

WINTER'S FALL

THE WINTER BILLIONAIRES – ANDREW
PART ONE

OLIVIA BLAKE

Winter's Fall

Copyright © 2017 Olivia Blake

Published by Pink Parts Press

All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be reproduced in any form or by any means, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Names, characters, places, businesses, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Summary

Most fairy tales start with a wicked stepmother...

Nicole's life in Key West was paradise until her father died. Then her stepmother stole his dive company, fired her, and kicked her out of her apartment. To add insult to injury, Nicole's boyfriend dumped her for her stepsister. Now she's alone, practically broke, working in a job she hates, and living in a squalid apartment with two roommates she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy. Well, maybe on her stepsister.

Then she runs into bad boy billionaire Andrew Winter. Literally runs into him, because the lunatic decided to drive his Mercedes through the worst traffic snarl on the island. When she loses her bartending job—thanks to her ex and her stepbrother—Andrew steps in to save the day. He'll pay her to be his tour guide while he's vacationing in the Keys. Why not? The money is good and the company is better, but it's the kisses that keep her coming back. There's just one problem—what's she going to do when he leaves?

#  TABLE OF CONTENTS

Winter's Fall

Bonus Material

Preview: Winter's Bite

Dark Bargains

With One Word

Lessons in Love

About the Author

#  Winter's Fall

"I NEED YOU OUT OF HERE BY TOMORROW, NICOLE."

Nicole Nelson glanced up from her computer, where she was making a final pass through the checklist for the tourists she was taking out to dive on the reef in the morning. Dad had always insisted that his dive instructors triple check everything, because all it took was one mistake to kill someone. _Dad_. She winced at the now-familiar ache in her chest. Three months had passed since the funeral, but it still hurt just as much as the day he'd died.

Her gaze settled on her stepmother, Victoria. The older woman had chopped her platinum blonde hair short the day after the funeral, and the cut threw her face into severe lines which only accentuated the hard set of her eyes and mouth.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

Victoria waved a manicured hand at the office and the tiny apartment that adjoined it. "I'm showing the place to a potential buyer on Thursday, so I need you out. I don't want him worrying that he might have to deal with a tenant he'd have to get rid of."

Nicole opened her mouth then closed it again, too stunned to respond. _A buyer?_

"What do you mean a buyer?"

"I mean I'm unloading this place as soon as I possibly can."

She was selling Dad's dive center? Nicole's heart began to pound. "But you can't do that."

"Of course I can. And I will. I've already got half a dozen interested prospects lined up. I just have to wait for the right offer."

"But Dad started Mick's before I was born." It was where he'd met Nicole's mom and was all she really had left of either of them.

"Well, it's mine now, and that means it's going."

Icy talons clawed at Nicole's heart. Her stepmother meant it. She was really going to sell the business.

"Victoria," she said, trying to keep her voice low and calm, "you can't just sell it. You know that Dad intended for me to have joint ownership."

The older woman frowned and gave a little shrug. "Well, that's not how he put it into his will, so maybe you were mistaken. Of course men do change their minds, you know. Or at least you'll learn it one day."

Her supercilious smile did nothing to soothe Nicole's nerves. It felt as though her whole world was crumbling around her, and she had nothing to grab onto to save herself. Desperation left her clinging to shreds of hope which were dissolving before her eyes.

"Look, I know you said there were cash flow problems but you don't have to sell the place. We can make it to the next tourist season."

Nicole wasn't sure exactly why the finances were so bad. The place had always done all right, even if things got a little tight sometimes during the off season. Captain Mick's Dive Center had been operating in Key West for almost thirty years—longer than she had been alive.

"I just don't understand what's happened," she said. "I even worked the last two months without pay to help keep things in the black."

"There have been expenses."

"What expenses?"

Victoria didn't answer, but her mouth tightened. "I let you keep this apartment rent free, so the pay thing mostly evens out."

Like _hell_ it did. "Dad was letting me stay here before he—"

"And since ownership transferred to me _I've_ been letting you stay here. Until now. Now I need you out."

As if to reinforce those words, Nicole's step-siblings, Anthony and Chloe, entered through the door behind her, followed by Dylan Lowery, one of the other dive instructors. The office wasn't that big, so the four of them crowded the area in front of the desk. It was probably the first time any of them but Dylan had ever been inside.

Neither Anthony nor Chloe had ever made any pretense of liking her, and the feeling was mutual. Anthony was a pretty boy who thought he was God's gift to women. He was also a cocky little jerk who took stupid risks on dives. The only reason Nicole's dad hadn't fired him was because he knew it would start World War III with Victoria. Chloe was a younger version of her mother—petite and pretty and so self-absorbed that Nicole doubted she even realized the rest of humanity existed until she needed something. There was certainly no love lost between the three of them.

She couldn't say the same about Dylan. They had worked together for almost three years and had started seeing each other outside of work in the months before her dad died. What was he doing here with them?

Victoria nodded towards her children. "They're here to make sure that you only move out the things that belong to you."

Nicole's face burned with anger and shame as the words sank in. "Are you accusing me of stealing?"

"No, and they'll be here to make sure that there's no reason to do so. This is my business now," she stated with obvious satisfaction, "and I have no intention of letting you plunder it on your way out."

Nicole turned her eyes to Dylan. "What's this all about? Are you going along with this idiocy?"

His bronze face might have belonged to a statue as he stepped nearer to Chloe, who slid a possessive arm around his waist. Chloe's smirk told Nicole everything she needed to know.

She swallowed down the cold lump that threatened to close off her throat and held her head up. Dylan had ambitions of becoming the senior instructor at Mick's, even though Nicole had more dives and certifications. It looked as though he'd found a way to get what he wanted without having to work for it—or at least not working as a dive instructor.

"How long?" Nicole asked him.

Chloe laughed and answered for him. "Long enough."

Nicole glared at her. "You're welcome to him. Once a cheater, always a cheater."

"Maybe you just don't know how to hold onto a man. I guess you take after your mother in that regard."

Nicole's hands bunched into fists as the bolt struck home. Her parents had divorced the year she started high school, and after that Mom had never settled into a real relationship with anyone else.

"At least _my_ mother didn't marry him for his money."

Chloe tossed her head. "Or at least she didn't get any."

Victoria held up a hand. "As much as I'm enjoying this little chit-chat, I have other things to do. Just be out of here by the time we open in the morning."

"Look, I've got nowhere to go on such short notice, and I'm supposed to take that dive tour out on _Mick's Lady_ first thing in the morning. There's no way I can do that if I'm up all night moving out."

"Dylan is taking over the tour," Victoria replied coolly. "I've decided that he's more qualified to head the team."

Fury burned cold in Nicole's bones at that. He was _not_ better qualified.

"The _hell_ he is, and you both know he's not. If you think I'm going to put up with him being put over me when I'm more experienced and better trained—"

"You don't have to," Victoria interrupted in a syrupy sweet tone. "Your services are no longer required at my dive center."

"You're _firing_ me?"

"I prefer to think of it as allowing you to pursue other opportunities."

" _What_ opportunities? It's the off season. No one in Key West is hiring dive staff right now."

"Then perhaps you should consider options in other locations."

_Other locations?_ Leave Key West? It was home, the only home she'd ever known or wanted. No, Victoria wasn't going to force her to leave. She might lose her apartment and her job, but there was no way she was leaving Key West.

She stood up and shoved the keyboard away. "Fine. I'll move out tonight. And tomorrow I'll be seeing a lawyer about having the will contested."

Victoria lifted one shoulder in an unconcerned shrug. "Throw your money away if you like, dear. I don't care. I've already consulted two probate lawyers and they both assured me that the only way you could fight the will was if you could prove that I exercised undue influence. But since Mick passed both his physical and mental checkups less than six months before he died, you'll find that rather difficult."

The witch looked like the cat that ate the cream when she smiled. "Because I'm feeling generous, if you promise to leave without a fuss I'll give you a severance check for five thousand dollars."

As Nicole opened her mouth to tell her stepmother what she could do with her check, the older woman lifted a warning finger. "Remember, I don't have to give you anything. My advice would be to take it and be gracious about it."

Nicole wanted to tell her off. Pride burned in her chest and begged her to scream herself hoarse at these people who were bent on stripping her of her entire life, to tell them all exactly what she thought of them. Five thousand dollars was nothing compared to what the sale of her dad's dive center and _Mick's Lady_ would bring in, and barely covered what she was owed for the last two months.

But the cold, calculating part of her mind noted the pathetically depleted state of her bank account after two months without a paycheck and pointed out that five grand could keep her going—barely— long enough to figure out a game plan and find another job.

"I'll take it," she agreed with a sigh of surrender, "and I'll be out of here by the time the doors open in the morning."

"Good. I knew we could work this out. One last little piece of advice, dear. A girl like you is never going to be able to hold onto the men in her life against women like me and Chloe. You'll want to keep that in mind in the future. It'll save you loads of grief."

Victoria turned without another word and left the wreckage of Nicole's life bobbing in her wake. Chloe and Anthony trailed after her, despite their supposed task to monitor their stepsister's packing. Only Dylan paused for a second in the doorway, his gaze lingering on her with something that might have been curiosity.

"It was the money, wasn't it?" Nicole asked bitterly. "You latched onto me when you thought I'd inherit, but as soon as you found out the terms of the will you cozied up to Chloe."

He didn't even have the grace to look embarrassed. "Don't take it personally, babe. It was just a business deal, that's all."

She thought of all the words he'd spoken, recalled all of the things that they had done together. How she'd given herself to him. Her stomach churned as she looked into that face which only a few hours before she'd found so handsome. Now the sight of him made her want to throw up.

"Get out. Go chase after your meal ticket. But I doubt you get much out of this deal. She and her mother are both sharper than you."

"We'll see. I got what I wanted from you without any trouble."

As he disappeared from Nicole's office and her life, hot tears pricked at her eyes. She blinked them back ruthlessly, determined to keep up the appearance that she was holding it together until she left and could give way to her rage and humiliation in private.

How could she have been so stupid? She had been foolish and naïve because she had never had to deal with people this ruthless and vicious before. From now on she would have to be a lot smarter. She no longer had Dad to come to her rescue if she got into a mess. The only person she could count on now was herself.

Her first resolution as the new and improved Nicole was to stay away from men. Apparently she was a clueless idiot where they were concerned, and she could not afford to get involved with them. They were simply more trouble than they were worth.

* * *

The Winter's Group offices were quiet when Andrew Winter walked in that Wednesday morning. A dozen people were out sick with a stomach bug that had been making the rounds while Dale, the lead firmware developer, was off on a rig with most of the software team. The office felt deserted, his footsteps echoing hollowly as he walked down the hallway towards his office.

Voices carried from the rear lobby, though, and he smiled as he stepped into the bright sunlight which flooded through the windows. The receptionist, Rachel, was peering at her computer while Celeste, Andrew's new sister-in-law, leaned over the desk to point at the screen.

Celeste raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd be coming in late today."

There had been a party the night before at a new art gallery he'd helped to fund. Normally he would have crawled in some time after noon, once he'd gotten rid of whatever girl he'd brought home with him from the party. But last night he just hadn't been feeling it and he'd gone home early—alone. There was no point in admitting that and tarnishing his reputation, though.

"It didn't feel right when I knew Rachel would be here on time as always."

He'd taken her along as his "date," a fiction which allowed her to attend some of the most exclusive events in Houston while he got the benefit of having a woman around whom he could actually talk to, as well as trust to chase off any unwanted female attention.

Rachel gave an unladylike snort. "Funny, that's never stopped you before."

Andrew's concentration faltered as his eyes lingered on the exquisite lines of his receptionist's face. Every now and then the full realization of just how lovely she was caught him by surprise. If he'd had any sense at all he would have taken her back to his place last night and to hell with the consequences. Of course it was good sense that kept him from doing any such thing. It would be stupid to throw away their working relationship for a night of sex.

But what if it wasn't just a night of sex, though? What if it was more? It had worked out for Stephen and Celeste. Why not for him and Rachel?

Andrew gave a mental wince. Thoughts like this had been plaguing him ever since his brother had gotten married to his own personal assistant. Hopefully whatever weirdness their wedding had awakened in his brain would wear off—and _soon_.

"Maybe I'm finally maturing," he told her.

Celeste snickered behind him as he turned towards his office. She didn't believe that any more than he did.

"Andrew."

When he looked back Rachel was holding out an envelope. He took it without bothering to examine it. Probably more junk mail. He'd look at it later, when he'd had a chance to clear his head.

Some of the tension which coiled in his shoulders faded away as he stepped into his office. The room was cool and austere, businesslike with no room for unsettled thoughts. Women were fun and he enjoyed them immensely for recreation, but now he had work to do and needed to focus.

Dale had sent in a batch of reports during the night, and Andrew began pulling them up on his computer. While he waited for the data files to load, his eyes landed on the plain envelope. He opened it absently and pulled out a single piece of crisp, white paper. Before he could glance at it, his twin monitors lit up with a series of brightly colored graphs of Dale's performance analysis. As he scrolled through the first one, his eyes returned to the paper.

Dear Mr. Winter...

The new firmware appeared to be performing much better. There had been some issues with transmission lag in the previous revision, but Dale seemed to have the problem licked. Andrew clicked onto the second report.

_Please accept this as my formal notice of resignation from Winter's Group. My last day will be June 4_ th _, two weeks from today..._

He was certain that they could still wring more performance out of that code. He'd have to lean on Dale to get it done. If they optimized the feedback loop for the drill they could eliminate more jitter in the control function.

It has been a pleasure working with you and your team over the last four years...

There was still some older code in the message parsing subsystem that was undoubtedly adding dozens of milliseconds of overhead every single time it received a message from the sensors. It all added up and slowed things down when they needed to be reacting instantaneously.

Sincerely, Rachel Karr

Andrew froze, and then his eyes went back to the paper in his hand. _Rachel?_ Was this some kind of joke? He started to punch in her extension then thought better of it and got up to open the door instead.

"Rachel?" When she looked up at him he waved the paper. "Care to explain this?"

Celeste hopped up from the edge of Rachel's desk and scooted towards Stephen's office. "And here we go. Good luck, kid," she muttered _sotto voce_.

Rachel's perfect face was set in serious lines as she followed Andrew into his office. As soon as the door closed behind her he held up the letter in his hand.

"What is this?"

She stared at him with a blank look. "My two weeks' notice."

He frowned back. "I know what it is. Why did you give it to me?"

Her nose wrinkled in a puzzled expression that he knew was a total put on. "Should I have given it to Stephen?"

"Enough with the games, Rachel. Why are you giving your notice?"

Tension radiated from her like heat waves over a Texas highway in the summer. Unwilling to meet his gaze, she turned away to look past his shoulder towards the Houston skyline.

"I'm getting married."

_Married?_ The word shrieked through his skull. Rachel _married_?

"Who is he?"

"The Hungarian ambassador. I met him when you took me to that party at the Hebert's about six months ago. He was in town visiting some mutual friends. We started talking, and he asked me out. We've been seeing each other since then."

Andrew stared at her, stunned. He hadn't known. Hadn't had the faintest clue.

"When?" he managed to ask.

"After my two weeks are up I'll be going to Washington. Then I'm going back to Hungary with him the last week in June to meet his family. We'll be getting married there in August."

_Washington_. _Hungary_. He was going to lose her. Not just as his receptionist—she was going away for good.

"Rachel..."

She shook her head, finally turning back to look at him. "I waited for you to grow up, Andrew. For the last four years I sat at that desk outside your office and waited. You're a good man and I knew that someday you'd have to wake up. But I can't wait any longer. I can't take seeing you with all the other women anymore. So I'm marrying Sebastyen."

"But..." he stammered, his brain flailing as it tried to process all of this. "You said you didn't want to date any rich men."

"I only wanted _one_. And I was afraid to date any others for fear that you'd think that I was chasing money."

He wouldn't have believed that, no matter who she had dated. Rachel was pure class and sophistication wrapped in a mouth-watering package. She could have had anyone she wanted without having to chase. If she had been after money, she would have _had_ money. But she'd fended off every advance made by his wealthy friends for the last four years.

