Perfectly Matched

Perfectly Matched [Matchmaking Chefs Series] by Maddie James Resplendence Publishing, LLC www.resplendencepublishing.c...

Author: James Maddie

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Perfectly Matched [Matchmaking Chefs Series] by Maddie James

Resplendence Publishing, LLC www.resplendencepublishing.com

Copyright ©2009 by Maddie James

NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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CONTENTS Perfectly Matched Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Epilogue About the Author Coming throughout 2009! Also available from Resplendence Publishing ****

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Perfectly Matched The Matchmaking Chef Series by Maddie James Copyright © 2009, Maddie James Published February 2009 by Resplendence Publishing, LLC Edgewater, Florida All rights reserved [Back to Table of Contents]

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Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and occurrences are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or occurrences, is purely coincidental. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Prologue Thursday The sushi looked good. Surprised, Suzie Matthews glanced up at the smiling Japanese girl behind the glass counter who was rolling rice and spicy tuna and seaweed. "Who would of thought," she whispered to herself, "that the Legend, Tennessee Piggly Wiggly would ever hire a sushi chef?" She smiled back at the girl who said, "See what you want? I make more." Shaking her head, Suzie returned, "Oh no. You've got quite a selection here." She reminded herself to tell her husband, Brad, about her new discovery. With the two of them being chefs, they were always interested in the new food offerings in their small town of Legend. Somehow she couldn't imagine sushi on the menu at Lake Lodge, Brad's business. Nor could she imagine it at her bed and breakfast. Sushi on the menu in this Tennessee mountain town seemed, well, ridiculously out of place. Still, she picked up a pretty salmon roll. "So what do you think of my little sushi girl?" The deep voice came from behind her. Suzie turned to face Ralph Myers, the owner of the Piggly Wiggly. Rumor had it that he left the franchise and had gone independent. Recently, he'd been trying a lot of new twists to 6


get Legendarians to buy their groceries local rather than driving the hour or so to Knoxville. Hence, the sushi attempt. Glancing at the raw seafood in her hand, she said, "The sushi looks great, Ralph. But whatever possessed you...?" He cut her off with a wave of both hands and leaned her way. "She's a gem. I stole her from a restaurant in Memphis. Just the thing Legend needs." Then he stepped back and crossed both arms across his chest while nodding. "We're uptown now." How can you doubt a man who is so pleased with himself? Suzie smiled and put the salmon roll in her cart. "I hope it works out for you, Ralph." She glanced toward the meat counter. "Now, tell me about your beef sale. I need a couple of nice rib-eyes." He led her to the counter and proceeded to tell Bart Shackler behind it to get her a couple of extra-thick cuts, the best he had. "Now, Ralph," she batted her eyes, "y'all don't have to give me special treatment..." He bowed and swept a hand in front him. "Ma'am, yes I do. If I keep you buying from me, Ms. Famous Cookbook Author, I can claim you as my own customer. See?" He pointed behind the meat case and Suzie cast her gaze on the wall there. "Well, knock me over with a noodle. Ralph, what in the world is that!" A huge poster graced the wall. On it was a picture of her— the same photograph on her just-released cookbook, The Best of Legend's Landing Bed and Breakfast—with a tag line 7


that read, "Legend's Own Celebrity Chef, Suzie Matthews, shops at Myers' Piggly Wiggly!" "Oh my! Ralph, you shouldn't have done that!" She was embarrassed, to say the least, but not one bit surprised that Ralph would try to capitalize on her celebrity. Still, she was home-grown Legend, and if he wanted to gain from her growing popularity, then that was fine with her. Ralph leaned and winked. "Hope you don't mind, Suzie. I'll give you ten percent off your order if you let me keep it up. I'd like to put an ad in the paper, too." Now that made her a mite uncomfortable. She smiled sweetly. "Ralph Myers, I've shopped at The Pig all my life and I have no intention of shopping anywhere else. I'm honored to have my poster up in your store and you can keep your ten percent, because," she reached out and grasped his hand and leaned forward herself, "that's the way we do things here in Legend." He covered her hand with his and nodded in gratitude, she suspected. Then he left her and headed toward the front of the store, tossing a hand up at another customer coming down the aisle. Sighing, Suzie looked back at the poster. "Oh boy," she said under her breath. "Brad will get a kick out of this." Movement to her right caught her attention as someone else stepped up to the meat counter. She looked and saw Mary Lou Picketts staring at the wall, too. Oh dear, what will the rest of Legend think of this? Again, she was a tad embarrassed. 8


She followed Mary Lou's gape, however, and realized that she wasn't exactly looking at the Suzie poster, but yet, something else had caught the young woman's eye. A different kind of sigh exited Mary Lou's lips and Suzie watched as she gazed up at a man pictured on another poster—tall, lean, dark and gritty, with a guitar slung over his shoulder—and then studied her face as Mary Lou took in the full-color and full-body likeness of Nash Rhodes, Nashville's newest and up-and-coming country crooner. Adoration. That was the look on Mary Lou's face. No, that wasn't it. Adolescent crush-like? No. Mary Lou had to be close to thirty and was way past the adolescent crush phase of life. The look was something else. Like staring at something just out of reach. Perhaps lost and given up on. Longing? Love? Suzie shook her head. Of course not. No one falls in love with a celebrity icon. Oh, they may think they are in love, but how could they truly be? You cannot fall in love with someone by reading their fanzines, watching them on CMT, scouring the Internet for tidbits of information, and going to their concerts. Mary Lou heaved another sigh. Suzie watched her chest rise, her breasts lift, and then fall in a half-defeated motion. She felt a little sorry for her and wasn't sure why. She leaned Mary Lou's way. "Hard to believe he's going to be in Legend this weekend, isn't it?" The poster was 9


advertising the benefit concert to raise money for the children's wing of the hospital. Nash was the star attraction. The young woman swung her way and jumped back. "Oh! Suzie. I didn't realize you were there!" Smiling, she reached out to grasp her elbow. "No problem, honey. Thought I'd say hello. Came in to pick up some meat." Mary Lou rotated her gaze back toward the poster. "Yeah. Meat. A hunk of it." "Mary Lou!" Suzie chuckled. Mary Lou's hands fluttered to her neck. "Oh! Did I say that out loud?" "Sure enough did, sweetie." Suzie stepped up beside her and they stood and ogled the poster together. "I do have to agree that that man is definitely one prime choice of—" "Beefsteak?" The women rolled their gazes toward the meat case and Bart who was holding out Suzie's rib-eyes. "Ahem. Yes. Thanks, Bart." "No problem, dear." A sly grin broke his lips and he left. Suzie grabbed her steaks and Mary Lou waved as she headed in a brisk walk toward the produce aisle. Embarrassed, Suzie guessed. A few years younger than herself, Mary Lou had always been one of the smartest girls in her class, but sad to say, had not dated that much. Suzie remembered a couple of boyfriends, but nothing significant—according to the Legend rumor mill—except that brief buzz recently that she had finally settled for Thurman Phillips who lived down the street. Suzie hoped not. She could barely picture the two of them 10


together. Other than that, there was nothing to indicate a relationship of any significance. Too bad, she was an attractive young woman in a plain sort of way. Still watching, Suzie took stock. Her clothes were rather baggy, but underneath, her frame was small with rounded hips moving beneath the jogging pants. Mary Lou turned and Suzie caught site of a rounded contour in the chest area. Mary Lou Picketts was hiding a rack under those old clothes! Moving to her face, devoid of make-up, Suzie took stock of a smooth, peaches and cream complexion hiding behind a mousy brown ponytail caught high on her head, which hung down to frame part of her face. An interesting notion was growing in Suzie's heart and gut. She glanced once more at the poster of Nash Rhodes, and then back to Mary Lou. Nash was doing that big benefit concert at the Lodge this weekend, and her husband Brad was hosting the thing... Did she dare? Yes. Consider it a gift to humanity. Besides, she had managed to incidentally hook her sister Chelly and her old boyfriend Matt Branson back up together, hadn't she? And that was a rematch made in Heaven. Maybe she could work a little match-making magic on Mary Lou. Lord knows, the girl could stand a break. Determined, she tossed the steaks in the cart, gripped the handle, and ventured forth. "Mary Lou? Wait!" **** 11


"No. Absolutely not." "It's just dinner, Brad. It's the least we can do." "Impossible." Her husband stared at her. No, glared was more like it. "Relax, Brad." She stepped forward and smoothed her hands over his muscled chest. "This will not be a problem, I promise you. Think what it would do for my career to have the famous Nash Rhodes to the B&B for dinner. I could even interview him for the Tennessee B&B Gazette. I need this chance, Brad! Please?" He frowned. "This is above and beyond the call of husbandly duties, Suzette." With a wicked smile, she slipped a couple of fingers under his belt. "I'll repay you later by going above and beyond the call of wifely duties, husband." Brad groaned and grasped her waist. She continued, "All you need to do is wrangle him away from the Lodge for a couple of hours, either before or after the show, and I'll do the rest." Brad stopped her hands on his chest by placing his big paws over hers. Those dark eyes of his, always so mesmerizing, peered down at her. "Not happening. I have no control over his agenda once he gets here. He'll be sequestered away in his bus most of the time, whisked in for the concert, and then back out again. It's a benefit, one that wasn't on their books and they aren't making any money on this—Nash Rhodes is not going to be lingering in Legend long and I'm not asking for special favors. Especially for some lovelorn wallflower." 12


