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The Devil She Knows
Kira Sinclair


Willow Portis tries extra hard to be The Good Girl of Sweetheart, South Carolina. But the night of the Masquerade, she steps out of her well-behaved shoes and into a super-sexy angel costume. And when she’s tempted by a stranger, she gives in!But there’ll be hell to pay when the masks come off and she realises her stranger is no stranger at all!







Heaven help her...

Willow Portis tries extra hard to be the good girl of Sweetheart, South Carolina. But the night of the Fall Masquerade, she steps out of her well-behaved shoes and into a supersexy angel costume. And when she’s tempted by a stranger, she gives in!

Devlin Warwick has returned to Sweetheart, determined to show up the busybodies who ran him out of town ten years earlier. Seducing Willow probably isn’t the best way to prove them wrong....

And there’ll be hell to pay when the masks come off and she realizes he’s a devil she knows!




Willow wanted to shake up her life, to be daring. At least for one night…


The perfect partner-in-crime was watching her with bedroom eyes, his face partially hidden by a red devil mask.

In the middle of the dance floor, his arms tightened, leaning her off center. He made a sound deep in the back of his throat. And then he was kissing her.

There was no easing into the moment, not with him. He devoured her, his mouth hard and demanding. Heat and need twisted through her, sharp and unexpected. Then his tongue slipped in, sliding deliciously against her own.

Tearing them apart, he brought her upright.

She clung to his shoulders, afraid that if she let go she’d topple to the ground.

“Why’d you do that?” she asked breathlessly.

“Because I could. Because I enjoy shaking things up.” His deep blue eyes flashed dangerously. “And because I would have kicked myself if I let you go without knowing how your mouth tasted.”







Dear Reader,

Long before I met Dev and Willow I knew I wanted to write a story centered around a masquerade. There’s something so liberating about donning a mask. It frees you to act wild, be daring and maybe step out of your comfort zone…even if only for a few hours.

I come by my love of costumes honestly. I’ve been traipsing across the stage since I was a little girl, first as a dancer and then as an actress. My local community theater was a home for me, a place where I belonged. I grew up there, discovering myself as I tried on different personalities and roles to see if they fit.

Though it’s been quite a while since I’ve been in a show, I have managed to find another outlet for my dramatic tendencies. Each year my local Romance Writers of America chapter holds a murder-mystery dinner. And let me just say, we totally embrace the experience. We take on completely different personas…and sometimes even genders. We laugh until we cry and, more often than not, don’t even bother solving the mystery.

I hope you enjoy Willow and Dev’s story. Maybe they’ll inspire you to don a mask and act a little crazy every now and again. I’d love to hear from you at www.kirasinclair.com (http://www.kirasinclair.com) or come chat with me on Twitter, www.twitter.com/KiraSinclair (https://twitter.com/KiraSinclair).

Best wishes,

Kira


The Devil She Knows

Kira Sinclair






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


KIRA SINCLAIR is an award-winning author who writes emotional, passionate contemporary romances. Double winner of the National Readers’ Choice Award, her first foray into writing fiction was for a high-school English assignment. Nothing could dampen her enthusiasm… not even being forced to read the love story aloud to the class. However, it definitely made her blush. Writing about striking, sexy heroes and passionate, determined women has always excited her. She lives out her own happily-ever-after with her amazing husband, their two beautiful daughters and a menagerie of animals on a small farm in North Alabama. Kira loves to hear from readers at www.kirasinclair.com.


I’d like to dedicate this book to my amazing, wonderful and brilliant daughters. I’m so proud of the young women you’re both growing into.

I hope that one day you’ll find friends like Hope, Lexi, Willow and Tatum, and like the friends I’m blessed to have in my life. Women who will listen to you whine, let you cry on their shoulders, rejoice at your triumphs and offer a shovel if someone needs to die…even if only in jest. That kind of solidarity is priceless and absolutely necessary for getting through life with your sanity intact.

I love you both!


Contents

Chapter 1 (#u7461b7df-f19f-5cf8-a774-0d26bf5bf6ce)

Chapter 2 (#u9c080aad-a3ef-5e3f-817e-9f13148d858a)

Chapter 3 (#u6a929d43-58c1-5e47-a6bd-5f527fbc86ea)

Chapter 4 (#u3b3671c7-f276-511b-80f4-1059c7cf83b6)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)


1

Sweetheart, South Carolina,

the home of happily-ever-after

DEVLIN WARWICK BLEW past the ornate sign with its elegant gold scrollwork. He didn’t bother to hide his curling scowl. Please. The only happily-ever-after he’d ever gotten was the day he’d left town.

Hitting the gas, Dev pushed his shiny red pickup past the speed limit. He watched the needle creep to fifty, sixty and head straight for eighty. He didn’t care. He wanted the speed. Let Sheriff Grant pull him over. Unlike the last time they’d tangled, at least the officer would have a legitimate reason to hassle him.

With the windows rolled down and heavy metal cranked loud, Dev enjoyed the anticipation. The citizens of Sweetheart had no idea what was about to hit them. He’d waited a long time for this moment.

He’d left—been run out of town was more like it—ten years earlier with everyone’s condemnation ringing in his ears. There was nothing the citizens of Sweetheart hated more than a scandal, although they certainly ate up the gossip that came with it. He’d given them plenty of both.

His grandfather had kicked him out. He’d lost the only family he had left. The irony was that he hadn’t actually committed the crime they’d tried and convicted him of in the court of public opinion.

But now he was back. Successful, despite their predictions that he’d end up a drug addict or a felon, just like his dad.

He was going to enjoy this.

Dev pulled into the driveway of his grandfather’s house and sat with the motor idling. There was always the inn....

But, he reminded himself, the past didn’t live inside these walls. Neither did his grandfather, who’d died four years ago. Dev hadn’t even known he was sick.

The darkened windows mocked him, reminding him that he was completely alone. The house was his now, not that he’d seen it since the night he left.

It hadn’t changed.

The facade was well maintained, but there were still signs of wear and tear. The house was at least fifty years old and had been well used. No doubt the second stair to the porch still creaked. The shutters needed repainting. Maybe he’d take care of that while he was here.

At least the front landscaping was immaculate. He paid enough money to keep it that way. Trimmed shrubs filled the space behind the stone retaining wall. He’d missed the amazing shade of blue of his grandmother’s hydrangeas by a couple of months. No matter how hard he tried, he could never quite get the same color. Her rosebushes in the back might have late blooms, though.

The few memories he had of his grandmother all involved her kneeling on the ground, her hands deep in dirt. For a little boy, furious and lost, the quiet moments they’d shared in the garden had been a lifeline he’d desperately needed.

Unfortunately, those visits had been all too short. The taste of something sweet that had turned bitter because he could never stay longer than a few weeks. When he’d come to live in Sweetheart full time at the age of fifteen his grandma had already been gone.

He had mixed emotions about walking through the dark green front door. The specter of that last night reared its ugly head. Yelling, screaming, his grandfather throwing one of his grandmother’s prized figurines at the wall as he ordered Dev out.

Broken pieces of ceramic scattering across the floor. Blood trickling from a nick in his cheek.

Without thought, Dev reached for the scar. The pad of his finger ran down the puckered flesh, a constant reminder of the price he’d paid for something he hadn’t even done.

But he’d learned his lesson well. If you were going to get punished for the sin you might as well enjoy committing it.

If only he could manage to hold on to the rage of that night. But if the house held some of his worst memories, it also held the best.

His grandfather, the closest thing he’d had to a father, had patiently taught him how to use power tools in the dusty, dank garage. Together they’d spent countless hours throwing a ball at the hoop tacked to the side of the house. They’d moved silently together in the kitchen as they both attempted, badly, to cook dinner.

