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Her Seven-Day Fiancé
Brenda Harlen


The biggest playboy becomes the perfect fake fiancé!To stop her matchmaking mother, Alyssa Cabrera, the newest gal in Haven, finds herself faux-engaged to Jason Channing – the town playboy! Though both are committed to staying single, could they be the perfect couple after all?







The biggest playboy in Haven is the perfect fake fiancé!

It started with a little white lie...

To stop her matchmaking mother. But after a staged—and very public—kiss sets off real sparks, Alyssa Cabrera, the newest gal in Haven, Nevada, finds herself faux-engaged to Jason Channing, the town playboy! Though both are committed to staying single, could they be the perfect couple after all? Or will Alyssa’s secret keep her fake romance from turning as real as a solid gold band?


BRENDA HARLEN is a former attorney who once had the privilege of appearing before the Supreme Court of Canada. The practice of law taught her a lot about the world and reinforced her determination to become a writer—because in fiction, she could promise a happy ending! Now she is an award-winning, RITA® Award– nominated national bestselling author of more than thirty titles for Mills & Boon. You can keep up-to-date with Brenda on Facebook and Twitter or through her website, www.brendaharlen.com (http://www.brendaharlen.com).


Also by Brenda Harlen (#u11dfc7e5-2c74-5cf8-af82-9436bc7b6811)

The Sheriff’s Nine-Month Surprise

The Last Single Garrett

Baby Talk & Wedding Bells

Building the Perfect Daddy

Two Doctors & a Baby

The Bachelor Takes a Bride

A Forever Kind of Family

The Daddy Wish

A Wife for One Year

The Single Dad’s Second Chance

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Her Seven-Day Fiancé

Brenda Harlen






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


ISBN: 978-1-474-07773-6

HER SEVEN-DAY FIANCÉ

© 2018 Brenda Harlen

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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


This book is for the teachers

who go above and beyond to make a difference in the lives of their students, especially Robin Meyer, Michelle Sandoval and Lori Faccio.

Thank you for all that you do!


Contents

Cover (#ub0e3e986-7c56-5b54-9fc3-3c3cc37c3d81)

Back Cover Text (#u8728af69-17a2-5cfc-9e17-1da5282fde2a)

About the Author (#u4565f05c-e02b-5152-8d3a-1486d0a38980)

Booklist (#u9398831f-80c8-52a7-93bc-de27cc7277a5)

Title Page (#u0cfa3d86-49e2-5ff6-a7c0-93b28cfcd83a)

Copyright (#uf7848fa8-fdd5-509c-86bc-7d0d3f58eecd)

Dedication (#uac8ec185-c595-5779-843f-c8dead67cbd9)

Chapter One (#ue43b6410-5cb8-594d-ae0d-0837d6cb198e)

Chapter Two (#u707d6f9a-e587-58ae-89dd-63235fd6fd34)

Chapter Three (#u51a3009b-eddb-5ef3-923d-5e44980ffd1f)

Chapter Four (#u4c7c1567-4395-5cb5-bb12-4b851f88d64a)

Chapter Five (#u04b30602-ea0c-5de7-b973-b368250229f1)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#u11dfc7e5-2c74-5cf8-af82-9436bc7b6811)

No one would ever describe Jason Channing as a morning person—especially not before he’d had at least his first cup of coffee. And yet, he used to set his alarm for 7:00 a.m. every morning, at which time he’d slap the clock to silence the annoying buzz, drag himself out of bed, pull on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt—or jogging pants and a sweatshirt, depending on the season—lace up his running shoes and head out for his 5K run.

It was a pattern he’d established in high school, when he was a quarterback for the Westmount Mustangs and his coach had insisted that routines and discipline were even more important than talent in building a winning team. Jay hadn’t played ball in more than a decade, but he continued to run every morning. And for the past two months, he’d had an extra incentive to hit the pavement: Alyssa Cabrera.

The Southern California transplant had moved into unit 1B of the A-frame triplex sometime near the end of the previous summer. He hadn’t paid too much attention to his new neighbor at the time—although he’d done a double take that first day, and that second look had reinforced his first impression of the new resident as a definite knockout. But preoccupation with his fledgling business and his own relationship rules had discouraged him from doing anything more than look.

Until one morning in early March when he’d awakened before his alarm and decided he might as well start his day. He’d headed out for his run at 6:45 a.m., just as Alyssa was returning from hers. She was wearing a hoodie, body-hugging leggings and high-end running shoes that suggested her morning routine was more of a passion than a hobby.

He’d awakened an hour earlier the next morning in an effort to sync his schedule with hers. And though she’d initially seemed wary of his request to join her, she’d consented. So he’d set his alarm for the same time the next day again. And the day after that, because it was a pleasure to spend time with a woman who didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with idle chatter. As the days turned into weeks, he found that his daily exercise—even now starting at 6:00 a.m.—had become more of a pleasure than simply a habit.

Aside from those early encounters, their paths didn’t cross very often, despite the fact that they lived in the same building. As a math and science teacher at the local high school—that much she’d revealed in between sprints—she worked the usual school hours Monday to Friday, while Adventure Village, the family-friendly activity center he owned, required him to be on-site from early to late Wednesday through Sunday.

Then, completely out of the blue and in the midst of a March blizzard, she’d shown up at his door with a covered dish in her hands. Apparently the unexpected storm that had shut down the town had also canceled a staff potluck at the high school, leaving Alyssa with enough chili to feed twelve. She’d already put a container aside for Helen Powell—the widowed resident of 1A, who was out of town visiting her daughter’s family—but she still had more than she could possibly store in her freezer.

As Jason had listened to the explanation of why she was at his door, he found himself mesmerized by the curve of her lips rather than the words she was saying. And when his gaze had dipped lower, he couldn’t help but appreciate that her soft sweater and leggings outlined her sweet curves. She wore fuzzy socks on her feet, and the top of her head barely reached his chin, but there was a lot of punch in the petite package.

Since the storm prevented him from going anywhere, he’d invited her to come in to eat with him. He’d opened a bottle of merlot and, as they’d shared dinner and conversation, he’d found himself increasingly intrigued by the beautiful woman he’d never really let himself notice before.

After that night, when they’d sipped wine and listened to the wind rattling the windows, he’d been much more aware of his neighbor—and more cognizant of her comings and goings. But their morning runs had done little to satisfy his growing curiosity about his new neighbor.

“Looks like spring is finally here,” he noted, when he met her at the top of the driveway on a Friday morning in early May.

“The last time you said that, we got dumped with six inches of snow only a few hours later,” she remarked, walking toward the street.

“No chance of that today,” he promised. “The sky is clear and blue.”

“So far,” she acknowledged.

They turned west, away from the rising sun, and picked up their pace.

“Any big plans for this weekend?” he asked as they transitioned from a brisk walk to a slow jog.

Her only response was a negative shake of the head that sent her ponytail swinging from side to side.

“You’re not going to ask if I have plans?”

“I don’t need to ask if a man whose nickname is ‘Charming’ has weekend plans,” she noted.

He winced inwardly at her use of the moniker he’d thought—hoped—he’d outgrown. “Where’d you hear that name?”

“In the staff room at school.”

Of course. Because he’d dated Lisa Dailey, the music teacher, Shannon Hart, the girls’ gym teacher and soccer coach, and—very briefly—Taylor Lawson, the office administrator.

“Rumor has it you’ve broken the hearts of all the single women in Haven and are dating someone in Battle Mountain now.”

“Was,” he clarified.

“She dumped you already?”

He was so surprised by the question, he stopped running.

It took a few strides before she realized he was no longer beside her and turned back, jogging on the spot until he caught up again.

“She did not dump me,” he told her.

“You dumped her?”

“We decided that we wanted different things,” he said as they continued along their usual route.

“She wanted a relationship and you didn’t?” Alyssa guessed.

Her assumption hit a little too close to the truth for comfort. “Renee said that I was too focused on my business and not enough on her.”

“And instead of trying to appease her with flowers or chocolates or candlelit dinners, you gave her the equivalent of a relationship pink slip.”

“Pink was her favorite color.”

She surprised him by laughing. “Then maybe you made the right decision.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“How is that relevant to anything?”