Suzie dropped her hands and frowned. "Mary Lou is a very pretty girl under all that hair and fabric. She just lacks confidence and needs a little coaching." "Whatever. Still, I can't do this." "He's not staying at the Lodge?" "No. He's parking his bus behind it and staying there." "Crap. That was my Plan B." She batted her eyes at him again. Thinking. "Could you get him here a day early, perhaps? Some sort of pre-concert event?" He grasped her face in his hands. "You persistent little minx. No. The way his manager talks, he's practically on 24-7 call." "But I bet you could arrange it. Give him the presidential suite and all the amenities you can muster. I'll bake and have a ton of goodies there. I hear he has a sweet tooth. I can't work magic in that trailer of his; I need to get him out of it." "My dear wife ... I love you to pieces, but I am having no part of what you are planning. The man is the current young gun of Nashville. Their shooting star. They've got him booked so heavily he doesn't have time to call his mother without being scheduled." Leaning up on her tiptoes, Suzie smiled and kissed her husband's salty lips, not to be put aside so easily. "I'm counting on you, Brad Matthews," she whispered, and he drew her closer. "Did I tell you about the pink furry handcuffs I bought in Knoxville the other day? And that strawberry flavored massage gel?" The groan came from deeper in his chest this time. "Now go call and see what you can do." **** 13


"Yes. Yes. Truly. I need your help." Suzie listened as Mary Lou rattled off excuse after excuse over the telephone why she couldn't come to the B&B tomorrow. "We made a deal!" Pause and listen. "I know that Miss Pricilla is important to you, and I would never suggest that you forgo her needs to help me out, but do you think she could wait another couple of days for her shots? After all, she's a cat, not a human." The gasp that came up on the other end of the phone was way too sharp in Suzie's ear. Dammit, probably not a good tack. "Oh, I see. She has allergies?" Crap. The damn cat was allergic to mold and it had been a rainy summer, even now, in August. The mountains were full of mold spores. "But could someone else take her to the vet for you? The cookbook deadline is looming, and I need a third opinion on these meal plans..." There was a long pause on the other end of the line and Suzie waited, drumming her fingers on her granite kitchen counter. She thought she could hear mumbling coming through from Mary Lou's end. She perked back up at the sound of Mary Lou's voice. "You did? Wonderful! Oh, yes, ten o'clock in the morning is fine. I'm so glad you were able to..." Panic seized Suzie's belly. "What? Wh-who agreed to take Miss Priscilla? Your ... fiancé? Oh my, but Mary Lou, I didn't know ... Who?" She breathed deep and learned of the recent engagement. 14


Thurman Phillips. The rumor was true. Mary Lou Picketts had settled for the loser down the street. Wrong. This was oh, sooooo, wrong. Her work was cut out for her and there was very little time. The Nash Rhodes benefit concert was Saturday night. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter One Friday morning Mary Lou swallowed hard and stepped up to Suzie Matthew's porch. She'd only been to Legend's Landing Bed & Breakfast one time before when her mother bought her a Saturday cooking lesson, telling her that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. Unfortunately, she flunked the Saturday lesson when her soufflé fell flatter than a fritter when she took it out of the oven. Suzie said that soufflés were the hardest thing in the world to make and that you had to work up to it. She suggested she take her beginning series of classes, you know, things like meatloaf and spaghetti sauce and tuna noodle casserole, but her mother said that was a waste of good money—every woman knew how to make meatloaf, inherently, and no woman worth her salt had to take a lesson to learn how. Mary Lou guessed she wasn't worth her salt, and she wondered again, while staring at the brass knocker on Suzie's newly painted red door, why in the world Suzie Matthews had invited her, of all people, to help her work on her new cookbook. That was the million dollar question. But the lure of cash for the day won her over since she and Thurman were now saving for the honeymoon he had planned in Niagara Falls. 16


She tried to tell him that couples didn't go much to Niagara Falls any more for their honeymoons, that they went to places like Cancun and St. Martin's and even Alaska for God's sake, but he insisted because his father had taken his mother to Niagara Falls for their honeymoon, and, well, Mr. Phillips swore that from that day on, his wife was like putty in his hands. Mary Lou wasn't sure yet about being putty in Thurman's hands. Oh, he was stable and a provider and a half-way decent kisser, but... Never mind. She didn't want to think right yet about going any further than kissing with Thurman. They hadn't, well, she was holding him off on the sex thing, telling him she wanted to wait for her wedding night, etc... She didn't want to think about it and focused on the red door in front of her, instead. "All right. You are here. Go for it." Mary Lou dismissed her wayward thoughts and rapped the knocker on the heavy wood door. It was swept open before she could put her trembling fist back to her side. "Mary Lou!" In one motion, Suzie jerked back the door, grasped her by the arm, and pulled her inside the living room. "I'm so happy you could come," the owner of the B&B proclaimed. "I cannot tell you how important this is to me. Mary Lou still had to wonder and opened her mouth to ask, but Suzie went on, hooking her arms in hers. "You see, I've been waiting to try out some of my new ideas on someone who isn't used to my cooking. Oh, I know that you've taken 17


one of my cooking classes, but that really didn't count because, well..." "You don't have to say it, Suzie. I understand. I suck at cooking." "No!" Suzie squared her body in front of Mary Lou and looked her in the eyes. "And that is perfect because I want to make sure my meal plans make sense to the novice cook, see? My new cookbook, Perfectly Matched, is all about meal planning and recipes and pairing foods together. I want to make it easy-peasy and useful for everyone. So..." "So you picked me?" Suzie smiled and Mary Lou relaxed a bit. Honestly, she didn't know why she was nervous about this anyway. Suzie Matthews always put everyone at ease within seconds. She could already feel the tension in her shoulders melting. "Tea?" Suzie started for the kitchen. "Let's work in here. I have the usual. Earl Grey, a lovely orange blend, and a spicy Chai." She turned and motioned for Mary Lou. "Or do you prefer coffee? I have cinnamon flavored brewing..." Suzie rattled on and Mary Lou found her feet. She moved into the kitchen and told herself that she was going to enjoy her day. After all, Suzie was Legend's hostess with the mostest. Surely she could pick up some pointers as well as have a bit of fun. **** "You know, Mary Lou, you really are a pretty girl." Mary Lou felt the heat rush to her cheeks and glanced away. She doodled with a pencil on the yellow legal pad 18


where she'd been helping Suzie with meal plans and rating the selections. It had been a good day so far and she felt comfortable with Suzie as they talked about everything under the sun—including men, and her upcoming marriage. It felt like girl-talk and she'd not had that in a long time. In fact, she was enjoying being with Suzie. "I guess I'm okay." Suzie lifted Mary Lou's chin and brushed a stray strand of hair back from her forehead. "I bet Thurman thinks you are pretty." "He says I'm durable." She looked straight into Suzie's eyes and in return, Suzie made an awful face. "If you tell me he also said you had good hips for breeding, I'm going to leave here right now, go find that homely carpenter, and kick him where the sun don't shine. What an awful thing to say!" Mary Lou chuckled at the thought of Suzie kicking Thurman's skinny ass and shrugged. "Well, I suppose it's true. I'm the stable housewife kind of woman, not the glamour girl." "Oh crap." Suzie rose and pulled her off the barstool until she stood. "I'm a freckle-faced, red-head with pale skin, but I've learned to play that up to my advantage and focus on my assets. You need an attitude adjustment. Come here." She tugged her toward the pantry and opened the door, then turned her body to face a full length mirror. "Stand up straight, Mary Lou. Pull those shoulders back." She did. 19


Suzie gathered the extra fabric in her sweatshirt at her back, causing the shirt to tighten across her more-than-ample chest and emphasize her small waist. "You, my dear, have a perfect hour-glass figure. Men love that." She looked her body up and down in the mirror and scowled. For the first time ever, she looked at her body in a different way. "I always thought I was frumpy." "Well, you are if you wear baggy clothes like this. Honey, you need to show off this figure of yours." Shrugging, she replied. "What's the use with this face? And this mousy nest of hair." Sighing, Suzie looked her straight in the eyes. "My dear Mary Lou. If the truth be told, do you want to marry Thurman Phillips? Or do you want better ... because honey, you can do better. You just need a little, well, sprucing... "But of course, it's up to you. If you are determined to settle for Thurman the carpenter who thinks you are durable..." Mary Lou didn't want to answer that. Thurman was stable. He had a job and owned a house. He wanted kids and he wanted to stay right here in Legend for the rest of his life. Those were all things she wanted too, weren't they? Weren't they? Who was she trying to convince? Suzie? Or herself? "Of course I want to marry him." Suzie grunted. "You need more self-confidence and you need a new hairstyle and some makeup, and if you will let me..." 20


For the second time in a day, Mary Lou wondered why Suzie Matthews had taken such an interest in her. At once, a rumbling rolled through the kitchen and both women jerked to stare out the back window. Suzie moved forward and she followed. Suzie gaped. "Oh. My. God." "What?" She pointed and Mary Lou followed the direction of her finger—and nearly passed out cold on the floor. Her head went light. Her vision blurred. "Shit," she said between her teeth. "Shit!" Brad, Suzie's husband, was in the yard directing a vehicle as it moved up the side of the house. A dark blue bus, the kind you see on the interstate traveling into and out of Nashville, carrying country music stars to and fro, pulled off the driveway and under Brad's guidance, parked in Suzie's backyard. In large silver script across the side of the bus was written the name, Nash Rhodes. They watched as the vehicle parked, the door opened, and then out walked... Both women screamed, grabbed each other, and jumped up and down right there in the middle of the kitchen. Suzie reached up and tugged the scrunchy from Mary Lou's hair. "Ow! What are you doing?" she gasped. "Getting you presentable!" "No!" A million thoughts raced through her head. Her hair now falling into her face, her heart pounding—Nash Rhodes 21


was walking up to the back of Suzie's house!—and all she could think of was that she needed to hide. She raced for the open pantry and ducked inside. "I need to hide! I'm frumpy! I don't have a waist! No makeup. Mousy hair! Shit!" Halfway in the pantry, Suzie grasped her shoulders and shook her. "Dammit, woman! Get a grip!" Then she reached up with both thumbs and forefingers and pinched her cheeks. "What are you doing?" "Putting some roses in your cheeks." Then she fluffed her hair. "There, looks like you just rolled out of bed." "That's a good thing?" "Yes!" "Oh." Next Suzie shoved a pair of sunglasses on her face. "A trick I use when I don't want to put on eye makeup to go to the store. Keep them on." The back door creaked. Suzie gathered the extra fabric of Mary Lou's sweatshirt in her fist and tugged her halfway out of the closet. Grinning, Suzie looked toward the door where her husband walked in. "Hi honey!" Suzie said. The shadow behind him could only be the embodiment of Nash Rhodes. Mary Lou thought she would faint dead away and avoided looking his way. Her knees were buckling and her head still spinning. Meeting Nash Rhodes never happened this way in her dreams. Then, she was all dolled up and had on her tight Wranglers and fancy boots, and he just couldn't resist her. Not like this! In sweatpants and no makeup. 22


