Exposed: A British Bad Boy Romance (16 page)

EPILOGUE

Susie

Six Months Later

“W
hat’s that?” I ask, wrinkling my nose at Jasper’s latest creation.

He gives me an impatient look and just waves the plate under my nose, “Have you ever disliked something I made?”

I frown, “Don’t go getting cocky, you still can’t beat that oxtail we had in Miami.”

He rolls his eyes, “You’re never going to let me forget that place, are you?”

I shake my head, rubbing my stomach absently. Still too soon to know for sure, but I’m
pretty
sure. “I’ve been craving it lately. I have dreams about the curried goat you ordered.”

He grins, “Maybe when you finish your book we can take the drive up north and get some.”

I groan, “Don’t tease me. You know it’s never going to be done.”

Ever since quitting my job, I’ve been doing the odd freelance gig while working on a side-project: a romance novel — maaaaaybe loosely based on Jasper and I, but that’s irrelevant, really.

He sets the plate down on the tiled bar — just long enough to accommodate two cracked and faded barstools — and wraps his arms around me.

I’ll never get tired of this. Of him.

“That’s nonsense, luv,” he says in a low husky tone, sweeping back a strand of my hair. “It’s perfect. You’re just scared.”

His hands slide over my ass and he brings me up against him — I can already feel him hard, pressing into me — and I catch myself against his chest with a little gasp of mock affront, “I am
not
scared. It just doesn’t quite have the right ending…”

“Hmm,” he murmurs against my throat, barely grazing his lips against my skin. “Is running away from their humdrum lives off into the sunset together not a satisfying enough conclusion, luv?”

I laugh, not knowing if he’s talking about us or the characters in my book.

Maybe both.

I never actually thought he’d remember our conversation about running away to the Keys. I never thought he was really
serious
about a fish shack on the beach. I never thought Jasper would just come home one day with a deed and a key to a restaurant 100 miles away.

And I never thought I’d be crazy enough to pack up my life and move south with him.

But here we are.

Calling this place a restaurant is a little charitable really. It’s a rickety little place on the water with a bigger capacity at its dock than its parking lot. Locals and tourists alike bring in their fresh catch for Jasper to do something amazing.

There isn’t any glass in the windows, allowing for a steady salty breeze to blow through, and — unlike places on the mainland — we don’t require shoes for service, mostly because our floor is more sand than concrete. Or maybe it’s the other way around, maybe it’s sandy
because
we don’t require shoes.

“So what is that?” I ask again, changing the subject with a look towards the plate of fried food. I’ve learned not to trust anything with breading — Jasper has a tendency to hide things I wouldn’t otherwise eat beneath a crispy coating.

“Conch fritters and key lime mango salsa, try it,” he says, offering the plate to me again. I love the way his eyes light up when he’s waiting for me to try his latest experiment in the kitchen. Like he just wants to impress me.

Still… conch?

“Isn’t that those big snail things? With the shells?”

Jasper looks disappointed in me, “It’s not just a
snail
Suzette. It’s
tradition
. A local delicacy!”

I’m not convinced.

“You know that ‘conch republic’ stuff is just made up, right? There isn’t some long ancient history of eating snails here. You don’t need to honor the ancestors or whatever.”

He growls and picks a piece off the plate, shoving it toward my lips, “Will you just eat the bloody thing?”

I sigh, “Fiiiiiiine.” This isn’t the first time we’ve had this argument. I take a bite of the fritter and chew.

“Well?” Jasper’s nearly perched on his tiptoes waiting for my verdict.

I dip the rest of the fritter in the salsa and eat it, taking my time to belabor the chewing and pondering to drive him crazy.

“
Suzette
.”

Full name. He’s getting annoyed now.

“It’s okay,” I say with a shrug.

He’s instantly deflated and pouting. He doesn’t believe me, but he plays along anyway.

“I guess you’re going to have to get rid of me. If I can’t cook I’m not good for anything.”

I smirk spotting the devilish glint in his navy eyes, “Oh, I can think of
some
things you’re still good for.”