“It’s a simple question—although also a personal question,” he acknowledged. “And I’ve noticed that you always sidestep personal questions.”

“Orange,” she told him.

“Why orange?”

“That’s an even more personal question.”

“Tell me anyway,” he urged.

She picked up her pace and turned onto Peregrine Lane, and for a minute, he didn’t think she was going to answer.

“Because it’s the last color you see as the sun dips below the horizon at the edge of the ocean,” she finally responded.

“That’s right—you’re a California girl, aren’t you?”

“Former California girl,” she amended.

“Why’d you trade sand and surf for northern Nevada desert?”

She shrugged. “It was time for a change.”

“Sounds like there’s a story there.”

“Did you date Belinda Walsh, too?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, a little warily.

“She teaches English at the high school,” Alyssa explained. “And she looks for hidden meaning in everything.”

“That’s not a female thing?”

She sent him a disapproving glance. “Belinda was talking to another teacher in the staff room one day, explaining the symbolism in a poem her class was studying. She claimed that the blue curtains fluttering in the breeze were representative of the author’s depression. I suggested that perhaps the author just happened to be writing in a room that had blue curtains.”

He grinned. “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar?”

“And sometimes orange is just the color of a sunset,” she confirmed, waving to him as she made her way to her door.

Clearly that was all she intended to say about the subject, but as Jay made his way up the stairs to his own apartment, which occupied the two upper floors of the building, he wasn’t entirely convinced. In fact, he suspected there was a lot more going on with the sexy schoolteacher than she wanted anyone to know.

He did know that she left her apartment at precisely seven twenty-five every weekday morning to head over to Westmount, and she usually returned home by three forty-five in the afternoon. The only exceptions were Wednesdays, when she monitored Homework Help in the library after school, and the second Monday of every month, when there was an afternoon staff meeting. She didn’t, as far as he could tell, date very often—or maybe not at all.

Which piqued his curiosity for two reasons: first, she was a beautiful woman, and second, she was new to Haven. Either of those factors would appeal to most of the single guys in town; the combination would prove almost irresistible. This led Jay to believe her presence at home most nights was a matter of choice. But why?

Was she involved with somebody back in California? Was she nursing a broken heart? Or was she simply not interested in any of the guys she’d met?

It wasn’t in his nature to ignore an intrigue, but he didn’t like being distracted by thoughts of a woman.

So rather than admit that he was, he pushed all thoughts of her out of his mind and focused on getting ready for work.

* * *

Alyssa turned off the water, grabbed a towel from the bar and briskly rubbed it over her body. She knew, without looking at the clock, that it was 7:00 a.m. She knew because she was a creature of habit who awakened every morning at six and had her shoes laced up, ready to head out the door, ten minutes later.

She wasn’t a competitive runner—not like her sister, Cristina, had been. But she enjoyed challenging herself to go a little farther, a little faster. After too many years of being told to be careful, to slow down, because she was fragile and weak, she had a lot to prove—if only to herself.

She’d started running three years earlier, just a short jog at a moderate pace, to see if she could. And then she could do a little more—and a little faster. Now she was strong, she was fit and she was determined to live her life on her own terms.

She ran for herself. It wasn’t really a secret, but it also wasn’t something she’d shared with anyone else.

Until Jason Channing.

Somehow, eight weeks earlier, she’d acquired a running partner she didn’t need or want. And despite her less-than-welcoming demeanor at the start, he’d continued to show up, until she’d found herself not just enjoying his company but looking forward to it.

But at the same time, being around her upstairs neighbor also left her feeling a little...unsettled.

Of course, if rumors were to be believed—and in the eight months she’d lived in Haven, she’d discovered that they usually were—he had a similar effect on most of the female population in town. Because not only was he unbelievably handsome and charming, he was educated, motivated and rich. Not that he flaunted his wealth. In fact, it was only through a conversation with Mrs. Powell, the resident of 1A, that she’d discovered he owned the triplex they all lived in.

Still, it had taken her a while to accept that the cause of her unsettled feeling was most likely physical attraction. But what woman wouldn’t feel some kind of stirring in her blood when she was around a good-looking guy? And Jason Channing was undoubtedly that. Referred to as “Charming” by the women in town, he was six feet tall with broad shoulders, dark hair, deep blue eyes, a square jaw and an easy smile that never failed to make Alyssa’s toes curl inside her running shoes.

So although she couldn’t deny that she was attracted, she was thankfully smart enough to realize that he was way out of her league. And that was okay, because when it came to the dating game, she was content to sit in the bleachers and watch others play.

Someday she might be ready to suit up and hit the field, but after so many years of being “coached” by her doctors and parents, she just wanted to call her own plays for a while. Which was why she’d finally moved away from the well-meaning but stifling attention of her family.

Eight months later, Renata Cabrera still hadn’t let up in her campaign to get her youngest daughter to come home. Her latest effort, begun when Alyssa was home for the Christmas holidays, had been a reintroduction to Diego Garcia. He was “handsome and single” as her mother had promised, but Alyssa simply wasn’t interested.

Unfortunately, Renata refused to believe it, and Alyssa couldn’t remember the last conversation she’d had with her mother without some mention of Diego. Most recently Renata had suggested that he might be traveling to Nevada to help his cousin, who lived in Elko and had recently split from his girlfriend, move out of their shared apartment and into his own. Alyssa hated to think that her mother had encouraged Diego to make the trip—or to think that she had any kind of personal interest in him—but she couldn’t disregard either possibility.

With her travel mug of coffee in one hand and car keys in the other, Alyssa had just stepped onto the driveway when her phone rang. Only one person ever called her early in the morning, so she didn’t need to glance at the display to know who it was.

She unlocked the car door and set her coffee in the cup holder on the console before pulling the phone out of her purse and connecting the call. “Buenos días, Mama.”

“I’m just calling to remind you that Diego’s going to be in Nevada this weekend,” her mother responded without preamble.

Alyssa closed her eyes and quietly banged her head against the open door. “I didn’t realize those were firm plans.”

“Then you weren’t listening,” Renata said.

“I’m working this weekend,” she reminded her mother.

“You’re working tonight,” Renata acknowledged. “And Diego said he would stop by this Diggers’ place so the two of you could make plans for when you’re not working.”

“I have another job, too,” Alyssa said. “And test papers and lab reports to mark this weekend.”

“You work too hard,” her mother protested. “At the school all day and then a second job at night.”

“Only two nights a week,” she interjected to clarify the part-time status of her bartending job at the local watering hole.

“If you don’t slow down, you’re going to wear yourself out,” Renata continued, as if she hadn’t heard her.

Alyssa didn’t bother to point out that her sister worked a full-time job and then cared for a husband and son when she got home, and nobody worried that Cristina was going to wear herself out. All she said was “I’m fine, Mama.”

“You need a break,” Renata said. “And I think spending some time with Diego will fit the bill nicely.”

“Diego’s a nice guy,” she began in an effort to appease her mother.

“From a good family,” Renata pointed out. “And ready to settle down and start a family of his own.”

Which was something Alyssa was definitely not ready to do. “Mama—”

“Would it be such a hardship to spend some time with an interesting and attractive single man?”

“Of course not,” she acknowledged. “But—” she needed to firmly and finally extinguish any hopes her mother had of striking a romantic match between Alyssa and Diego “—the truth is, I’ve been seeing somebody here.”

Except that it wasn’t the truth—it was a blatant lie.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

“You’ve been seeing someone?” her mother echoed, not bothering to hide her skepticism.

“That’s right,” she confirmed.

Lied.

Again.

“And why am I only hearing about this now?” Renata challenged.

“I didn’t want to jinx the relationship by talking about it too soon.”

But apparently she didn’t mind going to hell, which was certainly her destination after she added more falsehoods and untruths to the conversation.

“Well, this puts me in an extremely awkward position, Alyssa,” Renata said. “If I’d known about this...relationship...I would not have encouraged Diego to look you up while he’s in town.”

She didn’t bother to point out that Elko was a different town in a different county. “Maybe it’s not too late to get in touch with him and recommend he change his plans,” she suggested hopefully.