Suzie's grip on her shirt was constricting her chest. She couldn't breath. The shadows walked into the kitchen. Her over-stimulated brain wasn't comprehending a thing. But... She could almost smell Nash. She'd dreamed a thousand times what the man would smell like. Tobacco. Bourbon. Sweat. Sex. Oh, be still my pounding heart. "Hey Suze." Brad walked on into the kitchen and kissed his wife on the cheek. "Hey Mary Lou." She eked out a weak "Hi." She grasped the pantry door and leaned into it. Maybe fell into it. It swung forward and she tripped over Suzie's feet and, in a tumble of flying mousy locks and yards of extra sweatshirt fabric, landed flat on the floor with a very unladylike oomph. The sunglasses skidded across Suzie's polished hardwood floor. After a moment of dead silence, she little by little lifted her face. The toes of some very expensive boots were pointed right at her nose. Ostrich. She knew he always wore ostrich because it was a well known fact in the Nash Rhodes fan circles. Bringing her gaze up a little higher, she took in worn denim jeans, a little frayed around the ankle, and tight over the calf. She swallowed and called herself every kind of clumsy. Stupid. Stupid. Clumsy. Plain Jane. Idiot girl. Mousy Mary Lou. A large hand reached down and she glanced further up. 23


Calloused on the pads of his fingers. She noticed that. From guitar pickin', she was certain. "Here, honey, lemme help you up." Oh, shit, that voice. Smooth as chocolate and sharp as chipotle peppers. Made her heart turn over in her chest. Twice. And within a second, she lifted an awkward hand up to grasp his big ol' warm one—it just smothered hers—and he hauled her to her feet. "Oh!" She felt lighter than air. She risked a lengthy look into his eyes and he grinned that sexy, sultry, melt-your-heart Nash Rhodes grin at her. The one in all the posters. The one she'd imagined in her daydreams and savored in her oh-so-wicked night-time fantasies. Damn. Then all went black and she fell again at his feet. **** The voices above were what roused her. Suzie's. Brad's. She waited while she was coming to, to see if she could distinguish anyone else's. She was humiliated enough, as it was, without waking to see Nash peering over her body sprawled out on the floor. No, wait. It didn't feel like she was on the floor. In a bed?

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"Poor thing. I think the excitement was too much for her," Suzie mused. "Brad Matthews, why in the hell didn't you give me some kind of warning?" "It was one of those things, Suzette. It sort of fell into place and I thought I was doing a good thing." Mary Lou heard Suzie sigh. "Well, of course. I know. I could have used a few minutes..." She paused. "Well, at least we didn't run Nash off." Is he here? She wanted to open her eyes. "Naw. He's fine. Was a bit worried about her though. Said she was like dead weight in his arms when he carried her up the stairs." Mary Lou flashed open her eyes. "He carried me?" Suzie sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. "Yes, sweetie. Oh my goodness, are you okay? I was so worried." She sat up. Oh, woozy still. "He carried me?" "Yes, but it's okay. He was concerned." Mary Lou's heart beat faster. "Just my luck. I'm in Nash Rhodes' arms and I'm unconscious and have absolutely no recollection of it. Dammit!" Suzie looked at her and held her gaze for a long moment. Then she turned to her husband and said, "Brad, I know you have things to do this afternoon at the Lodge, right?" "Well, I thought I'd hang around the house and play with Petey this afternoon." "Petey loves to go to the Lodge. It's a beautiful day. He can ride his trike on the deck while you have things to do." Glancing between husband and wife, Mary Lou knew there was more to this conversation than what was on the surface. 25


Suzie nodded to Brad. "Oh, of course. Yes. I have things to do." He left and Mary Lou questioned just what kind of control Suzie had over that husband of hers. Cupping her face in her palms, Suzie turned Mary Lou's face her way. "Now, you listen to me, Mary Lou Picketts, because I'm only going to ask this once more. Do you really want to marry Thurman Phillips? Or do you want to live on the edge a little bit and see if I can hook you up with Nash Rhodes, even if it's only for an evening. Your decision. And it's a once-in-a-lifetime shot. "But before you answer, think about this. Is it about Thurman or is it about you? What do you want, deep in your heart? Durability? Or a chance at something more? A chance. That's what I want to give you, Mary Lou. A chance at more. "And if you do, then this afternoon, we have our work cut out for us, but we'll give it our best shot, all right?" Suzie stopped talking, and Mary Lou realized, sitting there on a bed in one of Suzie's guest bedrooms, that her chest was heaving in breath after breath, and her heart was beating a wild tattoo in anticipation. "I don't want to be durable." Suzie grinned. "What do you want to be?" "Sexy." The grin widened and fear lanced Mary Lou's mid-section. "We can do that," Suzie said. "But here is your first task. Get on that phone and call Mr. Thurman Phillips and tell him that I need you to stay the weekend with me here at the B&B. Plead the deadline and tell him I'm paying you. If you have 26


plans, cancel them, because I want you freed up for the entire weekend. You hear? If he needs to tend to Miss Priscilla, then so be it, but let it go. The cat will be fine." "But we have tickets for the concert Saturday night." "Honey, you are going to have a front row seat and a backstage pass. Tell him to take his mother. I need your help and I'm hiring you. Now call." She hesitated. Should she? Could she turn herself over to Suzie for the entire weekend? Yes. She reached for the phone. "All right. I'm all yours." Suzie squeezed her hand. "Nope, I'm hoping by the end of the weekend you'll be all his." The thought of that made Mary Lou's stomach twist into a knot. She better call Thurman before she threw up. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Two Friday evening "Why in hell you agreed to do this, I will never know." Nash straightened his Resistol and looked at his manager, Rick Jameson, through the mirror. "She's a fan. Least I can do." "Bullshit. You have millions of fans. There is barely a return on investment by paying special attention to one fan. You should be resting up tonight because we've got a long haul this weekend, and the two weeks after that." Nash turned. Rick was right, but he was damn tired of the long hauls lately and was eager to get away from the bus, his crew, the band, and Rick for one evening and experience some good home cooking and down-home company. Tennessee wasn't Louisiana, but the folks here were good people and it was almost like home. He liked the Matthews and the looks of the bed and breakfast they lived in, and well, if they had invited a fan of his to eat with them, so be it. "I'm having dinner with the Matthews. Brad is on the board of the hospital and owns the Lodge. I might decide to make a donation, so it's more than meeting fans. You guys take the night off, head into Knoxville or Gatlinburg." He tossed a credit card Rick's way. "Have a round or two on me. I need some space." He started for the door, hoping that message was blunt enough. Rick's hand landed on his bicep. "Don't do anything stupid." 28


Looking down at the smaller man's fingers on his upper arm, Nash flinched. Rick was beginning to get on his nerves. He pulled his arm out of his grasp. He wanted to jerk it, but didn't. No need to make a scene. He wanted out of this damn bus. "I think the better statement is this—don't you do anything stupid, and stay the hell out of my way tonight. Got it?" Rick dropped his hand and backed off. The look on his face told Nash that he understood. They'd all been testy the past week. Forty cities in fifty days had taken its toll. He needed a break. They all did. He twisted the knob on the bus door, wondering if the fan at dinner this evening would be the same temptress he'd carried upstairs earlier in the day and carefully laid on the guest bed. When her eyes had fluttered up at him briefly during the ascent up the stairs, he'd gotten a flash of seablue that sent something in the pit of him into a downward spiral. If so, he hoped he would get to stare into them much longer this evening. "Later. Don't wait up." **** Her stomach in knots, Mary Lou looked in the mirror and didn't recognize herself. Suzie looked over her shoulder and smiled. "I do good projects," her new friend exclaimed. "So now I'm a project." 29


"Of sorts." Suzie smiled. "I meant it in a good way. You look beautiful, Mary." One corner of her mouth twitched upward into a half-grin. "Better than durable?" Suzie squeezed her shoulders. "Oh sweetie, much better than durable." She stepped back. "Now, I'm tending to the rest of dinner. Don't come down until I call you. I want you to make a grand entrance." She moved toward the door. "And oh yeah, remember, it's Mary instead of Mary Lou, okay? Sounds a bit more grown-up." "Sure." Suzie left and Mary continued to stare at herself. Mary. She was going to start referring to herself that way, too, even after tonight. Why she'd not thought of it before was beyond her, but she did feel more mature leaving off the Lou. Looking to her feet, laced into a pair of Suzie's red strappy, two-inch heeled sandals, and sporting a matching blaze red pedicure, she prayed her grand entrance did not include falling into a heap at Nash's feet again. Buffed and spit-shined, she didn't look half-bad, though. No, damn if she didn't look beautiful. "Just get through dinner," she whispered, looking into her reflection, one that she had to take a double-take to recognize. The coaching, the hair, the makeup, the borrowed clothes—she had no idea she could look, and feel, so darn sexy, and loved the magic Suzie had worked on her this afternoon. Now, if she could pull it off. The phone rang on the night stand. Butterflies. 30


One ring. Two. That was the signal. With one last look in the mirror, Mary took a deep breath and exhaled. "Nash Rhodes," she whispered with all the confidence she could muster, "I sure as hell hope you are ready for me." When in fact, deep in her gut, she wondered if she was ready for him. **** The table was set for four. Nash settled himself into a chaise lounge on the deck behind the Matthews' house while Brad handed him a beer. Leaning back, he relaxed, crossing his boots at the ankles and placing his Resistol on a nearby table. The late summer evening was pleasant—not too hot nor humid—which was a gift for this Tennessee August day. The lake fanned out at the bottom of the hill in front of them. Across the smooth water, he could see the lodge Brad owned and where the outdoor concert was to be held tomorrow evening. He hoped the cooler weather stayed around for another twenty-four hours. "You've got yourself a nice place here, Matthews." Brad turned a couple of steaks on the grill. "This was Suzie's place. I lucked into it." Suzie sidled up and bumped him with her hip. "Darned right about that." Stretching up on her tiptoes, she kissed her husband on the lips. Glancing at Nash, she grinned. "Came looking for me, he did. Couldn't resist me any longer." 31


