Callie's Cowboy (23 page)

“No.” She was amazed that he still didn't get it. “I was going to marry you and
not
move to D.C. I don't want to live in Washington. I want to marry you and live in Babcock, Nevada. And you were going to send me away.” At this point she figured she better come clean about everything. “I was offered the
Post
job before I even left Washington.”

“Then you lied the night … the night I proposed?”

She nodded miserably. “I was going to tell you about it, and tell you I'd already decided to turn down the job. And then you said you wouldn't marry me if I got the job, and I started thinking about how miserable I'd be in Washington waiting around for you to decide I loved you enough to make a commitment to you and Deana, or if you loved me enough to take a chance on me, and I just couldn't tell you.”

Sometime during her long-winded confession, she'd started crying. And she'd ended up in Sam's arms, her face pressed against his chest.

“It's okay, Callie,” he crooned. “I think I understand. I think. But what about all these job offers? Everyone wants you. How can I expect you to stop doing what you were meant to do? You can write your own ticket. I … I love you too much to hold you back.”

She turned her tear-streaked face up to look at him. “I don't care if everyone else wants me. Only you. Do you want me?”

“It's not important—”

“Do you want me, Sam? Yes or no.”

“Yes.” He sounded pretty sure.

“Then I will write my own ticket. Callie Calloway Sanger, one one-way ticket to Babcock, Nevada, and Roundrock. I'm going to be a ranch wife and a mother and possibly a small-town newspaper publisher. 'Cause I couldn't love you more, Sam.” He opened his mouth to object, but she forestalled him. “Before you even ask, yes, I'm sure. I've never been more sure about how I feel, or what to do with my life, not even when I was
twenty years old and I thought I knew everything. Oh, and that ranch story—that's just something I spouted off the top of my head when Gloria asked me if I had any ideas. She was crazy about it, and I faxed her some stuff, but I wouldn't have pursued it without your permission. I know how you feel about the press.”

He laughed, low and soft, and the sound soothed Callie's frazzled nerves. “For better or worse, I've committed myself to letting the press walk all over us. I figure the more we cooperate now, the sooner they'll get tired of us. One little story about my ranch couldn't possibly hurt anything.”

“Really?” She couldn't believe her ears. “And what about the rest?”

“Your ticket, you mean?” He pulled her out from behind the car door and hugged her to him, giving her the gentlest of kisses. That was all the answer she needed.

Callie melted against him. For the first time in several hours she stopped feeling cold and frightened. Sam wanted her, despite the fact that she'd mismanaged everything. “Can we still be married right away?” she asked suddenly. “Maybe we should wait, given the fact that Tamra's in jail and your mother's going to be upset—”

“Mom would be more upset if we postponed the wedding. She's been talking about it nonstop ever since we announced our engagement. Let's go for it. Focusing on something happy will take everyone's minds off what's happened, at least for a while.”

“I'm glad you feel that way. I don't think I could
wait another day, or a week or a month—and certainly not a year like you wanted to.”

He pulled back and grinned at her. “I didn't really want to wait, you know.”

Callie gazed back. Seeing the love, the utter confidence, shining from Sam's eyes, she knew they were making the right decision.

The times ahead weren't going to be easy; there would be Tamra's trial, and Beverly and Will would need all the emotional support she and Sam could spare. A long, hard winter awaited her at Roundrock, and she would have to learn to cope with snow and isolation.

But somehow, when she looked up into Sam's eager face, she knew without a doubt that they would make it. They were strong people individually. Together, they would be unbeatable.

“I don't think I've ever seen you with such a goofy smile,” Sam said, kissing her forehead.

“I don't think I've ever felt so goofy in love,” Callie replied. “C'mon, let's go home. I'll make you some soup out of a can. Hey, maybe Rena will teach me how to cook.”

Sam opened the door of the Nissan and seated Callie behind the wheel like he was seating her in Cinderella's carriage. The gentle gesture warmed Callie from the inside out. She thought of all the times together that awaited them, the grand passions and the small, tender moments, and she knew she would never feel a moment's regret for choosing a life with Sam.

Welcome to Loveswept!

Summer will soon come to an end but our Loveswept books are always scorching hot. Next month, we're thrilled to offer four deeply seductive and thrilling stories from acclaimed author Donna Kauffman:
LIGHT MY FIRE, SANTERRA'S SIN, DARK KNIGHT
, and
SILENT WARRIOR
. Once you read one, you'll want to devour them all.

And don't miss Elisabeth Barrett's new release,
BLAZE OF WINTER
. Here's an enticing blurb from the cover: Winter heats up in this hot new Star Harbor romance, as another sexy Grayson brother, a wickedly handsome writer, plots his happily ever after with a sweet stranger.

If you love romance … then you're ready to be
Loveswept
!

Gina Wachtel

Associate Publisher

P.S. Watch for these terrific Loveswept titles coming soon: October offers even more exciting reads, including three stunning titles from Donna Kauffman:
MIDNIGHT HEAT, BORN TO BE WILD
, and
SURRENDER THE DARK
, Linda Cajio's sizzling
NIGHTS IN WHITE SATIN
, Karen Leabo's tender
LANA'S LAWMAN
, and Jessica's Scott's breathtaking new military e-original romance,
UNTIL THERE WAS YOU
. In November, we have six more exhilarating reads for you: Adrienne Staff's irresistible
PARADISE CAFÉ
, Linda Cajio's playful and sexy
THE PERFECT CATCH
, Debra Dixon's sensual
DOC HOLIDAY
, Samantha Kane's brilliant
THE DEVIL'S THIEF
, and two more enthralling titles from Donna Kauffman:
TEASE ME
and
BAYOU HEAT
. Don't miss any of these extraordinary reads. I promise that you'll fall in love and treasure these stories for years to come.…

“Any local worth his salt knows what time the fishing starts in Star Harbor,” a large, handsome, dangerous-looking man with raven-black hair intoned in a deadpan. “And it ain't eight-thirty.”