He turns his nose up at me, “I don’t know. You said my fritters are only
okay
.”

I roll my eyes, “You big baby. You know it’s delicious.”

He’s grinning from ear to ear and I get the feeling that he’s just bursting to say something else.

“So, you want to know the coolest part of that?”

“Um… The coolest part of eating a snail?”

Jasper doesn’t even pause to acknowledge my snide remark, “I found that conch while diving yesterday.”

Diving, fishing, it’s all a way of life here and Jasper’s taken to it like… Well like a fish to water.

“Oh, that is pretty cool,” I say. “So you have the shell?”

Though I didn’t think it possible, his grin grows, “I was hoping you’d ask that.”

I’m thoroughly confused now and giving him a
very
skeptical look, “Jasper…?”

From the kitchen, he produces a conch shell the size of his hand, mottled orange and white with a gorgeous glossy pink interior.

“That’s a really nice one,” I comment, wondering why he’s so excited about this shell.

“Aren’t you meant to be able to hear the ocean in it, or something?”

I nod and he hands the shell over, “Have a listen.”

This is getting a little weird, but I love the guy so I humor him. I take the shell and as soon as I raise it to my ear, I hear not the sound of the ocean, but a high-pitched rattling.

“What’s—” I’m shaking the ring free of the shell the same time as he’s falling down to one knee.

“Jasper… You’re not serious.”

He’s just grinning like he’s won the fucking lottery. But that’s not possible because
I
won the lottery.

“I am,” he says, taking the ring and my hand. “Suzette Quincy, you have lit a fire inside of me from the moment I met you. You tolerated me at my worst and helped me discover my best. You knew the man who was Jasper Wild, and now I hope you’ll do me the honor of marrying me — Jasper Elridge.”

I’m not sure if my heart is racing or stopped completely. I don’t know if time’s slowed down or going at light speed. It’s all happening at once and all I
know
, without a doubt, without any hesitation is that I’m going to say “Yes. Of course!”

He jams the ring on my finger in his excitement and wastes no time jumping to his feet to pick me up and twirl me around happily.

“Are you sure?” he asks, a moment of insecurity showing in the crease between his brows.

“Hmm. Actually, on second thought—” he muffles my answer with a kiss.

“Too late. You can’t take it back now. You’re stuck with me, luv.”

And now my face is hurting from smiling so much. I never knew I could smile this much before Jasper.

“I think I can live with that.”

“So, is this a better ending for your book?” he asks, his arms still wrapped around me.

I nod, “But it still needs those special words.”

“Oh?”

“And they lived happily ever after.”

Jasper grins and kisses me again, “The end.”

THE END

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Tempting the Tiger - BONUS NOVELLA

Chapter 1

SARAH

T
he clock on the wall taunted her. Being late for work wasn’t generally a part of Sarah’s routine, but it had become a bad habit lately. More and more she found herself distracted and unable to complete tasks that had once seemed easy for her. Her arms ached from the stack of dusty books she held at her side and she shifted the mass to rest against her hip.

              It wasn’t like the library couldn’t run itself without her for a few minutes. She tapped her foot against the tiled floor of the busy coffee shop. Normally, she’d make her own coffee. Normally, her coffee pot at home wasn’t a smoking charred victim of her unruly magic.
Normally
she could keep her powers under wraps enough to avoid mishaps like that.

              “Sarah?”

              But not today. On this day, her magic decided to fry her favorite counter-top appliance, forcing Sarah to stand in this never-ending line for coffee. How long did it take to make a latte anyway? The clock taunted her still with the steady
tickticktick
she was sure only she could hear over the bustling crowd shuffling mindlessly for their morning caffeine fix.

              “Sarah?” The voice nearly pierced her incessant internal chatter.

              Her fingers drummed against the well-worn spines in her grasp. She’d stumbled onto a new piece of information about Silas Kerris, the namesake of the Kerris Memorial Library, and she was itching to get to the library to see if any of her other documents corroborated the story. There had long been rumors about the Kerris and the man that donated the land it sat on.