"Do you love him?"

"He's a good man, and he loves me." She paused for a moment then added, "Yes. I do."

"Call it off. It isn't too late."

Rachel shook her head sadly. "It's been too late. You don't really mean it now, either. You'd change your mind by tomorrow morning and be looking for a way to escape what your impulses had gotten you into."

He felt as though she'd kicked him in the stomach. How could she say something like that? But was it true? His mind shied away from examining his reaction too closely, which gave him his answer. _Damn_. Slowly he reached out and clasped one of her slender hands between his.

"I'm sorry, Rachel. I wish you well. And I wish things could have been different. You'll never know how much I wish that."

As she looked into his eyes, she sighed. "Grow up, Andrew," she murmured, pulling her hand away. "Don't do it for me—it's too late for that. Do it for yourself. You could be so much more if you'd stop acting like an overgrown frat boy with Derek."

"What am I going to do without you?"

"Trust Celeste. She'll be a great friend and confidante to you if you'll let her."

_Celeste?_ Guilt tickled at his soul. He had treated her pretty badly before Stephen married her, and even though they'd made up and she'd forgiven him he still didn't feel easy in her company.

"She doesn't hold a grudge, Andrew. Just give it a chance. Listen to her. Despite what you seem to think, she really does like you."

"All right." What did he have to lose?

She reached up to kiss him on the cheek. "It will all work out. You'll see. This will be better for both of us."

His heart cried out to pull her against him and crush her mouth beneath his until she gave up on this ridiculous idea of leaving him. Surely he could convince her to stay, to give them a chance? But he only watched as she turned away with that sad smile and vanished through his office door.

And then he was alone. He hadn't felt so alone in years, not since his father had died. He supposed it was something he was just going to have to get used to again.

The next two weeks passed in a blur, and then she was gone.

Andrew went through his days on autopilot, scarcely paying attention to anything around him and spacing off into a gray limbo where he did his best to think about nothing. He couldn't seem to make himself take an interest in anything. When his best friend Derek tried to get him to go out skirt chasing, Andrew put him off with claims of having to work. But the truth was that he was no longer in the mood. Rachel's words had taken hold, and the thrill of the hunt had palled.

He'd _had_ her, if he'd only had the sense to see it. She could have been his, if he'd only had the wit to reach out and take her. She put every other woman around him to shame and he'd been oblivious, let her slip right through his fingers and into another man's arms. What kind of idiot did that?

Day after day went by, each one more dull and unfulfilling than the one before. He was sitting at his desk staring out over the city when Celeste pushed through his door without knocking.

"You can't keep doing this, you know," she said in her matter-of-fact way as she dropped into one of the empty chairs facing his desk.

"Doing what?"

"Beating yourself up over might-have-beens."

He turned to her with a bleak look. "That's easy for you to say. You got the one that you wanted."

Celeste breathed an exasperated sigh. "Andrew," she told him, her voice kind but firm, "neither of you made a move. Not in almost _five years_. That tells me that neither of you wanted it badly enough."

A flush of anger warmed his face. "Just because we weren't like you and Stephen going at it like rabbits on Viagra the very first night you met..."

Instead of getting offended, Celeste just laughed. "That's just it, though. From the first moment we saw each other we felt something. It kept pulling us together, even when we were trying our hardest to fight it. Even if we hadn't slept together that first night, we were both under each others' skins. We couldn't have just ignored it and walked away from each other every day for over four years without a major effort."

She leaned forward in her chair, her eyes locked onto his. "I think that you and Rachel liked each other and had something built up in your heads in a _what if_ kind of way, but you didn't have that spark, that chemistry. If Rachel had felt that for you, she wouldn't have waited around all those years while you hooked up with every woman in Houston. And you wouldn't have let her walk away from you without getting her naked and doing your damnedest to convince her to stay."

"Celeste—"

" _Listen_ to me, Drew. I'm trying to help you. You're beating yourself up for losing something that you never really had in the first place. This is when you need to be thinking about _why_ you're doing that, when you've never done it before."

He blinked at her. She did have a point. Why _now_? "I don't know."

"I think you need to get away for a while. Put some distance between you and what happened here. Get a change of scenery and clear your head."

It sounded like a good idea when she said it. "Maybe you're right."

"Stephen was supposed to go to Key West next week to consult with Durant Exploration on those new test wells they're drilling off the Florida coast. Why don't you go instead?"

"Key West?" he asked dubiously. All he knew about Key West was that it had become a popular spring break destination for the college crowd.

Celeste grinned as she glanced from his perfect hair down to his expensive suit and immaculately buffed shoes. "Key West would be good for you."

"How do you know?"

"I went there one year for spring break instead of going to South Padre. I think spending some time there would do you a world of good."

His instincts urged him to say no, but when he looked into her eyes he could see the compassion and sincerity there. A glimmer of mischief twinkled in their depths as well; she definitely had something up her sleeve. But it wasn't anything detrimental to him. He was sure of that.

"All right," he agreed with a slow nod.

Celeste's grin widened. "Stephen will be glad to hear that."

"Oh?"

"I'm pregnant, so there's no way in hell _I'm_ going to spend the summer in Key West. And Stephen isn't going to want us to be that far apart once he finds out."

She was right about that. His older brother was already quite protective of his still-new wife, and he wasn't going to want to be more than five feet away from Celeste until she delivered his baby.

"Congratulations."

"Thanks. I'm excited and scared to death at the same time. So will you let me take care of the arrangements?"

Andrew rolled his eyes. "Sure, why not? Since I don't have a new assistant yet, you'd get stuck doing it anyway."

"I know you're just going along with this to shut me up, but if you let me do this for you I promise you won't be sorry."

He was tempted to take it back. Somehow he knew that this was going to be a great big heaping mess of trouble. But Rachel had told him to trust Celeste, and Celeste had readily forgiven him even though he'd been a serious asshole to her. He sort of owed it to her.

"All right. I'm putting myself in your hands."

She bounced up and down a little on her chair with excitement. "I swear you won't regret it."

While he couldn't doubt her enthusiasm, he wasn't nearly as certain of her ability to make good on that particular promise.

Two weeks after Rachel's last day Andrew was flying to Key West on the company's private Gulfstream V jet. Lassitude kept him glancing through the windows and lapsing into hazy daydreams, although he knew he needed to be studying the details of the upcoming meeting with the Durant team. Stiffening his spine, he fortified himself with a fresh cup of coffee and forced himself to focus on the latest data analysis from the geologists.

Durant Exploration was a young, upstart company—much like Winter's Group—that focused on adopting new technologies and methods to the oil drilling process. They'd impressed someone with serious resources along the way, because somehow they'd been granted licenses to drill in the waters between the Florida Keys and Cuba. Florida had maintained a moratorium on drilling off their coast for decades to keep their beaches clean and had shown no signs of relaxing that stance until now.

Since Castro's death, though, Cuba had expanded their own drilling efforts. A number of wells were being drilled in the international waters to the north, towards Florida, and Florida's official resistance to drilling had begun to waver. The state had granted Durant Exploration rights to drill a dozen exploratory wells to the southeast of Key West. Other companies had drilled there decades before and come up empty, but Durant's younger generation of geologists had re-analyzed the old data using cutting edge computer technology and managed to convince the politicians and venture capitalists that it was worth another shot.

This was the company that Winter's Group would be partnering with, and Andrew would be meeting them face to face for the first time the following day. It was a good move for Winter's Group, because together the two companies would be a real force to be reckoned with in the oil drilling business. Assuming they could make their systems work together and actually find some oil to repay the investors, of course.

A summer storm had been battering Houston when he left, but Key West was the portrait of a tropical paradise as the jet's wheels touched down at the airport. The air itself seemed drenched in brilliant golden-yellow sunlight, and past the edge of the landing field palm fronds waved lazily in a soft, sultry breeze as though bidding him welcome.

The massive doors to the private hangar stood open, allowing the outside air to wash over Andrew as he stepped out of the plane. He paused on the stairs with a small laugh. The people he'd talked to had complained about how brutal Key West could be in the summer with its overpowering heat and humidity. Apparently they'd never spent a summer in Houston, because Key West felt positively idyllic in comparison. For the first time in weeks a little of the weight lifted from his shoulders as an odd feeling of optimism took hold of him. Maybe Celeste had been right and this was what he needed.

Outside the hangar a rented Mercedes SL550 waited for him, its metallic red paint gleaming wickedly in the sunlight. It practically begged him to take it out onto the highway and do reckless, exciting things under the blazing Florida sun. He fished a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket as one of the crew stowed his bags in the car's trunk. Too bad he wasn't here for fun. The ocean air was invigorating, flooding his veins with a nervous energy of anticipation and excitement that he hadn't felt in far too long. It made him feel gloriously alive and he longed to sample everything the island had to offer like a tropical buffet. So what if he wasn't here to have a good time? There was no way he could go home without exploring a bit and checking out the fabled night life.

By the time he pulled out of Key West International Airport and headed into Old Town and the address Celeste had programmed into his phone's GPS, Andrew had lost any last qualms about trusting his sister-in-law's judgment. At first he'd questioned her sanity when she'd found him a place in Old Town rather than getting him a suite at one of the luxury resorts on Sunset Key, but he had to admit that this section of town had serious old school charm going for it.

He drove through quiet neighborhoods full of the historic, hundred year old homes that Key West was known for. Tall, spreading trees even older than the houses offered their shade as a refuge from the tropical sun. As he penetrated further into the heart of Old Town the streets narrowed into a claustrophobic maze. They had been designed for horse carriages, not cars, and on a tiny island crammed with people and houses there just wasn't any way to broaden them. The cramped confines didn't stop people from parking on the streets, though, which made driving along them more like navigating an obstacle course. This wasn't helped by the swarms of pedestrians and cyclists on scooters and bicycles which almost made this feel more like one of the teeming cities he had visited in Asia rather than a small town in the United States.

Andrew shook his head as he passed two people riding their bicycles down the cracked sidewalk. The bikes weren't racing jobs like the ones he typically saw on Texas roads. These were antique-looking beach cruisers that his parents might have ridden in their youth, battered and rusted from heavy use and constant exposure to the salt air. It felt almost as though he had gone back in time.

A flash of color in the corner of his eye was all the warning he got. With a curse he slammed on his brakes as two very sunburned young men wearing nothing but surf shorts zipped around his car on a pair of scooters to cut him off. Once they were past him they zoomed ahead, weaving dangerously through the slower traffic. Andrew muttered another curse as he followed in their wake. The idiots were going to get themselves killed.

The pedestrians weren't much better, rubbernecking as they walked along and crossing the crowded streets with hardly a glance to spare for oncoming traffic. Andrew slowed down until he was crawling along at well under the speed limit and began to wonder if he was ever going to make it through to the house where he was staying. He was too busy watching out for the pedestrians and cyclists to do more than glance at his phone, so he was startled when the maps app announced, _"You have arrived at your destination."_

The first thing he saw was the gleaming white picket fence. Behind it a sprawling, two story Queen Anne mansion crouched half-hidden behind a wild jumble of palms and strange trees covered in brilliant red-orange flowers. It hardly looked real, more like an exotic movie set or something. A narrow gravel drive curved around the side of the house and he followed it to a small parking lot shaded by another pair of those flowery trees, where he pulled in next to a battered Buick which the tropical sun had bleached from bronze to pale tan. When he got out he could see that the back seat of the Buick was stuffed with boxes and odds and ends.

With a mental shrug he turned away to retrieve his bags from the trunk. A path led through the trees to the front of the house, which had a long front porch with several wicker chairs and lazily turning ceiling fans. It wasn't hard to envision sitting out there on a lazy afternoon like this to just watch the world go by.

The doorbell gave a pleasant, deep chime when he pushed the button. From inside he heard noises and the clatter of footsteps on a hardwood floor. A harried looking woman with her hair up in a bun opened the door and eyed him warily. Strands of gray shot through her tightly bound blonde hair, and the age lines creasing her face made her appear older than he had expected.

"Mrs. Pratchett?"

She relaxed as she saw his luggage. "Yes. You must be Mr. Winter. Please come in."

He followed her into the foyer, setting his bags down by the staircase so he could offer his hand. "Celeste told me that you were the live-in housekeeper. I'm pleased to meet you."

Her mouth tightened. "That won't last long."

"I'm sorry," he said, confused by her reaction. "Is something wrong?"

"My mother had a stroke this morning. It affected her vision and her ability to get around on her own, so I'm going to have to move in to take care of her."

"I'm sorry to hear that, and I hope she improves. And while I appreciate having a live-in housekeeper, it isn't necessary. I'm sure that we can work something out where you can come by whenever you're able to leave her to handle things around here. How far away does your mother live?"

The older woman crossed her arms with an amused look. "Pensacola."

As far away as you could get from Key West and still be in Florida. "Oh."

"I am sorry, Mr. Winter. I was only waiting for you to arrive so I could hand over the keys. I had tried calling earlier to give some warning, but there was no answer."

"You called our office?"

"Yes. I was trying to get hold of that nice Celeste who set this up in the first place."

"And you won't be coming back."

She shrugged. "I was ready to leave Key West anyway. It's too hot and too crowded, and everyone is always minding everyone else's business. I'm getting too old to want to walk or ride a bicycle everywhere, and things are getting more expensive every day. Besides, I'd like to live someplace _normal_ again."

She held out a ring of keys and dropped them into his hand, then pulled a piece of paper from her purse and shoved it at him.

"These are the emergency contact numbers. The owner, in case the place burns down—which it might, what with all the old wiring. There's the handyman we use for plumbing and electrical problems—he also deals with things like broken locks and such. Lawn services. Cable and internet provider. The owner pays those, of course, but if there's a problem with the service you can call them."

Ten minutes later she walked out the back door and left Andrew alone. She had given him a quick tour of the house and an even quicker rundown of the local amenities like the grocery store and reliable restaurants nearby. Andrew went to the foyer to retrieve his bags and dumped them in his room. He was going to have to call Celeste and have her hook him up with a new housekeeper through a temp agency or something.

Other than the whisper of the air conditioning and the soft ticking of the clock on the foyer mantel the house was silent as Andrew wandered through to examine the rooms more carefully. Despite Mrs. Pratchett's comments about the wiring, it was obvious that the place had recently been restored. The hardwood floors gleamed with a silken sheen, and there wasn't a trace of mold or mildew damage anywhere. Still, it was so large that being alone there left him feeling like the last M&M in the candy jar. He was going to miss having the older woman there to bustle about and at least make a little noise.

So now what? The first order of business was to call Celeste. He let the phone ring half a dozen times and was about to hang up when a croaking voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Celeste? Are you okay?"

"Yes. I made the mistake of going out to brunch with your sister, and I've been trying to throw up my toenails."

"Thank you so much for that charming visual."

"Sorry. This morning sickness thing is getting really old fast. So you made it in all right? What do you think of the house?"

"The house is gorgeous. There's just one little problem. I'm short a housekeeper."

"What?"

He quickly gave her a rundown of Mrs. Pratchett's abandonment of her post, and when he was finished Celeste heaved a sigh.

"I'm sorry, Drew. I'll see about getting you someone else ASAP."

With a shrug that she couldn't see, he turned to look out the windows of the den onto the pool and rear garden. "No rush. I'm a big boy and can survive on my own for a while. There's food in the pantry and I'll just fend for myself. Honestly, I don't mind the alone time." It was sort of true. Barely.

"Well, I'll get you someone who can come in and tidy up and do your laundry, at least."

"When you're feeling up to it."

"I'll be fine in a few minutes. It wears off and then I'm right as rain again. Well, until the next day, anyway. Oh! Jason Durant called while you were on the plane. He wanted you to call his cell as soon as you made it in."

"Okay. I'd better do that now. Take care of yourself."

"You, too. Relax. Take some time for yourself while you're there."

"I promise I'll try. Bye."

As soon as she hung up he pulled up Jason Durant's number. This time the receiver picked up right away.

"This is Jason."

"It's Andrew Winter. Celeste said that you were trying to reach me."

"Yeah. I'm afraid I've got some bad news."

