it soon. Sam got info last night that indicates his yacht docked a few miles up the beach from here at Castle Landing. That's the reason she wasn't at the party last night and couldn't stay long after the incident."

He blows out a hard breath before continuing. "As bad as the shit that happened last night is – and it is fucking horrible – from what we have initially determined, it doesn't relate to Dr. A. So we can't have our team on the case. I can't be on the case. It's bullshit, but our purpose is to catch bastards like Dr. A and stop drug smuggling." I nod, understanding his situation. Being pulled from one direction to the other, work or family, can't be easy.

"When Sam returned to the dock last night, she spotted Julia getting on Dr. A's ship. We're monitoring their location, but they set sail during the shooting."

Gasping harshly for air, I feel a strange sensation moving along my skin. I scoot off the bed and this time he doesn't try to stop me. I start pacing the room, talking to myself. "Damn, is this true? Could Julia be involved with a drug lord? This whole thing is fucking ridiculous. They must have Mrs. Prim and Proper confused with someone else. She couldn't be involved in something so sinister." Having a bad habit of talking out loud to myself, I reveal to him all of my musings.

He interrupts my babbling. "It's not really out of character for her. She's hiding behind Mrs. Prim and Proper. Her affair with him has been going on for years. She has overseas bank accounts set up in her name with extremely large balances and weekly deposits. Sam thinks she may not even know about the accounts. It appears that he or someone working for him established all of them in her name. If we could get something tangible to connect her to him there may be a possibility of positively identifying him and arresting both of them." Mixed emotions for Julia and the situation wrack my mind, but doing the right thing takes priority.

"Her boxes!" I suddenly recall that when I was looking for items belonging to my dad, I discovered all the boxes with her journals. "She has tons of private journals in boxes locked away in our attic. There has to be information about him in those books, or in the big trunk with a lock on it," I offer proudly, seeing a sparkle flicker in his eyes. Bounding off the bed, he rushes to me, cups my face in his hands and then places a kiss on my forehead.

"You." He kisses my nose. "Are." He kisses my left cheek. "The." He kisses my right cheek. "Best!" He kisses my lips.

It's a sweet kiss of appreciation, but it's still warm enough to curl my toes. Sliding one hand around my neck, his fingers dig into my hair tilting my face upwards. The other moves under my collar beneath the thin layer of my t-shirt to lie flat against my skin. The warmth of his kiss combines with his touch, and I melt. Marcus gives me everything. Holding nothing back, he possessively moves his mouth over mine. Our tongues move together, twirling, sliding in and out.

Oh yes, dear god he is mine.

Licking the roof of my mouth, he swirls his delicious tongue with mine in a slow dance. I become numb to everything except for this man. I've lost all control to him devouring me. He's not kidding about claiming me. Surrendering to his dominance is a new concept for me, but it feels natural. Need urges me to become bold. Clawing at his backside with urgency, I must get him closer. He obliges quickly and without argument. Panting and groaning, we are uncontrollable now. Hands everywhere, bodies rubbing together and a heat building between us so strong I don't ever want to stop kissing him. Too soon he pulls away from me again. Giddiness from the kiss wars with disappointment from the loss of contact. Giddiness wins, causing a silly smile to break across my face. Opening my eyes, I see him watching me longingly.

Damn his eyes are drinking me in. "God Breesan, how did I get so lucky to find you?"

Refusing to answer his question because for the first time I feel like the lucky one, I smile seductively. He slides his hand from my hair around to my face. With soft fingers, he lightly strokes my cheekbone. A thumb traces the outline of my lips, stopping for me to kiss the pad. His intense emerald eyes move from watching my lips to my eyes. When our eyes meet, he gives me a look that imprints on my heart. He looks at me with such raw emotion.

I know we are passionate for each other and that is causing so damn much sexual chemistry between us, but this look is something else. I saw him look at me the same way last night while he was sad. Maybe his looks stay the same and it's his kisses that confuse me.