Brad reached behind his wife and pinched her on the backside. Suzie squealed and slapped Brad on the buttocks. Nash watched their play and grinned. This was what he'd missed. His mom and pop played like that. Obviously, the Matthews couple had a good thing going. If he were half as lucky, he would have a relationship like that at some point in his life. Perhaps. If the career didn't get in the way. Frowning, he looked out over the peaceful lake. Damn. He had sworn he would not turn somber this evening by brooding over the current state of affairs. He needed his career to take off and stay up. He was on the pinnacle. The Country Music Awards were weeks away and he was up for Male Singer of the Year. He had to concentrate on the music ... and a woman, one who came with expectations and longings and plans for the future and commitment, were off the menu for a while. He'd have to put his own longings for home and hearth out of his head a little longer. He was too new, too fresh in the field, to let the career slide. He lived to play music. A woman would get in the way. The sound of heels clicking across the wooden deck brought him out of his musing. Looking toward the house, a young woman stepped into his line of vision. Not just any woman, a beauty. A natural, fresh-faced beauty. Not sex-addicted groupie beauty, like the ones he usually encountered when they slipped backstage, and he was glad of that. This woman was 32


Legend through and through, he could tell, and reminded him somewhat of Suzie. And of home. He gulped and while continuing his perusal, knew he was in trouble. The simple floral sundress she wore showed off her creamy shoulders. Red heels matched the flowers in her dress and the tips of her toes. A simple beaded bracelet, the same color as her shoes, graced one wrist. Her hair, deep brown with golden highlights, was swept up off her neck and caught into a clip, with wisps trailing down on either side of her delicate face. Makeup—not a lot, just enough. And lips, Lord help him, plump red lips that hinted of chili peppers and sweet release. He glanced away and swore to himself. "Nash," Suzie's voice came from afar. "This is my friend, Mary. She's joining us for dinner." Rising, he sat his beer on the table next to the chaise. His voice caught in his throat as he attempted to say a hello, but damn him, if it didn't squeak out. Lifting a trembling hand, he offered it to her and she tentatively placed hers in his. Heaven. Her soft palm was small and tiny in his big rough one. He relished in the notion of protection and for a brief second, wanted to pull her into his body and guard her from anything and everything that might get between them. Like life. "Nash," she said, her voice a sweet, smooth caress. "It is so nice to meet you." "The pleasure, ma'am, is all mine." 33


Hell. Was it his hand that was still trembling or hers? At the moment, he couldn't tell, although she seemed very calm and collected, compared to his sudden, shaken demeanor. Sit. They should sit. Perhaps she'd join him on the chaise? No. Ridiculous. He glanced to a chair next to his. Suzie moved between them then. Thank God. "Why don't you two sit and talk while we get dinner on the table?" "May I..." He looked to Mary's eyes while she talked with Suzie. Blue. The little temptress. From this afternoon. Damn... "Now Mary, you and Nash are our guests. You know how possessive Brad and I are of our food and preparation. Nothing for you two to do except sit a spell and visit." She turned and motioned for her husband. "In fact, there are a couple of things we need to tend to in the kitchen. Brad? Those steaks look done. Let them rest there beside the grill and come help me." "Yes, ma'am." Brad grinned and tipped his head to Nash, who was unexpectedly very grateful to be alone with Mary. And scared shitless. "You feeling better?" Mary wasn't quite sure she remembered how to speak. Or sit. Her body frozen to the spot, she could only look forward into Nash Rhodes' deep set and bottomless pit brown eyes. She was trying to be sexy. She was trying to be suave and sophisticated. And she was trying to be herself all at the same time. But it wasn't working, was it? 34


Why did she think she could pull this off? "Better." There. She eked out one word, followed by a nod. Oh, God! He knew it was her! From this afternoon. She was hoping he wouldn't recognize her. Not good. "How about you sit here," he motioned toward a chair, "and I'll sit there," and then the chaise. "Sure." Her lips were unfreezing now. Two words. She actually said two words. Finally, he took her elbow and guided her to the chair. Oh, his fingers were warm and tingly on her elbow. She sat and the butterflies in her stomach started to subside. At last, she let out a long-held breath and watched him move to the chaise, and fold his long and lean body into it. He lifted first one leg, and then the other, on the leg rest. Denim-clad and stretched over his thighs, his legs took up the entire length of the chaise and more. He crossed his ankles and she found herself perusing him from the tips of those ostrich boots all the way up to his leather buckled belt and western cut shirt—rolled up on his forearms to expose dark hair on tanned skin; then his open collar revealing another wisp of black chest hair, his face—five o'clock shadowed and sexy as hell—his tousled brown hair, and then back again to those chocolate brown eyes that she could easily get lost in. Again, she exhaled. "So you live here in Legend?" he asked. Oh, conversation would be good. Of course. "Yes," she replied. "Born and raised here. What about you?" 35


Good. That was good, Mary. Comment and then ask a question. "I'm a Louisiana boy." But she knew that. She knew everything about him. But hearing him say "Loosiana" like those deep southerners do, set her heart all atwitter. Man, she liked that southern drawl. The butterflies were back again. Where were Suzie and Brad? She had hoped they would help ease some of this awkwardness. "I've never been to Louisiana. What's it like? You miss it?" There. Get him talking about himself. That was something Suzie said men like to do. "I miss it a helluva lot." He glanced off toward the lake. "I'm from bayou country. Miss the fishing and the water. The people. In a strange sort of way, Legend reminds me of where I grew up." Her heart fluttered more. He liked Legend? A good thing, right? "Legend is a great place to—" Just then Suzie burst back onto the deck. "Oh, Mary. Nash? I'm so sorry to interrupt, but I have to tell you that there is something going on at the Lodge, and Brad and I need to leave for a while." Both she and Nash stood. Panic ripped across Mary's midsection. "Oh, no." Please don't leave me! "I don't know how long we'll be gone. There is a rehearsal dinner going on for the Martin wedding and half the staff didn't show up for some reason. Brad and I have to go work." "Oh, but..." Please do not leave me here with him alone! 36


Suzy moved to the grill and removed two steaks to their plates. "The salad is in the refrigerator and there is shrimp and grits on the stove. Please help yourselves, okay? And I am so, so sorry. Gotta run now." And then she was off. Mary stared at the back door. She was alone with him. The thing she'd dreamed about for months. And now ... Now what? All she wanted to do was run. "So," his deep voice came from behind. "I guess we should eat that steak." Turning, she faced him straight on. He was smiling. And he was gorgeous. Sexy. Dangerous. And she felt ... oh, so inadequate. "We don't have to. I mean, I know you didn't come here to eat with me. I mean, since Brad and Suzie have to leave..." His smile turned into a frown. "No use wasting a good steak." So it was about the steak, not the company. He didn't want to be here, did he? She took one step back. "It was nice to meet you, Nash, but I know you are busy and probably tired from your travels and..." "So you don't want to stay and eat with me?" "Oh, of course I do! It's, well, I know that you really don't want to spend time with me. I mean, I'm just, well ... I know you weren't expecting to have to entertain me and..." "I think you should calm down and let's sit and have a nice meal out here on this beautiful evening. Let's enjoy the lake and the night and..." And what else? No. She was not ready for this. For him. 37


What the hell am I doing? Who am I kidding? Her chest was tight. Had she breathed in the last two minutes? "I ... I..." Out of the blue her stomach cramped and she didn't feel so good. Not a good sign. She laid a hand over her belly. "Are you ill?" Yes, that was it. She was ill. "I don't know. I ... I don't feel so hot right now." "Perhaps you should go lie down then." "Yes. Yes, maybe I should." "I'll help you up the stairs." "No!" she said way too loud. "No, I mean, I'll be fine. I'm not sure what is wrong with me lately." "And you passed out this afternoon, too, so perhaps you should see a doctor." She nodded and backed away, savoring her last look at him. Dammit, am I a fool or what? "Yes, I will do that." She made it to the door. "Nice to meet you, Nash." Then she turned and ran through the kitchen and upstairs to the guest bedroom where she was staying, locked the door, and collapsed into a heap of self-pity and self-deprecation on the bed. "I am such an idiot." A part of her wanted to call Thurman. To hear his voice and feel comforted by someone familiar. Normal. Mundane. "Shit," she whispered into the pillow but didn't pick up the phone. **** 38


Nash ate half a steak and didn't bother with the shrimp and grits, or the salad. For all of his nights of eating with the boys, he thought he'd enjoy eating alone for once, but he was wrong. Something was tugging at his gut, too, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. So he cleaned up and put away the food for Suzie and Brad and then made his way down the hill to the lake until sundown. He sat in an old Adirondack chair and watched the ripples in the water and the streaks of red and silver across the sky as the sun descended over the mountain. He did relish the silence. Of crickets and tree frogs singing. Of an occasional flopping fish off the dock. Of not much else. His brain needed this rest. Leaning his head back against the chair, he closed his eyes and let his mind drift. Just on the edge of consciousness, Mary's face floated in to beckon him. That face was going to nag him for a long time. He didn't blame her for the exit. He knew she was nervous and if he'd admit, he was nervous himself. He was drawn to her for some reason, and it wasn't a good thing. That's why he didn't fight her leaving. As much as he wanted her to stay ... to get to know her a little better ... he wanted her to leave so the temptation wouldn't be there. He needed to get out of Legend as soon as possible after the concert tomorrow night. This Mary, and the town, and its people, were trouble. Not the bad kind, the good kind. But he didn't need any kind of trouble right now. [Back to Table of Contents] 39


