My father's frown softens. "Good girl, Evangeline. That was good. The Lord smiles on patience."
I nod, smiling back at him as I hand him the key. I have no idea why I lie about Rowan to my father's face like that, but there it is.
Welcome to Shelter Harbor indeed.
"You father's just tired from the trip, dear," my mother says quietly, placing a hand on my arm before picking up her suitcase and following him up the steps into the house.
"This town smells like fish."
I smile as I shake my head at Chastity. "It's just the smell of the ocean. There's a fully working seaport down in the harbor, you know."
I'd petitioned to take the ferry to Shelter Harbor from Boston, where we flew into. Father vetoed that in favor of the highway, which I guess is a lot faster. It would have been nice to take in the ocean though.
"Well, it's a fully working seaport that smells like dead fish."
Chastity is … intense at times, but we're friendly enough to a certain degree. She's my age, and the daughter of one of my father's parishioners who's joined us for our stint here in Shelter Harbor before she marries her minister of a fiancé back home. This trip is apparently a way of "getting closer with God" before she joins her future husband in his lifelong commitment to tending his flock.
"You smell like beer, by the way," she says, frowning as she sniffs at the air around me like she's some sort of bloodhound.
"No I don't," I say quickly.
"You do."
I start to wrack my brain before suddenly words just come tumbling out. "Oh, right. Rowan was helping a homeless man out front of his restaurant when I got there. Giving him soup and all that. It's probably that."
Chastity's eyes narrow at me. "Restaurant? I thought it was a bar."
"Oh, is it?"
"You were there."
"Oh, I'm not sure then. I didn't really notice, I guess."
Chastity rolls her eyes as she grabs her bag and heads up the stairs.
I turn, letting the air out in a thin stream as I look down the hill at the harbor. I shiver as my mind flies back to him - of stepping into that office, of seeing, well, what I saw.
The illicit, wicked temptations that came with being around him. I quickly shake those thoughts from my head as I pick up my bag and glance once more at the harbor before turning to the house.
Well, it's nine-thirty in the morning, and I've already lied twice, harbored lust, and had very impure thoughts about a man.
Heck of a way to start the morning.
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Burn
Tempting. Volatile. Off-limits. He's the hottest thing that never should have happened to me.
Quinn:
He was supposed to be a one-time thing; my one one-night stand - the tattooed, bareknuckle fighter with a body built for sin who I found beaten and bloodied in my elevator that night. He's the one I patched up, the one I took care of, and the one I apparently couldn't say no to when his mouth touched mine …
A one night stand. Just one night, right?
Yeah, wrong, because I just found out my "mysterious stranger" is actually going to be my brother-in-law in half an hour.
Logan f**king Dempsey. The arrogant, panty-melting, rude and crude Marine-turned-billionaire who runs my late father's company. He's my new boss. He's the best man in this wedding. He's everywhere, and I can't escape him.
No matter how wrong it might be …
Logan:
Holy f*ck. Of all the girls in all the world, she has to be the random chick who found me that night and saved my life?
She looked strangely familiar that night. Now that I know who she is, it's like original sin staring me in the face.
Good-girl doctor, totally off-limits Quinn Archer is literally the last girl on the whole damn planet a screwed-up guy like me should have anything to do with.
There's playing with fire, and then there's sticking your hand in the flames. If I keep ignoring the rules, we're both going to get burned.
But f*ck the rules. She's gonna be mine.
Copyright © 2015 Aubrey Irons
Cover Photo: FXQuadro/DepositPhoto
Cover Design: Aubrey Irons
Editing: Sennah Tate
Proofreading: Cassie Dean
Formatting: Vellum
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author's imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review purposes.
This book is intended for mature, adult audiences only. It contains sexually explicit and graphic scenes and language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please do not continue reading this book of you are under the age of 18 or are offended by content of this nature.
All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older and are in no way blood relations. All acts of a sexual nature are completely consensual.
To my husband, for bravely refusing to call me crazy, even when I get wild ideas in my head such as quitting my job to write romance novels.
Thanks for always being in my corner ;).
Chapter One
Quinn
What a fucking week.
I toss back a hefty gulp of the champagne I swiped from the catering tent, wrinkling my face at the fizzy bubbles tickling my nose.
Flats. I definitely should have worn flats, I grumble to myself and hike up my bridesmaids dress with one hand as I stalk my way high-heeled through the rose garden.
Ok, I'm well aware that sneaking off to the greenhouse in the back gardens of my father's estate to slam down stolen champagne probably isn't what I should be doing thirty minutes before my sister's wedding. But with the week I've had, I'm basically categorizing the bubbly in my hand as medicine, and my normally quite sensible sensibilities can go ahead and deal with it.
An "amazing opportunity," my youngest sister Chelsea had called it after hearing about the job offer at our late father's company.
Yeah, well, the real 'amazing opportunity' - the one that I wanted - was the team leader position in the research group I was in back at the hospital. The one I was pretty much "guaranteed" by the Administrative Director.
Of course when that Director is kind of maybe your sort-of boyfriend, and you walk in on him getting blown by some slutty young med student, it's amazing how quickly your guaranteed position turns into her actual position.
And no, that's not a euphemism. He actually gave her the job he'd promised me.
Ok fine, the job at Archer Holdings is a great job, but that doesn't mean that coming to work for my father's company doesn't feel like moving back in with your parents after failing out in the real world. I mean, it's not like being a Doctor by twenty-seven is exactly slacking, but I can't help but feel like a washout coming back to work for "Dad's" company.
I'm taking another swig of champagne as I shove open the door to the greenhouse, and I guess that's the reason I don't realize I'm not alone until he speaks.
"Looks like I'm not the only one that couldn't wait until after the ceremony for the champagne toast."
I actually spit champagne out as I whirl at the uncomfortably familiar man's voice behind me, and when my eye land on him, my jaw about hits the floor under my feet.
No fucking way.
This isn't happening. This seriously can't be happening. It can't be him. There's just no possible way this is real.
But his dark greenish brown eyes lock onto mine as the recognition dawns there, and just the faintest shadow of a grin teases at the corners of his mouth. "You?"
I know the criminally good looking man in the tux standing right in front of me, even though I'm not supposed to. I shouldn't know about the body built for sin underneath that tux. Shouldn't know about the tattoos covering his chest and the coiled muscles of his biceps, or those abs carved out of marble. I shouldn't know how the muscles on the side of his hips groove down like pure sex, and I certainly shouldn't be able to exactly picture the thick- well, what I know he's got between his legs.
He's shaved his beard off, and the bruises around his face from the last time - from seeing him slumped in the elevator that night barely a week ago - seemed to be healing. I briefly wonder about the shallow stab wound in his side and how the bruised rib is doing.
And how is it that I know these things I shouldn't? Because one week ago, I saw those bruises. I sewed up that wound.
My one one night stand, the one man I never expected to see again even if I haven't been able to get him out of my head for the last eight days, is standing in a tuxedo, right in front of me, at my sister's wedding.
What the hell is going on here?
My brain is still trying to get my mouth to work and say something to the grinning, criminally good looking man standing in front of me, when the door to greenhouse bangs open.
"There you ar- Oh, hey!"
Hudson, my very soon-to-be-brother-in-law, smiles at me, "Good, looks like you two found each other."
Huh?
"I mean, wow, how long's it been since you guys even last saw each other?"