"I'm glad you trust me enough to tell me everything, but I'm on information overload. With everything that's happened over the past couple of weeks, and last night and especially all of this stuff with Julia – it's a lot. Can we just say I know enough for now?" I nod toward the breaking dawn.

Looking out his bedroom window, we witness the beginning of a new day. Happy to take a well-deserved break from our heavy conversation, we silently rest in the comfort of each other for a while, watching the sunrise. I am completely awestruck by the blossoming colors, reaching upwards, guided by the sunlight. Marcus steps behind me and wraps me in his arms, my back against his chest. I reach up, grip his forearms, and lean my head back on his shoulder. He nudges his nose behind my ear.

Vibrations from his deep voice buzz against my whole body. "Do you know how many sunrises I've watched in my entire life?" Smiling, I shake my head. "Exactly two," he states proudly.

Knowing this is the second sunrise we've shared together, my chest fills with excitement. His first was on Anna's back porch before I fell asleep in his arms. Today, I woke up in them.

He tenderly presses his lips to my neck then whispers, "And I can't wait for the next one, as long as you're in my arms, watching it with me."

Truth.

From tragedy to love, the events of the last twenty-four hours have me overwhelmed. So many emotions roll inside me. Marcus hugs me closer and I smile. Like the dawn of a new day, I know that this sunrise marks a new beginning, a time to leave my brokenness and solitude behind me.

Today, my mind affirms what my heart cried out for, prior to this summer. I was only existing and surviving daily by denying others the closeness it takes to love. Now I've found something rare and real that starts with him. Marcus has reached in where no one could before, destroying the abysmal within, and replacing it with value which is now so significant.

Placing my faith in the unknown, I'll allow others in my life. It will take some adjustments, but for me to admit that I want all of this, us and even friendships, is a major accomplishment. I want my friends to have more than surface access. I choose to allow them deeper into my heart. But it is Marcus' devotion that will be all I need to heal my brokenness. What lies ahead for us – mystery, danger, passion – we face together.

To be continued... Continue reading for an excerpt of All Is Lost (All series, book #2).

Thanks for reading Be All. I hope you will consider leaving a review on Amazon and recommending it to your friends. All is Lost, All This Time, and Worth it All are also available for download. ~Marie

### About the Author

New Adult Author of the All Series, Marie Wathen is a wife, mother of two and a Lola (her version of grandmother). When she isn't writing, her other career is on the nightshift. Marie is a fourteen-year veteran dispatcher at her local Sheriff's Office. The SO is where she met her husband Barry, a patrolman. Born and currently living in central Alabama, she enjoys a serene life in the country, but lives for the excitement of traveling to large cities.

Besides writing, Marie loves reading, traveling, and family time that includes southern home-cooking and Italian feasts. Although Marie has been a storyteller her entire life, Be All is her first publication. Marie's genre includes, but is not limited to, Romantic Suspense. She is currently collaborating on a Romantic Paranormal Thriller that will release in 2014. Also, look for No Details, releasing as a short story in the Novel Grounds Anthology, All Our Love in March 2014, and then rereleasing as a full-length novel in spring 2015.

I love connecting with readers who enjoy my writing. If you want to join Marie's Mafia Street Team, contact me for information through email, facebook or twitter. Also, look for me at signings all over the country. I can't wait to meet you all.

