Let Me Love You (22 page)

It was exquisite.

“Lucy Stone,” he said, his voice tender. “You say what’s on your mind, work all hours of the night, jump into things without thinking them through first, and never back down from anything. You’re a pain in the ass most days, and challenge me on so many levels.”

She sniffled as the tears welled. Zin sat up, wagging his tail excitedly. Lucy swore the dog had a higher IQ than most men. Present company excluded.

“Yet you bring out the best in me, Lucy. You are my angel in every sense of the word.” Joey ghosted his finger around the halo of diamonds. “You support me when I falter, and give me strength to bear the pain of my past. You make me laugh until I hurt, and soothe me when I’m tied up inside. It’s funny how things work out, how life can throw curveballs, yet two people wind up exactly where they’re supposed to be.”

She couldn’t agree more. If someone would have told her a year ago that she’d be thrilled at the prospect of an engagement to Joey, she wouldn’t have believed it.

“Lucy?” He paused, reaching for her hand. “Will you make me the luckiest man on this earth and be my wife?”

She burst with happiness. “Of course I will!”

He wrapped her up and kissed her then, making her heart dance and her skin bloom in a luxurious rush of heat.

“I love you,” he said against her lips. “I knew I was falling for you from the first night we sat out here in my truck, but I didn’t know how much I loved you until I almost lost you. I can’t imagine my life without you, Lucy.”

“Believe me, I’m not going anywhere.” She brushed her nose against his and let her eyes flutter closed. “Our lives are entwined now.”

For the last year, Joey had lived with Lucy at her studio on StoneMill’s grounds. He stayed the night after the Birch fire, and hadn’t left since. She invited him to stay night after night, even when he’d offered to leave so she could have space. She never would’ve thought living with someone would suit her, but she’d been pleasantly mistaken. She loved waking up to Joey every morning. Not only did he give the absolute best morning hugs, but he brewed a mean cup of coffee and often made her breakfast in bed. Janice had been spending more time at the winery, too, and had even put in an application to work the visitors’ center.

Everything was finally clicking. Last year’s harvest was larger than the one before it, and this year’s was looking to top the last.

Joey had been right all along: she needed balance to be truly content.

She let Joey pull her to the ground, where he held her tightly against him. He held her hand, lightly brushing his fingers over the ring. With a huff and a groan, Zin circled his spot in the corner and plopped back down, shooting Lucy an unamused glance. She’d have to shower the dog with affection later, to prove she still wanted him around.

“We should name the star,” Lucy said, feeling his heartbeat drum through Joey’s chest. “What do you think?”

“I think that’s a great idea, but naming a star is like naming a child. Once we register it, you can’t go back and make changes. Better be sure what you want.”

“Eternity,” she said simply.

“Eternity?”

“Yeah.” Her heart sang as she looked up into those dreamy eyes of his. “That’s how long I’ll love you.”

Silence fell over them, until the hum of harvesters in the distance carried on the wind and echoed over the valley. Before Joey, she’d known work and play. But she’d never known love, and peace was an unattainable dream. Over the last year, she’d felt both. Overflowing and overwhelming.

“Thank you,” Joey whispered against her hair, his rich voice gliding over her like honey. “For letting me love you. It’s been my life’s greatest joy.”

“No.” Her heart soared. “It’s been mine.”

And they were only getting started.

Continue reading for a sneak peek at the first chapter of Crazy in Love!

(Rachael and Cole’s story, now available on
Kobo
.)

CRAZY IN LOVE

Chapter One

Rachael McCoy had never rented the entire Blue Lake Historical Inn to a single person before. But a rock star like Cole Turner had never come to town, either.

He was playing at StoneMill Winery Friday and Saturday night, from what she’d heard. She’d also heard he was voted “Rock Vocalist of the Year”, but hadn’t written a single song since he signed his first music contract. He was more of an entertainer than a musician, really—a music industry puppet with a pretty face and a hot body—and willing to sing anything for the right amount of money.

At least that’s what the Google article said.

If it was true, she couldn’t fault the guy. After all, the only reason she agreed to leave all the rooms in the inn vacant for the next four days was because he’d offered to pay a hefty sum of cash in exchange for privacy. She was in the middle of a massive inn expansion—the out-building to the east would soon have a few rooms with a separate living room and small kitchen. By letting Mr. Turner rent out the inn, she was making four times as much as she would’ve if the rooms were full of regular paying tenants.

She stopped vacuuming the throw rug in the main living space and checked the clock.

Five on the nose.

Mr. Turner wasn’t scheduled to show up until eight, which gave Rachael plenty of time to stock up the fridge and make sure the rooms were still in order. She drove to SawMill Market just before dark, and picked up some basics that’d make a few solid meals.

Cole Turner was on everyone’s lips.

He’s staying at the inn for the next four days, and then driving to Lake Tahoe for a mid-week show at Harrah’s. Will he have extra tickets to the show? Will he be bringing his manager…I hear she’s a woman, a real looker.

Refusing to get caught up in the gossip, Rachael rushed through the register, loaded up the back of her Rav4, and drove to the inn. She pulled into a tiny driveway on the side and parked near the back door. After she unloaded the groceries, she kicked the door shut, and paused…listening.

Something wasn’t right.

Suddenly, the upstairs shower faucet squeaked and water flushed through the pipes.

The inn was not unfamiliar with light paranormal activity from time to time. No one had ever seen a ghost, but they rattled pipes, tweaked picture frames, and shook beds. This was different. There was a lingering scent on the air—saffron, cedar wood, and something heady—and a leather jacket thrown over the back of the couch.