“Unfortunately, it is,” her mother said. “He’s already in Nevada, so I’m just going to trust that, when you see him tonight, you’ll treat him as you would any friend visiting from out of town.”

“Of course,” Alyssa murmured, her mind once again scrambling. “But now I really do have to go, so I’m not late for work.”

“Okay,” Renata said. “But don’t forgot to call Nicolas next week to wish him a happy birthday.”

“I won’t forget,” she promised, already looking forward to talking to her almost-five-year-old nephew—because although he always told her he missed her, he never tried to guilt her into moving back to California. “Goodbye, Mama. Te quiero.”

After her mother had said goodbye, too, Alyssa disconnected the call and sighed wearily. “I’m going to hell.”

“I’m not a priest, but I’m willing to listen to your confession, if it would help.”

She jolted at the sound of Jason’s voice behind her, then pressed a hand to her racing heart as she turned to face him. Of course, seeing him now, freshly showered and shaven, her heart raced even faster.

“Sorry to startle you,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I didn’t expect—You don’t usually leave for work this early, do you?”

“No,” he admitted. “And you don’t usually leave this late.”

She glanced at the clock display on her phone and winced. “You’re right.”

“I don’t want to hold you up any longer, but I’m curious to hear why you think you’re going to hell.”

“Because I lied to my mother,” she confided.

“A big fat lie or a little white lie?” he asked.

“I told her that I had a boyfriend.”

“You don’t?”

She shook her head. “No. The last date I had—and I’m not sure it even counts as a date—was the staff Christmas party, December 22.”

She’d attended the event with Troy Hartwell, the biology teacher. He’d had a little too much to drink and misinterpreted her level of interest, forcing Alyssa to demonstrate some of the moves she’d learned in the self-defense course her mother had implored her to take before she moved away from home.

“Any particular reason for the dating hiatus?” Jason wondered.

“Not really,” she said. “I just have other priorities right now—including a test for my senior calculus class this morning.”

Jason took the hint. “Well, good luck with that,” he said, moving around to the driver’s side of his truck and climbing behind the wheel.

She waved as he drove away, then decided that her mother’s ongoing matchmaking efforts meant it was time for her to implement plan B.


Chapter Two (#u11dfc7e5-2c74-5cf8-af82-9436bc7b6811)

“The warehouse. Eighteen hundred hours. Tonight.”

Jay shifted his attention from the spreadsheet on his computer to Carter Ford, his best friend of nearly two decades and now his right-hand man at Jason Channing Enterprises. Carter stood in the doorway of Jay’s office, which also served as the staff lounge and lunch room of Adventure Village.

He glanced at the papers spread out on his desk and, with sincere reluctance, shook his head. “It’s going to take me forever to sort this stuff out.”

“What stuff?” Carter asked.

“Invoices to pay, booking requests to log and emails to answer.”

His friend crossed the concrete floor and dropped into one of the visitors’ chairs, then lifted his feet onto the seat of another. “Isn’t that Naomi’s job?”

“It was supposed to be,” he admitted, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Until I realized that we were two months behind on our insurance payments and we missed out on the opportunity to host a corporate team-building exercise for fifty people because the email was ignored.”

The missed opportunity was an annoyance; the potential loss of liability insurance could have shut down their business.

“I thought you’d set up preauthorized payments for the insurance,” Carter said.

He nodded. “For the first six months, the payments were coming out of my personal account, to give the business a chance to turn a profit. Then the automatic debits were supposed to be switched over to the Adventure Village account, but Naomi didn’t send the paperwork to the bank.”

Carter swore. “Tell me again why we’re giving her a paycheck every two weeks.”

“She got her last one today,” Jay told him.

His friend’s brows winged upward. “You fired your cousin?”

“Yeah.”

“Your aunt’s gonna be so pissed.”

“Yeah,” he said again, already braced for the fallout.

But he trusted that, if it came down to a family battle, his father would be on his side. Because Benjamin Channing had been the one to urge Jay to find a job for his cousin at Adventure Village so that Ben wouldn’t have to make a position for her at Blake Mining. Naomi had an extensive work history, but she’d never managed to hold on to any job for very long. “And while I’m not opposed to nepotism, I am opposed to incompetence—and that’s why I’ve got to deal with this paperwork,” he explained to his friend.

“C’mon, Jay, you can take a break for a few hours,” Carter urged.

“Maybe tomorrow night,” he suggested.

“It has to be tonight,” his friend insisted.

“Why?”

“Because it’s our first anniversary.”

Though he was aware of the significance of the date and knew his friend was referring to the business, he couldn’t resist joking, “So where are my flowers?”

“The shop was out of yellow roses,” Carter bantered back. “And I know they’re your favorite.”

“Tell me you at least got a card.”

“Mere words cannot express my feelings,” his friend said.

Jay snorted.

“But I’ll buy you a beer after paintball tonight,” Carter offered. “And we’ll toast to year one.”

“And account ledgers written entirely in black ink,” Jay added, sitting back in his chair.

He believed in working hard and playing hard, and he considered himself lucky that there was a fair amount of overlap between work and play for the CEO of Adventure Village, Haven’s family friendly recreational playground.

When he’d bought his first property—two acres of dry, dusty terrain that included an old abandoned shoe factory—several of the townsfolk had scratched their heads as they tried to figure out why he would throw his money away. Few people gave him credit for having a plan; even fewer believed he might have a viable one, especially when he acquired the undeveloped parcel directly behind the old factory.

He didn’t talk about his project except with those who’d been chosen to work on the development. Because Jay knew that the best way to create buzz about what he was doing was to say nothing. The less people knew, the more they tended to speculate—and then share their speculation with friends and neighbors, who passed it on to other friends and neighbors.

When Adventure Village opened, he’d hoped all the doubters and naysayers and everyone else would understand that the land he’d purchased was an investment—not just in Jason’s future, but that of the whole town. As one of only three cities in all of Nevada where gambling was illegal, Haven saw a steady exodus of residents to the casinos in neighboring areas on evenings and weekends. And who could blame them when there was no action in their hometown?

But now the residents of Haven had another option. And not only were fewer people heading out of town on weekends, there were more people heading to Haven from other places.

Jay understood that part of the draw, at least in the beginning, was the newness and novelty of his facility. In a state where most people came to fritter away their money at the tables or in the bordellos, a facility that offered a variety of wholesome physical activities for all ages was an anomaly—and week after week, that anomaly was adding to his status as one of the wealthiest men in Haven.

And that was definitely cause for celebration.

“What’s the plan?”

“Assassins,” Carter immediately replied, proving that he’d already given the matter some thought. Or maybe it was just that Assassins was always his game of choice whenever they geared up and took to the field.

“Who’s in?”

“Kevin, Matt, Nat, Hayley, me and you.”

Jay looked at the papers on his desk again.

“You started this business because you wanted to have fun,” his friend reminded him.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “But I didn’t realize that fun could be so much work.”

“And that’s why you need a break.”

“Why can’t that break be tomorrow night?” he wondered.

“Because after the game, Kev wants to head over to Diggers’ to put his moves on the hot new bartender, and she doesn’t work Saturdays.”

“Kev has no moves,” Jay noted. “And what he thinks is hot is usually only lukewarm.”

“You’re right about the moves,” his friend agreed. “But his description of the bartender was actually ‘sizzling.’”

“Now you have my attention.”

Carter grinned.

Jay decided the unpaid and undocumented invoices would still be there tomorrow.

* * *

Alyssa loved her job at Westmount High School. Teaching was her pride and her passion, and helping young minds understand scientific laws and mathematic formulas was incredibly fulfilling. But despite a full timetable and the prep and marking to be completed outside of regular school hours, when she walked out of her classroom at the end of the day, she found that she had a lot of free time on her hands.

So she’d looked for opportunities to meet people and get involved in the community. She joined a book club, but the required readings and once-a-month meetings did little to fill her empty nights. She tried a pottery class but had more luck throwing her misshapen vessels into the trash than throwing clay on the wheel. She tried to teach herself to knit but got the needles hopelessly tangled—not just in the wool she’d bought for her project, but in the sweater she’d been wearing. As a result, she’d filled most of her empty hours through the long winter binge-watching Netflix.

