After the Hurt (22 page)

He smiled, not saying anything. There really was no need for words anyway.

A few minutes later Tank sat up. She watched him, content, then rolled over. The sun shifted lower on the horizon. Pepper loved watching sunsets. The peace and quiet while the waves lapped at the beach and palms rustled overhead was sheer bliss. This place was heaven on earth and she never wanted to leave.

Pepper sighed. Her body sated and mind calm, she turned onto her belly, crossed her arms, and rested her chin on her hands. The sky seemed as if it had been painted by an artist. She heard Tank shuffling around but had no energy to move and see what he was doing.

“Come, let's go and watch the sunset.” He came in to her line of vision and she rolled over on her back.

“Why'd you get dressed?”

Tank held out his hand for her. “Let's go down to the water.”

Pepper took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. She took the pareo he held and wrapped it around her, tying it in front of her breasts. The gauzy turquoise and sea-green fabric fell softly to her ankles.

“What have you done to me? I can barely stand.” She smiled up at him. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

“Gave you the loving you deserve.”

Pepper took his hand and followed him down to the coral outcrop where they had been watching the sun set most evenings.

“Maybe tonight we'll see the green flash.”

Tank stepped behind her and circled her waist with one hand. She loved the possessive way he held her. It meant she was his.

They were quiet. There was no need for words as they watched the sky turn an array of oranges, to deep reds and purples as the sun sank. She kept her eyes open, tried not to blink as the blazing ball of sun approached the horizon.

“Oh, did you see that?” she shouted. “I saw it. That flash of green.”

Tank's mouth was close to her ear when he spoke. “Yep, I did too. Finally, after all these years, we saw it.”

Pepper sighed and leaned back into him. “I don't know how it could get any better than this.”

“I might know,” he said very softly.

She glanced up at him and smiled. “How? This is perfect.”

He smiled. “How about like this?” He pressed her belly and Pepper looked down. He held his hand out in front of her.

“W-what?” Was she seeing things? Was she sun blinded? Pepper blinked and couldn't believe what he was holding. A stunning diamond ring sat nestled in his big palm. “Oh my God, Tank!”

She turned in his arms and looked up at him. He grinned from ear to ear, his face reflecting so much love and tenderness, her heart swelled near to bursting. When he shifted and sank to one knee in front of her she thought she'd died and gone to heaven. Tears sprung to her eyes and she clasped his hands tightly.

“Pepper. I love you. I always have, from the first moment I saw you on the football field in school.” He drew in a breath and Pepper held hers. “This past year—after you left me, and then came back—made me realize I can't live without you. I need you in my life.”

She had no words. She was speechless with emotion and frantically blinked away tears, not wanting to miss a thing by being bleary eyed.

“Marry me, Pepper.” He looked up at her with what she'd wanted to see for so long after she'd come home to him. Love.

“Oh yes, Tank! A thousand times yes.”

Tank took her hand and slipped the ring on her finger. The large oval-cut diamond, flanked by two equally impressive trillion-cut stones, was breathtaking.

“See how it catches the light from the setting sun? Canadian diamonds. Fiery, bright, and rare. Just like you.”

To my parents. Mom, who we lost three years ago to listeriosis. Yes, Pepper's mom's tragedy is based on my mom's sudden illness and death. Dad, who turned ninety-three on March 31, has survived so many things over his lifetime and rallied after losing his wife of sixty years. Where my mom used to be my champion with my writing, Dad has now assumed the role and is doing a great job! I miss her terribly and am so thankful for my father. Love you both with all my heart. xo

Where do you start with acknowledgments? So many people play a significant part. Sue Grimshaw, the fabulous editor who saw something in my story and helped me bring it to life— drinks at RWA! Thanks, Lexi Post! If it hadn't been for you, Sue and I may never have connected.
After the Hurt
was a long process and went through many evolutions and title changes; it was exhausting! Thank you, Lady Gaga, for the song “You and I,” which spawned this idea. Thank you to: Emma Lai for all your help through the process; Gina Gordon, for the times I needed a “quick” read and you were only a text away; and Samantha Hunter, for telling me, “No it's not a Blaze.” And others along the way who I'm thankful for: Shari, Lisa, Anya, Amy. Last, but not least, Meat Man, for being patient when I'm tied to my computer, and my twentysomething sons for being as excited as men can be over romance novels.