And wasn't that just what he needed? "What kind of bad news?"

"There's been a lot of opposition to the drilling, and now there's been a challenge filed against our state licenses to drill. They found a judge who granted them an injunction to halt any operations until it can go to court."

"Can they do that?"

"It's done. We've already put our lawyers on it, but the opposition is going to drag it out as long as they can. We're looking at several weeks, at least. I'm going to postpone the meeting until we have a better idea of where we stand, but if they delay matters too long we're going to have to abandon the project and take on other clients to pay the bills."

"I see."

Jason's voice was heavy with regret. "I'm sorry we dragged you out here for nothing. I thought that once we had those licenses in hand we were golden."

"Hey, it happens. The environmental issues are just part of the game."

"Thanks. We'll reimburse you for the flight and any other expenses, of course."

"Don't be ridiculous. It wasn't your fault, and it gave me an excuse to get out of Houston for a while. Just let me know if there's anything we can do to help you get this straightened out. We'd be happy to lend some of our legal staff to assist."

"Our guys are pretty good, but I'll ask them if they could use the help."

"All right. Call me when you've got news."

Andrew plopped onto the sofa and stared at his phone. What to do now? There was no real point in sticking around since it would take weeks for the matter to go through the courts. Until then their hands were tied, so he should probably just go home to Houston.

But he didn't really want to go back, at least not yet. If he went home he'd spend all his time thinking about Rachel, who was in Washington now and would be leaving for Hungary soon. He'd have to walk past her empty desk every day and be reminded of what he'd let slip through his fingers. Even worse, he'd have to start interviewing to find her replacement and he wasn't ready to face that.

Damn it. It wasn't as though he'd been in love with her or anything, but he'd grown more attached to her than he'd realized, much less wanted to admit. Rachel had been the sole normal relationship he had with a woman he wasn't related to, and he'd come to rely on that stability to cover for his endless one night stands.

No, he wasn't going back to Houston. There was no reason to. Winter's Group could easily do without him for a while, so he would take a break. Go on vacation. He'd been working ridiculous hours for years helping Stephen build the company up from practically nothing, and while he'd played hard he hadn't been on a real vacation since college.

Hell, if he wanted to he could afford to go on a permanent vacation. He had more than enough money to live like a king without ever working another day for the rest of his life. Andrew wasn't sure exactly what it was that he wanted, but ever since Rachel had handed in her notice his life had felt like a suit of clothes that had shrunk in the wash and didn't fit right anymore.

So he'd change his life to fit him again. Somehow. For now he was going to relax and let go for a while, see if he could find himself and figure out a future that made sense. He needed to get his head straightened out before he went home, and so he called Celeste back.

When she answered she was clearly annoyed. "I haven't had a chance to find anyone yet, Drew. Give me a little time."

He related what Jason Durant had told him.

"So you're coming back? I'll get the plane turned around."

He smiled at the disappointment in her voice. "No, I'm staying here for a while. I'll take a few days off in the tropics and see what Key West is all about."

"Really?" she squealed. "That's great! Don't worry about anything here—it's all under control. If anything comes up, Stephen will call you. Just take some time and enjoy yourself."

"That I can do."

"And I'll get you a new housekeeper as soon as I can."

"Whenever. It might be nice not having anyone underfoot for a while."

"Some time alone might be good for you," she agreed. "Oh! Stephen wanted me to tell you that the Eatons are going to be in the Keys this weekend. They're down there on their yacht and will be stopping over for a few days."

Jack Eaton was an old friend of Andrew's father, and had been Uncle Jack for as long as he could remember. He'd also been one of the first investors in Winter's Group.

"It'll be good to see them. I'll take them out to dinner or something while they're here."

"Okay. I'll let Stephen know that you're staying in Key West until..."

Until he grew up? "Until I've got a reason to come home," he finished for her. But he wasn't looking forward to that, and he'd prolong the inevitable as long as he could.

When he got off the phone he was completely at loose ends for the first time in years. So now what? While he pondered that question, he wandered around the house and grounds. Unlike most of the homes in Key West which had little more than a thin strip of land around them, the mansion sat on half an acre and possessed a pool, an enormous backyard with lush gardens, and a detached housekeeper's cottage.

The mansion itself had seven bedrooms and bathrooms, a bar, and a kitchen that was the equal of the one in Stephen's mansion back in Houston. There was also a library full of books and nostalgic items related to the history of Key West. Some of it looked fascinating and he intended to spend some time studying it, but later.

His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since breakfast in Houston. Screw it, then. He'd go get something to eat and have a couple of drinks, and then decide what he wanted to do when he was more relaxed. _One thing at a time_ , his Dad had always told him. Pick one problem that you know you can fix, and when you've got it knocked out move on to the next one. It sure beat sitting around trying to figure out how to solve all of them at once and never accomplishing anything.

* * *

June was part of the off-season for tourists in Key West, but as Nicole headed to work she found the streets jammed with an unusual number of them for that time of year. Most likely a cruise ship had come in for a quick stopover. Whatever the cause, pedestrians crowded the sidewalks while streams of bicycles and scooters held up the cars that some people stubbornly insisted on driving through the worst traffic snarls on the island.

Nicole babied her scooter through the chaos, taking extra care even though she frowned at the thought of being late for work. Normally that wasn't such a big deal on Key West, which ran on its own "island time" and didn't worry too much about little things like that. Her new boss wasn't a native Conch, though, and tended to look down on what he considered the slacker lifestyle of the Keys. Not that she was habitually late or anything. She'd learned early on that tourists paying for dive tours tipped better if you were punctual.

No, his attitude towards her had more to do with her brushing off the pass he'd made at her a week ago. While he looked down his nose at the free-wheeling lifestyle of Key West, he apparently had no problem with the idea of sleeping with his own employees. She found that stupid as well as hypocritical, especially since her experience with Dylan had left her assured of the wisdom of not dipping your pen in the company ink.

She groaned when she turned onto Duval Street and saw the nightmare snarl of traffic. Briefly she considered cutting back onto one of the side streets, but she wasn't sure if they would be much better. Avoiding traffic jams on an island as small as Key West could be tricky at best, and it was easy to end up stuck behind an even worse bottleneck on a back road. Better to just ride it out and hope she still made it on time. The light ahead was about to change and she sped up a little to make it through. That was when it happened.

A knot of people, among them an older couple on bicycles, stood at the cross street to her right where they were waiting for the light to change. Behind them two drunken tourists on scooters were racing up the sidewalk, where they had no business being at all. One of them slewed his scooter to a stop as he saw the group up ahead, but the other zoomed on, oblivious on his phone, until he plowed into the back of them.

Screams pierced through the traffic noise as the scooter rammed into one of the bicycles and the elderly woman watched her companion tumble backwards onto the pavement. The scooter and its rider flipped up and over to skid into the intersection right in front of Nicole.

On instinct she hit her brakes and twisted to the left so she wouldn't run over him and hurt him worse than he must already be—and probably cause her to crash as well. The scooter slowed quickly, but not fast enough to avoid ramming into the side of the shiny, red car that had been coming through the intersection from the opposite direction. Her teeth clacked together as she came to a very sudden stop, and the driver braked hard and cut his wheel sharply away from her. Nicole found herself looking right at him as they both came to a stop.

If her heart hadn't already been pounding, the man staring back at her would have started it hammering. She had sworn off men after Dylan, but this guy was almost enough to make her reconsider—sexy as sin without being too pretty, with glossy black hair ruffled from driving around in the afternoon breeze with his windows rolled down. Nervously she glanced down towards his full, kissable lips and hoped she hadn't been drooling over him too badly.

It was too late, though. He had caught her staring, and his face broke into a slow, playful smile that laughed at her. _I know what you're thinking_. When he reached up and pulled off his sunglasses, his cool, blued-steel eyes seemed to pierce through her to read her very soul. Her mouth went desert dry as she met his gaze, mainly because of the tingly flutter he had awakened in her tummy. Oh, this guy was _trouble_ with a capital T.

"Are you okay, Miss?"

It was really hard to talk with a mouth full of cotton. "I'm fine," she muttered.

Afraid of her reaction if she looked into his eyes any longer, she cast a glance over her shoulder. A crowd had gathered around the drunken tourist, who lay crumpled in the street where he had come to rest underneath his scooter. It was pretty obvious he was going to need a hospital, and a siren wailed in the distance. She would have to find an alternate route to get to work because this intersection was going to be shut down until an ambulance got there.

The car door opened and Nicole turned back as the driver got out. She looked up—and up—at him. Well over six feet tall, he wore an elegantly tailored charcoal gray suit that screamed money and neatly fit his broad shoulders and rangy frame. That flutter stirred low in her stomach again. He was even hotter out of his red sports car than he was in it, especially when he shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it onto the passenger seat. His shoulders looked ready to burst the seams of his fitted blue shirt, and he carefully rolled up the sleeves to reveal muscular, tanned forearms.

He closed the car door and bent down to inspect the front fender where Nicole had hit him. The paint there was gouged along a shallow dent the size of her palm, and she groaned inwardly. The car looked brand new, too. When she caught sight of the emblem on the hood, a sick feeling replaced the flutter in her stomach. Wouldn't it just _have_ to be a Mercedes?

"Is your scooter all right?"

Her scooter? It took her a second to wrap her mind around what he was asking. The front fender had been twisted to one side so that it was digging deep into the tire, which would no longer turn. _Lovely_. She was never going to make it to work on time now.

"Damn it."

The driver of the Mercedes was watching her speculatively, and Nicole realized that he was really _looking_ at her, the way a man who is interested looks at a woman. She couldn't help the frisson of pleasure that rippled through her, although she did her best to make sure it didn't show.

"Do you mind?" he asked, pointing to her scooter.

She shook her head and watched as he knelt down and gripped the scooter's fender. The muscles in his arms and shoulders bunched under his shirt as he strained against the metal until it slowly bent back more or less where it was supposed to be. He looked at it from a couple of different angles, bent it a little further away from the tire, then gave a satisfied nod.

"That will get you where you're going," he said with a satisfied smile. "Doesn't look like it cut into the tire or anything."

He really needed to stop smiling at her. It was affecting her ability to make coherent sentences and making her forget important things like the need to get to work, not to mention that pesky little swearing off men thing.

"Thank you."

"No problem." He stood up, reminding her again how tall he was. "Now if you'll just trade insurance information with me real quick, you can get back on your way." His smile turned into a teasing, bad boy grin. "Unless I can talk you into staying here to keep me company until this traffic jam gets unstuck."

Nicole barely heard that last part, though. _Insurance_. Oh, no. She hadn't even thought about that.

The driver of the red Mercedes caught the look on her face, and his grin faded. "You _do_ have insurance?"

"Yes, of course I do," she replied, pulling the folded paper from the pocket on the side of her purse. "I just can't afford to have my rate go up."

"But it wasn't your fault," he said with a puzzled frown.

"That doesn't always matter, and rates here are already high. You can see why." Nicole bit her lip while her mind considered the possibilities. She still had a small chunk of the five thousand dollars that Victoria had given her. "If I pay for the repair, would you not report it to the insurance company?"

There was nothing playful or sexual in the way his eyes analyzed her. It felt as though he was picking every fiber of her being apart to decide if he could trust her. Quickly she fished an old business card out of her purse and thrust it towards him.

"I don't work there anymore, but that's my name and cell number. When you get a quote on the repair, call me and I'll take care of it."

He took the card from her, examined it briefly, then slid it into his shirt pocket. "Don't worry about it. You weren't at fault, and there's no reason you should be punished for that guy's idiocy. I'll just say that it got dinged when I parked it on the street. No one here will have any trouble believing that, and the rental company can bill me for it."

That was nice, but not really fair. "But it wasn't your fault, either."

"But I'm not nearly as worried about my insurance rate going up." He said it kindly, with a quirky little smile that took any possible sting out of it.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. I'll take care of it."

Her lips twitched towards a smile. "That's awfully nice of you."

"What can I say? You caught me on an off day. I'm sure I'll be back to my usual disagreeable self tomorrow."

His grin had returned, every bit as devastating as before. Nicole's mouth began moving before she could stop it.

"I work down the street," she told him, gesturing towards the far end of east Duval. "It's a bar called The Spirit House. You can't miss it—it's a three story Victorian that looks like every ghost on the island hangs out there. Anyway, come by later and I'll buy you a drink."

"I may just take you up on that."

"Speaking of work, I need to go or I'm going to get fired before I have a chance to follow through."

He nodded as he opened his car door and slid back into the driver's seat. "Drive carefully, Nicole. These streets are dangerous."

The way he said her name had her heart thrumming again as she jockeyed around the cars and drove away. She found herself agreeing with him about the streets being dangerous, but it wasn't drunken tourists on scooters that were the greatest hazard. That distinction belonged to a certain gorgeous, gray-eyed man driving a red sports car.

It wasn't until she parked her scooter behind the bar that she realized he'd never told her his name.

She ran up the broad steps to the second floor and darted through the bar to the Employees Only area to change her clothes. Her boss, Gary, glowered at her from beneath the hood of his voluminous black cloak as she came through the door.

"You're late!"

"There was a wreck on Duval. Some tourist tried to kill himself on a scooter and did his best to take me out with him. It had traffic backed up halfway across the island."

He pretended not to hear her. "You should have left earlier. Just because this is Key West doesn't give everyone the right to slack off and show up late for work every day."

Behind him, one of the waitresses held up her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart and shook her head sadly. Nicole snorted and choked on a laugh, which just made Gary angrier.

"So this is funny?"

"No. And you know damned good and well that this is only the second time I've ever been late. Now, can I go change so I can take over for Peter at the bar?"

Gary grumbled and waved a hand towards the restroom. As a bartender the pay wasn't great, but the tips were decent. They got even better if you dressed the part of a sexy witch for the tourists. Still, Nicole hoped for a quiet night. The Spirit House was far enough down Duval Street that they usually missed the worst of the drunken tourists. Of course the locals drank their fair share—Key West was sometimes called a drinking town with a small fishing problem—but they didn't act as foolishly as the tourists, who seemed to think that as soon as they set foot on the island they could get away with anything.

Swiftly Nicole changed into a black cocktail dress that she had altered into a passable witch costume with a jagged skirt and sleeves, and beneath that she slid on a pair of sheer, black leggings. Standing before the mirror, she released the clip from her hair and let it tumble free. Once she had her long, brown hair tucked behind her ears and reasonably straight, she applied some dark lipstick and eye shadow, then to complete the look she pulled a pointy witch's hat down from its peg by the door.

Nicole was satisfied until she remembered the handsome, gray-eyed stranger. She didn't make dogs howl when she walked by, but she didn't have the kind of looks that would attract a guy like that. Whenever he walked into a room every woman in the place would be all over him—and he knew it. He could pick and choose as he liked from among women far more beautiful than Nicole.

With a wistful smile she adjusted the hat to a more rakish pose. While it would be nice if he showed up to claim that drink, it was never going to happen. He had probably forgotten all about her already, which was just as well. Hadn't she learned her lesson from Dylan? Still, she wouldn't have minded just seeing what Tall, Dark, and Handsome would do if he showed up.

Loud banging on the restroom door jerked her out of her thoughts. "Nicole! Hurry the hell up!"

So much for fantasy. Now it was time for the reality of her nightly grind of mixing drinks and fending off passes by sloppy drunk patrons. She'd just have to keep her fingers crossed that a job opened up at one of the dive shops soon.

Nicole almost didn't recognize him when he came through the door an hour later. He'd shed his suit for a pair of jeans and a blue linen shirt with the collar button loose and sleeves rolled up, and she could practically hear eyeballs clicking in the female patrons' heads as their gazes tracked him to the bar. It was her eye that he caught, though, and when he saw that he had her attention his face lit up in a bad boy grin that sent butterflies swirling through her stomach.

Even though she knew it was a horrible idea, she couldn't help feeling a tingle of excitement. He _couldn't_ be interested in her. Could he? With all the girls in Key West to choose from, why would he be interested in her? But he was in her bar when he could have gone anywhere on the island. That had to mean something. Didn't it?