Then one day, when she was picking up a few groceries at The Trading Post, she overheard Frieda Zimmerman (whose husband was the local mechanic and tow truck operator) tell Thomas Mann (the owner of Mann’s Theater) that her niece Erika had run off to Vegas to be a dancer. Alyssa hadn’t been paying too much attention to their conversation, but her attention was snagged when Mr. Mann commented that Diggers’ was going to be short a bartender. Because that was a job Alyssa had some experience with, having worked part-time at a campus bar while she was in college.

Her parents had acknowledged the value of their youngest daughter gaining some work experience and contributing to the cost of her education, but they hadn’t approved of the late hours or the work environment. It was the first time Alyssa hadn’t backed down in the face of their opposition, and although the job had been physically demanding, she’d enjoyed the work—and the chance to forget about her studies and everything else for a while.

Even on Friday nights, Diggers’ didn’t draw a crowd comparable to a college bar in Irvine, but Alyssa was eager for something—anything—to fill some empty hours. Duke Hawkins had been wary about hiring a schoolteacher to tend his bar, but as she was the only applicant with any actual experience, he’d agreed to give her a chance. In only a few short weeks, she’d earned regular shifts on Tuesday and Friday nights.

Sunday through Thursday, there was only one bartender on duty, but on weekends, there were two scheduled with overlapping shifts. Alyssa worked from seven until midnight and Skylar Gilmore came in at eight and stayed until closing. Sky was a couple years younger than Alyssa, but she’d been working part-time at the bar since she was of age and was now a master of the subtle flirtation that kept customers coming back without expecting anything more from the woman who filled their glasses.

Everyone in town knew Sky as the youngest daughter of David Gilmore, owner and operator of the Circle G—reputedly the biggest and most prosperous cattle ranch in Nevada. Few people knew that she was working toward her master’s degree in psychology. She was also open and warm and funny, and she knew everything there was to know about Diggers’ regular customers—and most of the less regular patrons, too.

Sky was the third of four kids. Her older sister was an attorney married to the local sheriff, Reid Davidson. In February, Katelyn and Reid had added a baby girl to their family, and proud Aunt Sky was always ready to pull out her phone and share recent pictures of her niece, Tessa. Liam, the second oldest, currently worked at the Circle G with his father and brother, though he’d recently purchased the abandoned Stagecoach Inn with the intention of renovating and reopening it as a boutique hotel and spa.

This plan had caused some tension with his father, who apparently insisted that Gilmores were ranchers, not innkeepers, which led to Liam spending less time at the Circle G and more at Diggers’—which was how Alyssa got to know him. Caleb, the youngest, seemed content to work on the ranch, though Sky remarked that he hadn’t been truly happy since a former girlfriend moved out of town a few years back.

“Liam said to tell you that one of the bulls broke through the fence bordering the south pasture,” Sky said when she joined Alyssa behind the bar Friday night.

“Does that mean he’s not coming in tonight?”

“He’s coming in,” her coworker assured her. “But he’s going to be late.”

“Oh. Okay,” she said, though she knew that if he was too late, her plan B would fall apart.

“What he didn’t tell me,” Sky continued, as if thinking aloud, “is why it was so important for him to show up tonight—or why you would have any interest in his plans.”

“It’s a long story,” Alyssa warned.

“We’ve got time—this place won’t get busy for at least another hour.”

So Alyssa told Sky about Diego’s impending visit to Haven. Ordinarily, she’d have no qualms about spending time with a family friend visiting from out of town, except that her mother had been less than subtle in her efforts to facilitate a romance between her youngest daughter and the nephew of her best friend, and Alyssa wasn’t the least bit interested.

“Is he a jerk?” Sky asked.

“No.”

“Unattractive?”

“No.” Because although she wasn’t attracted to him, she could appreciate that he had a certain appeal.

“Unemployed?”

“No,” she said again. “In fact, he works as a project engineer in the aerospace industry.”

“So why aren’t you interested?” Sky wondered.

“Because I don’t want to date anyone right now—especially not someone handpicked by my mother for the sole purpose of enticing me to move back to California.”

“How does my brother figure into any of this?”

“He had the misfortune of being here Tuesday night when my mother called to tell me about Diego’s potential travel plans. And he suggested that the only sure way to stop her from setting me up with someone from home was to tell her I’m dating someone here. So—” she looked at Sky, trying to gauge her friend’s reaction “—Liam’s going to be my pretend boyfriend tonight.”

Her friend’s brows lifted. “Pretend, huh?”

“Pretend,” Alyssa said firmly.

“Oh,” Sky said, sounding disappointed. “For a minute, I thought this story might be as good as the sexy book I stayed up all night reading.”

“Maybe I can borrow it when you’re done, because the only romance I want these days is in the pages of a novel,” Alyssa told her.

“Why’s that?”

“Because I like my life the way it is—uncomplicated by the expectations of a man.”

“Most men are simple creatures driven by simple desires to eat, sleep and have sex.” Sky grinned. “Although not necessarily in that order.”

Alyssa’s experiences with the male gender were too limited for her to be able to contradict her friend’s assessment. Instead, she said, “And I have no desire to cook so that a man can eat, or make up the bed for him to sleep on.”

“I noticed that you didn’t dis the sex,” Sky said, her tone contemplative.

“My experience in that area is limited,” she admitted.

“How limited?”

“Let’s just say I really don’t get what all the fuss is about.”

“Then you haven’t been with the right kind of guy,” her friend said. “And it’s probably a good thing you only want Liam to be a pretend boyfriend.”

“Now you’ve piqued my curiosity,” Alyssa said.

“I love both of my brothers dearly, but Liam is...” Sky paused, as if searching for the right words to express what she was thinking. “He’s not always considerate of a woman’s emotions.” She smiled wryly. “Sometimes he’s not even cognizant of them.”

“So if I was going to fall for one of the Gilmore boys, I should set my sights on Caleb?” Alyssa joked.

Her friend shook her head. “Except that my younger brother, though inherently more compassionate, is completely emotionally unavailable.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not looking to fall for anyone,” she noted.

“Those not looking are most likely to fall,” Sky warned.

“I’m not concerned.”

“How long have you been in Haven?” her friend asked as she began to unload a tray of glasses.

“Eight months,” she answered.

“How many dates have you had in that time?”

“Two,” she admitted.

“Two dates with the same guy or two different guys?” Sky continued to multitask as she interrogated her.

“Two different guys,” Alyssa clarified. “Neither of which I wanted a second date with.”

“Sex?”

She shook her head.

Sky gave Alyssa her full attention now. “You haven’t had sex in eight months?”

Alyssa’s cheeks flushed. “It’s actually been a little bit longer than that.” Actually, it had been a lot longer than that, but she wasn’t ready to admit to her friend that she was a twenty-six-year-old virgin.

“You haven’t met anyone in that time who’s made you think ‘yeah, I could get naked with him’?” Sky asked.

Even as she shook her head again, an image of Jason Channing filled her mind and heated her blood. Whenever she was around her upstairs neighbor and current running partner, feelings—unfamiliar and unwelcome—stirred inside her. Those feelings sometimes made it difficult to remember that she was happy living her own life and definitely not looking for romance. And even if she was, it would be a mistake to glance in his direction.

“No,” she said in answer to Sky’s question.

But then he walked right out of her thoughts and into the bar, and her defective heart skipped a beat.

He wasn’t alone. Of course “Charming” wasn’t alone on a Friday night. He was with a woman—blonde, beautiful, built. No, he was with two women. The second was a little taller, with darker hair, but no less beautiful. A second man followed the second woman, and they headed directly for one of the booths.

A double date, Alyssa guessed.

Then two more guys came in and squeezed into the booth, too.

Or maybe just a group of friends, she allowed.

Alyssa tore her gaze away from them to glance at the clock. Because as nice as Jason Channing was to look at, he wasn’t the man she wanted to see right now.

In fact, he wasn’t a man she could let herself want at all.


Chapter Three (#u11dfc7e5-2c74-5cf8-af82-9436bc7b6811)

As Jay made his way to the bar, he watched Alyssa give a smile to her customer along with his change. Her attention shifted, and though it might have been his imagination, he thought her smile widened when she recognized him.