When he’d had nowhere else to go his grandfather had taken him in, given him a home and his first taste of tough love. After the kind of mindless liberty he’d known all his life, Sweetheart had been like a prison, full of rules he didn’t give a damn about.

His grandfather had expected a lot. The crushing weight of that responsibility had been so constricting, especially when Dev knew he couldn’t live up to it.

Better to accept the low expectations and just embrace the inevitable. It was almost a relief when he could let go of the secret hope that this time somehow things would be different. They never were.

At least not back then. Now... After years of hard work he was successful. And low-balling the Sweetheart Consortium’s bid for their new resort had been an easy decision. He might lose a little money on the job, but he could afford the hit. And the time away to oversee this project himself.

These days he rarely took on a job personally. He had several managers who normally went to the sites. Lately he’d spent more time in boardrooms than with his hands deep in the earth. Sweetheart was a chance to remedy that...and get a little revenge of the see how successful I’ve become variety.

He was looking forward to the moment when the town realized they’d hired him. Watching them squirm was going to be sweet.

It was just his luck that he’d arrived in time for one of the splashy parties Sweetheart loved. The Fall Masquerade would afford him the perfect opportunity to scope things out while keeping his presence a secret.

Tonight he planned to watch and learn. What had changed and who was in charge? How could he exploit the situation to turn the screws on those who’d assumed the worst of him without bothering to actually discover the truth?

Grabbing his garment bag and duffel, Dev finally went inside to change. He might prefer the jeans and work boots he wore when tromping around a site, but he was equally comfortable in the tailored suits required when making presentations to conglomerates and corporations.

The red silk mask was unusual, but it would keep his identity a secret, at least for tonight. And he had to admit he enjoyed the private joke—the top twisted up into two pointy devil horns. The devil among the saints.

Tonight he’d take in the spectacle. Tomorrow he’d get to work. And relish their frustration as the citizens of Sweetheart tried to make his life hell.

The difference between now and ten years ago was that this time there was nothing Sweetheart could take.

* * *

A BUZZ OF anticipation and excitement ran through the room. The Fall Masquerade was always a highlight of the year. Everyone loved the chance to dress up and be anonymous for a little while.

Well, everyone except Willow Portis. Despite no one knowing who she was, she felt uncomfortable. Stupid. Waiting for someone to laugh at her costume. Although, so far all she’d gotten were compliments.

“Quick, touch me.”

Surprised, Willow stared at the gladiator. The costume would have worked better if he’d had the ripped body to match. “What? Why?”

“So I can tell my friends I’ve been touched by an angel.”

Compliments and bad pickup lines. Willow touched him all right—she shoved the idiot out of her way. Deciding there was safety in numbers, she walked over to the tables set up with refreshments. Her friend Jenna was catering, although Willow hadn’t seen her.

Settling for punch, she crossed her arms over her chest and scanned the crowd for a familiar face. Even living in Sweetheart her whole life, and knowing everyone at the party, it was difficult to tell who was behind some of the masks.

Which was exactly what she was counting on—that no one would recognize her.

With nothing better to do, Willow stood and watched, trying to figure out who people were. Tarzan and Jane were clearly Tony and Michelle Sewell. The superhero with them was Wes Unger, Tony’s best friend since grade school. The sexy nurse was Carol Ann Kline, a transplanted divorcee, hell-bent on hooking a Sweetheart man.

Distracted by her little game, Willow didn’t realize someone was behind her until a long shadow spread across the table. Heavy hands landed on her waist and then ran slowly up her ribs.

She jumped. Her skin crawled. Smacking down on the hands, she stopped them from traveling higher. “What are you doing?”

“Checking for injuries. The fall from heaven must have hurt.”

Willow bit back a groan. “Seriously?”

“Trust me, I’m a doctor.”

Using the sharp points of her elbows, Willow pushed the guy away from her and turned. Indeed, he was dressed as a doctor, complete with green scrubs, stethoscope and a surgical mask obscuring half his face.

From somewhere deep inside, a fit of pique threatened to take over. The doctor reached for her again, but she held out a hand to stop him. To his credit, he didn’t push. He was pissing her off, but he wasn’t dangerous, just obnoxious and uncouth.

“If you touch me again, I’m going to make you regret it.”

Maybe using a temporary rinse to dye her hair a shocking red had been a bad idea, after all. At the time, covering up her dark, ordinary brown had seemed like a smart move. But combined with the mask that obscured half her face, it seemed to make her unrecognizable. Although it was entirely possible that the dress she’d designed was more responsible for the attention she was getting.

She’d wanted to be daring. To take a risk.

For the past several months, she’d been fighting hard against a restlessness she couldn’t explain. Her business was doing well. She had more requests for exclusive wedding gown designs than she had time to fulfill, and stores all around the world had picked up her latest collection. The boutique was thriving. Clients came from all over the South for wedding, bridesmaid and prom dresses—and everything else that went with those important purchases.

After putting herself into debt to open her design company and boutique with Macey, her business partner and friend, the scales had finally started to tip in the past few years.

By most standards she was successful.

So, why did she feel so...lost?

If she was honest with herself she’d admit the disquiet had started when she began designing Hope’s wedding dress. It wasn’t that she begrudged her friend happiness...it just brought home that she’d spent all of her energy on her business and none on her personal life.

She designed wedding gowns all day, but the prospect of creating her own felt like a dream completely out of reach. The constant barrage of giddy brides searching through their merchandise for that dream dress was getting to her. And if she wasn’t careful, the jaded edge she’d developed was going to morph into complete indifference. When that happened, her ability to create magical, romantic and sexy dresses would dry up.

Part of the reason she kept her business in Sweetheart was because of the atmosphere. The entire town was built around the idea that love and marriage could equal lifelong happiness. And her creative process needed that inspiration. She designed dresses for the most important day in any woman’s life...she had to believe there was more beyond that day, or the creations would just turn into piles of expensive material and beads with no heart.

It had been a long time since she’d felt desired and sensual in her own skin. So tonight she was taking advantage of the disguise to be daring, something she did not do. She was stepping out on a limb, secure in the knowledge that she could keep her little walk on the wild side a secret.

The masks provided anonymity and freedom. To further confuse everyone, she’d designed a dress she’d never, in the light of day, consider wearing. One of her own sexy, slinky creations paired with two arching angel wings she’d hand-stitched and then laced onto the back of the bodice. Stark white feathers rose behind to tower over her by at least a foot. Instead of wedding white, she’d made the dress out of a pale silvery gray.

The tight bodice, flared mermaid skirt, flowing sleeves and naked shoulders showed off more of her body than she was usually comfortable with. Willow had worked hard to build the image of a quiet, accomplished businesswoman. She clung to it, wrapping the familiar shield around her. Flaunting her body went against years of trying to live down the scandal of her sister’s disgrace.

Rose had always worn the smallest, tightest things she could get away with. She’d stayed out all night, drunk excessively and embraced everything their parents had warned her to avoid. Everyone had hoped her older sister would outgrow her penchant for pushing boundaries and making mistakes, especially when she eloped with an older man who had an established, settled life. Perhaps his love would be enough to curb her destructive behavior.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

Not only hadn’t he settled her, he’d been betrayed by Rose in the worst way. Then, after the divorce, her sister had headed as far as she could get from Sweetheart, taking the settlement and becoming a showgirl in Sin City. Willow cringed every time she thought of Rose on stage, topless in front of thousands of strangers. But Rose refused to cash the checks Willow sent, insisting she didn’t need the help.