Instead of going up to the bar, though, he slid into a booth and opened a menu. One of the waitresses hadn't shown up for her shift and the other was busy with a group of tourists, so Nicole walked over to his booth and leaned her hip against the table.

"I didn't think you'd come," she said.

His gray eyes roamed appreciatively over her witch's costume. "If I'd known you were going to be wearing that I would have been here an hour ago."

A light flush crept into her cheeks. "What can I get you?"

He added a little more heat to his grin. "That all depends on whether I'm stuck just ordering from the menu."

"I'm afraid so."

"Too bad. At any rate, I'm starving. How about an order of the fried mushrooms to start, and a beer? Then I'd like the grilled shrimp platter for the main course."

"What kind of beer?"

"Surprise me."

She returned a couple of minutes later with a tall glass of amber ale that she knew would complement both the mushrooms and shrimp. As he tasted it, a pleased smile spread across his face. Apparently she had passed the test.

"Good choice."

"It's a local microbrew. You should go by and take the tasting tour while you're in town. The brewery is about a block south."

"How do you know I don't live here?"

"A local would know better than to drive a brand new Mercedes down Duval Street like that."

"Touché."

He glanced back down at her dress, curious this time, then met her eyes once more. Oh, he had gorgeous eyes. She could have fallen into them all day long. And all night, too.

"Do all the waitresses here wear costumes?"

"I'm actually the bartender. I spent four years getting an English lit degree at University of South Florida, and the most useful skill I learned was bartending my senior year."

He gave a small snort of laughter. "So you've been doing it since?"

"Normally I'm a dive instructor, but I'm between gigs at the moment and this pays the bills." Nicole shrugged it off. Why was she telling him this stuff, anyway?

"I always wanted to learn to dive."

It was her turn to lift an eyebrow. "Really?"

"No. Just since you mentioned it. But I'm starting to feel very strongly about it."

"Are you, now?"

"Yes. I think you've put some kind of spell on me."

Nicole groaned and rolled her eyes. "Like I've never heard _that_ one before."

That didn't even faze him. "Well, I've had a rough day. I had a long flight from Houston, then my housekeeper quit the instant I walked through the door, a business deal fell through, and then I was in a horrible accident that keeps giving me flashbacks."

"Does this kind of thing usually work on the women you meet?"

He glanced around cautiously and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Like you wouldn't believe. It's working on you, too, even if you're not quite ready to admit it yet."

Laughter bubbled up. "You're right. I'm not going to admit it."

"I'll let it slide if you agree to have that drink with me after you get off work."

"I'll be here until four."

His eyes went wide. "This place is open until four in the morning?"

"Welcome to Key West."

"I can see I'm going to have to pace myself."

"Nicole!" the cook called. "Order's up."

When she came back later with his fried mushrooms he held out a hand. "Nicole. I'm Andrew."

"Well, Andrew, I'm flattered, but I'm not available. Luckily for you there are lots of other women in Key West."

"But I'm not remotely interested in any of them."

"How do you know? You just flew in today."

He grinned, pleased. "You _were_ paying attention."

"I'm a bartender, remember? I pretend to listen, fake sympathy, then collect big tips."

"Won't you get in trouble for revealing trade secrets like that?"

"I was absent from bartending school the day they made us swear the oath to secrecy."

"Ah. I imagine you get lots more tips because of the outfit than because of your listening skills, anyway."

"You're right about that. And now I need to go tend to my customers so I can try to earn some more of them."

" _I'm_ a customer," he protested.

"You're _one_ customer. I've got six more sitting at the bar."

"But I'm more important than they are."

"Why?" Nicole asked with a flash of annoyance. "Because you've got more money?"

"No. Because you said you'd buy me a drink."

He was grinning again, knowing he had scored a hit with that one. Why couldn't she learn to keep her big mouth shut? This guy was trouble—he had money, he was hot, and he was well aware of his impact on women. That sexy grin was getting to her, too, damn him. But would Mr. " _Panties Drop When I Enter the Room"_ really hang around until four o'clock for her?

"I said I'd buy you a drink, not that I'd have one with you."

"It was strongly implied. And I can't imagine why you wouldn't want to."

"I've sworn off men."

"So have I. We'll have something to talk about over our beers."

A smile twitched on her lips despite her best efforts. "You're not going to give up, are you?"

"Nope. I've got a reputation for being persistent to uphold."

"We'll see how that works out for you," she threw over her shoulder, but she was still smiling as she returned to the bar.

She had no intention of letting the flirting go anywhere, but the attention was nice—especially coming from a guy as attractive and intriguing as Andrew. It was a balm for her bruised ego and raised her spirits for the first time in days.

The drink orders had piled up at the bar so she spent a few minutes taking care of the customers there, mostly hard-drinking locals who tipped well without feeling that gave them the right to hit on her at every opportunity. When she had a spare moment she glanced over at Andrew, who was enjoying his beer and mushrooms. His cell phone lay on the table before him but he never touched it, his gaze fixed out the window so he could watch the people passing by outside. It wasn't unusual to have businessmen visit the bar, but there was something different about Andrew. He was perfectly relaxed and didn't behave as though he had anything to prove or somewhere else he was in a hurry to be. Even his flirting was laid back, like he would happily have kept up the banter all day and been content whether anything came of it or not.

Nicole kind of hoped that he did stick around for a while. Maybe she had sworn off men, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy his company and find out more about him. Her reverie was interrupted by the cook's thick Louisiana accent.

"That shrimp platter for number six is ready."

She picked up the tray and carried it to Andrew's booth. When he saw her coming he straightened up and slid his phone further to the side.

"Is that as good as it smells?"

"Better," she told him. "Fresh off the boat this morning."

He popped one juicy shrimp into his mouth with an expression of delight. "And there's another good reason to stick around for a while."

The warmth in his eyes left no doubt in her mind what his other reason was, although she couldn't fathom why. She was sorely tempted to give him a chance to explain it to her, but before she could talk herself into it a wave of new customers swamped the bar. The afternoon rush precluded any chance for further conversation with the handsome stranger beyond asking him if he needed a refill on his beer, and then the dinner crowd kept her hopping for another hour. Her tips were piling up, though, so she wasn't about to complain.

To her surprise Andrew was still parked in his booth when things slowed down enough for her to look for him. She had expected him to be long gone, but he was sipping on a fresh beer—when had he gotten that?—and people watching. Why was he still there? Key West was full of bars that catered to the hot party girls she suspected were his usual fare. Why wasn't he out stalking them?

Shaking her head in bemusement, she filled a tray with fresh drink orders for a table of tourists. As she picked it up, two men walked through the front door. Her stomach clenched as she recognized them—Dylan and Anthony. Anthony caught her eyes and gave her an amused smirk while Dylan led the way to an empty booth right behind Andrew's—her section, naturally. Damn them.

This had been planned, and there was no possible reason for it except cruelty. She had nothing left that either of them could want, only a meager handful of possessions that were mostly personal mementos, none of it worth anything or of any significance to anyone but herself. They were just here to yank her chain.

She motioned one of the waitresses over. "Kellianne, can you take that booth with the two new guys? The bigger one is my ex, and I think they're here to cause trouble."

The waitress nodded. "Sure thing, doll."

"Thanks."

Nicole tried to put them from her mind. Two couples sat down in the section she was covering and she hurried to get their drink orders. The extra work was causing her to fall behind, and the last thing she needed was Gary jumping on her about that. While she put in their appetizer order and fixed their drinks, the room began to fill up again. She threaded her way between tables with the drink tray, but it had become too crowded for her to avoid passing by the booth where Dylan and Anthony sat. Head held high, she refused to so much as glance in their direction as she walked by them.

Dylan had other ideas, though. He reached out and pinched her butt—hard. With a squawk of pain and surprise Nicole tripped and spun, dumping her tray full of drinks. Glasses shattered as they hit the floor, and their contents splashed nearby customers who added their outraged voices to the clamor.

Her ex faced her with a mocking smile. "You always were clumsy."

She didn't stop to think, just wanted to wipe that smirk off his face for hurting and humiliating her in public. Her arm swung back like it was on autopilot and then she punched him in the face as hard as she could. The blow landed with a meaty smack, and Dylan reeled back in the booth until he collided with the far wall.

"You son of a bitch! Get out of here and don't ever come back!"

Dylan flailed as his nose gushed blood, knocking over his beer and spilling it all over Anthony. Her stepbrother popped up out of the bar with a curse.

"You stupid cow!"

Fear hammered in Nicole's heart when she saw the rage burning in Anthony's hard eyes. As he made a grab for her, she instinctively took a step backwards, but her foot slipped on the wet floor. She staggered, windmilling her arms to try to stay upright, and waited with a sick feeling for Anthony's hands to grip her.

Just as his fingers brushed her dress, someone snatched him from behind and yanked him away from her. To Nicole's relief Andrew stepped between them and held up his hands, steely gray eyes dark with cold fury.

"Enough," he snapped at Anthony. "Back off, right now."

Dylan slid forward in his seat to come to his friend's aid while Anthony faced off with Andrew. Behind them Nicole grabbed an empty beer stein as a handy weapon and edged around a table abandoned by its occupants.

Anthony glanced her way then glared daggers at her rescuer. "You're about to get caught in the middle of something that's none of your business. If you're smart you'll just walk away now."

Andrew's muscles tightened as he readied himself, but he shrugged off the warning. "You two need to leave— _now_."

An angry voice roared from behind the bar. "What the _hell_ is going on?"

Gary lumbered into view and scowled at the four of them, finally fixing his furious gaze on Nicole. "Oh, it's you. I should have known."

"This was not my fault!"

Anthony spoke without taking his eyes off of Andrew. "Do all of your servers dump their drinks on your customers?"

Gary's stubby forefinger stabbed towards Nicole. "You're fired. Get out of here."

"But..."

"Get out. Now."

Andrew held up a placating hand. "It wasn't her fault. This jerk assaulted her and when she fought back the other one tried to get in on it."

Gary's eyes took in the mess on the floor and Dylan's bloody nose. "All of you need to get the hell out of my bar before I call the cops."

"Gary," Nicole pleaded, "don't do this."

"I'm not going to tell you again. Get your crap and get out of here."

She slammed the stein down on the table and spun away, distraught with anger and despair. Those two had already screwed her over and ruined her life, and now they had cost her even this lousy job just to be jerks. What was she supposed to do now? She stormed off to the bar to retrieve her other clothes and purse, refusing to give in to the tears which threatened to spill at any second. She didn't waste time changing, but threw the witch's hat down onto the bar on her way out.

"Mail my last check to me," she snarled at Gary as she brushed past him.

Dylan and Anthony had already disappeared and there was no sign of Andrew, either. It was just as well—she'd had enough drama and nonsense for one day. It felt as though all eyes in the place were on her as she pushed through the door and stepped out into the steam bath of a summer night in Key West. Pride kept her head up, but her stomach threatened to tie itself into knots. She had to find another job fast, and do so during the worst time of year for it.

When she stepped around the side of the building to where her scooter was parked, she found Andrew lounging against the wall. She wasn't sure whether to run away or give thanks when he offered her a remorseful smile.

"Sorry if I made things worse," he said. "I was afraid he was going to hit you."

Nicole shrugged. "He might have. Thank you for coming to my rescue, although I would have taken care of it myself."

His smile turned into a thousand watt grin that gave her shivers. "I don't doubt it. But it's always nice to have backup handy when you're facing two-to-one odds with guys who're bigger than you."

She found herself grinning back. "Good point."

"So how about that drink?"

The man was temptation incarnate, but didn't she already have enough complications in her life? "I don't think it's a good idea."

"Come on. After what just happened I imagine you could use one. And given your change in employment status, I'll buy."

"Well..."

"And while we drink you can tell me what that was all about, and why a dive instructor is working as a bartender for that jerk of a boss."

"Ex-boss," she muttered, wavering. Why not? It was just a drink, right? And she had nothing else to do except slink back to the ratty apartment she shared with her roommate and then stare at the walls all night while stressing about her finances.

"All right," she agreed. "But since you're new here, you have to let me show you the good drinking holes. Deal?"

"Deal! But I'm driving," he added with a grimace at her scooter. "I am not riding one of those things."

Laughter welled up inside her. If it was a little hysterical, who could blame her? "We'll see about that. For now, though, you can drive."

She climbed into the leathery luxury of his Mercedes and directed him a few blocks back towards the more crowded parts of Duval Street. After a few minutes they found a place to park and hit the street on foot. Nicole watched in amusement as Andrew took it all in—tourists and locals moving along the sidewalks in small groups, many wearing outfits that made her witch costume look positively tame. There were more of those visible than usual since it was the off season and there weren't as many tourists to provide cover.

A hint of jasmine scented the evening breeze, pleasant above the rich smells of food that rose from the restaurants and bars which lined the street. With all its warts this was home—mosquitoes and heat and humidity notwithstanding—and nothing was going to make her leave. Her ex and step-family could do their worst, but they weren't going to drive her away.

"This way," she said, squeezing past a knot of locals to reach the door of a particularly unsavory looking building.

The interior was dated and decorated in a bewildering mishmash of styles, with odd pieces of furniture that didn't match with anything else. Bizarre knick-knacks and pictures covered almost every square inch of the place. Andrew glanced around curiously as she led him to the bar. She knew he was rich and had class. Had he ever been in a place like it before?

"It's over a hundred years old," she explained.

"Very interesting. I can see the appeal."

"I figured I'd start you off with something fairly tame." She laughed as his eyebrows rose. "Well, I was also ready for that drink. It's been kind of a rough day."

Andrew signaled the bartender and they ordered their drinks.

"So what was all that about, anyway?" he asked her.

Shaking her head, she knocked back half of the vodka tonic the bartender placed in front of her. "The guy who pinched me—the one I decked—is my ex. The one with him is, or rather was, my stepbrother. And my former boss constantly hits on his waitresses and doesn't like to take no for an answer.

Andrew shot her a bemused look over his tumbler of Scotch. "I'm guessing that there's a lot more to this story."

She downed the rest of her drink and then motioned to the bartender for a refill. "You've got that right."

"Are you going to tell me the rest of it?"

"Maybe. Once I've had a few more drinks. You up for some walking?"

"Sure."

"When you finish your drink I'm going to introduce you to what we call the Duval Crawl."

From there Nicole took them slowly west down Duval St., stopping at each bar along the way for a drink. At each stop she revealed a little more about the events leading up to the confrontation with her ex and stepbrother earlier that day. By the time they reached Mallory Square both were well-lubricated with alcohol and Nicole had relaxed enough with Andrew to tell him far more than she'd originally intended. Still, the look of sympathy in his eyes surprised her.

"Damn. They really did a number on you," he said, shaking his head.

"Yeah. Dad's business was solid and I had a place to live, so I'd been focusing on paying off my student loans rather than saving much or buying stuff. Now I've got nothing to show for any of it and no job to pay the bills. And living in Key West isn't exactly cheap."

"I'm sorry."

There was no doubt in her mind that he was sincere. Rich playboy or not, he was a decent guy, and she smiled at him.

"I'll be fine. I just have to hang on until things start picking up in December and the dive shops are hiring again. Everyone knew Dad, and my credentials are good enough that I won't have any trouble getting a job."

"I'm sure you're right."

The warmth in his voice startled her. It was deeper and stronger than the obvious interest he'd displayed before, and she wasn't exactly sure what it meant. Flustered, she grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the end of the street.

"Come on. We don't want to miss sunset."

They strolled down to the pier where the street performers and artists put on their shows—jugglers, tightrope walkers, people on tall unicycles which towered above the crowd—while musicians set up their acts around the edges of the crowd. Most of them were not very good, but what they lacked in skill they made up for in enthusiasm. The onlookers didn't seem to mind much.

Nicole dragged Andrew to a small, pink food stand perched at the edge of the pier. "You have got to try these!"

"What?"

"Conch fritters!"

He stared back at her skeptically. "Are you kidding me?"

"Nope!"

She paid for two baskets and shoved one into his hand. Andrew sniffed the contents dubiously.

"Squeeze the lime over them, then dip them in the mustard."