“So you’re the one,” he said to her.

“The one what?” she asked.

“My friend Kevin insisted that we come here tonight to check out the hot new bartender,” he explained.

She automatically glanced toward the table where his friends were seated, suggesting that she’d seen them enter the bar. “Setting aside the accuracy of that description for the moment, I hope he didn’t make the suggestion in front of your new girlfriend.”

“My—Oh.” He looked over his shoulder. “Which one did you think was my girlfriend?”

She shrugged. “Either. Both.”

“I’m flattered... I think. But no, Nat and Hayley are friends and employees.”

“Is the boss buying the first round tonight?” she prompted.

Although there were servers who circulated around the floor, taking orders and delivering drinks, it wasn’t unusual for customers to order directly from the bartender.

“I am,” Jay confirmed. “Two bottles of Icky, one Wild Horse, a gin and tonic, one Maker’s Mark, neat, and a Coke.”

She turned to reach into the beer fridge for the bottles he’d requested, providing him with a nice view of her perfectly shaped backside.

“So what made you take up bartending?” he asked, his attention focusing on the chunky, lopsided heart-shaped pendant that dangled between her breasts when she turned back again.

“Too much time on my hands,” she confided, deftly uncapping the bottles.

He lifted his eyes to her face again. “Did you lose your teaching job?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what you really meant to say was too many lonely nights,” he teased.

“I’m not lonely,” she denied, scooping ice into a tall glass. “But I spend a lot of time alone and I thought this would be a good way to meet people.”

“How’s that working out so far?”

She smiled as she filled the glass from the soda gun. “The tips are good.”

He chuckled.

“Aside from that,” she continued as she poured the bourbon into an old-fashioned glass, “I’ve learned there are three types of guys who come into a bar.”

“What are those types?” he asked curiously.

“Type one are the regulars who might be genuinely nice guys, but their closest and longest relationships are with the bottle,” she explained as she scooped more ice into a highball.

“Type two comes in looking to meet a woman, but he doesn’t have any interest in getting to know her beyond the most basic exchange of information for the sole purpose of getting her into bed.” She added a shot of gin, then squeezed a wedge of lime into the glass.

“Type three is almost worse.” She added the tonic, another wedge of lime and a stir stick. “He seems like a good guy, and he’s usually with a girl who thinks so, too, but the whole time he’s with her, he’s scoping out the area for other females.”

“I’d suggest that there’s also a fourth type,” Jay said. “The guy who comes in for a drink with his friends and maybe to flirt with a pretty girl.”

“Maybe,” she acknowledged, a little dubiously.

“And then there’s Carter,” he said as his friend joined him at the bar—ostensibly to help him carry the drinks back to their table.

“Hello, Carter,” she said, greeting the other man with a friendly smile.

“For once in his life, Kevin was right,” Carter remarked, winking boldly at Alyssa.

Jay shook his head. “Type two,” he told her. “Not beyond reform, but risky.”

Alyssa nodded as she punched the drinks into the register. “Got it.”

Carter scowled. “What does that mean? What’s a type two?”

“It means that you’re not going to hit on the bartender—who also happens to be my neighbor,” he said firmly.

His friend’s gaze shifted from him to Alyssa and back again. “You live next to this stunning creature and you’ve never invited me over to meet her?”

“And this is him pretending that he’s not hitting on you,” Jay remarked as he passed some bills across the counter to Alyssa.

She laughed. “Well, I’m flattered,” she said.

“Let me know when you want to be not pretend hit on,” Carter told her, picking up several of the drinks to take them back to their table.

Jay shook his head to decline the change she offered.

Her smile slipped, replaced by an expression of concern. “Ohmygod.”

He craned his neck, looking behind him. “What happened?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

She lifted a hand to touch his face, her fingers brushing lightly over the stubble on his jaw—and the bruise that throbbed beneath the skin.

“Oh, that,” he said, wondering how it was that her cautious touch was so unexpectedly arousing. “Matt caught me with my shield up.”

“Huh?”

“Paintball,” he explained.

“Boys and their toys,” she mused, letting her hand drop away.

His skin continued to tingle where she’d touched him.

Or maybe that was just the bruise.

Yeah, it was definitely the bruise, he decided as he picked up the remaining drinks and walked away from the bar. Because he definitely wasn’t letting himself get involved with the girl next door.

* * *

“You calling dibs?” Carter asked when Jay rejoined his friends at their table.

“Dibs on what?” Matt Hutchinson wanted to know.

“Of course I’m not calling dibs,” Jay said.

“The bartender,” Natalya Vasilek answered Matt’s question.

“If anyone’s calling dibs, it’s me,” Kevin Dawson declared. “I saw her first.”

“No, you didn’t,” Carter told him. “Because the ‘hot new bartender’ is a friend and neighbor of our CEO.”

Kevin swore.

“But he’s not calling dibs,” Matt reminded them all.

“Maybe because he likes and respects the woman too much to talk about her as if she was an object up for grabs,” Hayley MacDowell said sharply.

“Whatever Jay’s reasons,” Kevin insisted, “if he’s not calling dibs, I am.”

“No one is calling dibs on Alyssa,” Jay said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Carter tipped his bottle to his lips but kept his gaze on his friend, silently assessing.

Conversation moved on to other topics, including a rehashing of all the highlights of their recent game. As they talked, their glasses and bottles emptied.

“I think Alyssa’s the real reason you broke up with Renee,” Carter said to Jay when the play-by-play had begun to lag.

“I broke up with Renee because she ranked below my business and my friends on my list of priorities,” he replied.

“That might be true,” Nat allowed. “But that doesn’t explain why you keep looking at the bartender.”

He dragged his gaze away from Alyssa.

“And the Master Assassin strikes again,” Hayley noted.

“Who’s got the next round?” Jay asked, holding up his empty glass.

“I think it’s my turn,” Hayley said, pushing away from the table.

“I’m out,” Matt said. “I’ve gotta get home to Carrie.”

Kevin made a sound like a whip being cracked.

Their soon-to-be-married friend was unperturbed. “Yeah, it’s a real drag, being engaged to a gorgeous woman with whom I share mutual interests, stimulating conversation and really hot sex.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” Nat said to Hayley, no doubt eager for an excuse to leave the three remaining men at the table.

When they returned with the next round of drinks, conversation shifted again to more neutral topics.

A short while later, Kevin left with Hayley, because they were headed in the same direction. Then Carter and Nat headed out together. Jay knew that he should make his way home, too. Weekends were the busiest time at Adventure Village, and he had the early-morning shift the next day—including two birthday parties on-site.

But he stayed where he was, sipping his Coke and wondering about the discovery that his neighbor and the hot new bartender were one and the same.

* * *

Though pouring drinks kept her hands busy, Alyssa’s gaze kept shifting between the clock and the door—and, occasionally, the table where Jason was sitting with his friends. Where he remained after his friends had gone.

Sky bumped her hip. “Should we update our earlier conversation?”

“About what?” Alyssa looked at the clock again.

“Your claim that you have yet to meet someone with whom you want to get naked. Because while you’re acting as if you’re not watching Jason Channing, he’s acting as if he’s not watching you.”

She shook her head. “Jason’s my neighbor.”

“That could be convenient,” her friend said.

“Have you heard anything from Liam?” she asked, eager to change the topic of conversation—and for Sky’s brother to make his promised appearance.

Now Sky glanced at the clock and frowned. “No, I haven’t. And I didn’t expect him to be this late.”

The only consolation for Alyssa was that Diego was late, too. Or maybe he wasn’t coming. She mentally crossed her fingers that she could get so lucky.

“I’ll see if I can reach him on his cell,” Sky said.

“Thanks.”

She looked at the clock again.

Nine twenty-eight.

Sky shook her head as she tucked her phone back into her pocket before heading to the other end of the bar to refill Gavin Virga’s drink.

Alyssa sighed.

“Is something wrong?”

She jolted at the sound of his voice so close, then laughed as she pressed a hand to the heart that was hammering inside her chest.

“I seem to have a habit of startling you,” Jason apologized.