After listening to this blatant insult, Sebastian Grayson, world traveler and master chef, fought the urge to throttle the man who was now reeling in his line. Throttle him, or toss his own tackle box off Mutterman's Pier and crawl back into his tiny berth on Val's boat. Of course, both would require energy, so he let exhaustion win out. Pulling his leather jacket more tightly around his tired, aching body, Seb leaned back on a pylon and closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar tang of salt water and wet wood. The cold, foggy air rushing into his lungs was helping to wake him up some, but he'd still kill for a latte.

Cole's wisecrack had definitely hit a nerve. Just like his brother, Seb was Star Harbor born and bred, and even though he hadn't lived in town for the last decade, it didn't mean he'd lost his “local” status. He'd been on this pier a thousand times. The clang of the buoys in the harbor, the strain and creak of the boats at their moorings, and the cries of the seabirds searching for their morning meal were all imprinted on his brain. The images of his three brothers were imprinted there, too, each of them in his favorite spot along the wharf, just as they were now.

Val, the oldest, stood against the far pylon, his lean, wiry frame concealed by an oversized fisherman's jacket, longish black hair curled at his nape. Cole, second in age, was seated with his broad back up against another pylon, his eyes covered by mirrored sunglasses. Theo, Seb's twin, had one long leg folded against his chest as he leaned on a bench, his rod in one hand and a book of Whitman poems in the other. Theo's green eyes were the exact mirror of his own, and right now they were crinkled in mirth.

The Grayson brothers, Star Harbor's former resident bad boys, were back in town and ready for business.

That is, after Sebastian got his coffee.

Farther down the wharf, a few older men who'd cast their lures at the crack of dawn were silently packing up to leave, their thick jackets buttoned up against the early autumn chill as they gathered their morning's catch. Each of Seb's brothers had already caught a few fish large enough to keep—striped bass and mackerel, mostly. If Seb had been out here fishing at five-thirty like they'd been, he'd have something to show for his efforts, too.

“Sleep well, princess?” Cole asked, his deep voice cutting through the mist. Theo snickered softly from behind his book.

“Mmm,” Seb grunted. He tried to ignore them but he knew it was futile. His brothers were dead set on giving him hell for sleeping late. Cole pushed his sunglasses up on his head, revealing deep blue eyes. Funny, he didn't remember his brother looking so hardened. Ever since Cole had returned from Afghanistan where his Special Forces unit had been stationed, he'd been on edge. Seb was glad Cole had left his job as a cop in Boston to become the sheriff of Star Harbor. Maybe being back in their small hometown would do him good.

“Seb needs his beauty sleep, isn't that right?” Theo teased with a smile.

They weren't going to quit ribbing him until he rose to the bait. “Any one of you could have woken me up,” Seb complained.

“No one would dare. Don't you sleep next to your wicked sharp knives rolled up in that nylon bag?” Cole said, his mouth curving up in a half smile.

“At least I don't sleep with a loaded Glock on my nightstand,” Seb retorted before he could stop himself. In less than a second, Cole's smile was gone and he was standing up, his posture putting all of Seb's senses on high alert.

“Not today.” Val's calm, even voice sliced through the tension. Both brothers backed down, realizing that Val was right. For a moment they had forgotten that they were here in Star Harbor for one reason: to pay homage to their father, who'd died twenty years ago during a hurricane. No matter where they were or what they were doing, they always gathered together in their hometown on Labor Day weekend, the anniversary of his death.

Val and Cole lived in Star Harbor, but Seb had driven his motorcycle in from New York City and Theo had flown in from San Francisco. As was their tradition, they'd spend the long weekend together, remembering their dad.

Seb swept his gaze over the misty water, watching the boats pitch and roll through the haze as the tide slowly went out. Then he turned toward the town. The old-fashioned gas lamps that stayed on all night were still lit, but the fog was thick and he could barely make out the Victorian houses lining Harbor Street. Star Harbor looked exactly the same as it did when he'd left it so many years ago.

God, being here brought back so many memories. Like the time he and his brothers had rigged those fireworks to go off seconds before the annual summer small craft regatta started. It had taken the organizers at least an hour to get everything back on track. Or the time they all ditched school to head to Providence for Oktoberfest. Their mother had been furious. A smile crept onto his face. For a few moments, he could almost forget his weariness and the mountain of work waiting for him back in New York—planning his fall menu, brainstorming for his television show, and figuring out where he was going to open his new restaurant. He thought he might have settled on Boston, but he couldn't be sure until he found the right venue. Crap, he'd better be sure. He'd already spent too much time trying to make that decision.

Seb sighed. He used to love being a renowned chef, and had thrived on the sheer volume of work. But lately, it had started to seem like a slog. Had he lost his passion or was he just exhausted?

Damn
. He had to stop stressing so that he could enjoy the weekend, but that probably wasn't going to happen. He had only himself to blame. His plan was to stay in Star Harbor for a full week, but it wasn't going to be much of a vacation. He would need to spend at least part of the time working on his upcoming projects. Later on in the morning, he was scheduled to scout out spaces in Boston for his new restaurant. His brothers weren't too happy about it—their tradition was to spend the weekend
together
, after all—but it was rare that he ever got time away from his restaurant, Helena. Suddenly, the fact that he was tired, damp, cold, and seriously decaffeinated started to wear on him. He needed that coffee, bad.