Taking a cautious first bite, Andrew raised his eyebrows in surprise. "That's pretty good."

"Told you so."

As they ate they walked out to the waterfront where they could take in the full panorama of the sunset. A rich palette of purples and oranges and reds smeared the entire western sky, while brilliant gold limned the clouds which hung low on the horizon.

"I've never seen anything like it," Andrew told her as he snapped pictures with his phone. "For Celeste, to prove that I left the house."

The evening settled in around them, and jugglers twirling fire stole the attention of the crowd. Andrew took pictures of them as well, and of the most outrageous other performers. Hard as it was for Nicole to believe, he really seemed to be enjoying himself. He was rich and sophisticated, used to society parties and operas and ballets, but he walked beside her munching on conch fritters while laughing at the haphazard juggling and off-key singing just like everyone else.

Not only that, for all of his flirting and banter he'd been content merely to hang out with her all evening. There was obviously more to him than it seemed. Did she want to find out what? What about swearing off men?

They stayed in the square for another hour to enjoy the show before returning to his car, and he drove her back to The Spirit House where her scooter was still parked. Although she protested, Andrew insisted on walking her to it.

"You don't have to do this."

"Oh, yes I do. I'll see you safely on your way before I leave. My mother would skin me alive if I didn't."

"It's not like she'd ever know."

Andrew shook his head. "That's what you think. She'd find out somehow. It's her superpower."

She had to laugh at that. "Fine. If it will make your mother happy."

As she pulled out her keys, Nicole risked another look at him. God, he was gorgeous, and _so_ not what she'd expected. Maybe it was loneliness, or maybe the lingering effects of the alcohol, but she leaned in close to him and turned her face up to his.

Andrew wasted no time taking advantage of her invitation. She was in his arms and his mouth falling on hers before she could so much as take a breath. Her lips parted for him, and their tongues glided together in a heated, twisting frenzy. In seconds Nicole was lost, reveling in the way he claimed her mouth and the sizzling heat on her skin as his hands roamed along her curves. Passion didn't imply hurry, though. Andrew seemed almost impossibly patient, as though he was content to stand in the parking lot and kiss her all night long. When he did finally let her go, her whole body felt as though it was glowing from the inside out and she sank breathlessly back against her scooter with her head spinning.

Somehow Andrew remained relaxed, watching her reaction with an amused half-smile. While it was too dark for her to really see his eyes, she could feel the weight of them on her. Suddenly she was terrified of what would happen if he kissed her again.

"I'd better go," she said.

"That's probably a good idea. Thank you for showing me around. I had a great time."

The sincerity in his voice surprised her all over again. "So did I. I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay."

"I'm sure I will."

"Goodnight, then."

She started the scooter and gave him a final wave as she rode away. Andrew was still standing there in the shadows watching her when she pulled onto the street. It was almost enough to make her turn around and go back for more.

Her thoughts churned in a hopeless jumble all the way home. It was such a shame meeting a guy like Andrew now—and a tourist, no less. It was the wrong time, the wrong place, and he was _not_ the right guy no matter how much she liked him or how great a kisser he was. Besides, she didn't know anything about him. All evening she'd been the one doing most of the talking. He'd volunteered very little, and he hadn't asked her out again after their kiss. That didn't lead her to believe he was very interested. It was best just to remember the evening as a pleasant time and put Andrew out of her head. She had too many other things to worry about already.

In the part of Old Town where Nicole lived the streets were dark and quiet when she pulled up to the gate in front of her apartment. The blocky, off-white building with peeling paint acted like an anchor on her heart, dragging her mood down from its earlier high back to the murky depths where it had languished since her stepmother had kicked her out. She parked her scooter on the patio and fumbled with her keys in the darkness. The porch light was either off or burned out again, so the red front door looked black and it took her a few seconds to get the key into the lock. Even after it was unlocked the door stuck so that she had to shove hard against it before it finally sprang open.

All the lights inside were off, and Robert, her roommate's boyfriend, was sprawled on their shabby green couch watching TV. His head twisted towards her as the door opened.

"Hey, beautiful."

Nicole shivered as his eyes flickered over her skimpy cocktail dress. The guy was a sleaze, quite a bit older than her roommate, and always coming onto Nicole when Susan wasn't around.

"Hey," she replied halfheartedly. "Is Susan working late?"

"She's on the way back from a dive out on the Marquesas. It's just you and me."

_Great_. "It's been a long day. I'm going to get a shower and head to bed."

Robert leered at her. "Need someone to scrub your back?"

"I think I can manage, thanks."

"Too bad. I do some of my best work in the shower."

"I'm sure Susan is a very lucky woman."

"She's open to sharing, you know."

Her skin crawled at the thought. She might need two showers now. "But I'm not."

"Well, if you ever change your mind..."

"You'll be the first to know."

She fled to her tiny bedroom, which was about the size of a decent broom closet, and dug around until she found a clean pair of pajamas. Dashing to the bathroom, she managed to avoid any further contact with Robert and made sure that the door was locked. Clothes and towels lay scattered on the floor while makeup and toothpaste smeared the counter by the sink. Between all of that and Robert, Nicole wasn't sure she'd ever feel clean again. She turned on the shower and stripped, stepping into the steaming water and letting the pulsating jets soothe away her stress for a few glorious minutes.

It wasn't long before her troubles began to intrude on her thoughts once more, though. What was she going to do? Her life was such a mess. She had imagined doing so much better by now, but here she was penniless and jobless and soon to be homeless if she didn't find a new job in a hurry. But what? Bartending jobs at the decent places were almost impossible to come by if you didn't know someone in management. Otherwise your only chance was to get on in the kitchen or as wait staff and work your way up. She had gotten her job at The Spirit House when an old friend of her dad's had called in a favor with Gary. That wasn't going to happen again, and since most places froze hiring or even scaled back their employees during the off season, she had her work cut out for her.

She would find something, though. She wasn't going to fail, wouldn't give her step-family the satisfaction of breaking her. She'd come back from this and be stronger for it afterwards.

From there her thoughts drifted to Andrew. He was the one bright spot out of the past few weeks, but even that was only a mirage, just her imagination working overtime. Which was too bad, really, because he'd behaved like a gentleman despite the playboy persona he adopted. It might have been interesting to find out who he was behind that mask. A memory of his mouth and hands on her swept away every other thought in her head for a few seconds. Make that _very_ interesting. But it wasn't happening. She'd never hear from him again.

* * *

After his evening with Nicole, the silence of the mansion lay upon Andrew like a smothering blanket. She'd had a truly awful day, yet she'd still managed to fill their time together with laughter and happy chatter as she'd shown him the most interesting spots on Duval Street. Her delight in the performances on Mallory Square had been infectious, even though most of them had been mediocre at best. Perhaps it was _because_ most of them were mediocre, and she had known a good number of them by name.

Key West was kind of a bizarre little place, a flyspeck of an island, but it was definitely interesting. Nicole had told him about so many things to see and do that he hadn't been able to remember more than a fraction of them. If he stayed for weeks he couldn't possibly get to them all, and he couldn't stay that long—not now, at least. Maybe if the Durants got their legal issues straightened out he could come back for a longer visit, but then of course he'd be working crazy hours and spending half his time offshore, so he wouldn't have much free time anyway—not for exploring and not for Nicole.

_Nicole_. She was definitely something, so different from the women he normally went after. Lovely in her own special way, she had nothing in common with the models and socialites who ended up on his arm. She was _real_. And incredibly tempting. Unfortunately she had big problems that she was struggling with and the last thing she needed was him blowing through her life like an Atlantic hurricane. What she needed was a guy who was going to be there for her, someone to provide emotional support as she clawed her way up out of the crumbling ruin of her life. And while he could be selfish and usually had no problem taking what he wanted, there were limits.

Thinking about it irritated him. He stalked into the living room, flung himself down on the sofa, and turned on the television for a distraction. There was nothing that interested him, though, and he was unable to lose himself in any of the shows he flipped through.

He frowned in frustration and turned on his phone to skim through the pictures he'd taken that evening. Celeste would start nagging if she didn't hear from him, so he sent her several of the better ones. Only seconds passed before she was calling.

"Either you swiped those off the internet, or you've actually been having a good time."

"I had a pretty good day," he admitted.

His sister-in-law's voice turned speculative. "And I suppose you found these places on your own?"

"They do sell guide books for tourists, Celeste."

"Uh, huh. If you say so. Call me back when you decide to come clean."

"Speaking of coming clean, any luck on a housekeeper?"

"Not yet. I'll try again tomorrow."

"No rush. I'm managing quite well on my own."

" _You?_ Okay, there's definitely something going on here, and I'm going to find out what it is."

"Good night, Celeste."

"Fine. Be that way."

She ended the call and left him shaking his head with a fond smile. Celeste treated him more like a little brother than Stephen did. He'd have to come up with a way to mess with her head about his trip and keep their little game going. Something would come up that he could use to convince her that he was up to his usual antics. In the meantime he settled into the couch to channel surf and try to keep his mind off of the image of Nicole in that painted-on cocktail dress she'd worn as a witch's costume. Otherwise he was never going to get any sleep.

The next morning he had his coffee out on the back patio where he could admire the lush trees and garden. Colorful birds flitted through the thick foliage, their calls an oddly soothing cacophony. What was he going to do today? He really should go pick up one of those guidebooks he'd teased Celeste about, although he couldn't imagine that being as much fun as last night. His enjoyment had been more due to the company than the places they'd visited.

He ought to have Celeste send the plane back for him and go home to Houston. That idea held no appeal for him, however. He wasn't ready to go home He wanted to explore Key West—he just didn't want to do it alone. Knowing it was probably a mistake, he pulled out his wallet and fished out the business card Nicole had given him after their fender bender the previous afternoon. He stared at it for a while before giving in and dialing the number.

Her voice sounded strained when she answered. "Hello?"

"And how is Key West's loveliest witch this morning?"

"Andrew?"

"Yep. I was wondering if you had plans for the day."

"I'm flattered that you thought of me, but I really have to get busy finding a job before my roommate throws me out and I end up living in a cardboard box."

"About that. I have a proposition for you."

"I'll just bet you do," she said, her sarcasm mingling with laughter.

"Behave yourself. What would you say to being my tour guide for a few days? I'll pay you fifty dollars an hour—I think that's a reasonable replacement rate for your bartending gig—plus I'll cover meals and expenses while we're out. Best of all you don't have to fend off drunk customers hitting on you all night."

The phone went silent for several seconds. "Are you serious?"

"Absolutely. I'm far too lazy to want to figure out all the best places to see for myself. But you're a native, and after last night I'm pretty sure you could take me to see the things I'd like to see rather than what the tourist guides think I should see."

"You'd really pay me fifty bucks an hour for that?"

"Why not?"

"You don't think this is kind of weird?"

He breathed an exaggerated sigh into the phone. "You're making me work way too hard for this, Nicole. I don't usually have to pay women to spend time with me, you know."

"That I can believe. But I don't know you or anything about you. What if you're a serial killer or some kind of creepy perv?"

"You really don't know anything about me?"

"Nope. Sorry. I hope that's not damaging to your ego or anything."

"No, not at all. All right, my name is Andrew Winter. I'm from Texas, I work in the oil industry, and I'm at loose ends right now. I was here for a business deal that has been put on hold, and I'm not anxious to go home right now for personal reasons. What I'd like is to spend a few days here relaxing and taking in some new experiences. I enjoyed your company last night, and since you are also at loose ends I thought you'd make a great partner in crime."

"Personal reasons? Bad breakup or something?"

"Out of everything I said, that's what you latched on to? No, nothing like that. And since you told me your life's story last night I guess I owe you mine—over drinks. Do we have a deal?"

"Fifty bucks an hour?"

"Cash. And if you find another job in the meantime you're free to bail on me, no strings attached."

"I accept."

"Excellent. Give me your address and I'll come by and pick you up."

"How about you give me your address and I'll come to you. Then we can discuss what you're interested in before we start out for the day."

From the tone of her voice it was obvious that she didn't want him to see where she lived. She was either cautious or embarrassed, or perhaps both. There was no reason not to accommodate her, though, so Andrew read off the address of the mansion.

"Wow," she said. "That's a nice neighborhood."

"The company is picking up the tab on the rental since it's a business trip."

"I see. All right, I'll be there in half an hour."

"Perfect. That gives me enough time to finish my coffee and shower. See you soon."

Almost forty minutes passed before the doorbell rang. Andrew found Nicole standing on the porch with her light brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and wearing shorts and a t-shirt that left her long, tanned limbs bare. Without the cocktail dress and all the makeup she looked years younger and far more innocent, a heady combination that had his libido ready to sit up and howl. Big blue eyes peered up at him with unashamed curiosity, and he began to wonder if this had been such a bright idea after all. He was going to have one hell of a time keeping his hands off of her.

"I can't believe you're staying here instead of one of the luxury hotels," she said. "Not that it isn't nice, but I pictured you as more of a room service and Jacuzzi suite kind of guy."

"Come in." He closed the door behind her and ushered her into the kitchen. "It was my sister-in-law's idea to broaden my horizons."

"Smart woman. This place is amazing."

"I have a feeling the two of you would get along like a house on fire. For my own sanity I hope you never end up in the same room together."

Nicole's laughter pealed through the room, clear and unaffected. The wicked sparkle in her eyes tugged at him. What was it about this girl? He noticed a sheaf of colorful papers in her hand.

"What's that?"

"I brought along some brochures for things I thought you might enjoy. Want to look them over?"

"Sure. Let's go out on the patio. I've been watching the birds in the garden. Coffee?"

"Thanks." She studied the spotless kitchen while he poured. "No breakfast?"

"No housekeeper. Remember?"

"We'll make our first stop someplace you can get something to eat, then. Don't want you fainting from hunger while we're out and about."

By the time they finished their coffee Nicole had put together a plan for their day. Andrew handed her a fat, white envelope.

"Here's a day's pay in advance. If we go over that I'll stop by an ATM."

The look of relief on her face would have been comical if it hadn't told him how desperate she really was.

"Thank you," she told him.

"You're already earning it."

"Then let's get a move on so I can make sure you're getting your money's worth."

For breakfast they ended up at a hole in the wall on Mallory Square that dated back to the 1800s. They split a shrimp and bacon omelet while drinking Cuban coffee, which they followed up with mimosas out on the patio. Andrew finished his off with a contented sigh.

"I have to admit, this is a great way to start off the day."

"And now we can walk off breakfast. It isn't too far to the Maritime Museum. You'll love the exhibit on the 1622 treasure fleet."

"Sunken treasure?"

"It's part of they mystique of the Keys."

"I had no idea."

"There are lots of treasure hunters down here. Every once in a while someone stumbles across a piece that that washed up on a beach and people go crazy."

"That I can believe. I've seen the same kind of thing when people see a few drops of oil coming out of a test well."

Nicole breathed a wistful sigh. "It would be so awesome to find something like that. Especially now."

"So are there still treasure ships they haven't found?"

"A few, I think. It's hard to say. There are claims to some of them, but most of the time they turn out to be nothing. Some of the ships are probably buried deep after hurricanes and will never be found."

"There's plenty of treasure above the water, if you know how to look for it."

"That's not nearly as romantic as sunken treasure that's been lost for hundreds of years, though."

His eyes followed her closely as she walked inside the museum. "I don't know about that," he murmured to himself.

For over an hour they wandered through the museum, and Andrew had to agree that the 1622 exhibit was impressive. He tried to imagine a whole ship full of treasures like those on display, and it was easy to see why people would go a little nuts looking for them. But at the end of the day looking for oil was a lot easier and more profitable.

As they left the museum, he asked, "What's next?"

"We need to make a quick store run and then we'll do Fort Zachary Taylor."

"What's so special about it?"

"It was an important outpost during the Civil War. It also has the only decent beach in Key West, and good spots for snorkeling. You're not trained to scuba dive, but I can still show you some cool places. If you're interested I'll hook you up with some diving classes so you can go out later."

He caught the wistful tone in her voice. "You miss it, don't you?"

"Yeah. It's all I ever really wanted to do."

"Didn't you say you got a degree in English literature?"