Facebook: Marie Wathen Author www.facebook.com/MarieWathenAuthor

Twitter: @mariewathen

Email: mariedwathen@gmail.com

Website: <http://mariedwathen.wix.com/mariewathen>

Goodreads: <http://tinyurl.com/mogy6y6>

### Available:

Be All (Book #1, All series/Breesan) <http://tinyurl.com/prkd995>

All Is Lost (Book #2, All series/Breesan) <http://tinyurl.com/qjpwhd8>

All This Time (Sam) <http://tinyurl.com/odsatlf>

Worth It All (Book #3, All series/Breesan)

Signed copies can be ordered just by sending an email to mariedwathen@gmail.com

PAYPAL ACCEPTED

### Coming soon:

Risking All (Book #4, All series/Breesan) Fall 2014

All Blues Early Fall 2014

No Details (The Only Exception Novels) Spring 2015 as a novel

### Except: ALL IS LOST (All series, Book 2)

Marcus

Waking early hearing soft whimpers, I instinctively tighten my arms snaking around the soft body lying in front of me. Before opening my eyes my mind informs me that my sweet love Breesan is having a bad dream. Opening my eyes, I lift my head and peer down at her face etched with fear, noticing a tear pooling in the corner of her eye.

"...Anna...please, no, don't hurt her..." she whimpers in her sleep. "...dad..., please, let me go..."

I freeze, feeling my heart hammering erratically from her broken words, and processing her sad pleas. Are these memories of the loss she recently experienced or can they be hopes for the future she expects? I softly croon words of love and reassurance that I'm here with her. Her body stiffens. Rolling around in my arms, she faces me and runs a hand up my arm. Unable to wait another moment, I pull her in for a kiss, but she stops me covering her hand over her mouth.

"Don't ever deny me access to these sweet lips. My very essence depends on the feel of them against mine." I stroke the tip of my nose over hers loving the way her eyelids grow wide at my admission. "So kiss me like you're happy to see my ugly mug when you first wake up." She smiles, takes my face in her hands and gently touches her tender lips to mine once then pulls away. I stick out my bottom lip, pouting when she doesn't open for me.

Shaking her head no, Breesan says, "More after I brush. I promise."

Slipping out of the bed, she smiles at me as she glances back over her shoulder. Leaving the bathroom door open, she quickly begins freshening up. After a few moments I decide to join her in the small bathroom. We brush together staring directly and deeply into each other's eyes. God I want this every day that I'm alive.

Is she picturing a future of mornings similar to this one like I am? She lifts an eyebrow at me, smirks and then rinses her mouth. Patiently waiting for me to finish, she pushes me back out the door and closes the door behind her, locking me out. Climbing back under the covers I wait for her to return to my arms and wonder if I should mention that she was talking in her sleep. A little while later she comes out of the bathroom and without hesitation wiggles back into my arms.

"Despite what you think I find waking up in your arms heavenly. And this mug," She grasps my face in one hand, squeezing just enough to make my lips poke out, "is one of the most handsome I've ever seen."

I smile like an idiot. "Is it now?" I ask after kissing her with my lips still puckered in her grasp.

"Mm hmm, you have the most mesmerizing green eyes." She says, releasing the hold she has on my face. Her cheeks redden from her confession and she begins stammering with a recovery explanation. "Oh, but I'm sure you've been told that before. Like probably a million times."

"Not once," I say. "Until today, only you have used the word mesmerizing while describing me."

"Wow that really is...surprising," she says with a shocked expression. "You are so...so handsome, and for none of your girlfriends to tell you how it feels, like your eyes hypnotize and cherish them, then they must have been total divas."

Laughter bubbles up from deep within my throat. "No not even close. I told you I don't do girlfriends." I smile at the color darkening on her cheeks. "Honestly, including you I've only had two girlfriends."

She scoffs, "Right." Arching an eyebrow, she adds, "You know an awful lot about me, and except for your jobs, I know so little about you. Are you ever going to share with me, or will Marcus Walker remain a mystery?"

I shrug, "Other than my jobs, there really isn't much to tell. Helping others is my passion. I guess you would say I'm a protector by nature." And I'm passionate about protecting you. "Ever since I was a child I fought for the underdog and feel compelled to make things better. My childhood was abnormal, but whose wasn't?" She nods, acknowledging her own dysfunctional family. "I liked living in England, but I always wanted to come back home. For years I begged my parents to move us back, but they claimed we needed to live closer to the European offices. They traveled most of the time leaving us with a governess, so it didn't make sense to me why they felt me, Morgan and Sam needed to be in England."