Forcing the unhappy thoughts away, Willow realized maybe it was inevitable that Rose would pop up in her mind tonight. Even as she’d put the dress and mask on, part of her had felt as if she was betraying the reputation she’d fought hard to build.

Needing a break from the blatant sexual come-ons, Willow worked her way into the corner. It was her default position for these types of events. Having the solid support of the wall behind her was comforting and familiar.

She was seriously considering calling it a night when her friend Tatum, the local florist who had designed the amazing red, orange and yellow centerpieces, sidled up beside her.

“Do I want to know what prompted this little outfit?”

Willow cut wary eyes to her friend. If any of their group would understand, it would be Tatum. She was a no-nonsense, make-no-apologies kind of person. Willow admired her for that self-confidence. Tatum didn’t need anyone’s approval.

After spending her entire life worrying what others thought, Willow was envious. But she had no idea how to adopt Tatum’s cavalier attitude. It just wasn’t her.

“What do you mean?” she asked, still uncertain if Tatum knew who she was. She hadn’t told any of her friends what she’d planned to do tonight. She’d been apprehensive about their reactions. She wasn’t interested in being razzed for the decision...or talked out of it.

Tatum’s pale green eyes raked Willow from the tip of her head to the toe of the designer heels peeking out beneath her hem.

“Well, let’s start with the hair. I really hope it’s temporary. While I’m all for taking a risk, you’ve never struck me as a red kinda girl. And the dress. Don’t misunderstand, it’s gorgeous—how could it not be? You designed it—but a little revealing for you, isn’t it?”

Oh, Tatum knew it was her. “Thanks, Mom.”

Her friend chuckled, sipped on the glass of punch she held. “Don’t get me wrong. If you really want to go there, I’ll support you one hundred percent. But as long as I’ve known you, this—” her hand waved up and down to take in Willow’s entire ensemble “—has never been your thing.”

Tatum turned, giving her back to the room and blocking out everyone else. Her stare was serious and sharp. “I’ve had my fair share of one-night-stand regrets. I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Willow shook her head. “No one said anything about a one-night stand.”

“Please, honey, that dress screams ‘screw me.’ Right along with the underlying air of innocence that not even your amazing creation can completely cover up. You’re like catnip, and every single man here is sniffing.”

Willow wanted to dismiss her friend’s observation—she wasn’t catnip for anyone—but the barrage of bad lines she’d heard tonight had her swallowing the words.

“Right now, there are at least six men who can’t take their eyes off you.”

“How do you know? Your back is to the room.”

Tatum shrugged. “What do I always do at these things? I’ve been watching. The real question is, what are you going to do about it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you going to stay here in the corner, or are you going to get out there and flirt?” Shifting to stand beside her, Tatum crossed her arms over her chest, leaned against the wall and stared into the pulsing crowd. Tatum hated these things, and still she always came.

“Corner,” Willow answered without a second thought.

“I’m not sure he’s going to be satisfied with that answer.” Without bothering to look, Tatum tipped her head sideways.

Willow followed the gesture, her eyes scanning the crowd for whatever her friend was talking about.

And then she saw him.

Even from behind the barrier of his red-satin devil mask, she could feel the intensity of his stare as it ran slowly over her body. And she reacted. Her body buzzed with the recognition of a virile, interested male.

Through the space and the shield of his mask she couldn’t tell the color of his eyes, but they were dark. People brushed past him on both sides. The cacophony of voices and music swirled between them. Someone bumped his shoulder. But he didn’t move. None of the chaos touched him.

Willow’s throat went dry. Her pulse fluttered uncomfortably. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t.

Then he moved. Toward her. Willow reached for Tatum, hoping to use her as a deflection, but her friend had disappeared. Damn her.

Dressed all in black, the only colors he wore were the shocking red mask and a slate-gray tie. Willow recognized expensive material and tailoring when she saw it. His suit hugged him perfectly, highlighting the beautiful body beneath.

Whoever he was, he had money. Not that Willow particularly cared about that.

“Like to dance?” He held out his hand, palm up.

Willow stared at it for several seconds, torn. Slowly, her gaze traveled up his body to his eyes. They were a dark, midnight-blue.

Licking her lips, she said, “That’s all?”

“That isn’t enough?”

“Every other guy here has had some cheesy line about angels or sin.”

“You’re too intelligent for that.”

“How do you know?”

During the entire exchange he held his hand steady between them, waiting. There was a...stillness inside him. A patience she instinctively recognized. He’d show that same patience in bed as he drove her crazy with precision and skill.

Willow fought the urge to squirm. She found herself nodding but didn’t reach for him, vacillating between what she wanted to do and what she should do. She wanted to let this handsome, dynamic and mysterious man sweep her off her feet. And he so could. Her skin tingled. Her body fizzed with anticipation.

But what she should do was turn around and walk away. Everything inside her told her that was the smart, responsible, correct response. Years of doing the right thing and choosing the safe course were hard to ignore.

Good habits were just as hard to break as the bad ones.

But tonight she’d come here to be daring, to do something different and shake up her life. At least for one night.

The perfect opportunity to do that stared at her with dark, sensual, bedroom eyes.


2

APPARENTLY TIRED OF waiting for her to make up her mind, the devil took the decision from her. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her tight against his body and led her to the center of the dance floor.

Languid heat spread through her when his palm slipped down her spine, ruffling feathers as he went, to settle at the small of her back. Bringing her close, he flattened her other hand against his chest and engulfed it in his own.

Was it an accident that she could feel the accelerated thrum of his heart against her palm?

Rough stubble scraped her temple. The heavy beat of the music slipped into her blood, settling as a steady and agonizing vibration deep in her belly.

Moist heat tickled across her cheek when he said, “I’m Dev.”

“Willow.”

His entire body hardened. His back stiffened and the pectoral muscle beneath their joined hands turned to stone. She didn’t understand and tried to pull back, but his tight hold on her waist wouldn’t let her.

Desperate to find some way to ease the tension, Willow licked her lips and said, “You aren’t from here.”

Gradually, his body relaxed, although she could still feel the tight muscles beneath her hands. With relief, her body melted into him.

She didn’t want him to pull away.

He’d barely touched her, and her skin felt hot enough to flame right off her body. Every nerve ending was alive with anticipation. Every shift of his body against hers registered deep inside. The friction was unbearable. Never in her life had she been this...inundated by her physical response to a man. To a stranger.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. All she could do was want. Him.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I know everyone and I don’t know you.”

A deep rumbling sound rolled through his chest. It reverberated straight into her, making her internal muscles pulse and ache.

Around them, the people faded away. Willow couldn’t concentrate on anything but the sensations bombarding her. The music changed. He put more space between them. She wanted to protest, to grab him back and close the gap.

But she didn’t.

The dark, earthy scent of him washed over her and she liked it. Pine, soil, wood. Unlike men who relied on something artificial, he was all musky, sinful, primitive male.

The pad of his thumb ran across the center of her palm and up the underside of her left ring finger. Goose bumps erupted up her arm.

“You aren’t married?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“I think I’d remember something like that. I hope.”

Dev chuckled softly against her temple. “What do you do?”

“I’m a wedding-gown designer.”

“That explains the dress.”

Willow frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The dimple at the center of his chin twitched. The thick stubble on his face almost obscured it. Almost, but not quite. Willow wanted to touch. To put her tongue right there and taste.

Holy crap, what was this man doing to her?

“This dress is hardly a costume. It stands out.”

It was Willow’s turn to stiffen beneath his hold.