Chapter Three Saturday morning Mary glanced at the clock on the nightstand. A few minutes after seven. She'd fallen asleep not long after she left Nash and slept fitfully through the night, his face weaving in and out of her dreams. But no longer could she stay in bed. Rising, she took one look at herself in the mirror and groaned. Remnants of last night's makeup still clung to her lips and her lashes. Her hair was mussed, having long fallen out of its clip. The only thing good about her looks were Suzie's silk pajamas that she'd let her borrow for the weekend. Coffee. She needed some to get her juices going this morning. There were no other guests at the B&B, so she doubted Suzie and Brad would be up so early after their long night. She'd heard them come in sometime after midnight and knew their son Petey was spending the night with his grandparents. Perhaps she would go ahead and brew a pot of Suzie's special cinnamon blend and it would be ready for them when they woke. And all the better for her, too. She needed something to perk her up. Padding down the hallway and the stair, she made her way to the kitchen. Stumbling to the coffee maker, she pulled down a canister of coffee and the filters. Yawning, the back of her hand against her mouth, she reached for the carafe and pulled it away from the burner to fill it with cold water. 40


It felt like she was moving in slow motion. She watched the water bubble and splash inside the carafe, her gaze focused on the level. She almost overfilled it but shut the water off in time. "Get a grip, Mary," she whispered to herself. "And get the caffeine going." She went through all the motions—scooped the coffee into the filter, filled the coffee maker, plugged it in and turned it on—then heaved a huge sigh as she turned and leaned against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest. "Perhaps intravenous injection would be quicker." Mary gasped and lifted her head to the sound of the voice. Nash! "How long have you been sitting there?" "Long enough to know that you are pretty darned cute when you come stumbling into the kitchen in the morning." Heat rose to her cheeks and her tongue froze. She gulped as he stood, set a mug with a tea bag hanging out of it on the counter, and strolled toward her. Tall. Man, was he tall. He towered over her as he stopped straight in front of her. "So what are you doing today?" Huh? "Me?" He chuckled. "Yes, you, silly. Do you have plans for the day?" He reached for a tendril of her hair, wound it around his finger, and tugged. Involuntarily, she moved closer to him. "Day? Plans?" Her head did a slow shake. "No plans." He leaned in and whispered. "Good." Oh my God. Too close. Too close! "Mary?" 41


"Yes, Nash?" "Let's get out of here." "Out? Now?" Moist warmth brushed her cheek as he moved even closer. His lips, firm and hot, brushed against hers and without thought, she tilted her chin forward to allow him better access. "Yes, you. Me. I need a break in the action. Let's get out of here," he breathed against them. Mary pulled away and looked into his eyes. For the longest time, she stared into them and he gazed back. A ripple of pleasure raced across her chest and settled in her abdomen. She shouldn't. She was getting married ... in two weeks, in fact. But ... But this was Nash Rhodes, and would she ever forgive herself if she didn't, at least, see what might happen between the two of them? "Okay," she whispered. "I'll go change." He smiled and tugged at the tendril again. "Don't touch your hair. I like it just like that." She allowed herself to grin back, tamping down the butterflies having a reunion in her belly, and slipped away from him. She ran straight into Brad at the door. "Oh! Sorry!" He did a double-take from her to Nash and back again. "I thought I smelled coffee. Hey, Nash. Mary, where are you running off to?" Startled, she didn't quite know what to say. She had no clue where they were going. "Um. Out." She heard Nash chuckle as she dashed for the stair. **** 42


Twenty minutes later Mary found herself with Nash between her thighs. Pressed up against him, her legs spread and her quads clenching his hips, she thought she'd died and gone to Heaven. The vibration of the rumbling Harley engine beneath them caused her to flush in embarrassment; her panties, she was certain, were dripping wet. Her breasts taut, her nipples hard, she hugged close the hard plane of his back. Her arms were wrapped firmly around his waist and she splayed her fingers over all six of his six-pack ab muscles. She'd never been so surprised in all her life when Nash led her outside, mounted the motorcycle, and told her to get behind him. It was Brad's, she learned, and he'd lent it to Nash for the day, as long as he promised to be back in time for the concert. Lord help her, she didn't want to be responsible for Nash not showing up at the concert! But what could she do? When Nash Rhodes was around, he was the one definitely in control. And she was like putty in his hands... Oh dear. She wanted to be putty in his hands. Funny how she never wanted to be putty in Thurman's hands. She followed his direction, scooted up close against him, and he reached for her hands and placed them on his stomach. For a moment, he left his big hand there, softly caressing hers, and smiled slyly at her in the handlebar mirror. "Hold on," he told her and gunned the engine. They sped off out of the drive and onto Lake Road, climbing into the 43


mountain in no time. Soon, she relaxed and learned to lean into the curves with him and the bike and felt, almost, as if they were one thing. It was a pretty good feeling. They wove through the mountains, still green and lush, even though it was late August. They'd had a rainy summer and the dryness of fall had yet to set in. It was still morning and the entire day stretched in front of them. The concert wasn't until eight o'clock that evening. What would they do until then? In a way, the silence was comforting. Now and again, they would steal a glance at each other and meet eyes in the mirror. Riding behind him allowed her to feel like they were getting to know each other, even though they weren't saying a word. It was comfortable and soon, she relaxed, and allowed herself to hug closer to him from behind. Once in a while, he lifted his hand to again, clasp it over hers at his waist, or lay it lazily on her knee. Every time, it gave her a thrill that traveled the length of her body and ended with a tingle in her toes. She enjoyed this way too much. Staying off the beaten path, they traveled the smaller mountain roads and wound around toward the Gatlinburg area. Mary had been this way a thousand times, but today she saw everything with a fresh eye and with every nerveending on edge. They slowed through the mountain village and its crowds and made their way to the opposite side of town where Nash pulled over at a greasy spoon and killed the Harley's engine. 44


Once the bike quieted, they eased their bodies off the cycle and stretched the kinks out of their stiff muscles. Nash didn't waste any time. Standing in front of her, he reached for her neck and unfastened the strap. Looking into her eyes, he unhurriedly removed her helmet and set it on the bike seat, then took off his own. Stepping closer, he raked his fingers through her hair in an attempt to get rid of some of the tangles. She had clasped her hair with a clip at her neck but had long lost it; her hair whipping in the wind ever since. "Hungry?" he asked. "Sorta," she replied. His finger-combing her hair was as sensual as hell. His gaze moved to his fingers and she continued to watch his eyes. "I love the color of your hair," he said. Should she tell him it was shade number 11A and she bought it yesterday at The Piggly Wiggly? No. "Thank you," she whispered. He smiled and his hands dropped to her shoulders. One moved to her chin and he tipped her face up to him. "I really want to kiss you." The thought of Nash Rhodes kissing her thrilled her beyond belief. Ever since he'd brushed his hot lips across hers that morning she was melting, waiting for another taste. Maybe she tipped her head in a nod, she wasn't sure. Maybe her knees buckled a bit. Not sure about that, either. All she was certain of was that her brain was doing a little spin and every cell in her body was screaming for contact. 45


Lips. Bodies. And he smelled wonderful. "Mary? May I?" You clutz. Answer him! "Yes." Nash didn't wait another second. Both arms encircled her and brought her closer, the length of her body pressed snug up against his. She felt warm and secure and protected in his arms. When his lips descended, and her eyes closed, nothing but the heat sparking in the sensitive nerve endings around her mouth existed in Mary's immediate world. Nothing, but the two of them. He raked his lips over hers and she tasted the salt of his skin and felt the shadow of his beard prick against her lips. An urgency swelled in her chest and the only way she knew she could quell it was to get next to him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him closer and deepened the kiss. Their lips taunted and played and each opened to the other to mingle tongues, and tempt and tease. Nash broke away with a gasp. "Damn," he swore on a low breath. He looked at her with an intensity Mary wasn't sure she could handle. She opened her mouth to speak, but he hauled her up against him again and took her mouth one more time. This time, the kiss was a sultry, lingering play of lips, both sucking and exploring, their hands wandering..." "Hey, get a room!" "Why shit! It's Nash Rhodes!" A camera flashed in their faces and Mary squinted, having just been jerked out of her perfect world. 46


"Sonofabitch!" Nash grasped the helmets and thrust hers at her, then donned his. "Get the hell out of my way," he said to the photo-hungry tourist. He kicked the bike into action again and she raced to don the helmet, dodge another barrage of camera flashes, and hoist her leg over the bike. "Hang on," he ordered. They sailed out of the parking lot, cameras clicking all the way. [Back to Table of Contents]

47


Chapter Four Saturday afternoon Sonofabitch! The last thing I need is a photo-hungry fan on my ass. Nash gunned the engine and sped back through downtown Gatlinburg. He made all the lights, which was miraculous, but wanted to get the hell out of Dodge before anyone else recognized him—as well as get a jump on those who did, in case they decided to follow. It was Mary's fault. He'd never felt so carefree and alive than he did with her cradled up against him. She belonged there, it seemed, and he had lost all sense of vulnerability and sensibility when they'd gotten off the bike and he kissed her. It felt like he'd waited hours to touch his lips to hers again, watching their sexy plumpness in the rearview mirror more than he had watched the road. Usually he was smarter than that out in public. No doubt, whether that guy was a fan or not, he'd sell the pics to some mag and then both his and Mary's faces, swapping spit no less, would be plastered all over the fan pages. He'd have to answer questions about a relationship and she'd suddenly be thrust into the limelight—and he had no clue if that was something she would be upset about, or not. For some reason, he figured she was pretty much a private person. Shy and reserved. Dammit. This one slipup could ruin everything. Would she have anything to do with him after 48