Feeling a pang of heartache with these memories I stall and stare at Breesan, seeing the desire for me to continue billowing through her silvery tinted eyes. I don't think now is the best time to tell her all of my family bullshit so I change to a lighter topic.

"Hey do you know when the first time was that I heard the name Breesan Maxwell?" Her eyes widen significantly and she shakes her head while her gaze bores heavier into mine. "Don't look so shocked. Of course I heard a little about you." I say, smiling and she relaxes a little while I explain.

"When I was visiting one summer I had gotten my driver's license the winter before. According to Anna, the cool thing to do was hang out at the skating rink. She was still a few years away from driving so she convinced me to chauffer her and Tristan. A girl that I had... um, met the year before spotted me," I stammer, accidentally hinting about a hook up. "She was uh... happy to see me and I wasn't too upset with running into her either." I smirk and she rolls her eyes playfully. "Until she started gossiping about everyone, and before I knew it I had zoned out, but then she said your name..."

Breesan's forehead crinkles while she rises up to prop on her elbow. "Ohgod," Gritting her teeth, she begs, "Who was she, and what in the hell did she tell you?"

"I can't remember her name. She was asking about my summer plans, and I jokingly explained my new role of driving Ms. Anna." Breesan smiles at my dumb joke. "At that point she shifted the subject and began telling me how delusional Anna was, but I was clueless. I mean, yeah, Anna can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but she's one of the sanest people I know. I thought this girl was kidding, but then she explained herself. She said that Anna was desperately holding onto a one-sided relationship with you." I pause, realizing too late that what I'm telling her is cruel.

"Please finish," she whispers, her sad eyes staring intently into mine.

"Are you sure?" I ask and she nods.

"She told me that Anna claimed you as her best friend. I know I looked stunned when she said this because she was extremely dramatic in affirming that I had heard right. She insisted that you didn't have any friends and... that Anna was out of her mind for thinking it." I pause a moment. "I racked my brain trying to remember you. Except for a faint memory of your name being mentioned I couldn't place you. Later that evening, after I dropped Anna off at home, I asked Tristan more about you. He confirmed what the girl told me." Breesan gasps. Hearing the stupid word rolls out of my mouth, I pause watching a pained look move across her face. "I'm sorry baby. I shouldn't have said anything." I say, stroking my fingers over her arm.

"No," She exhales loudly. "It's all true. God, I was such a shitty friend to Anna. How did she put up with me? Now she's gone and I only just told her how much she means to me."

I pull Breesan tightly against my chest, wishing I could erase the past ten minutes. A heavy pain clamps around my heart hearing her sniffle. I feel like a total ass bringing up Anna and Tristan while she blames herself for everything that has happened to them. Feeling the urgency to redirect her thoughts, I decide that it is confession time.

Reaching for her hand, I distract myself from the pain of my history while staring at our interlaced fingers. I swallow hard as I hammer down my insecurities about revealing secrets.

"When I was six we moved to England. I hated moving. I was miserable, but my parents were adamant that our family was leaving Willow. I begged them to let me live with my grandparents, but nothing I did or said stopped the move across the ocean." I pause, willing the hurt to remain buried while I dig up the memories. "My mood stayed sullen for a very long time. Willow was a magical place for a kid that age, but there was more to it than just some childish fantasies; I felt like I had left behind the best part of my life. Growing up with Tristan and Morgan here truly was awesome." I smile, catching her mood softening before I continue.