“It’s okay,” she said. “My mind was just somewhere else.”

“I can’t imagine anywhere more interesting than here,” he deadpanned.

She laughed again. “Did you want something to drink?”

He shook his head. “I noticed that you’ve been watching the door.”

“I guess I have been,” she admitted.

“Waiting for someone?” He straddled an empty stool.

“Sort of.”

“How can you ‘sort of’ be waiting for someone?”

“Well, there’s one person I’m hoping will come through the door and another I’m hoping won’t,” she explained.

“Now I’m intrigued,” he said.

Over his shoulder, she saw a familiar figure walk into the bar and swore under her breath.

Or maybe the curse wasn’t as restrained as she thought, because Jason’s brows lifted—a silent question that she didn’t have time to answer. Because Diego had spotted her, too, and was moving purposefully toward her.

And though Jason hadn’t been her first choice, she decided that if she could have a fantasy romance with any man of her choosing, there wasn’t anyone more fantasy worthy than her handsome upstairs neighbor.

“I’ll explain later,” she promised as growing desperation pushed aside both rational thought and common sense. “For now, will you please just go with it?”

“Go with—”

She didn’t let him finish the question before she leaned across the bar and kissed him.

* * *

If this was “it,” Jason decided as Alyssa’s mouth moved over his, he could definitely go with it. For now and as long as she wanted, because her lips were soft and warm and seductively persuasive.

He’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t thought about kissing her, because she was the type of woman that any red-blooded man would be attracted to. But he also knew that it wasn’t always a good idea to act on an attraction—such as when the woman who stirred his blood was a friend, coworker or neighbor. Alyssa checked off two of those boxes, so no matter how much his hormones sat up and begged for attention whenever she was around—and there was no denying that they did—he’d mostly managed to ignore them.

There was no hope of ignoring them now.

She smelled so good...tasted even better.

And he wished there wasn’t eighteen inches of polished walnut between them, so that he could put his arms around her and haul her against his body. He settled for circling her wrists with his hands. His thumbs rubbed over her pulse points, finding evidence that her heart was racing as fast as his own.

“I think that should do it.” She whispered the words against his lips before she eased away.

Do what? he wondered, noting that her mouth was moist and swollen from their kiss, her cheeks flushed.

But before he could catch his breath to ask the question aloud, someone spoke from behind him.

“I heard this was a friendly establishment,” the male voice remarked. “Do all customers get that kind of attention?”

The color in her cheeks deepened. “Diego...um...hi.” Then she seemed to gather her thoughts to respond to his question. “And, uh, no.”

“You must be someone special, then,” the man she’d referred to as Diego remarked, his narrowed gaze focused on Jay.

“Very special,” Alyssa chimed in quickly. “Jason is...my boyfriend.”

Though Jay instinctively chafed against the word, the silent plea in her eyes begged him not to contradict her claim. Recalling her promise of an explanation later, he decided to go with it—at least for now.

“And you would be?” Jay prompted the other man.

Alyssa jumped in again. “This is Diego Garcia, a family friend from California.”

“Well, any friend of Alyssa’s is a friend of mine,” he said.

Diego shook his proffered hand, squeezing more firmly than was warranted.

“You’re a long way from home,” Jay commented.

“I’m visiting a cousin in Elko,” Diego said. “And since I was going to be so close, Renata suggested that I stop in to say hi to her daughter.”

“And now you have,” he said pointedly.

Diego nodded and turned his attention back to Alyssa. “If you’re not working tomorrow night, maybe we could have dinner together,” he suggested.

“I’m not working,” she admitted, glancing at Jay, those melted chocolate eyes pleading. “But—”

“But we already have plans for tomorrow night,” he finished for her.

“Plans that can’t be changed to accommodate a friend from back home?” Diego directed the question at Alyssa.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Jay responded. “You see, it’s our three-month anniversary tomorrow and I have a very special evening planned.”

“How about lunch, then?” the other man offered as an alternative.

“Sorry,” he interjected, though the invitation clearly hadn’t been directed at—or even intended to include—him. “But we’re tied up for the whole weekend.”

“And I’m heading back Sunday morning,” Diego admitted.

“Well, I hope you enjoy your visit with your cousin and have a safe trip back,” Alyssa said, clearly eager for the man to be on his way.

Jay knew that would probably be for the best, but he couldn’t deny a certain curiosity about Diego’s connection to his neighbor. And since Alyssa herself was rather tight-lipped whenever he asked her about her previous life in California, he decided that this was too good an opportunity to pass up.

“But since you’re here now,” he said to the other man, “why don’t you let me buy you a drink?”


Chapter Four (#u11dfc7e5-2c74-5cf8-af82-9436bc7b6811)

What was he doing?

Alyssa frowned at Jason, silently communicating her annoyance.

She couldn’t imagine Diego saying yes, but still—what could have possessed her pretend boyfriend to make such an offer? She held her breath as Diego glanced at his watch, shrugged.

“I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee before I make the drive back,” he decided.

“Make that two cups, honey bear,” Jason said to her.

Honey bear?

But of course, she couldn’t object to his use of the term because she needed his help if her ploy was to succeed. Instead, she forced a smile. “Of course, sugar muffin. I was just about to make a fresh pot—I’ll have Geena bring it over when it’s ready.”

Though his brows lifted, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth before he turned away to guide Diego to a vacant table.

“Sugar muffin?” Sky echoed quizzically.

“It was the first thing that came to mind,” Alyssa admitted.

“I can’t believe you’re fake cheating on my brother with someone called ‘sugar muffin,’” her coworker remarked.

“Your brother stood me up,” Alyssa pointed out in her defense.

“He was late,” Sky acknowledged, pretending to be miffed. “And you didn’t wait half an hour to throw yourself into another man’s arms.”

“Actually, I waited thirty-three minutes,” she said. “Desperate times and all that.”

But even as her words justified her actions, her heart—still racing from that kiss—worried that she might have made a very big mistake.

Sky glanced at the table where Jason and Diego were seated as she continued to mix drinks. “He’s actually kind of cute.”

“Jason?”

“No!” Sky said immediately. Vehemently. “Diego.”

Objectively speaking, her friend was right. But Alyssa was more curious about Sky’s reaction to her question about Jason. “Do you have a history with Jason Channing that I should know about?”

Sky shook her head. “Not personally.”

“Impersonally?”

Her friend chuckled. “No. It’s just that I’m a Gilmore and he’s a Blake—or rather, his mother was a Blake.”

“I’m still not following,” she admitted.

“You don’t know about the feud?”

“What feud?”

Sky shook her head, but before she could explain, Margot—one of the waitresses—came up to the bar with an order of drinks for a party table in the restaurant, and Sky turned her attention to filling it.

While she was busy doing that, Alyssa grabbed a bus pan to clear some of the now empty tables.

Jason and Diego were still chatting, and though she was admittedly curious about the topic of their conversation, she wasn’t worried. She’d made her point to Diego. Now he could go back to Elko—and ultimately to Irvine—cured of any notion that there was a future for them together.

She sprayed and wiped a table, then turned and found herself face-to-face with her mother’s best friend’s favorite nephew.

“I wanted to say goodbye before I headed out,” Diego said to her.

“Oh. Okay.” She tightened her grip on the bus pan as he leaned over to kiss her on one cheek, then the other.

“It was good to see you, even for a couple of minutes, Alyssa.”

“You, too.” And now that she knew he was leaving, she managed to say the words with a believable amount of sincerity.

Or maybe she was too believable, because he tried again. “You’re sure you don’t have any free time this weekend?”

She glanced at the table where Jason was still sitting, watching them, and shook her head. “I don’t know what plans Jason has made—” which was the absolute truth “—but if he says we’re booked, we’re booked.”

“I guess I’ll see you in July, then.”

The expression on her face must have matched the blankness of her mind, because he smiled, and she realized that Sky was right—he was kind of cute. But she wasn’t attracted to him in the least.

“Your parents’ anniversary party,” Diego reminded her. “I assume you’ll be home for that?”

“Oh, yes. Of course,” she agreed.

“Then I’ll see you there.”

