I don’t want to eat a gourmet burger…I want to eather.
Fuck, where did that come from?
“Uh, fine,” I say, reaching for a handful of cheese. “Left on schedule, smooth landing…” I don’t mention the anxious hours of waiting while I’d sat terrified of being nabbed by the thugs I’d swindled on my European tour. For a moment, I feel guilty at leaving Cory to handle the fall-out. He may be my agent, and slippery as an eel, but even he’s not cut out to handle the Russian mafia.
“Are you okay?” Arielle’s voice breaks into my thoughts, and it’s a voice as sweet as I remember. A voice that soothed me when I’d faced the panic of realizing that the house I had just robbed belonged to a mafia kingpin. When I’d seen the cold body of the man I’d pawned it to hauled out of the harbor. “Sam?” Her tone holds concern now. My expression must be giving me away.
“Just tired,” I smile and brush it off. “And… uh… a bit surprised.” I grin. “I kinda didn’t expect to see the—” I stop abruptly.
“The crazy woman who attacked you at the bar?” she says with a laugh, and I know she’s remembering it too. And I’m glad she’s making fun of it. It’s not as if I’m planning to throw her out now – she’s still the incredible woman who’s taken care of my world for the past few months. Taken care of Munchkin. He jumps up onto her lap and rubs himself against her chest.
Lucky bastard…
I drag my eyes up to meet hers. “Yeah,” I laugh back. “This is…strange?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Why? Because you’re the infamous Atticus Colt, and I’m just plain Arielle?”
There’s nothing plain about this woman. That hair is a raging wildfire that could hold my attention for hours. I shake my head. “I guess this is the weirdest case of mistaken identity I’ve ever dealt with.”
She gives a rueful shrug. “Okay, so it’s odd. But look on the upside. Not only am I a kickass cat sitter, but I’m about to give you the best damn burger you’ve ever eaten!”
I can think of something else she could give me, but now’s not the time. I shake my head and laugh. “Now you’re speaking my language!”
Chapter 3
Lost Love
Arielle Nygard
When I was twenty, I married the man of my dreams. Steven Nygard was the first man I ever loved. Since I was nineteen when we met, everyone thought it was just a teenage crush, but I knew there’d never be anyone else.
We were married just before my twenty-first birthday, and Austin completed our little family ten months later. We had planned to have at least one sibling for Austin, but once our son had been diagnosed with autism at fifteen months old, we put those plans on hold. Raising a child on the autism spectrum is tricky, and although we talked about having another baby when Austin was about four, it just didn’t feel right.
So, it was the three of us against the world. Steve was a police officer at the Las Vegas Police Department, and I juggled motherhood and a half-day job at the hospital. We found our rhythm as a family, and our life settled comfortably.
And then, two years ago, my world collapsed. Steve was killed while on duty, protecting a woman from a bullet fired by a man who harassed her on the Las Vegas Strip. Austin was the only reason I was able to pull myself together enough to get out of bed for many, many weeks.
It took me six months to figure out my life and find a new rhythm. Half-day at the hospital just doesn’t pay enough to keep Austin in private school or keep the house payments up to date. Working for Sam Foster as his cat caretaker finally fixed my financial situation; I am rather enjoying the newest rhythm of my life. I’ve got a few close friends, two jobs that I like, and a son whom I adore. The only area of my life that has never recovered is my love life.
In the two years since Steve’s death, I haven’t had romantic or lustful feelings for anyone. Not even Steve’s best friend and my constant support since his death, Tim Ledger – much to his disappointment. I adore Tim but try as I might, I just don’t have ‘those’ feelings for him. Frankly, I’d started to think I’d never have ‘those’ kinds of feelings.
Until now.
Everything changed the first time I saw Atticus Colt perform a magic show at the hospital for some of the kids in Austin’s playgroup. He was outrageously good-looking, even while wearing a slightly ridiculous top hat and cape. He wore his dark hair longer than most men, and I remember wanting to run my fingers through it. But the attraction was more than just his appearance. He had been so good with the kids, most of whom were somewhere on the autism spectrum and thus not easily engaged. When I saw how excited Austin was, following Atticus Colt out of the corner of his eye, my attraction soared. Austin almost never makes a visual connection with anything – including me, though it breaks my heart to admit it. Watching that beautiful man bonding with my suddenly responsive son made me want to run over and throw my arms around him.
Turns out, that’s exactly what I ended up doing, much to my horror.
Later that night, I’d kissed Atticus Colt in the parking lot of a local bar. I’d stormed out of the bar, fueled by alcohol and rage, and yelled at him for treating my friend like dirt. He grabbed my wrist in a strong hand and steadied me when I stumbled. Before my alcohol-soaked brain knew what was happening, his mouth claimed mine. That kiss set off a cascade of fireworks in my blood. The long-forgotten sensation of lust was reignited, and my body begged to be touched, caressed, taken. I was oblivious to everything except the man, his rock-hard body, and his unmistakable reaction to the kiss. He’d wanted me as much as I’d wanted him. There was no denying it.
He severed our connection abruptly and left me standing, bewildered, under a streetlight. The Mustang he was driving tore out of the lot with a ferocious roar. The noise returned me to my senses, and I fled the scene in complete embarrassment.
Now, as I drive home from Sam’s place after our first face-to-face meeting, I’m still reeling at the realization that Sam and Atticus are one and the same. And that my attraction to him is no less diminished. Now, it’s more complicated, though, because the fireworks I felt for Atticus, teamed up with the heart connection I’d established with Sam, make him a very compelling man indeed. I’ve always trusted my heart – it’s never steered me wrong. And it’s tugging at me now, as I compare this man and his stage personality to Steve. The husband I lost and the hole he left in my heart.
Atticus Colt is the complete opposite of Steve, who had always been kind and caring. Samuel Foster, the man I work for, reminds me so much of my late husband. He works hard, is easy to talk to, has a soft spot for animals. But somehow, the dark, angry, forceful magician – Atticus – is also the person who captured the attention of an autistic child. He’s also the man who loves his cat and sends me flowers as thanks for doing the job that he pays me exceptionally well to do. It’s hard to believe that two such different personalities can reside inside a single human being. I’m sure there’s a story there. Such anger doesn’t grow without cause. But it’s not my place to pry. Though I want to. So much.
There’s no denying that I’m attracted to Sam. And I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t intrigued by his bad-boy alter ego. But I also feel slightly guilty about my feelings, like I’m cheating on Steve.
“God, Arielle, what are you doing?” I groan to myself as I make the familiar drive home.