this? Would it make her turn tail and run on him again? Like last night? No wonder celebrities took every precaution they could to keep their private lives undercover. This was all too new to him to keep that in mind one-hundred percent of the time. And with Mary, he'd lost all sense of priority. Out of town now and heading toward Legend Mountain, he relaxed and looked yet again into the mirror on his handlebar. Mary stared toward the side of the road. She still gripped him as tight as before, but something had changed between the two of them. He wondered what she was thinking. Hell, she was probably wondering what he was thinking. He should take her back to the bed and breakfast. Tell her it was a great ride and head back to his bus for the afternoon. He should, but he didn't want to. They had a few hours and he wasn't ready to let Mary go, not just yet, until he figured out a few things. And besides, along with the keys to the bike, Brad had also given him the keys to one of his cabins up behind the lodge. The last thing he wanted to do was take advantage of Mary. He did want to take advantage of the situation and get away from the world, the music, the paparazzi, the fans, and who knows what else for a few hours. And since Mary was here, well, he hoped she didn't mind tagging along. Because she didn't have a choice in the matter. This time he'd make sure she couldn't run away until they had time to talk and spend some quality time together. They were heading back toward Legend so Mary figured he was taking her home—or rather, back to the B&B. He didn't 49


know where she lived and that was a good thing. Her mind spun the entire ride back over the mountain about what was going on. Oh, she could understand Nash's anger at the amateur photographer. She'd watched enough Celebrity TV to know stars didn't like cameras flashing in their faces. She had to wonder, though, if he was upset about having his picture taken while kissing her. Was that what angered him? Was he embarrassed to be seen kissing such a plain Jane with mussed hair and smudged makeup? Obviously, that was part of it. He'd high-tailed them out of town in an instant. They turned up the mountain and Mary scowled. This wasn't the way back to town. They raced past the Lodge, took a dirt road, and at a slower speed now, wove their way through pines and cedars and rhododendron to another turnoff, leading to a cluster of cabins. Brad and Suzie's cabins. The ones they rented out in addition to the Lodge. A sliver of panic sped through her. What did he have in mind? He pulled up to the cabin at the end and killed the engine. He sat for a moment, took off his helmet next, and then twisted back to look at her. "This isn't what you think," he said. "What do you think I think?" Funny how more bold she was getting by the hour. Getting off the bike, he squared himself in front of her and removed her helmet, too. "I just need some peace and quiet. 50


Some down time before this concert tonight. I ... I need a few hours to escape. I promise, I won't touch you, kiss you, or anything. Just be with me. Okay?" Lifting her chin and setting her jaw, she gazed up into his coffee-color eyes. "What if I want you to kiss me again?" His stare back went on for a small eternity, like he was contemplating something deep and philosophical. In fact, he was probably doing the same thing as her—weighing the consequences of what was going on inside his jeans and his brain. All Mary could feel, however, was the dare she had tossed out, and she quavered in the anticipation of his reaction. "Do you?" he finally said. "Yes." "Be sure," he groaned and leaned into her. Mary reached up and traced the backs of her fingertips against his cheek. "I am very sure," she whispered. Nash moved swiftly, before she could react. He picked her up and swung her into his arms and carried her off toward the cabin. Her arms went around his neck and his lips lowered to capture hers, wet and hot and sucking on them as he tripped toward the house. He set her down at the door and fumbled for the key in his pocket. Found it. Unlocked the cabin door, and pushed it inward. They rushed inside and he locked the door behind them. Mary watched as he glanced about, hoisted her into his arms again, and started for the stair. With each stride he took, her anxiety level rose and her stomach continued to 51


rumba under her ribs. He crossed the second floor landing and didn't stop until he found a bedroom with a king-sized bed and plopped her in the center of it, his body following. His length spanned hers and he hooked a leg over her hip and drew her into him. Her body trilled from the top of her head to her toes, wanting only to burrow closer. They were so close, face to face, breath to breath, their heads resting on the same pillow. Nash stroked under her chin and angled her face to his. The kiss they shared was as sweet and patient as the urgency they had felt earlier was rapid and reckless. And she was right all those times in her fantasies. He smelled of a hint of tobacco, the deep scent of male musk, and sex. Pure, unadulterated sex. And she wanted more. His mouth covered hers and the groan coming from deep in his throat was matched by her own whimper and sigh. Finally, Nash broke the kiss and looked deep into her eyes. "There are some things I need to say." He spoke soft and direct. Mary nodded. "Yes. Me, too." He seemed puzzled but continued. "I'm very attracted to you, Mary. Have been from the first moment I saw you." Her mouth twitched into a half smile. Nash grinned back and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. She was sure it was swollen by now. This wasn't happening, was it? Was the Nash Rhodes saying these things to her? "I've been attracted to you since ... well, since the first time I saw you on CMT. Like half of the American female population." 52


"Only half?" They laughed together and then Nash's face grew serious. "I want to make love to you, Mary. But I can't promise you anything." Mary knew this was when she should spend a few minutes weighing what was happening. Should she? Or shouldn't she? What would be the pros? The cons? Would she savor this afternoon for the rest of her life? Or regret it with everything that was in her? "I don't want you to promise a thing other than giving me your undivided attention this afternoon." And she meant that. Truly. Exhaling deep, he closed his eyes. "You are a gem, and I'm a horny sonofabitch." Laughing, Mary leaned up to place a kiss near his ear. "I'm as horny as you," she whispered. He leaned up on an elbow and stared down at her. "I need to explain. I'm sort of married to music, you know? The timing. The travel. A relationship would..." Married. To music. And she...? Was marrying Thurman. In two weeks. "I..." She placed two fingers over his lips. "It's okay, Nash," she whispered. "Make love to me. Give me this afternoon. I won't hold you to anything. I'm not the kind of girl..." Nash silenced her with his lips. "I know you're not. You're not like any of the other women out there trying to get their hooks in me. Mary..." his fingers started a slow trail down the 53


placket of her shirt, "I want to lose myself in you this afternoon. I want to love you and pleasure you and..." I want to love you and pleasure you. Love. If only... If only you were that kind of girl. It would be easier to leave you. Nash knew in his gut that he shouldn't be moving forward with Mary. That he shouldn't be leisurely undoing each small button down the front of her white cotton blouse. That he shouldn't be laying the front open to reveal her sexy, lacy bra with full breasts straining against the flimsy fabric, aching for his palm around them. Or dipping his fingers lower into the waistband of her jeans. He shouldn't be doing any of this. But he was. "Mary, sweet Mary..." he whispered and leaned in to nuzzle the hollow of her neck. She smelled like roses and strawberries, fresh and dewy and succulent, and that's exactly what he wanted to do—suck the dew right off her skin, and elsewhere. She squirmed in his arms. "Make love to me, Nash," she whispered. "I want you so..." Groaning, he rolled away and sat on the edge of the bed. He kicked his boots off and they slammed to the floor. He stood and lowered his zipper and removed his jeans, briefs, socks, and shirt, tossing every article hither and yon. He didn't care. Where he wanted to be was in Mary's arms. Her naked arms. She leaned up and started to remove her shirt. 54


"No," he told her, laying a hand on her forearm. "Let me finish undressing you." But before he moved to her, he glanced back at his jeans and removed his wallet and a small foil packet and set it on the bedside table. Last thing either of us needs is a baby... "Now," he growled and rolled into bed alongside her. "Now I will undress you." And believe you me, I am going to enjoy every long and tortuous minute of it. You would think he had all day by the way his fingers ambled over her body. Mary squeezed her thighs together as the tingling at her center grew into more of a throb. Nash began a slow and sensuous decent down the front of her blouse, pulled her to a sitting position, and caressingly removed first one sleeve then another. Smoothing his large palms down each of her arms from shoulder to wrist, he stopped at each hand and then lovingly kissed and sucked each of her fingers. The unhurried pace was about to send her over the edge with want as he took all ten fingertips into his mouth, one at a time, sucked them until he had his fill, and then moved on to the next. Once her blouse was tossed away, and all fingers provided equal and undivided attention, he slipped first one bra strap and then the other off her shoulder. The cups of her bra shifted and lowered with the weight of her breasts. Nash skimmed one flat palm over her chest and cupped her. "Lovely," he breathed. "I love the heaviness of your breasts."

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Mary watched his hand slip into the cup and cradle her, then twist and fiddle with her nipple. Passion zinged from the tip of that nipple to her center. Nash tipped her chin up so she could look at his face. "Look into my eyes," he told her. "Don't take your eyes away from mine." She didn't. She hooked into his gaze and held it while her chest started a rapid lifting and sinking with each swift and shallow breath she took. His eyes held her spellbound as she felt his fingers knead her flesh, now hot under his touch, and pinch and toy with her pebbled nipple. It seemed the more he tugged and taunted, the deeper the connection between their gazes, and the more aroused and impatient she was becoming between her legs. "Nash, you are driving me crazy," she breathed. A sly grin crossed his lips. "Good." The throbbing in her panties was nearly out of control now. She tried to keep herself from shivering. "I need to give some attention to the other side. Don't look away, Mary. Keep looking into my eyes." As if she could do anything else. He had captured and held her with an invisible thread between their gazes. She was a slave to his command. This time, however, he eased the other breast out of its cup and lowered his head to take her fully into his mouth. He still looked up into her face and she longed to toss her head back and close her eyes and let him devour her. But she couldn't. She would not break his stare. Never. 56


