Shameless (St. Martin Family Saga) (10 page)

With Cory’s admission of love and his commitment to spend the rest of his life devoted to her, she felt absolute peace. If she fell, if she faltered, he would catch her. Before she’d been alone, but now there was Cory. And family. And children. Generations to look forward to, dreams to plan for. She quivered at the future of possibilities.

On the drive home, when Cory’d cradled her in his lap, he’d whispered that she was the closest to heaven he’d ever be and that for her he wanted to be the strongest version of himself. He’d said she’d taught him how to live, love, and forgive, but he’d made her feel wanted and needed, given her life a purpose. She’d needed a purpose for so long.

She tipped her head down when he pressed his palm against her belly.

“There’s a baby in here, Brook. A baby we made.”

The awe in his voice had tears gathering in her eyes. She cupped her hand over his.

This man had given her everything. That she got to spend the rest of her life loving him and raising his children was a bonus.

She’d come back to Whiskey Cove because it was the place where her happiest memories rested. It seemed that tradition would continue. Her life had been a journey that led her back to the beginning. She loved beginnings and, in time, she knew she would come to love middles and endings too. She couldn’t wait to live the rest of her life as Brook St. Martin.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Gina Watson is author of the St. Martin Family Saga. She lives in Texas where she leads a double life: university instructor by day, romance writer by night. She loves to be contacted by readers to discuss all things romance.

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LINKS TO MY OTHER BOOKS:

SCORE

SHAMELESS

SHATTER

SUITED

SMOLDER

THE SAGA CONTINUES IN

THE EMERGENCY RESPONDERS TRILOGY:

Sizzle

Secure

Soothe

Coming 2014

SHATTER

Excerpt, book four, St. Martin Family Saga by Gina Watson

Available Now!

Excerpt Suited

L
ogan pulled into
the gravel lot of La Bella Luna and jumped out of his truck. It was between lunch and dinner, so not much was shaking inside the restaurant. He walked toward the bar, where a young woman, her back to him, was filling salt and pepper shakers.

“Excuse me. I’m looking for Jessica Hunter.”

“You’re late,” the woman responded with a terse voice.

Logan leaned in closer. “How’s that?”

Louder she repeated, “I said you’re late.”

She had spunk. Or maybe she was majorly crabby. He hoped it was spunk. He didn’t want to partner with some bitchy woman. Whistling and studying the near empty restaurant, he said, “Shall I come back at a less busy time?”

He saw her neck tighten. Or maybe it was her back straightening into a board as she forced herself to curb her response. Whatever it was, he noticed the movement. And he noticed because he was focusing on the rust-colored hair that was tied into a thick knot at the nape of her neck. Pretty hair. Too pretty to be knotted tight—

She turned, and his breathing hitched. She was incredible. Truly breathtaking. And he immediately knew he was in trouble. Logan was a sucker for redheads, and with her milky skin and sizzling blue eyes melting into him, his heart started racing. Her lips were parted. Her top teeth peeked out and landed on her thick bottom lip as she began to nervously chew at it.

His mouth instantly wanted to do the same, to nibble and taste and explore her lips and the heat of her mouth.

She took him in with equal curiosity, scanning him from head to toe as her long dark lashes created shadows across her pink cheeks. He wanted to run his fingers through the lustrous hair so thick she had to double clip it. There was an abundance of it, and he thought he caught a scent of apple cinnamon. She was wearing black shorts and a white T-shirt with a nametag that read
Jessie
. She untied the black apron from her waist and motioned for him to follow her. He had no problem following those twitching hips.

Her office was full of file cabinets and everything needed to run her business. In the corner were stacks of T-shirts, shorts, and aprons. Logan assumed it was the standard uniform. A box of invoices and a ten-key adding machine sat on her desk next to an accounting log. The space was considerably messy, given how clean and organized the restaurant was. He took the chair next to her desk while she let out a grunt and dropped into her desk chair. A bare light bulb screwed into the ceiling was the only light in the office.

Jessie cleared her throat. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think this partnership is a good idea after all.”

Logan leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that so?”

She raised a dark copper brow. “Yes, I do believe it is.”

She was certainly cute the way she asserted herself, restrained and calm. He wondered if she held herself back like that in the sack. He smirked and allowed a laugh to break free.

≈

Jessica thought Logan St. Martin couldn’t possibly think she would enter into a business partnership with him. The man looked like a bum. A cute bum, but a bum nonetheless.

He wore cargo shorts and a green T-shirt bearing an image of a frothy mug of beer. The T-shirt’s caption read
The Drinking Games, only one will be left standing
. His leather sandals had flopped—no flipping, just
flop
,
flop
,
flop
—all the way down the hallway to her office. To top it off, he was late and sarcastic. She knew his type. Nothing was as important to him as his fun and games. He’d be out of business within the year. Well, he could forget joining up with her—there was no way she’d have him add dead weight to her existing financial problems. She worked her ass off to make this place work and still her efforts might not be enough.

Women probably threw themselves at him because of his long sandy blond hair worn in fashionable disarray and his immense green eyes. He was tall and slim, with all-over facial hair clipped close to his square face. Damn, why’d he have to look the way he looked? Whiskers were Jessie’s weakness.

So yeah, damn him and his sexy smirk.

“This may be a joke to you, Mr. St. Martin, but this is my life. I won’t have you traipsing in here whenever the spirit moves you. If I can’t rely on you to be on time or to at least give me a courtesy call, then I won’t be able to trust you in a partnership.”