"Before coming home for the summer of freshman year in college, I overheard my folks in a heated argument. Their fights were not exactly unusual because they argued all the time, and they never hid their harsh words from us." I remember that day like it just happened, and the memory floods me with heavy emotions. "There was something in their tone that stopped me in place as I passed my dad's office this one afternoon. Barret was drinking and my mother was crying. I distinctly heard her begging for his forgiveness followed by her telling him "for the millionth time, if I could change everything I would rewrite history." I stood there frozen wondering what she could be talking about. She continued by saying that she would go back to the night Sam was conceived, and..." My words catch in my throat before I can finish telling her the rest.

"Hey," she whispers, sweeping her hand up my arm and holding it tightly.

I let out a ragged breath and say, "My mother said that she would not have had sex, insinuating she didn't want Sam. For an instant I thought that my dad's hatred toward Sam was because she was an unplanned pregnancy that trapped him into an unwanted marriage, but I was wrong. Before my mind could fully accept that possibility, my mother's next words sent a jolt right through me."

I notice Breesan stiffen in my arms and I can feel her gaze on me, but the somber emotions rolling through me prevent me from acknowledging it. I stare up at the ceiling and push through telling her the rest of my story.

"My mother yelled at him that Sam was his daughter no matter what the paternity test results revealed." My heart hammers against my rib cage and I swallow back the tears burning. Breesan's trembling hand on my chest begins drawing slow, soothing circles while she remains quiet.

"Damn what a mess that day was." I exhale. "After hearing those words, I just stood there. Denial was my first thought. I just kept thinking I misunderstood my mother, but then after only another minute my father's raised voice snapped me out of the trance. He had opened the door and discovered me standing on the other side. The look of hatred that he pierced me with was unnerving. I didn't say anything, I couldn't. I didn't need to either because he knew that I had heard every word." Keeping my head tilted back, I turn to the side and face Breesan.

"He threw his whiskey glass across the hallway, nearly hitting me and then stormed off. My mother quickly ran after him, but stopped as she passed me and told me that she would never forgive me if I ever spoke of it. My stomach rolled at the thought of how much shit my father had put my sister through since we left Willow. He had always made her feel like she wasn't good enough. At that moment I knew that this secret had been what his problem was all those years. We didn't move to England for the family business. We left Willow because he couldn't bare the embarrassment my mother brought to our family by having a child to another man, but was passing her off as a Walker."

Reaching a shaky hand to my face, Breesan caresses my cheek compassionately and through this touch, she gives me the kindest sympathy I have ever received.

I kiss her palm softly and say, "It's fucked up, I know. As time went along my mother's attitude grew just as bitter toward me as Barret's. She couldn't face me because I knew the truth. Eventually, they turned against me completely, like I was the guilty person. I don't give a damn what they think of me, but Sam is the kindest person I know. Don't get me wrong she is a total bad-ass when it comes to the job, but her heart is completely full of love. In my opinion, my big sister is and will always be an angel." Breesan smiles sweetly at my unwavering feelings for Sam.

"I could never tell Sam that the reason our father was so cruel to her, and then later cruel to me was because she wasn't his child. She would feel horrible about what it did to the relationship between me and them." A protective growl builds deep in my chest. "I won't have her blaming herself. Barret Walker has unfairly blamed her enough."

"My god Marcus," Breesan says, complete and utter disgust dripping from her words. "That is the most sickening thing I have ever heard a parent do, and you know that I have Julia in my life." Shifting around to lie back, she looks up at the ceiling and sighs, "Poor Sam."

She remains silent for another moment allowing me time to settle the anger that began to rise. "Marcus, there is nothing I can say except that I'm sorry you went through all of that alone."

Her kindness touches my soul deeply. "Baby, you don't have to say anything. My father has only had one thing on his mind all of his life. It isn't his children, or anyone in our family. Truthfully, no one matters to him. The only thing that he loves is Walker Corporation, and I'm certain that it isn't because he wants to leave a legacy for his children. Barret Walker is a greedy bastard that cares only for his image and making more money."

"Damn," she whispers.