"Watch my eyes, Mary," he said while twirling her nipple with his tongue. His brown orbs held her there and the more she stared, the more wet her panties became. He sucked and she breathed harder and harder. He deepened his kiss on her breast and she watched his tongue loll over her. It was all she could do not to squirm on the bed. Her breathing deepened and her lower body felt on fire. She thrust her chest closer to Nash's mouth. All the while, her gaze never left his. My God, she might even have an orgasm with her jeans still on. "Nash, please..." She grasped for him and smoothed her hands down his muscled side. Oh, God. He felt so ... "Dammit, Nash. I can't wait much..." Oh, she wanted him so. Pulling out of his mouth, she slithered downward where both hands made contact with his middle and her lips trailed over his chest. She broke his gaze and found what she wanted. Nash's nakedness. The entire length of him. In all his wondrous male glory. Oh. My. God. He was large and hard and he leapt in excitement as she looked at the thing that made him all male. Yes, indeed. Reaching out, she grasped his penis in her hand and firmly stroked. "Oh, God, Mary..." At once, he flipped her on her back and removed her jeans and panties and shoes and socks in a millionth of the time it 57


took him to remove her blouse. The stripping of her clothes from her body only fueled the passion building inside her. "I wanted to do this slow and lazy," he groaned as he pushed her knees aside and covered her body. Her lips grazed his. "We can do slow and lazy in a little while," she breathed. "Take me fast and hard." Mary had no clue where the wanton wench inside her had been hiding all these years, or why she was coming out this afternoon to play so wickedly, but she didn't care. All she wanted at this moment was Nash ... inside her ... and loving and pleasuring her. Obviously, he wasn't going to second guess her on that. He leaned on one elbow and palmed her between her legs. His fingers, long like everything else on him, played and teased, sliding in and out of her while his thumb scrolled over the rigid nub between her lips. "Nash, my God ... I can't ... Oh..." Passion and urgency built within her and she felt she would explode. She was not that sexually experienced, but this—this was far beyond any sexual experience she'd ever... "You are so damn wet," he groaned. Her body took over and she clutched at him. "N-Nash ... Oh..." "There baby," His lips were close to her ear now. Soft and raking feathery sensations around her earlobe. "Let me have it." She exploded in his hand, his fingers inside her, and her body reacted by lurching into him. He held her tight, in the safe and secure cocoon of his maleness, while she soared into 58


the heavens and back again, landing softly in his sweet embrace. He kissed her then, laying her back against the bed and covering her body with his. He kissed her with tenderness and desire as he stroked her face with loving caresses. "My sweet, sweet Mary..." he breathed and her heart melted. Without another word, he leaned up and pushed between her thighs and into her, filling her completely. The length of him inside her thrilled her to no end, and the lethargic feeling she'd had seconds earlier after her powerful orgasm disappeared, and the wanton wench was back again, wanting him more than ever. "Take me, Nash," she whispered. "Now. I'm yours." He did. Their bodies crashed together over and over, as fingers and hands plied flesh and mouths searched for each other and melded in one fierce and elemental answering of need and desire. There was no sense of time or place, just the two of them, searching and perhaps, finding. Nash shouted his release and collapsed into her way too soon, saying her name over and over again on hushed and labored breaths, while Mary savored the moment and tried hard to squeeze away the tears in her eyes. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Five Saturday night The reflection in the mirror staring back at her told the tale. A tale, Mary decided, she didn't want to hear. Right now, she was in avoidance mode, and that suited her just fine. Keep sticking your head in the sand, Mary. That's right. Avoid the obvious and sooner or later you'll get smacked right upside the head with reality whether you want it, or not. Truth was, though, that she knew the reality of the situation. And the reflection in the mirror wasn't going to convince her of anything. She made love with Nash Rhodes all afternoon. Not once. Not twice even. And she wasn't going to tell a soul. Not Suzie. Not her mother. Definitely not Thurman. But she'd have this memory in her heart and soul for the rest of her days. Because she knew this was all she'd ever have of Nash. This day. This memory. And tonight, all dressed up for the party, she was going to go out there on the back lawn of the Lodge and listen to Nash's music like everyone else in Legend and smile and clap and hoot and holler. And if she wanted to think about what Nash looked like under that soft denim shirt and Wranglers, she would. Because she would know. And it was her secret. Forever. Today she had Nash Rhodes. Her every fantasy was fulfilled. And tonight, after the concert, life goes on. 60


"Are you going to stay in here and primp all evening? C'mon, girl. We have a concert to go to and those front row tickets are burning the palm of my hand." Turning, Mary said, "Suzie! Oh, I didn't hear you come in." "You look beautiful. I love the jeans and the sexy top. That plunging neckline is oh-so-your style, Mary. You have to wear things like this more often..." Suzie. Somehow she had become her mentor, and she didn't know why, but she liked it. She would keep this relationship, she knew. Becoming friends with Suzie was a godsend. "Thanks, Suzie. And thanks for letting me get dressed out here at the Lodge. And for the room! I feel like I'm living the life of luxury or something." She smiled at her friend and tamped down the butterflies growing in her abdomen. Her tummy. Where Nash had smoothed his hands over her skin and kissed her naval and caressed her lovingly like she was carrying his baby or something... Her thoughts zinged to the bedside table at the cabin and the foil packet still laying untouched there. Oh God. They had not... Her brain raced, trying to calculate days in her head. **** The opening band was not that great, but the crowd didn't seem to mind so much. Mary wove through the swarm with Suzie and found their reserved seats in the front row. Brad was off dealing with this and that. There was a brief intermission and then, as the sun was setting, Nash's band 61


came on stage and started warming up. Before she realized it, the night was in full swing; Nash swept on stage, and damn if he didn't stand right in front of her most of the night. She never, not once, took her eyes off of him. Not once. And he never, not once, looked her way. Until the last song of the night. That song, a new one he told the crowd, hit her deep in the gut. The music started and the crowd roared. Nash removed his guitar and set it on a stand on stage. He eased to the mic and grasped it in both hands, much like he had cradled her face in those big hands just hours earlier. And then he looked down at her. Straight into her eyes. And sang. Never look away. Keep your eyes on me. I might need more than a day. But keep your faith in me. Never look away. Keep your eyes on me... The song ended and Mary didn't try to squeeze away the tears this time. She watched as Nash sauntered down the steps of the stage. Looking up as he stood before her, she was spellbound and so captured by his gaze. Never look away. Keep your eyes on me. Nash held out his hand and Mary took it. Rising, she moved into him and at once, Nash lifted her into his arms and carried her back up the stairs, across the stage, and behind the stage curtain. There, he sat her down and looked deep into her eyes, and just like that mic, cradled her face in his big hands again. 62


"I wrote that for you," he said, a croak in his voice. "Never forget that." Mary's heart raced and for some reason, a sinking sensation landed in the pit of her stomach. Nash took her into his arms in a bone-crushing embrace and kissed her like it was their last. Was it? Their lips and tongues mated and Mary's heart swelled in her chest until she thought it might burst. Nash broke away at the sound of another man's voice and a slap on his shoulder. "Time to go, cowboy." Forcefully putting her at arm's length, Nash backed up. "Never forget," he whispered. "No," she said softly back. "Never." And then he was gone. It all happened so fast that while Mary stared in awe, looking at the place where Nash had just stood, she was oblivious to everything—and anyone else—around her. Her heart throbbed in her throat and her brain still reeled from the sensation of Nash's kiss. Behind her, a man cleared his throat. "What was that all about?" Mary rotated toward the voice and turned to find Thurman staring at her, his arms crossed at his chest and a deep scowl racing over his forehead. His mother glared at her from behind him. "Nothing," she whispered. "Nothing at all." [Back to Table of Contents] 63


Chapter Six Friday night, two weeks later Nash strummed his guitar for the last time and hung his head as the lights went out and the music silenced. His gut clutched and panic sliced through his chest. Every nerve in his body ached for something he couldn't have. Had walked away from. Shouldn't be here. Needed to be somewhere else. Dammit! The crowd roared and stomped their feet, begging for more, but one encore was all he had in him. Tonight's gig was over. Seven-hundred and fifty two miles away from home and a lifetime away from Legend. He stood in the middle of a crowd of adoring fans. And was alone. "Shit." His guitar swung over his back now, he stalked off toward the dark depths of the backstage, his band poised and ready for the second encore—their usual plan—while the crowd upped their chanting. He kept walking, hell-bent on getting to his bus. "What do you think you are doing?" The voice came from his right. Nash didn't look up. Didn't need to. It was Rick. "Leavin'." "Like hell." His manager grasped his bicep and Nash simultaneously swung around and cocked him across the jaw with his fist. 64


Rick stumbled backward and landed on his backside. The anger had been boiling in Nash for days now and he'd finally let it go. Shouldn't have, but did. He stood over his manager, shaking his fist. "Don't push me, Rick" Rick bounded up. "You goddamned sonofabitch!" He swiped at his jaw. "What the fuck has gotten into you?" That was the question he'd been avoiding for days. He knew what had gotten into him. Mary. And music or no music, he wasn't going to let her get away. "There's something I gotta do, man." He backed up. "Tell the boys I'll be in contact. Cancel the weekend." Rick cut him off. "Why don't you just shoot yourself in the ass while you're at it? Canceling a concert at this late date is the kiss of death. With the CMAs coming up..." Nash crowded him. "They'll forgive me," he said matter-offact. "Tell them I'll make it up. Cut a deal. You're good at what you do ... make it work." He brushed past Rick and out the door. His head spun with the lingering shouts of the crowd and the fact that he'd just punched his manager. If he survived all that, it would be a miracle. But it didn't matter. Come hell or high water, he had to see Mary. Had to stop her from making a big mistake. **** Saturday afternoon I will get through this. I will get through this. I will get through this. 65