“In a good way,” he quickly assured her. “Everyone else’s costume is a cheap imitation of yours.” His mouth found her ear. “I recognize quality and appreciate it when I get my hands on it.”

A shiver rippled through her. As close as they were, there was no way he hadn’t felt her reaction. Willow fought the tide of embarrassment.

Closing her eyes, she tried to find some self-control. She was usually so good at suppressing her reactions—to everything. But this man seemed to have a knack for breaking through all of her armor as if it didn’t even exist. Only one other man had ever affected her that way....

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what,” she asked, her voice breaking on the words.

“Don’t hide.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. My little angel, pulling the edges of her virtue back around her. Why? Are you worried about what these people will think?”

His dark, glittering gaze darted around the room to encompass the crush of people surrounding them. For the first time, Willow realized they’d become the center of attention. Other people twirled, talked, drank and ate...but eyes kept straying back to the angel and devil pressed against each other.

God, she hoped no one realized she was the one making a spectacle of herself. Her costume was good, but was it that good? Tatum had known who she was.

“Yes. I live here.” These people were her neighbors, her friends, her customers. Of course she cared what they thought. She’d seen firsthand just how cruel they could be.

She didn’t want that for herself. Would do just about anything to avoid the agony of losing their respect. Losing her own respect.

“So you do. Do you think these people have never sinned?”

“Of course I don’t.”

“Then why do you have to be perfect?”

“I’m not.”

He stopped. In the middle of the dance floor. His arms tightened, leaning her off center. His gaze bored into hers, searching for something. She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to.

Her lips parted anyway, trying to pull more oxygen into her lungs. He made a sound deep in the back of his throat. His body loomed over hers, dangerous and tempting.

And then he was kissing her.

There was no easing into the moment, not with him. He devoured her, his mouth hard and demanding. She couldn’t say no. Didn’t really want to. The undertow of sensation pulled at her, blocking out every other thing.

Willow’s eyes closed. The bank of revolving lights flashed colors across her lids. And she held on. It was the only thing she could do.

Heat and need twisted through her, sharp and unexpected. She didn’t know what to do with it. His tongue slipped in, sliding deliciously against her own. The texture and taste of him was extreme. He’d sampled the cheap champagne someone had provided, fruity and sharp, but underneath he was rugged and robust.

Tearing away, Dev pulled her upright. The room spun lazily as she tried to get her bearings.

She blinked up at him. And then blinked again. Her hands clung to his shoulders, holding tight for fear that if she let go she’d topple to the ground.

“Why’d you do that?” she asked breathlessly.

“Because I could. Because I enjoy making a stir.” His deep blue eyes flashed dangerously. “Because I would have kicked myself if I let you go without knowing how your mouth tasted.”

No one had ever said anything that...sensual to her. “Holy hell.”

The startled sound of his laughter burst between them.

Had she said that out loud?

Willow stared at him, surprised by his reaction. She wanted to see his face. To know what his laughter looked like. Would it lighten the shadows cast by more than the mask covering him?

Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, Dev pulled her tight to his body. The embrace had none of the underlying currents of sensuality and need from moments before. It was easy and let her relax.

“Thank you,” he said, his mouth buried against the feathers of her mask.

“For what?”

“For giving me a moment to remember in the middle of all this. I didn’t expect that when I arrived tonight. Didn’t expect you.”

Willow wasn’t entirely certain what to make of that. “You’re welcome?”

Spinning her once more and setting her off center, he asked, “Do you want to leave?”

Without hesitating, Willow answered, “Yes.” This man with the dark blue eyes and red-silk mask was precisely what she’d been looking for when she’d dressed tonight.

It was finally her turn to sin.

* * *

FROM ACROSS THE room Dev watched Willow Portis as she spoke to a woman in a halfhearted cat costume. The two women couldn’t have been more different. Willow was long and slender. Not even her blatant attempts at the sexy costume could hide her inherent elegance. Her movements were deliberate, not a single motion wasted.

He shouldn’t have been surprised to find her at the masquerade, but he was. Maybe because he knew her sister and parents had moved away from Sweetheart. He’d always imagined her living somewhere else, with the perfect life.

From the moment he’d walked into the party she’d drawn his gaze. His, and that of every red-blooded male in the room. When he’d first approached her it had simply been because he was attracted and interested in learning more about the woman beneath the sexy dress and virginal angel wings.

He should have known who she was the moment he touched her, but it hadn’t been until she told him her name that realization—and long-forgotten memories—flooded in.

Part of him wondered just how long it would take her to recognize him. How far was she willing to go with this? And would she push him away when she figured it out or take the opportunity to finish what they’d started ten years ago?

Would she still hate him? Blame him? Or would time have blunted the misplaced sense of betrayal?

Some perverse place deep inside him wanted to know...what had her life become? Why was she here tonight alone? How had she spent the past ten years? And was she happy?

Even as he realized he should probably walk away from her, he couldn’t make himself do it. Just as before. From the moment he’d met her, there’d been something about Willow that had drawn him in. Made him want things he knew he couldn’t have.

Her sweet and haughty demeanor was a dichotomy that had intrigued him from the moment Rose had introduced them. Even back then he’d wanted to ruffle her feathers, to make her cool skin pink with a blush of innocence.

Until Willow, he hadn’t known innocence still existed. Dealing with his mother’s alternating rampages and drug-induced bouts of euphoria had stolen his innocence long before he’d come to Sweetheart.

She’d been seventeen to his twenty. And though he’d known he should leave her alone, he hadn’t been able to do it. Every time she was close, the need to fluster her was overwhelming. He’d push into her personal space and watch as her body reacted to him—as he knew she didn’t want it to.

Just like everyone else in Sweetheart, she was a bit condescending. But that had only made him want her more. To prove that she was no better than anyone else...no better than him.

He’d convinced himself Willow Portis was a challenge, a puzzle he wanted to crack. But it had been more than that. He’d needed to understand. And maybe let her innocence touch him so that he could feel it again just for a little while.

And after months of effort, he’d finally started to win her over. He’d even begun to think that she saw more to him than the rest of the world did—more than the hopeless son of a convicted felon and a drug addict.

Then the debacle with her sister had hit, and everything had gone to hell.

The way she’d looked at him, her eyes filled with betrayal instead of the soft hope he’d come to expect, had hurt more than anything else.

Until she’d been in his arms tonight Dev had honestly thought he’d left the past far behind. But perhaps there was one last thing he had to deal with....

He still wanted Willow with a need so sharp it ground into his bones. Maybe, just maybe, tonight would give him the chance to exorcise those ghosts for good.

“Wick.”

The small voice, old nickname and arms flung around his chest startled him. He stumbled back, taking the weight of the woman who’d launched herself at him as if she were an air-hockey puck.

“Erica,” she said, burying her face into his shoulder. “Erica Condon.” Then she pulled away again, staring up at him with hero worship in her eyes. It made him uncomfortable. “What are you doing here? I didn’t realize you were back in town.”

Dev threw a hasty glance around the room, grateful that everyone appeared too preoccupied to pay attention. He wasn’t ready for his cover to be blown. Not yet. Not when things were just getting interesting.

How the heck had this woman recognized him when Willow hadn’t?

Wrapping a hand around her upper arm, he dragged her deeper into the shadows close to the door.

Gently, he disentangled their bodies, putting several inches between them. “Look, I have no idea who you are.” Maybe if her costume hadn’t been so distracting and unflatteringly psychedelic...

Hurt and surprise washed across her face making him feel guilty. Trying to blunt the harshness of his words, he offered her a smile. “I’d like to keep my presence quiet, at least for tonight.”