"That was Dad's idea. He wanted me to have the chance for something else besides being stuck in the Keys my whole life diving and running boats. But I missed it the whole time I was gone and came back as soon as I graduated. I've never regretted it for a minute." Sorrow passed like a cloud over her face. "Not until Dad died, anyway."

"Have you considered leaving after everything that's happened?"

"No. This is home. Even if I did leave, I'd just come back again."

Andrew tried to imagine her in Houston, but couldn't see it. She belonged here—yet another reason to keep his hands off, no matter how badly he wanted to put them all over her. In a few days he'd have to leave and she was already vulnerable. While she was a big girl who could make her own mistakes, that didn't mean he had to willfully contribute to them.

Together they explored the fort and the nature trail, then retrieved the snorkeling gear they'd bought earlier from the back of the Mercedes. Nicole stripped off her shorts and t-shirt, revealing the teal bikini she'd been wearing underneath and revving Andrew's pulse into high gear. Her body was toned from endless hours in the water and tanned from the tropical sun, as sexy as any woman's he'd ever seen in his life. Desire stirred in him so strongly that it took all of his willpower to squash it.

Her saucy smile suggested that she was reading his mind. "Ready?"

"Yeah," he replied, his voice a little husky. If she only knew how ready he was.

"Wait. We need suntan lotion, or we're going to cook out there." She pulled out a white squeeze bottle and slathered lotion on all of her body that she could reach, then handed the bottle to Andrew. "Get my back?"

As he took it from her, his pulse became a slow, heavy beat like a bass drum. He applied a liberal coating to her silken skin, fingers trembling a little as he struggled against his growing need to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless before carrying her back to his place to do one hell of a lot more than that.

"Your turn," she chirped as she swept the bottle from his grasp.

Soft, strong hands glided along his back, leaving shivery trails in their wake. Despite Andrew's best efforts, his body responded to her touch as though he was a teenager again and he bit back a groan. What was she doing to him? He closed his eyes and thought of icebergs and blizzards and glaciers until she was through. When he opened them again, Nicole was staring at him with a quizzical expression.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine. I just thought of something I needed to take care of for work."

It was only a little lie and she seemed contented with it. He was just glad she hadn't noticed his real problem, and he kept a safe distance between them until they slid into the water where he could turn his attention to something else— _anything_ else—before he did something he'd feel guilty about, even if he didn't actually regret it.

They swam out along the breakwater and spent most of the afternoon in the warm, crystal blue water watching brightly colored tropical fish darting among the rock formations in the deeper water offshore from the fort. When Andrew had enough they swam back to the beach and collapsed beneath the shade of the palms and Australian pines. While he was worn out, Nicole looked happier and more relaxed than he'd seen her before. She swept her damp hair over her shoulder and smiled lazily back at him.

"Having fun?"

"Yes," he replied. "That was wonderful. And this is what you do for a living?"

"Sort of. Just in deeper water, and we dive on the reef and wrecks and stuff. It's better."

"I begin to understand why you love it so much."

"It's a lot of work, but I get to be out on the boat all the time, in the sun on the open water, and down deep where it's so quiet and peaceful. There's nothing else like it."

"I can imagine."

"They have showers here. How about we get cleaned up and go visit the lighthouse?"

"You're not exhausted?"

"I'm used to this. But you'll recover in a bit."

"Then lay on, Macduff."

She grinned at him. "I don't know about you, but all the swimming made me hungry. If you like we can go eat after the lighthouse. There's a restaurant in one of the hotels off Mallory Square that has a rooftop bar. It has the best view—both of the sunset and of the rest of the island."

"Works for me."

Anything that let him spend more of his day with her worked for him.

Hemingway House was across the street from the lighthouse, so they visited that while they were there. By the time they sat down at their table in the rooftop bar the sun was sinking below the curve of the ocean, presenting them with another spectacular sunset. Nicole leaned back in her chair and sighed in contentment.

"We timed it just right."

Her hair had dried out and now the evening breeze riffled through it. Andrew was torn between watching the sunset and watching her. It seemed a shame to miss a second of either.

"I can't get over these sunsets," he said, sipping his margarita.

"That's one of my favorite things about living here. I try to go out every evening to watch, because they're always different and I think each one deserves to be seen and remembered."

"I don't blame you. I'd do the same thing."

She smiled again, but this time it seemed distant. Over dinner they fell back on small talk. The light faded and the stars came out, but Nicole dawdled over the meal, apparently in no hurry to leave. Andrew puzzled over that. Did she need the extra money? He already owed her for several more hours than what he'd paid her for that morning. It wasn't as though he begrudged her any of it—quite the opposite. He was simply worried that she was in more desperate straits than he'd thought. While he considered that he ordered another margarita for each of them.

"I could learn to like this whole 'island time' thing."

Nicole laughed, shaking her head. "You'd go crazy in a month without a regular work schedule. I'm surprised you haven't made excuses to go back to your place to catch up on email and messages already."

"I'm not the slightest bit tempted. I'm taking a break from work and have no reason to go back to the house."

"I know exactly how you feel."

Something in her voice tipped him off that there was more to her remark than just the obvious. "Nothing to do at home?" he asked, fishing.

"I'm avoiding my roommates. Susan gets drunk most nights after work, and her boyfriend is always trying to get into my pants."

Andrew sat up, irrationally angry at that. "Have you told her?"

"No. They have a sort of open relationship, and sometimes they bring in a second woman. Susan has already strongly hinted that they'd like for me to join them." A shiver ran through her and she took a long drink of her margarita as though to wash a bad taste from her mouth.

"So I'm guessing you're not thrilled with the idea."

"Ewww! No! Just _no_."

That explained why she was still out with him instead of relaxing at home after a long day. He was perfectly fine with that.

"So what are we going to do tomorrow?"

Nicole perked up with something to distract her. "Oh, tomorrow is Friday! I thought we could see some more of the touristy places, then after dark head over to Stock Island. There's always more going on there on Fridays."

"What's Stock Island?"

"It's _old_ Key West, what it used to be like before Starbucks and CVS. You'll love it. But even if you don't, it's worth experiencing just to say that you did."

"That's kind of cryptic, but I'll take your word for it. You haven't steered me wrong yet."

She grinned at him. "I think you'll have a good time. And if you hate it, we'll leave and find something else to do."

He was pretty sure he could have a good time with Nicole while sitting through the sales pitch for a timeshare. But was that a good thing? Was it smart to spend all this time with her when he was leaving in a few days? Or should he make his apologies and go back to Houston and pick up a model or two to get her out of his head?

But as he watched her profile shadowed against the light, he knew he wasn't going to be smart and he wasn't leaving Key West any time soon.

A while later as they drove home Andrew turned to her. "Where is there an ATM? I owe you for a few more hours."

"We can get it while we're out tomorrow. No big deal."

It really wasn't about the money, then. And from the way Nicole acted he still didn't think she knew who he was. Had she really not stalked him online or anything? She had just taken his word that he worked in oil and let it go at that? Of course he was living in that mansion and driving a Mercedes, which kind of bore out his story. Not that it mattered, at least not in the long run.

While he guided the car through the dark, narrow streets she sat quietly, lost in her own thoughts. Andrew wondered what she was thinking, and smiled to himself. That was the question men had been asking forever, wasn't it? He could ask her, but if she wanted to share she would have done so already. Best to leave her alone. She finally shook it off when the tires crunched on the gravel drive leading behind the house.

"Thank you for another wonderful day," he told her. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather have me drive you home tonight and pick you up tomorrow morning?"

"No, thanks. I'll be fine."

"Good night, then. Drive carefully."

But she didn't go. She stood there by her scooter with her blue eyes shining in the starlight and looking so damned beautiful that he couldn't stop himself. He swept her up in his arms and dove for that luscious mouth. Nicole melted against him with no hesitation, her lips warm and velvety soft, and he slid his tongue between them to taste her. After that there was only sweet liquid heat and her fingers clutching tightly to his shirt as though she never intended to let go. Her head tilted to deepen their kiss while she moaned deep in her throat, and desire for her crashed through him in a boiling tsunami.

Andrew's hands gripped her hips, pulling her body flush against his. He wanted her, wanted to drag her inside to his bed and keep her there for days. But even as desire blossomed between them Nicole pulled gently away, disengaging herself from his lips and his embrace.

"Good night," she murmured, then hurried to her scooter and rode away before he could recover enough to make any response.

He watched until she was gone, then turned slowly and went inside. He couldn't wait to see what happened tomorrow.

* * *

Nicole's entire body tingled from Andrew's kiss the whole way home. So _that_ was Andrew Winters, Ultra-rich Bad Boy. Kiss aside, he was nothing like the man described in the gossip columns. While he was every bit as gorgeous as they'd said, he didn't at all come across as arrogant or an inveterate womanizer. He was confident and a flirt, but he'd never come close to crossing the line with her and she'd enjoyed the last two days with him immensely. And those _kisses_! The man's lips were magic or something. No, she had liked the kisses—and his company—far too much for comfort. It was a good thing he wasn't sticking around Key West much longer.

But even if he did stay for a while, he was _Andrew Winters_ and it wasn't happening. Even if he had kissed her—oh, god, he'd kissed her _twice_ —there was no way she could compare to the women he was used to. On her best day she never looked half as good as the ones she'd seen him with in all those pictures online. She'd certainly never fit in with his lifestyle. Her life was the water and boats and dive bars, not fancy dinner parties and social events with the rich and powerful. But _damn_ the man could kiss. Fresh heat sizzled through her and her stomach fluttered as she remembered the way his lips and tongue had devoured her.

Her apartment was a stark reminder of how very different their lives were, but she didn't want to be Cinderella. Whatever her life was, it was here on the island. His was in the upscale part of Houston. Taking a deep breath Nicole went inside to face her life that had nothing whatsoever to do with magical days spent in the company of sexy billionaires.

The next morning she woke up early and got ready as quietly as she could, escaping the apartment without rousing Susan or Robert. With a sigh of relief she guided her scooter out onto the street and safety. Susan had been plastered when Nicole got home, and Robert had pushed harder than usual to get something started. She'd retreated to her bedroom and spent the night with her earbuds in and her music cranked up to drown out the noises coming from the other room. If she'd had anywhere to escape she would have bailed, but there was nowhere to go and she needed every dime Andrew had given her to pay bills.

She had to get out of this situation before it became completely unsupportable, but until she could find another good job and get herself stable she was stuck there. In the meantime she'd make the most of her time with Andrew and pretend that her life was as amazing as the hours she spent with him.

Her mood lifted when she drove up the gravel drive at his place. She still couldn't believe he was staying there. The mansion was a famous landmark, and her mind balked at even thinking about how much it cost to rent it. She probably could have lived for a year on what he was spending to stay for a couple of weeks. Must be nice. But his money was far less intriguing than his kisses.

As she rang the doorbell Nicole's pulse kicked up, and tiny tremors of excitement in her belly threatened to shred her composure. That composure took another blow when Andrew opened the door. He was wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt that fit him like a second skin, and his dark hair was still sleep-tousled. The man was too sexy to be real, and as amazing as his kisses had been it was scary to think how incredible he'd probably be in bed. Nicole was helpless to prevent her eyes from locking onto his soft, full lips, and she gulped hard at the swirl of butterflies which exploded inside her.

When she finally tore her gaze away and met his eyes, Andrew was watching her with wry amusement as though he knew exactly what she was thinking. Judging by his vast experience with women, he probably did. She blushed, flustered and off balance.

"Morning," he said, a wicked grin lighting up his face. "Sorry, I'm running a little behind. Come in and have some coffee while I get ready."

"Thanks."

She followed him in, admiring the house again but admiring him even more. Andrew did something to her, set her off in ways that Dylan never had. She had to fight an urge to fling herself at him, to wrap her legs around him and let him kiss her senseless then carry her off to his bed and do anything at all that he wanted to her. Her body ached with desire for him, barely under her own control before his overpowering male presence. With a sardonic gleam in his eye, Andrew handed her a steaming cup of coffee which she hid behind until she could gather the tatters of her composure.

"So what do you have planned for us today?"

"I was thinking a leisurely tour of some local sites like the cemetery this morning, and since you enjoyed the snorkeling so much yesterday you might like to take a boat out and try it on the reefs?"

"Sounds good."

"We'll get back in time for dinner, and maybe hit one of the microbreweries. Then at dusk we can take one of the ghost tours. They're kind of cheesy, but part of the whole Key West experience. After that, Stock Island."

He cocked his head and gave her a measuring look. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to move to Houston and take over as my personal assistant?"

That surprised a laugh out of her. "Even if you were serious, I have no interest in moving. Or in working in an office all day. As soon as I can I intend to be diving again."

"Can't blame a guy for trying. Could you teach me to dive?"

"Sorry. It takes a place with the facilities and equipment to do that."

"But could you set it up?"

"Sure. Let me make some calls. I can probably get you in tomorrow."

Andrew shook his head. "I've got some family friends coming in this weekend and I'd like to have them over for dinner tomorrow night. Speaking of which, do you happen to know of a caterer? Preferably one that can work on short notice?"

"As a matter of fact I do. Conch Keys Catering."

"Are they any good?"

"The best in Key West. My mom started the company before she took a chef job in New York."

"Your mom is a chef?"

"She was. She died in a car accident the year before I graduated from college."

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged it off. "I hardly saw or spoke to her after she left Key West when I started high school. Her career was more important to her than her family. She thought we were a mistake. Said if she hadn't met Dad and gotten married she would have had her own restaurant years earlier."

Andrew's eyes widened in shock. "I can't even imagine that."

"It was all a long time ago, and she was an odd person. She always did her own thing in her own way, and to hell with everyone else."

Sensing her discomfort, Andrew changed the subject. "Let me call those caterers and then grab a shower. I won't be long. Make yourself at home."

He was already on his phone before he left the kitchen. Nicole refilled her coffee and went to sit on the patio and collect her thoughts. It was a pity she couldn't teach him how to dive. He'd be a quick study and fun to work with. But she was familiar with all the places that offered diving courses on the island and could get him set up if he stayed another week. As soon as he finished the open water course she could take him out herself. She knew some spots he was sure to love. She just had no idea how long he planned to stay.

This day went even better than the last. She had a clearer idea of what he enjoyed, and both of them were more relaxed around each other. Even though she was really nothing but his hired tour guide, Andrew made sure that she was included in everything that he did and that she was enjoying herself. With very little coaxing he got her talking about her experiences as a diving instructor on the boat ride to the reef and back, and after a couple of drinks over dinner had her telling him about college. As they left the restaurant he managed to draw her out about how her dad and stepmother had hooked up.

Andrew was remarkably easy to talk to, although she developed a habit of losing herself in his blued-steel eyes and quiet laughter if she wasn't careful. She found herself hoping he'd stay longer because she didn't want their days to end, and resenting the arrival of the friends who would be taking him away from her for the weekend. It wasn't rational, since she barely knew him even after spending all those hours together over the last couple of days, but it was how she felt.

The sad truth was that she was being stupid again. From everything she'd read about him online this couldn't be the real Andrew Winters, could it? And hadn't Dylan seemed perfectly charming as well, right up until the mask came off? Still, Andrew definitely wasn't after her for her inheritance!

Nicole smothered a laugh, drawing a curious glance from him. They were in the middle of the ghost tour, their guide a pretty, college age blonde dressed in a witch's costume. The girl couldn't seem to take her eyes off of Andrew. To cover her real thoughts, Nicole leaned close to him.

"Is she bewitching you, too?" she asked in a whisper.

"She's a bit young. I'm not into cradle robbing."

"Poor girl. Just look at her. You're going to break her heart."

"I'm pretty sure she'll get over it."

"I don't know. I can totally see her pining over you and crying to her girlfriends about it."

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "Is this personal experience talking?"

"Oh, there might have been a cute grad student who was a TA in one of my classes, once upon a time."

"I think I want to hear more about this."

"I was young and silly, and totally pathetic. The guy never knew I was alive."

"Sad story. But I'm guessing you got over it and moved on."

She heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Eventually. But it took an awful lot of ice cream and Netflix to get there."