The music had started already. Mary Lou's older brother was standing at the entrance to the church sanctuary. She missed her father today more than ever. He'd been gone three years and were he still living, would have stood right there where her brother was—ready to give her away. Or not. Had her father still been alive, she likely would have shared a long heart-to-heart about marrying Thurman and most likely, her father would have said, "Follow your heart, not your brain, for one time in your life, Mary Lou Picketts." But he wasn't here. And she was going to do the thing she had promised to do. Marry Thurman. Her lone attendant sauntered toward the entrance and down the aisle. She lost sight of her as she rounded the corner and stepped toward the waiting groomsmen. The flower girl was next, her cousin's little girl. "Go slow," she whispered, wanting to prolong the inevitable. Closing her eyes, she imagined the child walking between the pews and tossing the rose petals. The music stopped and an eerie silence crept over the old church. Somewhere outside an engine rumbled. Then at once, the organist stabbed at the keys and The Wedding March peeled through the sanctuary. Her stomach bolted in protest. "Now, Mary Lou," her brother prodded. She stood approximately ten feet from him, out of sight from the guests in the back of the church. That ten feet felt 66


like ten miles as she made her way toward him. The scowl on his face told her of his impatience. Finally, she reached him and he took her arm. They faced the guests and the groomsmen and bridesmaid and flower girl and the preacher standing in the vestibule. Mary Lou's gaze skimmed the crowd, her family and friends on the left, Thurman's family and friends on the right. Suzie sat about halfway down on the left in an aisle seat. She didn't look happy. "So are you going to do this, or not," her brother said. "Because, Mary Lou, it's now or never." She bit her lip. Now or never. Never? Never look away from me. Never give up on me. Never forget. "Never." She looked to her brother and grinned. He smiled back for the first time that day. Then without thought and with reckless abandon, she dropped his arm, lifted her skirts in both hands at her side, and stalked up to the vestibule where Thurman stood. "We need to talk," she told him, then glanced to the preacher. "I'm sorry, Reverend Jordon. We won't be needing your services today." **** Twenty minutes later, the church empty and Thurman having left in a huff with his mother, Mary stood in the 67


vestibule alone and glanced about. A strange sense of serenity came over her and she knew she had done the right thing. Oh, Thurman was quite upset and had demanded the ring back, and she was happy to oblige. He ranted on about the cost of the honeymoon, and she told him to take his mother, since she loved Niagara Falls so much. He was a mama's boy anyway; she'd probably worship him to the ends of the earth if he took her. Plopping down in a pew, she was so glad to be rid of all that. Now, life could move forward and somehow, she would figure it all out. Oddly, she was at peace with everything. In moving-on mode, her brain ticked off a few to do's. See if she could sell the dress. Return the wedding presents. Go shopping for new, sexier clothes. Make an appointment with her doctor... She was so lost in thought that she barely registered the creak in the old church door or the footsteps making their way down the aisle. But when the lone voice penetrated her musing, she turned. "Never look away from me..." he sang. Nash. Her heart leapt and skidded to a stop against her breastbone. Slowly rising, tears falling, she met him halfway up the aisle.

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"I was afraid I was too late," he whispered, tugging at a tendril of her hair. He looked at her then with such love in his eyes that Mary couldn't help but shudder with hope. "How did you know...?" Then she realized. "Suzie," they both said. No wonder she was frowning earlier. "I couldn't go through with it." Mary glanced down. He lifted her chin. "Don't look away from me. Don't ever stop looking into my eyes." She sucked in a shaking breath. "I'm sorry Nash. I know you can't promise anything. But I can't help being in love with you." Groaning, he pulled her into his chest. "You're not listening to me." His breath tickled her ear. "I love you. I don't want another day to go by that you are not by my side." She pulled away and connected again with his gaze. "But your music..." "Without you," he said, "there is no music." "And without music," she returned, "there is no you. I love you, Nash Rhodes. Take me to that bus and make me yours." He captured her lips in a kiss that was full of promise and love and a future. "Ah, my sweet, sweet Mary..." he whispered. "Think you can live in that bus for a while? Until this tour is over and we get our house built here in Legend?" Mary pulled back and looked into Nash's eyes. "Nash Rhodes, are you asking me to marry you?" "Damned straight," he replied. Smiling, Mary eased up into his embrace. "Well, I do have the dress..." 69


Nash growled, picked her up and headed for the door. "I'm afraid we'll have to get you another one because I'm about to rip that one off and have my way with you." Giggling, Mary nibbled at his lips. "Only one thing I can say to that. Rip away." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Epilogue Suzie couldn't help but observe the contrast in the two scenarios presenting themselves in front of the Methodist Church. A smug and satisfied feeling passed over her as Nash Rhodes, tall and wearing those tight wranglers and those ostrich skin boots and that tauntingly sexy black Resistol, strode down the concrete walk leading from the church while carrying his smiling and radiant Mary, and dragging the train of her wedding dress behind them. She also couldn't help but smile. She did good work and she knew it. Perfect. No, perfectly matched. She was quite proud, if she did say so herself. As Nash disappeared with his bride into the bus, her gaze swung to the other scenario. She didn't know the couple standing in front of the small cottage across the street, which was unusual since she knew just about everyone who lived in Legend. They were making enough of a ruckus, though, for half of Legend to get to know them pretty darned quick. Mad as heck, it seemed the woman was, about something. She strode toward a small red sports car parked in the drive, still giving the young man standing in the yard a piece of her mind. Suzie strained but found it difficult to hear over the engine of Nash's bus. 71


As it pulled away from the curb, she ambled toward her car, trying not to eavesdrop. Much. What she did hear, however, sounded a whole lot like this: "...a cold day in hell, Chris Marks, when I marry you..." The woman got in the car and drove away. Fast. Suzie lingered for only a moment as the man left standing by the drive hung his head and shuffled back toward the house. The End [Back to Table of Contents]

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About the Author Maddie James is widely published in fiction and non-fiction, with numerous romance novels in print, in both e-book and paperback formats, and translated into a least five languages. Writing with an edge of suspense, her stories span the romance genre from contemporary category to paranormal. Writing as Mia Jae, she pens erotica. Being a Libra, Maddie strives to balance her time wisely— not that she always succeeds. The day job, the kids and grandkids and granddogs, those pesky yard-sale junk projects that nag at her, those "to be read" books, and a plethora of characters and unfinished stories in her head often make that task a challenge. But she tries. Really. She does. Maddie is a member of Romance Writers of America (RWA), and several of its chapters—Kentucky Romance Writers, KYOWA Romance Writers, Published Authors Special Interest Chapter (PASIC), and RWA's Published Author Network (PAN). Her first published novel, The Wild West, a Kensington Precious Gems Romance, won the Calico Trails Cameo Award. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Coming throughout 2009! Suzie is back and here to stay! This time she's wreaking havoc as The Matchmaking Chef. Watch for the series throughout 2009 from Resplendence Publishing. Perfectly Matched is just the beginning. Stay tuned for more from The Matchmaking Chef! Hot Crossed Buns Wild Katie Long, she'll never settle down, will she? But Chris Marks has loved her for a long time and even though Katie continues to keep him at bay, he'll not give up. When Chris hires Suzie to set him up with a romantic dinner for two, so he can woo Katie in style, Suzie does all she can to set the scene and the mood. Thing is, Katie isn't about to be wooed, and she's hotter than a hot crossed bun when she figures out what Suzie and Chris are up to. Dates du Jour Speed dating? Speed eating is more like it. When Suzie sets up lunch date after lunch date for Lyssa Larkin, Legend's homegrown homecoming queen of 1992, she knows she's about bit off more than she can chew. Lyssa inspects and rejects her dates in two bites and then sends them on their way. Suzie wonders if she really wants to date or just eat two lunches, and worries that soon Lyssa's hips won't fit on her 74


dainty chairs. That is, until Suzie takes a risk with a man the exact opposite of what Lyssa describes as "perfect for her." When he won't leave as Lyssa dismisses him, or let her get near his plate with her fork, Suzie knows she's scored again. Side Dish Becca North doesn't want a boyfriend, but her best friend Nora certainly does. Becca is soooo off men. But when Nora pays the Matchmaking Chef to plan her a romantic picnic lunch date—a blind date, no less—she drags Becca along all the way from Pigeon Forge for moral support, and to check out her date. Thing is, Nora's date would rather check out Becca instead. Mate to Order When Suzie's success as a matchmaker hits the national scene about the same time as her debut cooking show on the food channel, her new producer comes to her with a list of requirements—not for Suzie's job, but for a husband. Patricia Plum has a specific list, and if Suzie really wants to make it big in New York, she'll make every attempt to deliver Patricia's "Mate to Order." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Enjoyed reading about Suzie and her adventures as The Matchmaking Chef? Want to know how it all began? Find Suzie's story and more at www.ResplendencePublishing.com Ladies of Legend: Finding Home by Janet Eaves, Magdalena Scott, Maddie James and Jan Scarbrough What happens when four writers who love romance get together and create a town, the people who live in it, and the stories of those people's lives? You get Legend, Tennessee— where four women from different backgrounds find purpose, love and their future in a town intent on preserving its past. Ladies of Legend: Finding Home is an anthology including four novellas: Claiming the Legend by Janet Eaves ... Lilly Peach is running from something so frightening it finally takes a whole town to cover her back. Midnight in Legend, TN by Magdalena Scott ... Lovely Midnight Shelby finds Legend on the Internet after becoming tired of being one of her now ex-husband's "beautiful things." Bed, Breakfast, and You by Maddie James ... Suzie Schul finds home only when the "fling" she had many months earlier shows up with a plan on her B&B doorstep. The Reunion Game by Jan Scarbrough ... Plain Jane Smith reunites with her long lost love by playing a game of "bait and switch" with her famous twin sister. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Also available from Resplendence Publishing Beauty and the Beast: A Ladies of Legend Novella by Janet Eaves Special Agent Polly Chapman has multiple identities ... She is known to many as a savior. To others she is a killing machine. But all who know her, or think they know her, believe her untouchable. Until she's injured. Now the man sent to piece her back together when "The Agency" considers her broken has only two choices—Catcher Stevens must fix her, or kill her. Harvest Moon: A Ladies of Legend Novella by Janet Eaves After her sadistic husband is dead, Winifred Butler believes herself finally free of his horror. But he continues to torment her from the grave as his secrets and lies, treason and terror, bring Agent Tom Green to her door. She is as determined to keep her past a secret as Tom is committed to bringing her secrets to light. Only one of them can win. So both must fight the attraction to the other, knowing they have everything to lose... Murder on the Mountain: A Ladies of Legend Novel by Maddie James In the two long years since her Tennessee state trooper husband's murder, Kate Carpenter thinks she's coped with his death, although everyone in Legend, Tennessee tells her she hasn't. She can't see what the problem is, really. She has her 77


parents, and her best friend Patti Jo, and her students. What else could a twenty-nine year old woman want? A man, Patti Jo keeps telling her. Sent to Kate's classroom on an investigation, ATF Special Agent Mike Lehmann uses his drug prevention training as his cover. His mission? To find out what Kate knows, about her husband's "death." Recent reports indicate he is alive and that he faked his death because of his involvement in a drugrunning operation. Mike's task is to expose Carpenter, and if she's involved, Kate. And he'll stop at nothing to get the answers he seeks.

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Perfectly Matched

Perfectly Matched

Perfectly Matched