Someone was in the house.

She’d locked up before she went to the store, and Mr. Turner’s manager said he’d call when they were getting close to Blue Lake. No calls. Doors still locked, the way she’d left them.

Chills gathered at the nape of her neck. Yanking open the cabinet drawer, Rachael grabbed the biggest knife she could find, and gripped it tight.

“Hello?” she called. “Hellloooo!”

Footsteps overhead.

Couldn’t be a thief. Thieves didn’t pass up televisions and radios to shower. Was it a bum? Some drunk on his way home from the brewery who broke into the wrong house?

It had to be Mr. Turner. He must’ve arrived early. Looking out the front windows, she scanned the drive and sidewalk. No cars. No entourage. No groupies. Didn’t they still follow rock stars around?

Even though the logical part of her thought Mr. Turner was upstairs, she’d seen enough horror movies to know that under no circumstances should she go check. Being hacked to pieces didn’t sound appealing.

As she dug around in her purse for her phone, footsteps pounded overhead.

“Holy fuck!” a man screamed from upstairs. “Cold! It’s fucking ice—cold!”

Out of instinct, she ran to the first landing and yelled, “You have to let it warm up first!”

More cursing blared from the direction of the bathroom.

“Hello?” she called. “Excuse me!”

“Coldcoldcoldcold.” Someone hopped around over the tile. “What the hell kind of place is this? Rita didn’t say shit about cold showers.”

Definitely not a thief.

She trudged up the stairs and stopped when she reached the top.

“I’m going to kill her!” he hollered.

Murderer, then.

“Who’s there?” Her hands slickened with sweat and when she turned the corner into the hallway, the knife slipped from her fingers. She bent to pick it up, and when she stood upright, a man stood in the middle of the hallway…
buck freaking naked
. She gasped, averting her gaze, but she’d already seen enough. Rock hard body. Golden skin dripping wet. Hung like a horse.

Wouldn’t get that sight out of her head for a while.

“Rachael, I presume?” he said.

She nodded, shielding her eyes from his manhood. “And you are?”

“Not here to hurt you. You can put away the knife.”

Wasn’t that what every killer would say to disarm a woman? She held it up, just in case.

“Listen,” he said, covering his junk with his hands. “I’ve got a lot of flesh showing and you’re wielding a knife around. Those two don’t mesh. Why don’t you put that away so we can introduce ourselves properly? I’m Cole Turner, your guest for the next few days. I believe you were expecting me.”

The worry in her mind eased, but her body remained tight. On high alert. “Rachael McCoy.”

“Nice to meet you.”

He held out his hand, exposing himself.

She yelped, covering her eyes once more. “There’s a robe hanging on the back of the door.”

“Robes are for women.”

She pinched her eyes shut, but images of his soaking wet bod kept flashing through her head. “Okay, then. Nice to meet you, Mr. Turner. I wasn’t expecting you until later, but everything should already be good to go. I’m going to start dinner—it should be sexy in about an hour if you want to meet downstairs in the dining room.”

“Sexy?”

She blocked the lower half of his body with her hand and met his honey-brown eyes. They were narrowed. Hungry. Like a predator eyeing its prey.

“Excuse me?” she said, repressing a shiver.

“You said dinner should be sexy in an hour.”

“No, I said it’d be ready.”

He nodded, smirking. “My mistake.”

“I can show you around the place, if you’d like,” she said, her face flushing hot, “or you can check it out yourself. There are five bedrooms upstairs, and four downstairs, one bathroom on each level.”

“I saw that,” he grumbled. “I also noticed the freezing cold water. Does it ever get warm, or do I have to bathe in a glacier every morning?”

“You have to let it run for a few minutes first.” She started down the stairs, fighting the urge to steal one more glance at his body. “And you probably won’t have much hot water when it warms up, so I suggest you bathe quickly.”

“Thanks for the tip. And, hey, sorry about scaring you. The side door to the den was open and I was filthy. I didn’t think you’d mind if I showered.”

Filthy
. Oh yeah, he was probably dirty to the core.

Something deep in her belly squirmed excitedly at the thought.

“No problem,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”

She’d completely forgotten to ask him about how he’d gotten in.

When she reached the first floor, the air whooshed out of her lungs and her legs wobbled. She nearly collapsed against the wall, laughing from her body’s reaction to this man. He oozed raw sex appeal. Not only from his body—though good gracious, she’d never seen a man with so many muscles—but from his caramel-colored eyes, the subtle pout of his bottom lip, the way he stood in front of her buck naked with more confidence than she had fully dressed.

Don’t get involved.

He’s staying less than a week.

She had steadfast rules about these things: no sleeping with guests. It never panned out well. Single men who stayed at the inn had propositioned her more times than she could count. They wanted flings over their vacations, something to go home and tell their buddies about. They promised to call, swore to come back and visit.

They never did. Not one of them.

Cole Turner may’ve flustered her, but she was over it…she had to be.

Continue reading on
Kobo

From the back cover of Crazy in Love:

Historical inn owner Rachael McCoy has one simple rule: Don’t date guests. Ever.

After having her heart broken by a string of sweet-talking visitors, Rachael has learned her lesson. But when dangerously sexy rock star Cole Turner rolls into town and rents every room in her hotel, she starts to rethink her rule. Cole’s a rumored playboy with a sordid past, yet his touch is sinfully sweet…

Rock star and self-proclaimed sex god Cole Turner lives by a simple decree: There are no rules in love or rock and roll.