"That's terrible. Now I feel guilty. Maybe I should save the poor girl from that."

Pursing her lips, she punched him lightly in the arm. "Maybe you should stick to playing with girls your own age."

He smirked down at her, his eyes twinkling. "I'm all for that."

Those flutters started in her stomach again. If only he would. But the tour moved on and Andrew's attention returned to the ghosts and specters which haunted the island, rather than the living woman beside him.

Eventually the tour ended and they headed back to his car. They walked close together, enfolded in the balmy evening air and the intoxicating scent of jasmine. It brought back memories of their kisses and she wished he'd kiss her again. As he opened the car door for her she slid inside with a sigh. It wasn't going to happen. Whatever spark he'd felt that had encouraged him to kiss her before had apparently faded.

"Where to next?" he asked her.

"Stock Island. My home away from home."

"I can't wait to see this."

"It'll be an eye opener."

She gave him directions to the Cow Key Channel Bridge and they crossed over into the past. The buildings there were older and shabbier than most of Old Town, and they drove past rusty trailers and dilapidated fishing boats huddled at the marina. Nicole directed Andrew to a weathered clapboard building adjacent to the pier. It was brightly lit while loud music played over speakers hanging in the patio dining area. Inside it was more crowded than anywhere else they'd visited so far, almost all locals rather than tourists, and raucous with conversation and laughter. They found two open spots at the bar and Andrew ordered them each a margarita.

"Well, it definitely has ambiance," he said.

"True. But that's not why we came."

"Then why did we come?"

She turned and pointed to an area next to one wall which contained several long, low tables. "Because in an hour or so they'll start the turtle races."

" _Turtle races?_ "

His startled surprise was just the reaction she'd hoped for, and she grinned. "Yep! Horse racing has nothing on Stock Island turtle racing."

"This I have to see."

The conch fritters they ordered to snack on were even better than the ones they'd eaten at Mallory Square, and by the second margarita Nicole finally got Andrew talking about himself, about his college days and how hard he and Stephen had worked to get Winters Group off the ground after he graduated. She couldn't help but be impressed by the effort they'd poured into it during those first years. If Andrew was a wealthy playboy now, he'd certainly earned the privilege. But somehow he still looked just as at home sucking down margaritas in this run-down restaurant as he did sipping wine in that Old Town mansion, and when the turtle races started he cheered his own favorite on with every bit as much enthusiasm as any Conch in the room.

After an hour of that, both of them had cheered and laughed themselves hoarse. Finally Andrew called it quits.

"I've had all the margaritas I can handle if I'm going to drive us home," he told her, "and we don't have to do everything in one night. Besides, I need to get up early to get things ready for company since I don't have a housekeeper."

Nicole's heart fell in disappointment, but she did her best to hide it from him. She managed to keep up lighthearted chatter on the way back to the mansion, mostly about the results of the races and questionable calls by the judges. All too soon they parked behind the house and Andrew turned off the key.

"That was really something, Nicole. Thanks for taking me."

"Just doing my job."

"You've been doing more than that, and we both know it. Why don't you join us for dinner tomorrow night?"

She quailed at the thought of sitting through a fancy dinner with his sophisticated friends. That was so not her scene. "I don't want to intrude. Just give me a call when you figure out if you're going to stay another week."

"If you're sure..."

The disappointment in his voice twisted her heart, but she didn't belong. Not in that house, not with his friends. She had to remember that she wasn't part of his life, even if they'd had fun for a few days and he was an amazing kisser. Unable to meet his gaze she turned away, afraid he'd see how much she longed for another goodnight kiss.

"Goodnight," she blurted, and fled before she could change her mind.

All the way home she fought with herself over second thoughts, of calling him and telling him that she'd reconsidered and would love to have dinner with him and his friends. That was the only way she'd get to spend any time with him over the weekend, and she missed him already. Which was a huge red flag, wasn't it? Maybe it would be best if she put him off if he decided to stay longer, to tell him she found another job and that he needed to find a new guide and then never see him again before she got herself in over her head.

When she stepped inside her apartment her heart felt full of lead, and things went downhill from there. Robert was lounging in his usual spot on the couch with a half empty bottle of vodka on the battered coffee table before him.

"Hey, sexy,"

"Hey," she muttered.

Bleary eyes regarded her with drunken curiosity. "You okay?"

"Fine. Just tired."

"Why don't you come sit by me and I'll give you a massage?"

"No, thanks. I'm just going to bed."

He smirked at her. "I can give you an even better massage there."

"I'm sure you could, but no."

His smirk broadened into a frog-like grin. "Your mouth says no, but your eyes say yes."

Nicole drew in a deep breath. "Robert, _nothing_ is saying yes. Not now, not ever. You're Susan's boyfriend, and I'm not interested."

He hoisted himself off the couch and leaned in the doorway to her bedroom. "Don't be like that. Susan doesn't have to know. And if she did, so what? She'd just want to join in the fun."

"Not my thing, Robert."

"You never know until you try."

"Not gonna happen."

As she turned to get her pajamas out of her dresser, he came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. His lips nuzzled against her neck, the smell of vodka on his breath strong enough to make her eyes water.

"You don't know what you're missing," he murmured.

"Get off!"

In response he tightened his grip on her. "I'll make you feel so good, baby, take you to places you've never been..."

With an outraged squeal she shoved him back while stomping on his instep as hard as she could. Robert reeled backwards and tripped over the corner of the bed.

"Damn it! That hurt, you crazy bitch!"

"Good! Stay away from me, or I'll do worse."

Before he could regain his feet she dashed around him and out of the apartment. There was no telling what he'd do in this mood, and she didn't trust the flimsy lock on her door. Her chest was heaving with rage and fright as she emerged into the thick night air. Now what? The handful of her friends who still lived in Key West were either at work or living in circumstances no better than her own. She couldn't stay with them, and she didn't have the money to stay in a hotel. And even if she did, then what? Tomorrow would be no better. She was out of options.

Except for one. Hesitantly she pulled up Andrew's number on her phone and dialed, half-hoping he wouldn't answer. She cringed when he did, his voice muddled with sleep.

"Nicole? Is everything all right?"

"I really, really hate to ask you this, but can I crash on your couch tonight?"

"Roommate trouble again?"

"Yeah."

"No problem. You're welcome to stay here. Anything else I can do?"

"Just give me a place to sleep tonight. I'll be out of your hair in the morning and make other arrangements."

She had absolutely no idea what those arrangements could possibly be with living space in Key West so expensive. Something would have to turn up, though.

When she rang Andrew's doorbell Nicole was emotionally and mentally drained. He must have been waiting just inside, because the door opened right away and he motioned her in.

"Are you okay?"

"Just a little shaken up."

Andrew looked her over then wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight, comforting hug. With a little sigh she relaxed against his chest and rested her head against his shoulder. It was comforting, safe, and while she wasn't some pathetic damsel in distress who needed a man to save her, there was no denying that it felt good to be there. The problem was that it felt too good, and she didn't want to get used to it. Reluctantly she drew away.

"Thanks."

"Come on. I'll show you to your bedroom."

"Just the couch is fine," she protested.

"Don't be ridiculous. This place has seven bedrooms. Get a good night's sleep and you can figure things out in the morning."

There was no point in arguing—Andrew obviously wasn't going to budge. "Thanks," she said again.

Within minutes she sank into the cool comfort of smooth sheets, knowing that Andrew was in earshot if she called, and that there was no need at all for once to lock her door. She was completely safe with him. She just wasn't sure she wanted to be.

When she opened her eyes again, bright tropical sunlight was already flooding through the windows. A glance at her phone told her that Andrew had let her sleep in, and apparently she'd needed it. Throwing on her clothes, she hurried downstairs to look for him. She found him in the kitchen intent on his phone, but he looked up and smiled as she came in.

"Morning, sleepyhead."

The coffee smelled heavenly, and she poured herself a cup and sat down across from him. "You shouldn't have let me sleep so late. I know you've got things to do today."

He put down his phone and fixed her with his intense, gray eyes. "I've been thinking. The housekeeper's cottage is empty, and I'm not in any hurry to hire anyone. Why don't you move in there while you're looking for a new place? You'll have your own space and can come and go as you please, and you won't have to worry about your roommates in the meantime."

"I couldn't!"

"Of course you can. It isn't like it puts me to any trouble, and it's already paid for with the house."

"It's too much, Andrew. I appreciate it so much, but..."

Andrew held up a hand to stop her. "We both know you went above and beyond on the tour guide job, and as much time as we've spent talking about our lives I think we qualify as friends. Right? I'm making the offer as a friend. So just say yes and let's get on with our day."

What other choice did she really have? Nicole closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh.

"All right. Thank you. I promise I'll be out as soon as I possibly can."

"Good. Now finish your coffee, and then we'll go get your things."

"You don't have to do that."

He snorted a laugh. "Are you going to lug it all over here on your scooter?"

She hadn't thought of that. It had been Robert who'd helped her move her things to the apartment from the dive shop before. He certainly wasn't going to volunteer to move her out after last night.

"Guess not."

Fortunately neither Robert nor Susan was at the apartment when they got there, and they were able to pack up her things—what little there was—in only a few minutes. Andrew helped her carry everything inside the cottage where they piled it all on the living room floor. She was happy to find that the cottage was cozy and clean, and much less intimidating than the main house.

"I'll leave you to get settled in," Andrew said. "If you need towels or sheets or anything at all, let me know."

"Thank you, Andrew," she replied softly.

His lips turned up in that smile that never failed to make her go all fluttery. "You're welcome. I'll take you out to lunch in a bit. My friends' boat won't get in until late this afternoon."

Then he was gone and she was all alone. With a sigh she examined the pile of her belongings cluttering up the living room. She didn't particularly feel like dealing with it all just now, but at least she could get it out of the middle of the floor. A little at a time she carried it into the bedroom, which was as big as half of the entire apartment she'd been living in.

She was carrying a box of her papers when she lost her grip on it. The box tipped in her arms and before she could recover a couple of folders with her tax records fell out and scattered over the floor. Muttering a curse, she set the box down and bent to gather up the stray papers which had spilled out.

Among them were some glossy color photos of the ocean floor that she didn't recognize and had no business being mixed with her taxes. Curious, she turned them over and found notes on the back in her dad's handwriting. Each was labeled _ND de Deliverance_ with map coordinates jotted below the name. She frowned and bit her lip as she tried to puzzle it out. _ND?_ What was _ND_? Then she rocked back on her heels as it hit her.

_Notre Dame de Deliverance_ had been a Spanish treasure ship that sank in a hurricane in 1756. Supposedly a salvage company from New England had located it, but their discovery had never been confirmed, and the furor over it had died down years ago. She examined the pictures again. The odd lines below the sand could indicate that a ship was buried there. But the _Notre Dame de Deliverance_?

What did it mean? Her dad had never said anything to her about that ship. And why would he have put those pictures in with her papers? Brow furrowed in thought, she slid the photos back into the folders where they disappeared among old 1040s and receipts. It was probably nothing. But what if it wasn't?

To be continued...

Thank you for reading _Winter's Fall_. If you enjoyed it would you please leave a review? Reviews help out a _lot_ to convince other readers that a book is worth reading, so I'd really appreciate it. Also, if you would like to be notified whenever I have a new release or sale, sign up for my newsletter.

Continue reading for a preview of Winter's Bite _._ Stephen and Celeste's story is available in Winter's Heat.

The Winter Billionaires - Andrew

#  Preview: _Winter's Bite_

NICOLE WAS STILL PUZZLING OVER THE PICTURES when she got the rest of her things put away, but her mind kept shying away from the obvious conclusion. It was simply too fantastic. Each time she went to the kitchen she pored over the photos looking for an alternative explanation. Lots of natural underwater formations could fool you into thinking they were something man-made. The more she looked at them, though, the more convinced she became that there was something there.

Still, that did not mean it was the _Notre Dame de Deliverance_. The tropical storms and hurricanes endemic to southern Florida had claimed countless ships over hundreds of years. It could be any of a number of those which had remained undiscovered. But her dad had always been level-headed and practical and not given to self-delusion—except where her stepmother had been concerned, anyway. So far as she knew he had never been bitten by the treasure bug. Would he have assumed that it was the treasure ship without some sort of solid evidence to back it up?

She started her laptop and pulled up a map of the coordinates on the photo, and then frowned as she studied it. There was nothing there. Reefs and other formations were abundant nearby, but the area was conspicuous for their absence. It didn't make sense. Why would he have been diving there in the first place?

A search on the ship itself only confused her more. The galleon had sunk in 1755 during a hurricane, twelve miles off the Marquesas Keys. The crew who escaped had been butchered and eaten by cannibal Indians on Matanca Key. Her eyes widened as she read through the long list of treasures the ship had carried. It wasn't worth millions—it was worth _billions_. A salvage company had claimed to have discovered the wreck fifteen years earlier, but it had never been confirmed and they had never recovered anything from the wreck before giving up. What was even more strange was that the general location where they said they had found it was different than the location on the photos. They couldn't both be right.

But even assuming for a second—not that she believed it!—that Dad had found the true resting place of the lost galleon, why had he put the photos in her files? The time stamp on the pictures showed that they had been taken shortly after beginning his battle with the cancer that had claimed his life. Maybe he hadn't had the opportunity to follow up on his discovery once he got sick?

With a sigh of frustration she shut down her laptop. She could sit and speculate all day long and get no closer to any answers. Most likely the cancer medication had affected his mind and he'd been loopy, like rewriting his will to give Victoria sole ownership of _Mick's Lady_ and the dive shop. The only way she could find out for sure was to go to the coordinates he'd written down and check it out for herself, but even if she believed it she couldn't afford to hire a boat to go out there. Hiring a normal charter would be a bad idea because diving in the middle of nowhere like that would raise questions she didn't want to answer, and someone suspicious enough might go back to the site to check it out for themselves.

There was no one she trusted enough to confide in or to partner with on this, and she had no resources to take it on by herself. Maybe once she got her feet back under her she could do something about it. After all, the wreck had been there for over two hundred fifty years; it wasn't like it was going anywhere.

She pulled her coffeepot out of a box only to realize she didn't have any coffee. Not that she had much of anything else, either. She was going to have to use some of the money she'd earned as Andrew's tour guide to go grocery shopping, although she hated having to spend anything. While he'd been nice enough to give her a place to stay, it was a very short term solution to her problem, and she was going to need every dime she could scrape up to get into something more permanent. The full weight of all the problems facing her came crashing down on her, and she rested her hands on the counter and bent her head in despair. She had to come up with a plan to get herself out of this mess.

Lifting her head, she looked out through the window over the sink. It was too beautiful a day to waste it feeling sorry for herself. The back door of the mansion opened and Andrew emerged to sit on the patio with a cup of coffee. If she was really lucky there might be some left.

He welcomed her with a smile that gave her butterflies. The man could pack more into a simple, open smile than most guys could manage with a whole night of come-ons.

"All moved in?" he asked.

"Yes, thanks. Is there any of that left?"

"Sure. Help yourself."

She went inside, marveling again at the house. The place was simply amazing, and she couldn't even imagine living there. Andrew seemed to take it as a matter of course, though, unfazed by its elegance and luxury. She wondered what his place in Houston was like, and decided it was probably nothing at all like this. Most likely it was a total bachelor pad, all man without any of the homey touches the mansion possessed. She imagined it was designed to his tastes and to discourage any woman he brought home from overstaying her welcome—which probably didn't last much longer than sunrise.

Guilt swept through her at the thought. She had no right to judge him, and he'd been nothing but nice to her. Even though he was clearly interested in her as a woman, he'd behaved like a gentleman and never tried to push her. Most of the men she'd gone out with could have taken lessons.

She rejoined him on the patio and sat down to soak in the last of the morning. The large, tree-strewn yard was a tropical paradise bathed in golden sunshine and teeming with throngs of birds. As she sipped on her coffee the stress and anxiety slowly drained away.

"This is lovely," she said.

Andrew nodded in agreement. "I'm not going to want to go back to an apartment after this."

"Doesn't have quite the same ambiance, huh?"

