LITMIR.BIZ

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a deep breath. At this moment, she needed her friends more than ever. But as Simone had said earlier, she and Naomi were already on a plane to California. They wouldn’t be back for several days.

      She couldn’t talk to her parents about this. They would be more distraught about her breakup with Chip than how painful this was for her. She loved her parents, but they were far more concerned with appearances than anything else. She was certain that when word of her broken engagement got around to them, she would get an earful. She could just imagine her mother scrambling to get back in the Ashfords’ good graces.

      At the moment, Cecelia didn’t really give a damn about the Ashfords. If they couldn’t accept her the way she was, she didn’t want to marry into their family anyway. So what if she wasn’t of the good breeding that Chip thought she was? She was still the same person he had always known. The woman he had proposed to.

      As she pulled her car out of the parking lot of the club, she found herself turning left instead of right toward the Pine Valley subdivision where she lived in a French château-inspired home. There wasn’t much to the left, but Cecelia was in desperate need of a stretch of road to drive and clear her mind.

      After a few miles, she realized that maybe all this was for the best. Perhaps Maverick was doing her a favor in the end. It was better that she and Chip break up now, while they were still engaged, than to have a messy divorce on her hands. And God forbid they’d started a family. Would Chip reject his own children if he found out that they were tainted by their mother’s inferior bloodline?

      Cecelia shuddered at the thought. The one thing she wanted, the one thing she’d always wanted, was a family of her own. She longed for blood relatives whom she was bound to by more than just a slip of paper. People who would love her without stipulations and requirements. Her parents did love her, of that she had no doubt. But the Morgans’ high standards were hard to live up to. She had always strived to meet them, but lately she wondered how they would feel about her if she fell short. Would they still love and protect their perfect Cecelia if she wasn’t so perfect?

      As she made her way to the edge of town, she noticed lights on in the distance at the old Wilson House and slowed her car to investigate. She didn’t realize anybody had bought that property. No one had lived in the large, luxurious cabin for several years, but someone was definitely there now.

      She wasn’t sure why she did it, but she turned her car down the winding gravel road that led to the old house. Maybe it was Maverick’s secret hideout. There, out front, she spied a fully restored 1965 Corvette Stingray convertible roadster. She knew nothing of cars, but she remembered a poster of one almost exactly like this on Deacon’s bedroom wall in high school. That one had been cherry red—his dream car.

      This one was a dark burgundy, but she knew the moment she saw it that the car belonged to Deacon. Instantly, she realized there was no place else she wanted to be in the whole world.

      Deacon had known the truth about her. Years ago when they were in high school and completely infatuated with one another, they had confessed all their secrets. Cecelia had told him about her adoption and about her mother. She had even shown him the only picture she had of her mother. The old, worn photograph, given to her by her parents on her thirteenth birthday, had been found in her mother’s hand when she died. It was a picture of her holding her brand-new baby girl, just a week before she was taken away.

      Cecelia had spent a lot of time staring at that photo, looking for the similarities between her and her mother. Looking for the differences that made her better. She’d always been mystified by her mother’s happy smile as she held her baby. How could she throw that all away? Every now and then she pulled the photo out to look at it when she was alone. Deacon hadn’t judged her. Deacon had accepted her for who she was—the rich, spoiled daughter of the Morgan family and the poor, adopted daughter taken away from her drug-addled mother. Deacon had loved her just the same.

      In this moment, she wanted nothing more than to feel that acceptance again. Without thinking, she drove up to the front of the house and got out of her car. She flew up the steps and knocked on the front door, not knowing what his reaction would be when he saw her. Judging by their interaction earlier that day, she didn’t expect a warm welcome.

      But she didn’t care.

      A moment later, the large door opened wide, revealing Deacon standing there in nothing but a pair of worn blue jeans. She had admired his new build during her briefing that day, but she could only guess what he was hiding beneath his designer suit. Now his hard, chiseled physique was on display, from his firm pecs to his defined six-pack. His chest and stomach were sprinkled with golden-brown chest hair she didn’t remember from their times together in the past. Her palms itched to run her hands across him and see how different he felt.

      Then her eyes met his, and the light of attraction and appreciation flickered there. Cecelia felt a surge of desire and bravery run through her, urging her on, so she didn’t hesitate.

      Before Deacon could even say hello, Cecelia launched herself into his arms.

       Four

      The last thing Deacon expected when he opened his front door was to find Cecelia standing there. If he had suspected that, perhaps he would’ve put a shirt on. Or perhaps not.

      Instead, he’d been standing there half-naked when he opened the door and looked into the seductive gray eyes of his past. She’d seemed broken somehow, not as confident as she’d been during her earlier presentation. She’d appeared to almost tremble as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Before he could ask what was wrong, or why she was here, she’d launched herself at him, and was kissing him.

      At that point all Deacon could do was react. And in that moment, with the woman he had once loved in his arms again after all this time, he couldn’t push her away. Their encounter that afternoon had only lit the fires of his need for her once again. The years of anger and resentment took a back seat to desire, at least for the moment. He had no idea what had brought her to his doorstep tonight, but he was thankful for it.

      Now her mouth was hot and demanding as she continued to kiss him. These were nothing like the sweet, hesitant kisses of their teenage years. Cecelia was a grown woman who knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. And from the looks of it, she wanted Deacon.

      She buried her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as she pressed her body against his bare chest. He could feel the globes of her full breasts molding against the hard wall of his chest through the thin silk of the blouse he had admired earlier that day. As her tongue slipped into his mouth, he felt a growl form in the back of his throat. She certainly knew how to coax the beast out of him. He tried not to think about how Chip Ashford could’ve been the one to teach her these new tricks.

      That was the thought that yanked Deacon away from Cecelia’s kiss. He took a step back, bracing her shoulders and holding her away from him. “What are you doing here, Cecelia?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you be making out with your rich fiancé right now, instead of me?”

      Cecelia silently held up her hand, wiggling the bare finger that had previously held the gigantic diamond he’d noticed that afternoon at the presentation. So, that meant the engagement was off, and just since he’d seen her last. That was an interesting development, although one he was certain had little to do with his arrival in town. Only in his fantasies would Cecelia cast aside Chip for him.

      “May I come in?” she asked, looking up at him through thick, golden lashes.

      His tongue snaked out over his lips as he nodded. “Sure.” He took a step back, wondering what could’ve broken the engagement and driven Cecelia back into his arms, but before he could ask, she was on him again.

      This time he had no reason to stop her. They stumbled back through the doorway, and he kicked it shut behind them. Without hesitation, he lifted Cecelia and started carrying her toward the bedroom. She clung to him, unwilling to separate her lips from his as he navigated through the house.

      When

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