              Sarah didn’t like rumors. She liked facts. Answers. Mysteries and questions were nice, but what Sarah really liked about a good mystery was finding the
answers.
She’d been looking for answers about Kerris for years — had she finally stumbled on something?

              “Vanilla latte for Sarah?” the bored voice of the barista finally broke through and Sarah realized she’d been off in space while they called her name.

              A flush of heat warmed her cheeks as she pushed through the crowd, garnering annoyed huffy glances from the other patrons. Without realizing it she’d held up the entire procession.

              “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she muttered to every angry glare as she ducked her way through. No one made any attempt to move out of her way. No one ever did. She was used to it.

              What Sarah wasn’t used to was having all eyes on her. She snatched the coffee from the kid behind the counter and sheepishly made her way over to sweeteners, still feeling the burning scowls of morning commuters on her back.

              Her hands shook as she dumped a packet of sugar half in her cup and half on the counter. Were they still staring at her? Surely they’d lost interest by now. Back to their devices and self-involved world. So why did she still feel eyes on her? Nerves bubbling up in her chest? She re-arranged the books on her hip and took hold of her latte, poised for escape. She needed to get out of here. Get to work. Forget this whole harried morning.

              She turned and walked into a wall, dropping her books and coffee in one fell swoop.

              “Of course,” she muttered, dropping to the ground to clean up her mess.

              The wall stooped, too. It wasn’t a wall at all, rather a — very broad — man. His hand entered her vision, offering a stack of napkins.

              “Let me help,” he offered, his voice rich and smooth.

              Sarah realized a moment too late that she’d bumped into him and blushed again.

              “God, I’m sorry. I’m such a klutz. Did I spill on you?” She hardly spared a look for him as she frantically wiped down books already yellowed with age. Hopefully nothing was irreparable. Jerry would kill her. The Library Director told her a million times not to take work home with her. Things like this always happened.

              Of course, normally it was her magic’s fault.

              He chuckled and shook his head, “No, I’m fine. Are you?”

              His words of concern — while everyone else in the shop stared at her like she was an escaped mental patient — made her pause. She finally took a moment to meet his gaze. Impossibly green eyes struck her first. Only two percent of people in the world had green eyes — why was she thinking of trivia at a time like this?

              “I’m…” she sighed, unable to form the lie to tell the stranger she was fine. He was handsome. No. He was
hot
. She had no business talking to someone this good-looking. All rugged sexiness wrapped in an impeccably tailored suit.

              “Late,” she finally finished, gathering her things before hurrying out, her heart hammering wildly as the bell above the coffee shop door clanged, announcing her exit.

              She’d barely stepped foot into the library when Janine, her co-worker, pinned her with a knowing glance. The older woman took one look at Sarah’s coffee-stained blouse, disheveled bun and — undoubtedly — stressed expression, and clucked her tongue in disapproval.

              “Rough morning, hun?”

              Sarah dropped the stack of books on the reference desk with a heavy
thud
and took her seat next to Janine with an exaggerated sigh.

              “Aren’t they all?”

              Janine laughed and patted her on the arm, “You need to slow down sometimes. You get a lot further walking in one direction than you do running in circles. Jerry brought donuts in.”

Sarah’s eyebrows shot up and she looked around for the tell-tale flat box of pastries.

“What’s the occasion?”

Janine shrugged, “Not sure there is one. I’ve got my eye on that Boston Cream, though. I’m saving it for my ten o’clock coffee. Hands off,” she teased.

Sarah offered her a lopsided grin as she picked out a vanilla creme-filled with sprinkles. Her favorite. It wasn’t like Jerry to bring something in. Maybe he had a feeling that she’d need the comfort eating today. Her suspicions would have to wait until her stomach was appeased.

She took half the donut in one bite before looking around again, her mouth still coated with sticky sweetness as she tried to force out, “You said there’s coffee?”

Bless Janine’s heart. She was already pouring a mug for Sarah. She sipped her coffee, inhaled the other half of the donut and sighed. She had the best co-workers in the world.