She nodded eagerly. And that’s when recognition hit. She’d been Rose’s best friend. He’d never understood what had drawn the two girls together. Erica had been short, quiet and shy. Rose was gregarious and effervescent. On the surface, the two didn’t match. Secretly Dev had always thought Erica’s eagerness to please had been why Rose kept her around.

She hadn’t fit into the crowd he and Rose had run with. They’d all been wild and adventurous. Erica had been the quiet girl that everyone sort of ignored. Dev cringed, feeling guilty for the way he’d dismissed her when he was younger.

That guilt might have kept him talking with her, but when he glanced away to find Willow walking through the crowd toward them everything else faded away. She was dynamically gorgeous. His body hardened with the immediate need to touch her. To taste her. To know her in a way he’d been denied before.

The tight cut of her dress left her little choice but to take measured steps, constricting her movements and giving him a perfect view of her sinuous body as she moved.

Several men turned to watch her cut through the crowd. Dev recognized the heat and purpose deep in their eyes, knew his own burned with the same appreciation. An unbidden growl rolled through his chest. Tossing some random words over his shoulder, he left Erica gape-mouthed and headed straight for Willow.

No one else was getting close to her. Tonight, she was his. Finally.

He understood the gazes she drew, like iron filings to a magnet, the force of her unavoidable. The need to kiss her again, right here, right now, in front of every other male, broke deep inside. He resisted. Not only wouldn’t it matter, but Willow wouldn’t appreciate a repeat performance of the public display.

She was still a walking contradiction.

The dress labeled her a siren. But the way her body had trembled when he’d pulled her close to dance, her wary expression and the hesitation in her touch told him a different story.

Her sister’s lies had taken everything from him—including Willow. He’d worked for years to rebuild his life and feel comfortable in his own skin.

She stopped in front of him, staring up through inky-black lashes and blue eyes that were bright and deep. The skin of her shoulders, left bare by her dress, was milky-white and perfectly matched the feathers that arched from either side of her shoulder blades.

He wanted to touch, to run the pad of his finger across her skin to see if it was as smooth and delicate as it looked.

But he didn’t.

The enticing pink tip of her tongue darted out to nervously wet her bottom lip.

“Take me to bed.”

The mask shielded some of her expression, so he couldn’t tell if she was as surprised by her own proposition as he was. That was not what he’d expected to come out of her mouth. He’d actually been waiting for an excuse, for her to come to her senses and realize the danger of what she was doing.

Did she already know who he was? Was she taking advantage of the opportunity fate had plopped into their laps?

“If you want to, that is.” Her voice quivered.

“I’d be an idiot if I didn’t.” Something, possibly the integrity he’d fought hard to rediscover, made him ask, “Are you sure?”

She swallowed and took a single step closer. Slowly, her gaze rolled up to his. Her chin followed until she was looking him square in the eye.

The impact of her stare hit him like a fist. What he saw made every muscle in his body tighten. Pure, unadulterated hunger. It called to him. It stirred something deep inside that had been dormant for years.

“I haven’t been this sure about anything in a long while.”


3

NERVES CHURNED IN Willow’s belly. Ensconced in her own car, the red pickup keeping pace behind her, she had plenty of opportunity to second-guess herself. Maybe she should tell Dev she’d changed her mind.

But the moment they arrived at her home and he stepped from the large red truck, she couldn’t find the words.

Instead she blurted out, “That’s not what I expected,” nodding to the intimidating vehicle behind him.

Heavy lids slid down over glowing blue eyes. The left side of his mouth quirked up into a half smile. He stalked closer. “What were you expecting?”

Reaching for the lapels of his suit, Willow let her fingers run up and down the expensive material. It was soft against her skin. She loved the subtle texture of it. Touching it settled her as nothing else probably could have.

She looked up into his shrouded eyes, still obscured by the mask he was wearing, and the butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach disappeared. She wanted this. She wanted him.

For once she was going to be daring and take what she wanted. Tomorrow would be soon enough to worry about the aftermath.

“Something low and sleek. Fast. Dangerous. Gunmetal-gray, like your tie.” She let her hand slip down the silky line before tugging at the knot to loosen it.

“What an imagination you have. This is a costume. That—” he gestured negligently behind him at the hulking red truck parked in her driveway “—is real.”

Her fingers trailed over the cut of his suit. “This is no costume. I know expensive hand tailoring when I see it.”

She watched as a sheepish grin touched his lips. “All right, I do have a Jag sitting in the garage at home. But it’s also red, so I don’t think that counts.”

“Oh, it counts.” She touched the mask covering his face and then glanced at the truck. “Have a thing for red, do you?”

He ran a finger down her hair. Tingles shattered across her scalp. “Maybe.”

Trusting he would follow, Willow walked into her home. Leaving the door open, she dropped her clutch on the table by the door and threw her keys into the bowl she kept there. The soft click of the lock catching sent a jolt of need through her.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment. His fingers slipped down the curve of her neck. Her skin pebbled in response to his caress.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” Did she want him to say yes or did she want him to say no?

“What I want is you.” His voice was close, closer than she’d expected. “To kiss you here.” His fingers trailed across her shoulders. “And here.” His touch continued down her spine. Not even the barrier of her dress could prevent the heat of him from seeping deep inside.

His arm circled her body, pulling her tight against him. Her back pressed into his chest. Her head fell against his shoulder. Feathers arced out from between them, tickling her cheek.

He drew a line down the center of her body, through the valley between her breasts, across her stomach and to the juncture of her thighs. “And here. I want to know the sound you make when you let go. I want the taste of you on my tongue.”

“Yes,” she breathed out. She’d never wanted anything more.

Dev took a step back. She felt the loss of him immediately. She tried to turn, but the weight of his hands on her shoulders held her in place.

Gently, he found the complicated laces that connected her wings to the dress. She’d built loops into the back panel to keep them from drooping.

Willow hadn’t realized the weight of them until they were gone. It was a relief. Several of the feathers escaped, fluttering to the floor around them.

Irrefutable evidence that this angel has truly fallen, she thought.

But when his mouth touched the curve of her neck, Willow couldn’t find the desire to care. Not when sinning with this man felt so good.

Talented fingers found the zipper at the back of her dress. The rasp of it echoed through her darkened house. The sound mingled with her rapid breaths. He’d barely touched her, and she was undone.

Instead of letting the dress fall heavily to the floor as she’d expected, he held it up. As he tugged the sleeves off, one at a time, his mouth found the curve of her neck and sucked.

And then he was at her feet. “Step out,” he ordered.

Her hands curled around his shoulders, holding on as she did. Just above the edge of her stocking, the rough stubble of his jaw brushed against the outside of her thigh. But before she could enjoy the sensation, he was on his feet again and walking away. With her dress in his hands.

Willow turned to watch as he draped it carefully over a chair. When he was satisfied, he spun back to her. “That dress is too beautiful to leave in a puddle on the floor.”

If that statement had come from any other man she would have worried. But Dev was too masculine and inherently sexual for the words to be anything but a show of consideration for her creation and hard work.

The last of her doubts fled.

From across the room the heat of his dark gaze raked her body. She’d never been so grateful for beautiful underwear in her life.

Because the foundation garments that went under her dresses were just as important as the fit of the gowns, Willow insisted on selling lingerie for the brides. And because she knew that new husbands would be seeing them, she also demanded that the pieces be lovely, sensual and enticing.

The benefit of selling the stuff was getting to take home the pieces she fell in love with. Beautiful lingerie was a secret weakness of hers. Something that she could keep to herself. Although tonight she was happy to share.

His eyes feasted on her. “That is unexpected.”

“What?”