She exhaled a long, grateful sigh of relief when he finally turned away and headed out the door—crossing paths with Liam Gilmore on his way in.

Sky’s brother glanced toward the bar, his gaze searching. Looking for Alyssa. He found her and was at her side with a few quick strides.

“I’m late,” he acknowledged, his breathless tone suggesting that he’d raced to get there.

“It’s okay,” she told him.

He took the bus pan from her and set it on the table. “You’re too understanding,” he said. “And I’m so lucky that you’re mine.”

Then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

* * *

Sharing a public kiss with Jason Channing had drawn more attention than Alyssa wanted. Now, barely more than an hour later, she was kissing Liam Gilmore in the same bar—with Jason Channing watching!

She pulled away. “Stop. Please.”

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that you’re making a move on my girl,” Jason said.

Liam scowled at the other man. “Excuse me?”

Jason slid an arm across her shoulders. “Honey bear, you said you were going to tell him that you’d finally found a real man.”

Liam’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

Alyssa stepped between the two men. “Diego was here and you weren’t,” she explained to Liam. “So I tagged Jason to fill in.”

“There was no one else around?” Liam’s tone was petulant.

“Only Jason and Gavin Virga,” she said, naming the octogenarian ophthalmologist who was a Friday night regular.

“So why’d you pick him?” he asked again, glaring at Jason.

Alyssa nudged Liam toward the bar. “Go ask your sister to pour you a beer,” she suggested.

He did so, but only after shooting one last narrow-eyed stare at Jason.

“I appreciate you pinch-hitting tonight,” she said to Jason. “But now that Diego’s gone, you can go, too.”

“I haven’t paid for the coffee.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I figured it was the least I could do to thank you for playing along.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth, lingered. And when his lips started to curve, as if he was remembering the kiss they’d shared, her own started to tingle.

She pressed them firmly together and reminded herself that “Charming” had probably kissed most of the women in Haven at one time or another, and she shouldn’t make the mistake of thinking that one spontaneous lip-lock had made any kind of impression on him.

“It wasn’t much of a hardship,” he assured her.

She picked up the bus pan again. “I’ve got to, uh, get this back to the kitchen.”

He didn’t object as she slipped past him.

The dishwasher took the pan from her with a nod of thanks, but Alyssa hid in the kitchen for another minute—just long enough to catch her breath and give her heart a chance to beat normally again.

It was just a kiss.

A kiss that had meant less than nothing to both of them.

And yet...

She lifted a hand to her mouth.

And yet she’d felt so much in those few seconds that their lips had been connected. More than she’d ever felt from just a kiss. More than she’d ever felt with any other man.

“Alyssa?”

She started, her hand dropping from her lips as she turned to Sky. “Um, yeah. I’ll be right out.”

“Actually, I was going to tell you that you could take off early, if you want,” her friend said. “Most of the tables are empty now and there are only a few stragglers left at the bar.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I’m sure. And you’ve had a rather...eventful night already,” Sky said, her tone tinged with amusement.

“That’s one word for it,” she agreed. “But I should talk to your brother before I go.”

“Liam’s cool—it’s the other one who looked as if he was going to pop a vein in his head when he saw my brother kiss you.”

“Jason?”

“For a moment, I thought fists were going to fly—and then I would’ve had to ban my own brother from the bar for a year.”

It was a harsh punishment, but one Duke insisted be meted out to anyone who dared to throw a punch inside his establishment. Which might be why, in the eight months she’d lived in Haven, Alyssa had never heard about anyone fighting inside Diggers’—although rumor had it that Doug Holland’s bar privileges had been reinstated only at the end of January, a full year after he’d given Jerry Tate a black eye for suggesting that his wife was stepping out. Sky had given Alyssa the background on the situation, explaining that Jerry had clearly been baiting the other man, because anyone who knew Doug’s wife knew there wasn’t another man in town who would want her.

She followed Sky back out front, surprised to discover that Jason had again taken a seat at the bar.

“I didn’t expect you’d still be here,” she said, glancing warily toward the opposite end of the counter, where Liam was sipping a beer and chatting with his sister.

“What kind of a man would leave his beautiful girlfriend alone in a place like this on a Friday night?” he countered.

“The kind of man who isn’t really dating the bartender,” she suggested.

“But that’s not what you wanted Diego to think, was it?”

“Diego’s probably halfway back to Elko by now,” she pointed out.

“Still, I figured I should stick around in case he came back.”

“I think—I hope—he finally got the message tonight.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Jason said. “You were sending out some pretty mixed signals.”

“What do you mean?”

“First you kissed me, then you kissed Gilmore.”

She managed a weak smile. “Yeah. It’s a good thing that Diego had already left, because that might have been a little hard to explain.”

“Try explaining it to me,” he suggested.

“I think I’m going to need a glass of wine for that.”

“Are you allowed to drink on the job?”

She smiled as she shook her head. “I meant at home—I’m finished for the night.”

His brows lifted. “And you’re inviting me to go home with you—after only one kiss?”

“I’m offering to continue the explanation someplace where I can kick off my shoes and put my feet up,” she clarified.

He rose from his seat as she made her way around the bar.

“I’d offer to give you a lift home,” he said, “but I got a ride with my friends—and they all abandoned me.”

“So instead you’re asking me for a lift home?”

He flashed his usual bone-melting smile. “If it won’t take you too far out of your way.”

“Lucky for you, my car has a full tank of gas.”

* * *

He should have left the bar with his friends.

If Jay had walked out with Carter or Kevin, he wouldn’t have ended up kissing Alyssa. Because now that he’d kissed her, he couldn’t stop thinking about it—and wanting to do it again.

At twenty-nine, he was old enough to have learned that he couldn’t always get what he wanted. But as a bachelor and heir to the Blake Mining fortune, it wasn’t a lesson that seemed to apply in his relationships with women. Even back in high school, girls had practically lined up for the privilege of dating him, and he hadn’t wanted to say no to any of them.

It had taken some time—and the anonymity that came with being an unknown freshman at an out-of-state college—before he gained some perspective. He no longer hit on every attractive woman who crossed his path, he ensured that any woman he did go out with wasn’t under the illusion that a few nights in his bed would lead to a ring on her finger and he’d concluded that certain relationships tipped the scales against personal involvement—which was why he didn’t date friends, coworkers or neighbors.

Alyssa was the first woman in a long time who tempted him to break that rule.

Going back to her place—which was only one flight of stairs below his own—was an effective reminder of the most important reason not to make a move on his neighbor. And still, that reminder didn’t completely snuff out the temptation.

“You were going to tell me about your love-struck suitor,” Jay said, stepping across the threshold into her apartment.

She’d never invited him into her place before, and he was suddenly conscious of the fact that he was in her personal living space. A passing thought that turned his mind in a direction he was trying not to go. So he stayed where he was, just inside the door, while she crossed through the living room to the kitchen, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

“I don’t think he’s love-struck so much as misguided.” She took a glass from the cupboard and removed the stopper from a previously opened bottle of wine on the counter. “And that’s my mother’s fault.” She held up the bottle to show him the label. “Do you want a glass?”

“Do you have any beer?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Sorry.”

“Then I’ll have what you’re having,” he said.

She poured a second glass, then picked up both and carried them toward the seating area.

“Are you going to come inside and drink it?” she asked, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and lighting her dark eyes. “Or would you prefer to have it by the door?”

He’d stayed where he was in order to put as much physical space as possible between them, as if that distance might somehow dull his awareness of her. “It’s a nice door,” he said.

“Similar to the one on your apartment, I’d guess.”

“Similar,” he agreed as he crossed the floor to join her, though he chose a deep leather chair rather than the sofa where she’d settled. “And having spent some time with Diego tonight, I can tell you that he’s more than misguided. In fact, I’d say he’s somewhere between seriously infatuated and head over heels.”

“What was that about, anyway?” she demanded. “He was ready to turn around and walk out the door when you asked him to stay.”

“It was...an impulse,” he told her, because he wasn’t entirely sure of the reason himself.

“Why?” She lifted her glass to her lips.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t the definition of impulse preclude there being a reason?”

“Not necessarily.”

“And anyway, you’re the one who promised an explanation,” he reminded her.