After the Hurt

S
HANA
G
RAY
's passion is to enjoy life! She loves to travel and see the world, be with family and friends, and experience the beauty that surrounds us. Much of her experiences find their way into her books. She was first published in 2010 under the name Cristal Ryder. Her stories range from scorching-quickie length to longer erotic romance novellas.

She splits her time between her house in a small Ontario town shared with her twentysomething sons, five cats, and two budgies, and, as the world knows it, Meat Man's house just two small towns away. It's an adventurous challenge that she loves.

shanagray.com

Facebook.com/​AuthorShanaGray

@ShanaGray_

March into romance this month with Loveswept—snuggle up with your e-reader and our new books to escape the chill of those cold winter nights.

Who doesn't love naked men? In Christi Barth's
Risking It All,
friends bonded by tragedy fight for their future with strong and sassy women. In
New York Times
bestselling author Tracy Wolff's
Lovegame,
a damaged starlet bares her soul—and falls for the one man who cares enough to listen. Speaking of games,
New York Times
bestselling author Violet Duke kicks off her sizzling-hot new Fourth Down series with a friends-to-lovers romance between a no-strings-attached sports analyst and the hottest damn tomboy he's ever met in
Jackson's Trust.
As Sawyer Bennett's
New York Times
bestselling Cold Fury series continues with
Hawke,
the league's most notorious party animal gets blindsided by the one that got away. The world of extreme sports just got a little steamier in Zoe Dawson's
Ramping Up.
Second chances are sweeter than ever for a reformed bully who's more than just a jock in Charlotte Stein's next installment of the steamy Dark Obsession series,
Never Sweeter
. And Shana Gray's provocative new novel features a resilient fighter going round for tantalizing round with the one that got away in
After the Hurt.

For history fans, the Highland Knights series continues with a tight-knit band of Scottish mercenaries in
USA Today
bestselling author Jennifer Haymore's
Highland Awakening
. Don't miss the first book in
USA Today
bestselling author Ashlyn Macnamara's charming new regency romance trilogy,
To Lure a Proper Lady.

And for those contemporary romance fans, there's a new voice in romance you won't want to miss—A. M. Madden—who cleans up the city streets in the first book in her new True Heroes series,
Stone Walls,
featuring hot alpha men on the NYPD force.
New York Times
bestselling author Marquita Valentine ratchets up the tension as new beginnings lead to undeniable passion in
After We Fall.
And in
Resist,
a sizzling novel from
New York Times
bestselling author Missy Johnson, a young journalist goes undercover in a world of desire
.

I'm sad to say it's over…but it's not
over
over, as there is a bouquet of beautiful romances awaiting you in April!

Until next month—Happy Romance!

Gina Wachtel

Associate Publisher

by Violet Duke

What a beautiful little liar.

Jackson Gray kept his face neutral as he continued to listen to the introductions going on outside of his office between the other analysts on his floor and DBC Sports Network's newest on-screen talent—the same memorable new member to their team he'd first caught sight of yesterday, not long after she'd been hired.

Leila Hart.

The glimpse he'd gotten of her yesterday had been just that. A brief, second-long glance. But that infectiously cute smile she'd been wearing at the time had stuck with him for quite a while after.

Even through his date last night.

Sure, the fact that he'd been out with one woman and distracted by the mere smiling memory of another
had
made him feel a tiny bit guilty at first—he wasn't a total asshat. But honestly, it had been such a god-awful date that after about ten minutes in, he'd stopped feeling bad altogether.

Truth be told, his brain's random instant replays of that one freaking adorable-as-hell smile had been the equivalent of a survival kit for him. It was the only thing that had saved his sanity as he'd braved every cringe-worthy minute with the hot mess that had tornadoed all over his night, smelling like a distillery from the start and stumbling around in a painted-on minidress so short, he was certain it was really technically a long halter top Bedazzled to within an inch of its life.

Sans any underwear whatsoever.

That latter discovery was one he'd made early on in the night when his vodka-soaked date had actually lifted up the back
and
front of that “dress” to try to find her misplaced purse. Where on earth she'd thought she'd tucked the invisible accessory for safekeeping, he didn't even care to wonder—particularly not when she also began rummaging around for the gum she'd apparently been chewing earlier as well.

He shuddered through the traumatic flashbacks. At one point, she'd giggled in delight over discovering
something
down there, after which, he hadn't just averted his eyes, he'd averted his whole brain as best he could.

The worst part? They'd been a few steps from the crowded entrance of the restaurant at the time, heading
in
to start their meal.