The merry widow was white and made of see-through mesh and lace. It was strapless; the cups and boning kept it in place. The edge skimmed right at the curve of her hips and a cutout in front showcased matching panties. Tiny iridescent beads edged the lace, and delicate garters stretched down her thighs.

With deliberate steps Dev crossed the room. He stopped before her, but didn’t touch. At least, not with anything more than his gaze.

“I didn’t think anything could top the dress. I was wrong. I almost wish you still had the wings.”

Overwhelmed, Willow dropped her focus to the ground between them.

“Don’t.” The single growling word startled her into looking back up.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t go all virginal on me.”

Something about the way he said the word virginal pissed her off. He was...annoyed.

This time, she was the one to close the space between them. Grabbing the tie she’d already loosened, Willow pulled him tight against her half-naked body. The texture of his suit touching her skin only served to remind her that she was vulnerable while he was still completely covered up.

He could have stopped her, but he didn’t. Instead, he let her pull him down, his back arching so they were face-to-face.

“Don’t let the white fool you. I haven’t been a virgin since I was sixteen.”

The dark wing of his eyebrows rose in surprise. “That young?”

“Let’s just say it was a moment of weakness.”

“Like me.”

“Not like you. That was a regrettable bow to peer pressure and was hardly earth-shattering. This is a moment of insanity. And I have a feeling I’ll remember it for the rest of my life. For much better reasons.”

“God, I hope so.”

“God has nothing to do with it.”

Without warning, Dev swept her up into his arms.

She directed him to her bedroom, and he carried her up the stairs as if she was as light as one of the feathers that lay scattered in their wake. He didn’t bother to turn on lights when he reached her room. There was enough moonlight that he could see. Placing her softly on the bed, Dev took a step back.

Willow leaned up on her elbows to watch.

Without a care for his own clothes, he let the suit coat slide to the floor. She almost protested, but her mouth was too dry. Anticipation buzzed through her, an electrical shock of need. With dexterous fingers, he finished the job she’d started outside and pulled the tie free.

Without breaking eye contact, he torturously unbuttoned his shirt. Her legs scissored restlessly on the bed, silk rasping against silk. She wanted him to be the one touching her. But she wanted to enjoy the show more.

And she wasn’t disappointed. Billowing behind him, the shirt fluttered to the floor, his own set of broken wings.

What to look at first? His chest was wide, shoulders tight with muscle. They tapered down in a V to his amazing abs. His biceps flexed. Jesus, the man was built. And not with the kind of muscles that came from working out in a gym.

What the heck did he do? And why did she care? She could ask him later.

Bouncing up onto her knees, Willow couldn’t keep her hands to herself anymore. Grasping the waistband of his pants, she tugged him to the edge of the bed. His hands tangled in her hair, sending the pins she’d used to pull it up scattering across the bed.

Some of them pulled, but she didn’t care. Dev’s fingers sifted through the strands, combing until all the pins were gone and her hair hung in a waterfall down her back.

He reached for his mask, but she stopped him. His hand stilled beneath hers, a question in his eyes.

“Leave it.”

She wanted the masks tonight. She wanted the anonymity they provided and the safety to be and do whatever she wanted without the niggling voice in the back of her head that said she would regret this. Yes, the cover was a ruse and they both knew it, but she needed it.

Without it she wouldn’t have the strength to break her own rules.

“All right. If you’ll leave these on,” he countered, running a finger down the inside of her thigh to the band of lace circling the top of her stocking.

“Done.”

His mouth crushed to hers. He was all sweltering sin. He tasted dark and dangerous. But she opened for him anyway, letting him in. His tongue stroked hers, coaxing and teasing. He sucked, pulling her into his own mouth.

While she was distracted, he was busy disengaging each of the tiny hooks that ran up the length of her spine. The boning fell away. Willow let out a gasp of relief that he swallowed.

Blood rushed to the surface of her skin. His hands scraped down her exposed body, taking advantage of the increased sensitivity. The muscles in her stomach leaped beneath his touch.

But he wasn’t the only industrious one. Spreading the fly of his pants open, Willow went searching for what she wanted most. And she wasn’t disappointed. Hot and hard, the length of his sex pressed eagerly against her palm.

Talented fingers tugged at her distended nipples. He rolled them, making her ache, and then his thumbs feathered lightly across the sensitive peaks. Willow clenched her thighs together, trying to find some relief, but there wasn’t any. At least, none without him.

The need for him spiraled out of control. She shoved his pants to the floor and resented the time it took for him to step out of them because that meant he wasn’t touching her.

She bit his shoulder and he sucked in a harsh breath. In retaliation, he grasped her around the thighs, brought them close together and then pushed her backward.

The pull of gravity was exhilarating. Her entire world tipped off-center. And he was right there with her.

Silk-clad thighs slid slowly up his ribs. Dev settled heavily against the V of her open legs. He felt so good there.

His mouth found her breast and he sucked. The moist heat of him had her arching off the bed.

The rip of fabric tore through the room. A cool gust of air touched her sex. She didn’t care. If it meant he’d touch her then he could ruin every last pair of panties she owned. Hell, she’d sew more.

And then he found her. His fingers slipped through her sex, diving deep. She groaned with the bliss of his touch. He found her hidden spot and stroked. Over and over, until she was delirious with the need for more.

Her hands played mindlessly across his body, the pleasure of touching him increasing her own. He was solid and real. Hers to enjoy. Her mouth rained down kisses on every inch of skin she could reach.

Blindly, she fumbled in the bedside table for the box she kept there, not that she needed it often. Grabbing a condom, she used her teeth to open it and then rolled the tight latex over his pulsing hardness.

She wanted him inside her. Now.

Understanding her unspoken urgency, Dev gave her exactly what she wanted. Rearing back, he brought them together, positioning the swollen head of his erection at the aching opening of her sex.

Slowly, he pushed inside, letting her take him inch by inch. He stretched and filled her. His breath came in short gasps as he slid all the way home. His body trembled. She could feel the tremor straight to her center.

He was everywhere. Surrounding her. Over her. Deep inside. His hips flexed against her, drawing a moan and giving her just a little more.

And then he was moving. With slow, deliberate strokes, he pulled out and then thrust back again. Her hips pumped in time with his. He drove her crazy, bringing her to the brink only to push inside and stay there, motionless, while she writhed.

Every muscle in her body was wound tight. Every nerve ending quivered, waiting for the moment when her world would finally break apart.

When it came, the release hit with a force she’d never experienced before. Was it Dev, or was it the edge of danger? She didn’t know and didn’t care. Everything went black, the tiny bursts of color across her eyelids the only thing in her universe. That and the spot where they joined. The relentless waves of satisfaction.

The frenzy of his release pierced the fog. He thrust into her, his entire body bowing back with tension right before the snap. And then he was calling her name, a guttural groan that echoed deep inside her.

Watching him let go was beautiful, and she wished she’d let him take off the mask so she could see more. See all of him. Before, it had felt right, the barrier she’d kept in place. Now, after what they’d just shared, it felt wrong to have anything between them.

Her body pulsed. Pleasure and something more fizzled through her veins. He collapsed beside her. Willow’s body quivered, a spent mess.

Their legs tangled together, but she was too drained to try to unravel the knot. His arm, draped across her waist, tightened to pull her closer.

“You are definitely no angel.”

* * *

HE WAS IN serious trouble.

Dev stared down at Willow as she slept. He couldn’t settle. His conscience wouldn’t let him. What had he done?

She was going to be pissed when she realized who he was. And, really, he wouldn’t blame her. But the moment he’d followed her inside...he’d been lost.