"The next summer in Willow I started drinking, partying and I got into several fights. While partying on the beach one night I met Raithe in one of those fights. We were fighting on the same side and afterward became good friends. Raithe never pressed to know why I was rebelling and raising hell, but whenever I went out he tagged along, like my shadow. I'm grateful too. If he hadn't been there for me I probably would have ended up in jail."

I think back to that summer and realize how much shit Raithe tolerated keeping my ass safe. All this time I thought it was me that saved him when I joined in to help him beat the hell out of some surfers who were screwing his girlfriend. Breesan rakes her tiny hand over my head, lightly tugging on my hair, pulling me out of the old memories.

A soft rumble releases from my chest at her aggressiveness, heating me up and making me want to do bad things to her in this bed. I smile looking into her intense eyes that also have passion blooming.

In a smoky voice she asks, "What would have happened if you went to jail?" She continues running her hand through my hair.

"That would have really set Barret's ass off. Looking back I'm glad for Granddad's sake that I didn't do anything stupid." Granddad wouldn't have held it against me, and that is why I didn't want to embarrass him. "During this time Morgan sensed the rift between me and our parents, and of course being a true ass-kiss, he turned against me. I was dubbed the outcast." I feel my jaw twitching as I think about how shitty he became without knowing the truth. "I believe that if Morgan knew what happened between us he would most likely support Sam, but it's not my place to tell their secret. If I was going to tell anyone it would be her. I seriously pray she never hears the truth. Keeping the truth from Sam rips my heart out daily. Initially, I debated it relentlessly, running through every possible outcome. Spent many restless nights agonizing over telling her the truth, but in the end I decided that I couldn't stand the thought of watching her heart break. I guess it's selfish of me, but I love her too much to tell her that the reason he treats her differently is because she's not his child." I pause, judging Breesan's reaction. She stays silent, brushing her hand through my messy hair.

"She rarely has contact with him," I add. "And when she does, he avoids her at all cost. God he makes me sick." Growling, I raise up sitting on the edge of the bed.

I mentally cuss my parents and myself for keeping their secret. How can a man treat someone, who he claimed to love, the way he did my sister simply because he found out that she wasn't his?

Scrubbing a trembling hand over my face I walk into the bathroom, leaving Breesan lying on the bed, completely stunned. What the hell could she be thinking about me after hearing all that shit? Catching a glimpse of her sitting up and leaning against the headrest as I shut the door behind me. A sickening pain tightens in my chest, threatening to choke the oxygen from my body. Grasping the vanity, I ride the wave of nausea that hits hard and deep in my belly. I press my fist against it, holding off the forceful desire to vomit. Sliding against the counter top I stagger to the shower, turn on the water and thrust my head under the sprayer not waiting for it to warm.

I stay submerged allowing myself time to get control over my unusual reaction. I never actually took time back then to absorb the life-altering news. Holding it in all these years and finally having someone I trust as much as Breesan to share it with fucking overwhelms me and I'm just about to break.

Hearing a light knock on the other side of the bathroom door, I shut off the water and grab a towel from the shelf, rigorously soaking up some of the water before opening the door.

I pause slowly lifting my gaze up taking in all of her. Seeing her curvy body partially covered in my clothes sends a thrill through me, redirecting my thoughts away from my father's bullshit. Now, the massive tightening in my chest is because of her. Shifting nervously on her petite legs, she reveals the dark gray boxers, playing peek-a-boo under the edge of a white extra-large tee-shirt, hitting just below her full hips. I make a mental note to purchase some small shirts for future sleepwear as my eyes continue to travel up the rest of her body. Seeing the swell of her ample breast through the thin material makes my mouth water instantly because I know that she isn't wearing a bra.

Breesan's face reveals a touch of sympathy or perhaps understanding, but it's her eyes that take me to a place that is more beautiful than anything in creation. It isn't sadness or pity, there's hope and longing for wholeness unlike anything she has ever known. Never before have I seen a look so abundant with belief and loyalty, uniquely for me. Realization of what I see in the depths of the gray tinted portholes to her secret-self jolts my heart.