Lordy, that had been one long-ass, apocalyptic evening.

To be fair, though, he couldn't put all the blame on her. Hindsight
was
twenty-twenty and all—pun thoroughly intended. In the light of day today, he had to admit that, despite his usual vigilance on such matters, he
had,
in fact, been completely ill prepared. His fault entirely. He imagined this was why the National Weather Service recommended a periodic inspection and update of all disaster-readiness kits.

His was clearly outdated.

Evidently, he could no longer rely on just the two steadfast preparation procedures he'd always exercised before going out with a woman—a thorough screening for any I-want-your-kids-
now
vibes, followed by his diligent explanation about how he could not, and would not, offer anything more than a casual night of fun.

Had he gotten the memo of these critical system updates, he would've been more prepared; he would never have agreed to any sort of let-me-make-it-up-to-you drinks with the woman who—he'd realized too late—probably should've been given a breathalyzer after she'd crashed her shopping cart into his at the supermarket yesterday evening.

Stupid him for not having known to be on disaster alert for these sorts of things.

Now
he knew to also be on the lookout for: 1) women who started in on the tequila shots at home
before
going out man-hunting, and 2) women who treated grocery stores as their hunting ground of choice.

Lesson learned. He detested games, and acts, and duplicitous subterfuge of all varieties, especially when it came to women. God knew he'd dealt with enough of that for a lifetime.

Today, given all of that was still fresh in his polluted memory bank, the jarring discovery he'd made twenty minutes ago that Leila Hart was standing out there lying through her teeth
should
have triggered the emergency broadcast system alerting him that a calamity not unlike last night's was probably imminent. Strangely, however, he was more curious than anything else. Due entirely to the content of
what
the lovely enigma was lying about.

The woman knew football. Yet, she was standing out there lying about that fact.

He couldn't help himself, he was intrigued.

He'd first noticed the prettily packaged white lies after their network producer Lloyd had finished explaining to Leila how DBC Sports Network's exponentially larger main operations consisted of sports-specific departments, a far different setup from what she was used to. The Phoenix station she'd come up from, like their four other regional affiliates in Vegas, Denver, Albuquerque, and Salt Lake City, operated on a much smaller scale.

That's when he'd first caught it.

Every time Lloyd emphasized how she'd been hired to work on
just
football, Jackson saw a tiny little sparkle dance around in her eyes. Along with that distracting smile again.

That's also when he saw that she was doing her best to hide both. It's not like she was acting the part of a ditz or anything as over-the-top as that but, rather, she was doing little things here and there to play everything down, to encourage Lloyd's football “teachings.”

The poor thing probably hadn't realized what she'd been getting into when she'd opened that ill-conceived door.

It all started well enough. Lloyd had begun describing what the coming months would look like for her, giving her remedial-at-best summaries of NFL drafting, free-agent contracts, and the off-season changes that the teams went through before pre-season. Jackson had watched Leila do a valiant job of looking like Lloyd
wasn't
reciting the alphabet to her…slowly and loudly.

Meanwhile, Lloyd couldn't have been more unaware. His broad Southern chest had puffed up over her first extremely convincing you-big-smart-man smiles. And Jackson had given up working completely then to settle in for the resulting show.

One of his favorite parts of the unfolding sketch comedy came early on with Leila's jaw-slacked are-you-friggin'-serious look she'd smothered
almost
a second too late when Lloyd had asked her whether she knew which three NFL teams their network covered. It was all very exciting. Would the jolly green giant of a producer catch it, wouldn't he catch it? A two-thumbs-up popcorn performance all around.

Of course Lloyd, being Lloyd, had taken her subsequent inability to form words in response as his cue to “educate” the pretty little liar some more…by proceeding to verbally pat her on the head and coming up with a helpful Schoolhouse Rock–type earworm to aid her in remembering:

“The Hawks fly proudly in Arizona, while Reno is notorious for their Outlaws
,
who Utah's Miners are always scared of.”

Jackson had almost pissed his pants laughing.

It just got better from there. Completely oblivious to the flare of exasperation she was barely bothering to smother by that point, Lloyd later suggested oh so helpfully that she make some flash cards and spend a few minutes every night quizzing herself on which sixteen NFL teams were in the four NFC divisions and which were in the AFC divisions. With a doting smile, his ignorant but well-intentioned producer added that she could give herself fun little rewards like pedicures or wine and chocolate if she managed to get
most
of them right.