The sight of her standing in the dark hallway, moonlight falling across her pale skin and those wings...he’d had to touch. And once his fingers slipped across her smooth skin he couldn’t stop.

When she’d told him to keep the masks on he’d been relieved...and guilty as hell. He knew, without a doubt, that the moment she saw his face that would be the end of it. And he’d waited to touch her for so long.

But that didn’t change the fact that he’d royally screwed up. It had been a very long time since he’d let his dick do his thinking. Damn thing tended to get him into serious trouble. The question was, how to fix this? If that was even possible.

With a sigh, Willow rolled onto her side. The skin between her eyes crinkled. Then she burrowed into his prostrate body and her entire face smoothed out into sleepy contentment.

Oh, yeah, he was in deep shit.

Her shocking-red hair spread across the pillow. Staring down at her, Dev was careful not to pull as he threaded his fingers through it. He wanted to know what it would look like without the artificial color. His memory of her told him it should be a deep, rich brown that reminded him of fertile, fresh-tilled soil.

She smelled so good. Pressing his nose close to the exposed crook of her neck, he breathed her in. Something soft, sweet and subtle, like honeysuckle on a perfect summer morning.

He wanted more.

And that was really the crux of the problem. One night with her wasn’t enough. But when she realized who he was...

The thought of that conversation had dread tightening his gut.

He had two choices. He could leave now and avoid the issue all together. Play this off as the one-night stand she probably thought she’d just had. But that really wasn’t going to work for him. Not only did he not want to leave, but he couldn’t avoid the confrontation.

Eventually she was going to see him in town and realize who she’d had amazing sex with.

Or he could stay. Brazen it out and try to convince her that he hadn’t set out to take advantage of her. That screwing her hadn’t been about revenge, but heat and long-denied attraction.

Sliding down, he tucked her body tighter, enjoying the way she fit perfectly against him. Her hair was still clutched in his fist, an unconscious attempt to hold on to what he fully expected to lose.

Had she dyed it for the costume or did she keep it red all the time? He hoped it was temporary. It didn’t suit her. At all. Not that it was bad...it just wasn’t Willow. Or at least, the Willow he remembered.

Although why he thought he understood her at all he didn’t know. Ten years was a long time. He was proof of that. Look at how different he was from the rebellious and angry boy he’d been.

God, he’d been a prick when he’d moved to Sweetheart, defiantly wearing the label on his sleeve. Consumed with pain he didn’t want anyone to see. His mom, a drug addict who’d only cared about her next fix, had died from an overdose. He’d been the one to find her pale body, lifeless and cold. And even if she’d been a shitty mother...she’d been his. And it had hurt.

Everyone looked at him and judged. The other kids he went to school with. The teachers who should have been a source of knowledge and help, but were too busy to notice he was lost. Although, it really hadn’t been their fault. It wasn’t like he was ever around long enough for anyone to put the pieces together.

Dev had lost count how many times his family had been evicted because neither parent could hold a job or bother to pay rent. Moving from place to place meant school to school. After his dad went to jail there’d been several months he hadn’t bothered going to class at all. And no one had noticed.

Before Sweetheart he’d never really had a home. A roof over his head, sure. Not a home. But his grandfather had given him one...at least for a little while.

No matter how long he’d lived there, he’d never quite let himself relax. Five years in one place was unheard of for him. And he just kept waiting for it to end. It was almost a relief, when the look in his grandfather’s eyes changed from exasperated love to enraged disappointment and the fairy tale was finally over.

Once again, everyone had judged him, looking for the worst and finding only what they expected.

But they’d all been wrong. Sure, he’d floundered for a few months trying to find a way through the mess he’d landed in. Who would have known that picking up an odd job on a construction site could change his life so drastically? He’d never forget the man who’d given him a chance and seen beneath the grimy exterior to the potential lurking deep inside.

He’d gone back to school, finished his degree, and started Devlin Landscaping & Design. At any given time he had hundreds of people working for him all over the country.

Willow had lived in the world he’d wanted desperately to be a part of, but couldn’t quite believe he had the right to. She’d been different. Or so he’d thought. But in the end, she’d pushed him away just like his grandfather, easily believing the lies.

Once he might have known the sound of her laughter and the way her eyes darkened when she was angry, but that obviously wasn’t enough.

He should probably feel remorse for what he’d just done, but he couldn’t muster up the emotion. It would mean he regretted tonight, and he didn’t. Maybe he would later, when the piper had to be paid, but for the moment the satisfaction was too close to the surface.

Trouble would find him soon enough, anyway. It always did. Besides, with her naked body pressed close he wanted another taste. There was no point asking for absolution if he fully intended to sin again.

He hadn’t gone to that party with the intention of picking someone up. Considering what had happened, sleeping with anyone his first day back in Sweetheart was probably the worst decision he could have made. The fact that it had been Willow just compounded the stupidity.

She really was nothing like her sister, which was a good thing. Rose had been provoking and selfish, caring about no one but herself. Willow was soft and quiet. Giving. Reserved, even if tonight she had wanted to pretend she was daring.

But, God, beneath all the polished restraint she was passionate. And nothing like the women he normally connected with.

He liked to get down and dirty, in his job, in bed and in general. Life was too short and too much shit happened. Shit that no one could predict or control.

So tonight he was going to enjoy the moment. Tomorrow would be soon enough to deal with the rest.


4

WILLOW WOKE SLOWLY, a delicious smile curving her lips before she’d even opened her eyes. Stretching, her body protested in the strangest places.

And then she remembered.

She sat bolt upright, clutching the lavender sheet to her naked chest.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed out to the empty room.

It hadn’t been a dream. She’d really been that wanton and unabashedly reckless.

Her face flamed with delayed embarrassment. The things she’d done...and let him do to her.

With a groan, she dropped back into the pile of pillows, shielding her face with her arm.

Was it a good thing that she was alone? Or should she be pissed that he’d left while she was asleep? Maybe she should call Tatum and ask her just what morning-after protocol called for.

Memories of last night flashed across her closed lids. A dark head between her open thighs as pleasure spiraled ruthlessly through her. Silky strands clutched between her demanding hands as she kept him right where she wanted him.

His body sliding sinuously against hers in a relentless rhythm that drove her crazy.

Her body hummed, electrified by nothing more than the ghosts of what they’d done to each other and the lingering scent of sex that still clung to her skin.

“Well, that’s certainly a nice vision to walk in on.”

With a startled yelp, Willow jackknifed up off the bed. Her hair fell into her eyes, obscuring her vision. The velvety-smooth sound of his chuckle slipped down her spine, sending tingles of awareness with it.

Her internal muscles contracted with remembered pleasure and the need for more. Willow ignored their demand.

Pushing her hair out of her face, she realized two things at once. First, the sheet was puddled in her lap leaving her bare from the waist up.

Snatching at the edge, she pulled it up to her chin.

His sinfully sculpted mouth twitched and the dark slash of a single eyebrow rose. “Little late for that, isn’t it?”

Ignoring him, Willow gathered the sheet around her like a shield. It was about the only one she had left.

Pushing away from the door frame he’d negligently propped himself against, he moved into her private space with a powerful grace that made her want to hate him. His black pants were slung low on his hips, leaving the top slashes of the V of sculpted muscle visible.

She remembered running her tongue down those matching creases straight to the Promised Land they pointed to. Her skin flushed hotter.

He sank to the bed beside her, his hip dipping the mattress so she had to brace to keep from rolling against him.

Silently, he held out a mug to her. Steam curled up from the surface, bringing with it the delectable scent of coffee.

Willow narrowed her eyes, staring at it for several seconds before deciding she was really going to need the jolt.