“You’re right.”

“Am I also right in assuming that what happened tonight is somehow connected to the conversation you had with your mother this morning—the one in which you lied about having a boyfriend?”

She nodded.

“And the reason you lied?” he prompted.

“Because of Diego.” She sipped her wine. “No, that’s not entirely true. Diego is only the most recent of my mother’s matchmaking efforts.”

“How many have there been?” he wondered.

“It seems as if there’s a new one every time I go home,” she told him. “At Thanksgiving it was Tony. At Christmas it was Evan—until she realized no progress was being made there and brought Diego in to celebrate the New Year with us.”

“Is your mother a professional matchmaker?”

“No. She’s a financial analyst, but trying to find the perfect man for me has become her latest hobby. Or maybe it’s an obsession. But it’s not because she wants to help me find the perfect guy—she just wants me to find a guy who will convince me to move back to California. And not only is Diego her best friend’s favorite nephew, he lives in the same neighborhood as my parents.”

“That kind of relative and geographic proximity is a definite red flag,” he agreed. “You never want to get involved with somebody that you might run into on a regular basis after the relationship ends, because those encounters can be awkward and messy.”

She studied him over the rim of her glass. “On the surface, that sounds like a valid argument—except for one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“It assumes that every potential relationship is doomed from the start.”

“Have you ever had a relationship that didn’t end?” he challenged.

“Since I just told you about my mother’s efforts to find my perfect match, it’s safe to assume you already know the answer to that question.”

“There you go,” Jay said.

She shook her head. “Just because I’m not in love—and not looking for love—doesn’t mean that I don’t believe it exists,” she told him. “And I’m not going to let some artificial boundary determine who I can and cannot date.”

Which prompted him to ask the question that had been nudging at his mind for the past two hours: “Is that why you kissed me?”

Alyssa stared at him, certain she couldn’t have heard him correctly. “What did you just say?”

“I asked if you kissed me because you were tired of waiting for me to make a move.”

His response did nothing to clarify his question, but only succeeded in flustering her almost as much as the kiss.

“I was never waiting for you to make a move,” she assured him. “And when I kissed you—that wasn’t me making a move, that was sheer desperation.”

He frowned. “You’re saying that you don’t want to go out with me?”

“Ohmygod—no!” she said quickly, emphatically.

“By all means, take a minute to think about the question before you answer,” he said drily.

She felt her cheeks burn. “I don’t need a minute to think about it,” she said. “I do not want to go out with you.”

Okay, maybe she secretly thought he was the hottest guy she’d ever known, but he wasn’t at all her type. Not that she had a type—but she was certain that he did. She’d seen him around town with different women on various occasions, and they were all tall, slender and blonde. Alyssa was five feet six inches—when she was wearing two-inch heels—and though she wasn’t overweight, she was definitely more curvy than most of the women he’d dated, with dark hair and eyes that attested to her Mexican heritage.

“And seriously, what kind of question is that?” she demanded. “How massive is your ego that you’d think I was looking for an opportunity to get close to you?”

He just shrugged. “A lot of women in this town consider me to be a catch.”

“I’m not interested in catching you—or anyone. I don’t even want to play the game.”

“So I really was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“You really were,” she confirmed.

But even as she spoke those words to reassure him, there was a part of her that wondered if she was wrong—and that he’d been in exactly the right place at the right time.


Chapter Five (#u11dfc7e5-2c74-5cf8-af82-9436bc7b6811)

Jay heard voices in the hall and glanced up when Carter, Nat and Kevin came into the office together the next morning. They had a tray of coffee and box of pastries from The Daily Grind, and he held out his hand for his usual—large, black—desperate for the hit of caffeine to revive his sluggish brain. He peeled back the lid and lifted the cup to his mouth.

“Thanks,” he said. “I really needed that this morning—I don’t think I managed even four hours of sleep last night.”

Carter opened the box of pastries and Jay’s gaze zeroed in on the bear claw—at the same moment Kevin snatched it out of the box and bit into it.

“I thought the bear claw was mine.”

“Did you?” his friend asked around a mouthful of sweet, fried dough. “It really sucks when someone else moves in and takes something you’ve had your eye on, doesn’t it?”

Jay looked questioningly at his other friends. “Why do I get the impression this isn’t about the bear claw?”

“Because it’s about Alyssa,” Nat said.

“What about Alyssa?” he asked cautiously.

Kevin’s only response was to take another big bite of the pastry.

“When we were at The Daily Grind, we heard Megan Carmichael telling Kenzie Atkins that you were locking lips with the new bartender at Diggers’ last night,” Nat explained.

Jay shouldn’t have been surprised. The Daily Grind wasn’t just Haven’s café and bakery, it was where the latest rumors were always as hot as the coffee.

“It’s not what you think,” he said.

“You mean you weren’t kissing Alyssa?” Kevin challenged.

“I mean that’s only part of the story.”

“I don’t care about the story,” his friend said. “It’s Lacey Bolton all over again.”

“Seriously, Kev? That was twelve years ago,” Jay said. “Can you forget about Lacey Bolton already?”

“Can you not see that this isn’t about Lacey Bolton but the guy who screwed over a friend for the sake of a pretty girl?”

“The situation is completely different.”

“Not from my perspective,” Kevin argued. “You put the moves on a girl you knew I’ve had my eye on for weeks.”

“First, I didn’t put any moves on her—she kissed me,” Jay pointed out in his defense. “Second, how is it my fault that you don’t have the guts to make a move on a girl you’ve supposedly had your eye on for weeks?”

“I was waiting for the right moment,” Kevin said.

“How long were you going to wait?” Jay wondered.

“Until last night,” his friend said. “If you remember, it was my idea to go to Diggers’ last night because I knew Alyssa would be working.”

“And if you remember, you left the bar without making any kind of move.”

“She was busy,” Kevin said in his defense.

“That didn’t stop Carter from flirting with her.”

Kevin glared at their other friend.

“But all I did was flirt—Jay’s the one who kissed her,” Carter said, eager to throw Jay under the bus.

He could argue again that she’d kissed him, but he couldn’t deny that there had been kissing. Instead, he said, “Do you want me to apologize?”

“Are you sorry?” Kevin asked.

He thought about the very public and very brief kiss he’d shared with Alyssa and felt desire stir low in his belly. He could tell Kevin that it wasn’t quite as steamy as people were saying, but the memory of that innocent kiss had kept him awake half the night. He could lie, but they’d been friends for too long for that option to sit comfortably with him. “No,” he admitted.

Kevin shook his head. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s always been about the score with you. Jay always has to be with the hottest girls, the most girls—even the unavailable girls.”

“I was a dick in high school,” he acknowledged. “But we’re not in high school anymore.”

“You don’t think kissing Alyssa was a dick move?”

Of course it was, if he’d done it for the purpose of getting between his friend and the girl he liked. But he hadn’t. Nor could he deny that his friend’s secret crush on the bartender had been the furthest thing from his mind when Alyssa’s mouth touched his.

“Okay, it was,” he agreed. “But when you were talking about the new bartender at Diggers’, I had no idea it was Alyssa. If I’d known, I would have told you—weeks ago—that I knew her.”

“I don’t care that you knew her first—you shouldn’t have kissed her.”

“I get that this is a guy thing,” Nat interjected. “You want to beat your chests to figure out who gets the hot girl, but you’re overlooking two key pieces of the puzzle.”

“What pieces?” Carter asked.

“First, dibs and friendships aside, it’s not up to you to decide who gets Alyssa—it’s up to her. And truthfully, I don’t know why she’d waste her time with either one of you.”

“Thanks,” Jay said. “That’s very helpful.”

“Second,” she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken, “and this point is really for Kevin...I know you think Jay only kissed Alyssa because he knew you had a crush on her, but that’s not true.”

“How do you know it’s not true?” Kevin demanded.

“Because Jay isn’t a big fan of early mornings, but he’s been the first one here almost every day for the past several weeks.”

“He owns seventy percent of the business—he should be the first one here every day,” Kevin pointed out.

“I didn’t know there was a gold star for being an early riser,” Jay said, giving Nat a subtle shake of his head.




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