She stood to leave, but he caught her by the wrist.

“Sit down.” His voice was authoritative, and his smirk had been replaced with a piercing stare.

“Excuse me?”

“I know you need this opportunity to make your business thrive. You won’t find another distributor willing to provide the product up front for no cost until you deliver the goods. I understand sweat equity, but I assume you’re out on the floor filling salt and pepper shakers and napkin dispensers because money is tight. I take it you wait tables all night as well, that’s why you’re behind on paperwork in here. Look, I know business. It’s only my first year, but I’m operating considerably in the black. You need my help. And call me Logan. I’ll be calling you Jessie.”

She straightened her posture and tilted her head high at his words, but she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut. After all, what he’d said was true. She did need his stupid beer.

“Are you prepared to hear my proposal?”

“I’ll hear it.” She’d extend him that courtesy, at least. She sat back at her desk.

“I’m looking to expand my distribution into certain socioeconomic markets. Your restaurant fits my criteria. I plan to use this place as a beta site for the restaurant marketability of my products.”

“A beta what?”

“Beta site. I haven’t distributed in restaurants before; yours will be the first. I’ll use La Bella Luna as a test site to iron out any kinks that may arise.”

“So essentially I’m your guinea pig.”

Logan smiled. “Exactly. But what you’ll get out of the collaboration is worth it. As I said before, I’ll not charge you up front and only cost after. It’s a win-win for you, but I might suggest changing your marketing and distribution avenues.”

“Oh, I don’t think I have much of those things. We exist on word of mouth and if people want to eat, they just walk through the door.”

“That may have worked before but in this climate, you need what works today. And that means changes. For example, how much profit do you make from home delivery?”

“We don’t deliver.”

“How many calls would you say you get per day for delivery inquiries?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Hmm, you might want to keep track and consider offering a delivery service. It would be another market to expand into with next to no startup costs. And the market has started to turn, with people spending more on takeout food. You need to capitalize on that upshift. A radio blurb doesn’t cost that much, and it would do wonders to alert the public that there is an Italian restaurant tucked down this dead-end road. Tracking how customers hear about the restaurant is also a good idea.”

Jessie exhaled a deep breath. She clumsily plopped her head on her forearm and rested it on the desk in utter defeat. She sniffled.

Logan was on his feet immediately, “Are you okay?”

Her head rose, her eyes flooded with tears. “No, I’m not okay.” She sobbed. “You come in here with your aggressive eagerness and start throwing your big words around and picking apart everything I’m doing.” She was crying harder now, huge tears streaming down her face and falling to her lap. “And the thing of it is, you’re exactly right. I’m completely out of my element here. Since Brandon died, everything’s been steadily deteriorating, and I’ve been powerless to stop the slide.” She sagged in her chair on a sniff.

Logan squatted between her legs and looked up at her. She supposed he was trying to be comforting and non-threatening, but he was in her space. She eased back a bit.

“Who’s Brandon?” he asked.

“Brandon was my husband. He died five years ago. We’d had the restaurant for a while, and it was thriving. Then things started to change.”

Logan used his index finger to lift her face so they were eye to eye. “How about I help you and you help me? I’ll track a few things, see if there might be some sensible changes you can make to yield a higher profit. In turn, you’ll let me sell my brew. What do you say?”

Jessie nodded. They were so close she could feel his heat and smell his scent. He smelled of the outdoors, of grass, gasoline, and leather. And hops. She imagined she smelled the scent of honeyed hops on his skin.

His eyes were like jewels, their color a pure, clear green, and his sincere demeanor was reassuring. He was very masculine, and her stomach fluttered as she imagined how his body would feel above hers. Her attraction to him was immediate, and she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. She didn’t have to wonder long—he leaned in and placed his lips on hers, slowly sucking her bottom lip into his mouth. His tongue slid past her lips and teeth as he tasted her mouth. Her tongue tentatively twined with his. He tasted of yeast, and she idly wondered how much beer he drank on any given day. With a smooth move, he sucked on her tongue. Without warning, she became wet with desire.

It had been too long—way too long—since she’d felt passion. Of their own will, her hands slid under his shirt until she was touching his warm skin. He was smooth and slim, and with her fingertips she traced the long lean section of his torso. Needing to see him, she pulled his shirt over his head. His shorts hung low on his hips, so low she could see his pelvic muscles and the light trail of hair that led into his shorts. Had she thought him cute? A colossal understatement. He was bronzed male perfection. She was entranced, and in response, her body beckoned for his touch.

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Acknowledgments

Several people made this endeavor possible. Without their support this fictional world would not exist. Thank you for all the motivation and support. Beth Hill at
A Novel Edit
is wonderfully professional and does a marvelous job with the editing process. Emily Colter and Maxamaris Hoppe at Waxcreative truly did an awesome job at conceptual design for the website that channels the St. Martin Family. Damonza.com handled cover design and formatting. Mom and Karen, thank you for always agreeing to proofread. Monica your continued support and motivation were priceless on this project. Beth B. thank you for always giving it to me straight, this is invaluable to an author. To all my students and friends, this would not have happened without your beta skills: Kayla H., Courtney W., Danielle S., Meagan W., Ruth L., Angelica L., Jenna L., Tammy S., Kelli R., Amber S. Brian, what can I say, you put up with me, for that there are no words. Thank you.