Because the second thing she realized was that she knew exactly who had slept in her bed last night. She didn’t like him. And he’d lied to her.

She fortified herself with several sips before stretching to the opposite side of the bed and setting the mug down. Better not to have this conversation with hot liquid in her hands. He might just end up burned.

He watched her, warily. Obviously he was fully prepared for the conversation they were about to have. Just one more reason to be pissed. Had he known who she was from the first moment?

Shifting away from him, Willow glared. “Your name isn’t Dev.”

His mouth tightened, but that was his only reaction to the accusation in her voice. “Yes, it is.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Interesting. That’s what my birth certificate says.”

“That’s not funny, Wick.”

“Do you see me laughing, Willow? And don’t call me that.”

No, he wasn’t laughing. At least not on the outside. She couldn’t help but think he was probably hooting and hollering on the inside about the coup he’d just pulled.

As if ruining her sister’s marriage and betraying her hadn’t been enough for him, he’d decided to weasel his way into getting what he’d always wanted—her, naked.

Although, she had to admit, she’d been pretty eager to shed her clothes last night and hadn’t put up much of a fuss.

Guilt and regret mixed with her anger, blunting it in a way that was far from satisfying. Trust her conscience to surface just when she needed righteous indignation.

She’d had a one-night stand with a stranger. A masked stranger. She hadn’t exactly expected to wake up with a paragon of virtue. But she hadn’t expected to wake up with Wick, either. The only man who’d ever tempted her to sin.

A groan rolled up through her chest, but she cut it off before it broke free. That alone should have told her who touched her. No one had ever made her feel so electrified and alive with nothing more than a look.

He’d always had that effect on her. But she hadn’t seen him in ten years and had no reason to expect him in Sweetheart—let alone beneath the devil’s mask.

“Why not? What’s wrong with Wick?”

“It isn’t my name. Never has been. The only people who’ve ever called me that are the people in this town. And, as you can imagine, I don’t like the reminder very much.”

They’d called him Wicked Wick. She remembered hearing her sister purr his name, the single word filled with the kind of raw sensuality that, at seventeen, she hadn’t completely understood.

Oh, she did now. An unwanted shiver of memory erupted in goose bumps across her skin.

To hide her reaction, Willow climbed from the bed, making sure the sheet stayed tightly wrapped around her body. With the bed between them she felt a little steadier. Until those midnight eyes full of banked heat and promise raked across her.

“Why are you here?”

Standing, Dev rounded the bed, never breaking his hold on her gaze. She grudgingly gave him credit. After that one brief singeing glance, he kept his focus squarely on her face.

He closed the space between them. Willow shifted, trying to get far enough away that she could think clearly. And deal with the situation. But there was nowhere for her to go.

Her back hit the edge of the dresser. Behind her, several bottles and trinkets trembled at the contact. Straightening her spine, Willow pulled the shreds of her composure around her like a shield. She refused to let him see that he got to her.

But he didn’t stop. His body crowded into her space. Her back bowed under the pressure of his presence. The heat of him overwhelmed her. He didn’t touch her, but he didn’t have to.

The wide expanse of his naked chest spread out before her. She couldn’t swallow. She wanted to touch, but somehow found the force of will to clench her fists tighter into the sheet instead.

Even in the light of day, the dark, wicked edge that made him irresistible was there. She fully understood why every girl within a certain age range—and several outside of it—had thrown themselves at Wick...Dev...when he’d lived in Sweetheart.

Not even she had been immune to the draw of him. She’d hardly been worldly, but that kind of tense beauty was hard to miss. He’d always exuded a sensuality that just begged to be tamed.

Apparently the pull had only gotten stronger. At least, on her.

The flat of his palms pressed against the mirror behind her. She reacted to him, every cell coming alive with remembered pleasure and hopeful anticipation.

Traitor.

This man had ruined her sister’s life. And if she wasn’t careful he’d hurt her, as well. Again.

Dark blue eyes bored into hers. She couldn’t read his expression. Gone was the sensual, giving man of last night. He’d been replaced by someone harder and more perilous.

Whatever he called himself now, he had no moral compass. Because if he did, he would have told her last night exactly who he was. Not given her a name she wouldn’t recognize.

“Why am I here?” His voice was soft and dangerous. A prickle of unease shot down her spine. “In your bedroom or in town?”

“Either. Both. Ten years is a long time. Why are you back now?”

“I’m in town because I’m the landscape designer for the new resort.”

Willow pulled in a shallow gasp. A devilish grin played across his lips, but it didn’t quite fully form. He was holding back. And enjoying her shocked reaction.

Bastard.

What kind of game was he playing? And why was he using her? Had last night been some kind of sick payback for what had happened between them?

God, she hoped not. But she was afraid she’d played right into his hands.

He lifted a lock of her hair, running it through his thumb and finger from crown to tip. The back of his hand brushed against the side of her breast. Willow sucked in a breath. His eyes sharpened. And her body burst into life.

His voice was a caress all its own, low and sultry. She couldn’t help remembering the sinful words he’d whispered to her last night. “I’m in your bedroom because you asked me to take you to bed.”

God, she wanted him. Still. Even knowing what he’d done and how he’d deceived her last night, her body craved his touch.

Somehow she found the strength to say, “You should leave.” But the words trembled. She hoped he didn’t hear the waver.

Something sharp flared deep in his eyes. His mouth tightened and beside her head the fingers pressed hard to the mirror flexed dangerously. His eyelids slid down, hiding the rest of his reaction from her.

He smoldered with anger. This close to him, she could practically smell the brimstone and fire of it. But he didn’t move. Instead, he let his hot eyes travel across her face for several seconds.

Willow couldn’t breathe. She waited.

“We aren’t done, Willow.”

“Oh, yes we are. You ruined my sister’s life, Wick. Dev. Whoever the hell you are.”

His head recoiled as if she’d hit him. Bringing them nose to nose, he stared into her, straight down to her soul. “You know exactly who I am, angel.”

“Last night was a mistake. If I’d known who you were it never would have happened.”

“I know.”

Everything inside her stilled. Those two words managed to cut through the fog of desire he was weaving around her.

“What do you mean, you know? Exactly when did you figure out who I was?”

“The moment I got my hands on you. And once I touched you, I knew I couldn’t let you go until I’d had more.”

“So to hell with what I might have wanted?”

“Don’t kid yourself, angel. We both know you got exactly what you wanted last night. A taste of the wild side with a depraved devil. I did the right thing and kept my hands off you once before. I wasn’t about to make that same mistake twice.” He pushed away from her.

She felt the loss of his warmth and hated herself a little bit for the weakness.

“You really are a bastard, aren’t you?”

His mouth twisted. “Actually, no, I’m not. This town just has the ability to pull the worst out of me. Believe it or not, Willow, I had no intention of seducing you last night. I was just as overwhelmed by the friction between us as you were.”

His unexpected and candid confession left her speechless. The words deflated some of the self-righteous anger she’d been using to combat her own guilt and embarrassment.

He’d even taken that.

But before she could say anything more, he snatched the rest of his clothes from the chair in the corner and walked out.

Although not before getting in one last parting shot. “You’re old enough to know better than to believe everything you hear, Willow. You have no idea what happened between Rose and me. But I promise you, it was nothing like last night.”

* * *

WILLOW TRIED TO go on with her day, to pretend nothing had happened, but it was difficult. In a bid for distraction, she barricaded herself in her design studio and tried to lose herself in the dress she was making for a country music star who had recently crossed over and become a pop sensation. She was also marrying one of the most well-known quarterbacks in the NFL.




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