"Not even close. Oh, you're welcome to use the pool and such while you're here." He pointed to a small building at the side of the house. "There's a hot tub in there."

"I promise to get out of your hair as soon as possible."

"Take your time," he replied with a shrug. "You're welcome to stay as long as I'm here."

She started to thank him again, but his phone rang and he held up a finger.

"Yes? You're kidding me. Well, what do you suggest I do?" He frowned. "That's really helpful. No, I understand. You have a great day, too."

The sarcasm in his voice made her wince.

"Fantastic," he growled as he put the phone back on the table.

"Is something wrong?"

"The catering company backed out on me. Their head chef and several of their staff are out with a stomach bug, so they can't cover all their commitments and they're cancelling jobs."

"Oh, no."

"They suggested a couple of other places, but with it being last minute I doubt that I'd have any luck. I'll just have to take my friends out to dinner instead."

His disappointment gave her an idea on how to repay him for some of his kindness. "Not necessarily. How about if I did the job?"

His gray eyes fixed on her, startled. "You?"

"My mom was a classically trained chef, and I grew up in the kitchen. I think she hoped that I'd follow in her footsteps rather than Dad's."

"You could really do it?"

She bristled a little at his surprise. "I _said_ I could."

Andrew pursed his lips thoughtfully. "What would you make?"

"I can do just about anything you like, but I'd play up the fresh seafood angle. They like seafood?"

He nodded. "Oh, yes. Uncle Jack's favorite hobby is fishing in the Gulf."

"Okay. I have a great shrimp cocktail recipe for a starter. Then how about grilled swordfish with mango salsa? I could add some fresh Appalachicola oysters if you think they'd like those."

Andrew was watching her closely, as though reassessing his opinion of her. "Do you have time to get all of that ready for dinner?"

"Sure. I just need to go to the store and the fish market to get the ingredients."

"Great! Let's go."

That took her by surprise. She hadn't expected him to want to come along. Her reaction must have shown, because he grinned at her.

"It's part of the whole Key West experience. Buying fresh seafood from the local fish market. How could I pass that up?"

Was that really it, or did he just not trust her to do it? His expression softened.

"If you'd rather go alone, it's fine. I just thought it would be more fun going out shopping with you than sitting around here trying to come up with something to do on my own."

"Suit yourself," she replied. "You're the boss."

Secretly she was glad, though. She had been enjoying the time she spent with him, so having him along would be good. Even though it was bad. If she had any sense she'd be distancing herself, not taking opportunities to be around him even more.

"Finish your coffee first," he told her.

"It is good coffee."

Too bad she couldn't afford anything like it. If she did a really good job for him, maybe he'd keep sharing his with her. She watched him from the corner of her eye, trying not to be obvious about it. It felt good to just sit around having coffee on the patio with him. It was the kind of thing she could get used to in a hurry, especially if it was followed by more of those amazing kisses. Why did he have to be Andrew Winter? The man was as hopelessly out of her reach as the mansion he was staying in. He'd never settle for a woman like her, and he certainly wasn't going to move to Key West. Those thoughts brought her earlier anxieties back in a rush, and she drank the rest of her coffee quickly. She needed to get away and clobber her brain back into more reasonable paths.

"I'm going to get a quick shower and then I'll be ready to go," she said.

She didn't let all of her reservations stop her from taking a little extra care putting herself together after her shower. Even though she kicked herself for doing it, when she faced her reflection in the mirror she had to admit that she wanted him to notice her. So he was leaving. Well, would a fling with him before then be such a bad thing? At least it would chase away the memories of sex with Dylan. No doubt Andrew would be a big improvement in that department, too. With a groan she turned away to find some clothes. She had to stop thinking of things like that when she was going to be around him, or she was really going to end up in trouble.

Of course it only took one look at him when they met back on the patio to realize that she was in big trouble anyway. Somehow he managed to look every bit as mouth-watering in a pair of faded khaki shorts and a t-shirt he had when she'd first seen him in that expensive tailored suit. It wasn't fair when she went all-out and still looked like she'd just come in from a dive.

From the gleam of interest in his eyes, though, it appeared that he either liked that look or she was being too hard on herself. Those stupid butterflies stirred restlessly again, just waiting to launch themselves into a frenzy, and his confident smile told her that he knew exactly what kind of effect he was having on her. That only made it worse, of course.

"Ready?"

"Sure." She tapped her phone. "All my recipes are in here so I won't forget anything."

"Where to first?" he asked as he opened the door to his Mercedes for her.

"The grocery store. We'll pick up the fish last so it will stay fresh."

"Just tell me where to go."

She directed him to one of the big stores in the newer part of town, because the neighborhood store where she usually shopped didn't have half of the things she needed. When they went in Andrew got a cart.

"I'll push, you shop."

"When was the last time you did your own shopping?"

"A couple of months ago. I am human, you know."

Sometimes she wondered about that. Other women were openly checking him out as he followed her down the spice aisle. She felt a flash of annoyance, but Andrew didn't seem to notice them at all. It was stupid anyway. She had no right to feel jealous even if he flirted with every woman in the store. He stayed close behind her, though, which made her self-conscious instead of jealous.

"I might go more often if the scenery was this good," he mused aloud.

She turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "Finding eye-candy doesn't seem to be a problem for you."

That did nothing to quell the bright glint of mischief in his eyes. "Maybe I'm just really picky about what I like."

"There are flocks of supermodels who would fall all over themselves to push the cart while you shop."

"But I prefer to follow with the cart so I can admire the view."

A flush of heat crawled up her cheeks and she snatched a bottle of cayenne pepper from the shelf to hide it.

"Besides," he added, "supermodels are usually on strict diets, and most of them probably can't cook."

She snorted. "Like you're interested in their skills in the kitchen."

He flashed her an unrepentant grin. "Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf."

"I'll believe that when I see it."

"Better keep your eyes open, then."

Although she tried to ignore it, his flirting excited her and left her a little off balance. He wasn't serious—she knew better than that. He just wanted to jump her while he was in town and had nothing else going on. He'd forget about her as soon as he sat down on the plane ride home. That didn't mean she couldn't enjoy the attention, did it?

She couldn't help considering letting him seduce her, either. It didn't have to be serious. She'd never been a one-night-stand kind of girl, though, and she feared she'd end up getting hurt. That seemed to be her luck with men anyway.

They took a short cut through the toy aisle on the way to the dairy section. Her thoughts were on possibilities for the dessert course when Andrew spoke behind her.

"I should get something for the pool."

When she stopped to see what he was talking about, Andrew was poking through bins of toys.

"Ah, here we go!" He held up a foam rubber football. A playful smirk lit up his face. "Go long!"

She stared at him in disbelief. Surely he didn't mean it?

"Go long!"

Giggling helplessly, she dashed down the aisle. When she had almost reached the end he sailed the football towards her, and she grabbed it out of the air. Andrew thrust his fist up and did a little victory dance.

"A perfect pass by Winter and it's a first down!" He held out his hands. "Let's have it, Nelson. I'm wide open!"

Still laughing, she threw it back. He caught it in the crook of his arms while jogging backwards.

"Winter is in the end zone, and it's good!"

She couldn't believe they were doing this. When he snapped the ball back to her she was laughing so hard she almost missed it.

"The clock is running," he announced. "Only five seconds left in the quarter. Can they pull it off again?"

Nicole lofted the ball towards him, but her laughter caused her to wobble it so that it bounced off his fingers and careened into a shelf of small dolls, which went tumbling to the floor. Her hands flew to her mouth, but Andrew burst into laughter.

"Incomplete, and that's the game! Once again they've snatched defeat from the jaws of victory."

She hurried back towards him and bent to pick up the fallen toys. "I can't take you anywhere."

Andrew dropped the football into the cart. "I should probably have waited for the pool, huh? Oh, look! Frisbees!"

"No! You're going to get us thrown out of here."

She was shaking with laughter as she said it, though. _This_ was the suave, sophisticated playboy on all of those magazine covers? Andrew winked at her as he helped her replace the last of the fallen dolls.

"Wouldn't be the first time. I could tell you stories about when Derek—he's my best friend—and I were in college."

"Tell me later," she chided him firmly. ""We've got to get the shopping done if I'm going to cook for your friends. If you get us thrown out, you're going to have to fend for yourself!"

"Yes, ma'am." Andrew assumed a contrite expression, but his eyes were still dancing and he stuck his tongue out at her when she turned away.

"You're impossible."

"Merely improbably, I'm afraid."

How could he be so different than everything she'd read about him? He was messing around like a normal guy while dressed like half the Conchs in Key West, only far better looking. He made it easy to relax with him and play along. She felt far more normal and at ease with him—almost like a couple—than she ever had with Dylan, which was very, very dangerous because they weren't. It would be so easy to fall into the role, get attached, and get her heart shredded when he left.

She tried to focus on the shopping and kept reminding herself that she only worked for him. It didn't work, of course.

Lime juice was on her list, but the bottles were just out of her reach. "Could you get me one of those small bottles of lime juice?"

"Yes, Master," he replied in a passable Renfield impersonation, and handed it to her with an exaggerated flourish.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "No wonder you're still single."

"That is purely a matter of choice."

"Uh, huh. Keep telling yourself that."

She picked up a small bottle of high quality olive oil, but when she turned to put it in the cart Andrew was right behind her. Her breath snagged in her throat as his arms looped around her waist to slowly pull her against him, and her heart began to pound wildly. Slowly he bent and brushed her lips with his own.

"I told you—I'm picky."

Nicole slid into the stormy, blue-gray depths of his eyes. His breath was a warm caress against her lips, and she ached for his kiss, his touch.

"But when I find the right one, I'll go after her with everything I've got until I get her."

Continue reading _Winter's Bite.._.

#  Dark Bargains

Everyone has secrets.

I'm the mistress of a rich and powerful man who delights in pain and humiliation. It's a life I chose, and there's no going back from it now. Marcus owns me, body and soul, and I'm his until he uses me up. I used to pray that day would come quickly, until I met his brother, Lucas.

Now I just pray that I can have five minutes in the arms of the man who is everything I've ever dreamed of, everything his brother could never be.

My brother calls her his fiancée, but I know that's a lie. No woman in her right mind would consider marrying that psychopath, and Diane isn't insane. No, I'm the one who's crazy, obsessing over the hollow-eyed beauty who haunts my house during the day and my dreams at night. My iron-clad rule is to never get involved, but I'm about to break the hell out of it.

I just can't figure out whether I really want to save her, or if I just want to make her mine.

**Dark Bargains** is a contemporary Gothic/romantic suspense written as a six part serial with cliffhanger endings. If you don't like serials and you don't like cliffhanger endings, I will be releasing a combined edition with all six installments when the series is finished.

#  With One Word

_ _

Have you ever fallen in love with someone you shouldn't have?

Ever since my dad walked out eight years ago, my life has been Hell. My mother is an alcoholic whose "boyfriends" enjoy using me as a punching bag. Everything nice I've ever owned has ended up in the pawn shop so Mom could buy booze and cigarettes. Thanks to her reputation every guy I've ever gone out with has only been interested in one thing, so I've never had a real boyfriend. The only reason I didn't skip town the moment I turned eighteen is my little sister, Willow. She needs me, and I won't leave her behind. Now my best friend has moved across the country to go to college and I've got no one at all—except Grant. Grant is my knight in shining armor. He's the only man who has ever treated me like a person instead of trash, and he's always been there when I needed him. And now I'm afraid I'm falling in love with him. There's just one little problem.

Grant is my best friend's dad.

When my wife and son died in a plane crash nine years ago, Holly was the one who dragged my daughter and then me back to the world of the living. Her sweet, outgoing personality won us both over, and the girls have been inseparable ever since. It kills me to see what she's had to endure since her father abandoned their family and her mother went to pieces, but Holly refuses to give up. Every single day she continues to struggle, both to keep going herself and to hold her little sister's head above water. She's the bravest person I've ever met. Yet sometime when I wasn't paying attention, the girl grew up into a woman. I know she's my daughter's best friend and only half my age. She trusts me. I'm supposed to keep her safe. But while I'm fighting it as hard as I can, it doesn't seem to matter.

I can't help wanting what I can never have.

**Warning:** This novel contains strong themes of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse (though ***not*** between the main characters). If these topics and situations disturb you, this book is probably not for you.

#  Lessons in Love

_Lessons in Love_ is a new adult romance series about going away to college and falling in love for the very first time. While there is character overlap, each story in the series is a standalone with its own happily ever after ending and no cliffhangers.

First to Fall

It took only one day at college for life to throw a wrench in Alyssa's plans. When she walks into the quirky used bookstore just off campus she expects to find a few old paperbacks, not to lose her head over the store's sexy owner—and Kyle is way out of her league, the kind of sex-on-a-stick bad boy who would never give a girl like her a second thought. Or would he? There's nothing Alyssa loves more than a good challenge, and this one promises to be a lot more exciting than running for class president. She just wants to make Kyle notice her, that's all - to see her as a woman. How hard can that be? She'll stop before she gets in over her head. But she can't get those smoldering brown eyes and sinful smile out of her mind, and she keeps imagining his full, soft lips hovering a breath away from her own.

Would kissing him really be so dangerous?

First to Burn

Falling flat on your butt in the mud in front of the groom's older brother is not the best way to make a first impression at a wedding. Kimberly expects the weekend to go downhill from there, but Colin turns a horrible experience into something she can laugh about, and before long she's spending far more time with him than is good for her. While the sexy fireman puts out burning buildings during the day, he's notorious for setting the sheets on fire at night with any woman who catches his eye, and Kimberly has no intention of being another notch on his bedpost. But is there really anything wrong with flirting a little with the blue-eyed fireman? After all, she hardly knows him and she's really not interested in him that way. And it might be fun to see if he makes a move. Not that she really wants him to or anything. She just wants to see if he will.

Lusting over his scrumptious body a little and enjoying his teasing wouldn't hurt anything, right?

First to Heal

For as long as Paige can remember she has wanted to be a librarian—unfortunately she's pretty sure she's going to end up a blue-haired spinster one with a house full of cats. All of that changes in an instant when Rhys comes within a breath of kissing her in the Special Collections department. The sexy ex-Army captain has been wounded in body and soul, but Paige believes she can heal him if he'll only give her a chance. Getting him to give her that chance is the tricky part, though, since Rhys is convinced he's all wrong for her and is doing his best to keep her at arm's length. And what if he's right? Is she really ready for this? How can you want someone so much that you ache from it, but be so afraid of it at the same time? But she decided the first day that she met him and felt that first stab of wanting that she would not allow fear to govern her where he was concerned. This is what she wants.

He was hers—even if he didn't quite know it, yet.

First to Dare

Working at the music store was Lisa's dream job. Unfortunately she seems to attract customers determined to turn it into a living hell. First of all there's Jacob. The tattoo artist from the shop next door hasn't stopped hitting on her in weeks, and doesn't seem to understand the word 'no.' Then there's the new guy, the arrogant jerk who shows her up in front of everyone in the store. After dealing with Jacob's lewd advances, the last thing she needs is to be kicked in the ego. Still, the guy is seriously cute. If you like the type. Which she doesn't. At all. But when she runs into him again at her favorite club he looks better than ever. Turns out he has a nice butt, too. It's almost a shame that he's not her type.

But the butterflies which exploded in her stomach didn't seem to care.

#  About the Author

I love reading romances—contemporary, paranormal, Regency, Gothic, you name it—so I decided to give writing them a whirl and discovered that I really enjoyed it.

My first romance novel, With One Word, was released in November 2015. After completing my eight-part billionaire romance series, Winter's Heat, I've moved on to a contemporary Gothic romance called Dark Bargains. The story is about the son of a casino magnate who falls in love with his brother's mistress. It has a mansion on a lake, a dead wife, a ghost, and of course lots of secrets.

You can find my entire catalog and my latest ramblings and news on my author blog at http://oliviablakeauthor.wordpress.com, and be sure to sign up for my newsletter while you're there so I can let you know about new releases and sales.

Thanks to all of my readers who make doing this possible, and especially everyone leaving reviews—they really help!

Olivia