Mygod she loves me.

Silently she expresses a love for me that overshadows everything I have known from any other. Breesan has no idea the power she holds over me and I desperately want to declare it all to her. I open and close my mouth several times, unsuccessfully. Before I can utter a word she approaches, pushes me against the vanity and in one swift motion she leaps into my arms, wrapping her tiny body around mine. Clearing my throat, I bite back strong emotions threatening to expose how damn desperate I am for her to love me. Shifts of fault lines could not have more of an effect on the earth than this perfect woman has on my heart. She is the remedy to my brokenness. Shushing me she tells me that it's okay.

A shield of protection shelters us from destruction and together no one will break our fortress. I exist whole now that she is mine and vow that I will be all she ever needs.

END OF EXCERPT. I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek at just some of the drama you will get in All Is Lost (Book #2). Also available: All This Time (Book #0.5 Sam's Story). Download your copy and get the back-story on Dr. A, Ryske, and find out just how truly badass Samantha Walker really is.

### Acknowledgments

This book would have never made it to publication without certain people reading it and giving me invaluable advice and encouragement. My gratitude to the following:

To my adoring husband, you are my life, my love, my best friend, my protector, my acceptor, my fun, my every day, my every night and my at last. There could not be a more perfect person for such an imperfect me. I love you, Forover (Inside joke.)

To my daughters Kayla and Kaitie: Thank you for loving me even when I may not be your favorite person. I'm so very proud of the women you are becoming and the friendship we have. If my life has taught you anything I hope that you will keep in mind that the world is filled with millions of possibilities, never just settle for one good thing when freaking amazing is just around the corner. I love you more than words.

To Auderia (Love): Through the early mornings, late nights, highly caffeinated, and silliness you were there always supporting, cheerleading, helping, retyping and never letting me forget how cool this is. Thank you. I love it! (And to Devan Rhayne, for thinking I'm the coolest.)

To my girls for a thousand different reasons: Barbara Gonzalez, Loretta Barks, Paula Price, Stephanie Wilson, Lisa Carr, Karen Martin, Debra Good, and Krystle Foster.

To my big, loud Italian family: Thank you DeStafinos for those special moments and stories that will live on in my heart always.

To my Kick Ass Bloggers & Betas: Angela Pratt (I Feel the Need, the Need to Read), Savannah Mae (Say What, Savannah Mae?), Breezy Kirkpatrick (Breezy BeautyandBooks) Natalie Catalano (Love Between the Sheets),Venture Cecena, Tyeesha Webb (Momma's Secret Book Obsession), One More Chapter, Paranormal Romance and Authors That Rock, Swoon Worthy Books, Book Geeks Unite, Reading Past My Bedtime, Novell Grounds, and Author CJ Azevedo for taking a chance on a nobody, putting up with revisions, allowing me to harass you with tons of questions and giving me the guts to publish my book. God bless and thank you!

To my editor: Taylor K's Editing. You are a rock star and we have a fabulous future together. Pamela Snyder, thank you for the revisions. Be All is so much better after being in your skilled hands. Dorothy! Thank you for offering to polish this book and now it is even prettier <3

To Arijana Karcic with Cover It Designs: Thank you for a stunning book cover...and many more to come.

To the Indie Authors who inspire and support me: Lindy Zart for saying "Write it!", Danielle Taylor for loving it, Merilyn Dignum my Aussie Birthday twin, and finally Rachel Higginson my idol and her love story in Star Crossed series that mused Breesan's relationships and eventual destiny. I do this because you did it first. Thank you and good writings.

To all the Facebook/Twitter fans: You liked, commented, shared, encouraged, bought and loved BE ALL prior to it going live, and I adore you for every second of it.

Thank you, especially to my God for this life, these and all the other unmentioned characters and storylines, real and fictional, that you created and brought into my life.