Oh, man. Jackson was almost certain she'd been counting to ten—or a hundred—silently to keep her cool.

And then came the biggie. The spectacular flame ball of outright offended annoyance that Jackson witnessed igniting Leila's catlike eyes. It blasted into orbit when Lloyd made a passing comment about her also having to learn little in-the-biz things, like how “the Miners had the best defense in their conference,” so she didn't get too lost during the sideline interview questions they'd be feeding her on air.

The Miners
,
riiight.
Proof positive why Lloyd was never invited to play fantasy football with any of them at the office.

From what Jackson could gather, the inadvertently condescending way that Lloyd was speaking to Leila wasn't what had made her start to positively spark right before his eyes. Nope, it was the man's just plain
wrong
assertion that the Miners had the best defense in the conference.

Jackson had, of course, groaned inwardly upon hearing Lloyd make the ludicrous declaration. But while he'd heard enough of Lloyd's bullheaded “expertise” over the years to know not to even bother trying to correct him anymore, this was Leila's first time dealing with such blasphemy. Those berry-kissed lips of hers had parted, and incredulous disbelief had made her posture go rigid as she'd mouthed, “The
Miners
?”

Call him the first caveman to have seen two palm trees as a potential goalpost in a prehistoric end zone, but that right there was sexy. In context, with her graceful jawline tensed in indignation, and dainty hands fisted into tiny little hammers, she was easily the sexiest woman alive as far as he was concerned. A woman full of fire and spice who shared his views on which teams had shitty defense? Lord have mercy.

Rather than exploding like a Fourth of July light show as Jackson had expected, however, she'd somehow managed to reel it in, gifting Lloyd instead with an eye-crinkling—albeit tightly wound—smile that practically purred, “You're so very wise.”

Utterly fascinating.

Okay, so maybe he was giving her a few extra points for simply having good taste in NFL defense. But even so, the woman was positively the most interesting person he'd come across in a long while, and definitely the sexiest one he'd ever had working under him.

Shit.
Poor choice of words. His imagination was already taking that last dangerously phrased thought and—

“Hey, Jackson. Sorry to interrupt.” Lloyd popped his head in. “Just wanted to introduce you to our new sideline reporter.”

Jesus. Talk about impeccable timing. Another minute following that runaway train of thought and Jackson wasn't sure it would've been kosher for him to stand to greet the pair as they made their way over to his desk.

“This is Jackson Gray.” Lloyd perched on the edge of Jackson's desk and did a quick lasso motion with his hands to direct Leila's attention around the room. “As you can see, he's our in-house expert on all things football. He's the man you'll be spending the most time with over the next few months.”

Jackson studied Leila's reaction to the many random gifts he'd been given by various NFL players and coaches over the years. Most folks, men and women alike, usually fussed over the rare items in the locked glass case. If you didn't recognize at least one of the names in there, really, you had no business being in the building.

He waited for it then. The inevitable question prying into his celebrity friendships—which swanky bars he went to with this famous athlete, or whether the rumors were true about that NFL bad boy, or if he still kept in touch with any of the Hall-of-Famers.

…But it never came.

Surprisingly, other than a brief impressed nod over the autographed footballs and photos—which Lloyd was drawn to like a magnet as per usual—Leila's undivided focus was lasered in on the one wall that had nothing but the whiteboard he kept in his office to scribble player stats and game notes on from time to time.

Well, hell.

Jackson was a secure enough guy to know that there were some women, on occasion, who were into other men more than they were into him. Shoot, even on an off night, his two best friends, Bennett and Donovan, could walk into a club in the dead of winter and take care of heating the joint with female lust alone. Likewise, his buddies couldn't care less if a woman was into him more than either of them. There was always tomorrow night. New playing field, new odds. No big.

Then again, it's not as if any of them had ever lacked for female companionship. Not as far as he could remember, anyway. In fact, whenever they'd go to hang out at the brewpub in Cactus Creek owned by their friend Xoey, she'd insist that they take extra measures before arriving to—quote, unquote—“pretty themselves down” to limit how many phone numbers they'd each get from women throughout the night. Something about her saving on bar napkins that way.

Her exaggerated words, not theirs.

So yeah, he'd seen women making eyes at other guys right in front of him before. He never gave it a second thought. But he could honestly say he'd never once played second fiddle to an inanimate object. Never watched a woman stare, all hot and bothered, at his
football stats
the way Leila was doing right now.

Damn.

He was in trouble with this one.