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  “Not a bit,” she replied, sinking down lower so the water covered her shoulders and most of her neck. The stem of her glass was submerged in the raging water and she was watching him with those dark brown eyes…just watching.

  The moment was surreal to him…something he’d fantasized about for a decade…and yet it no longer seemed so important. Or desperate. Or…earth-shattering.

  It simply felt…right. As if some cosmic thing had happened to shift his world, his perception.

  Hell. Maybe he had broken the damned curse. He smoothed his hand along the gentle curve of her instep, unable to keep from touching her now that he’d started. He caught up her foot, positioning it so the sole faced him and used his thumbs to massage the bottom.

  “Mmm….” she sighed, setting her glass on the edge and closing her eyes. “So what’s this about a curse?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Tess couldn’t remember ever being so turned on.

  From the gentle buzz from the champagne to the heat of the bubbly charging up around her, dancing over her breasts and teasing her nipples, to the fact that she was completely naked and a man she’d lusted after for years was completely dressed…and massaging her foot….She was a live wire.

  What the hell did she have to do to get him to join her?

  She’d had to put her glass aside for fear it would fall from her nerveless fingers. He made her mouth water and her hormones ping.

  And Wilder was just sitting there, on the edge of the tub, massaging her foot, carrying on a conversation as if they’d met on the street. Still in his evening clothes, he appeared relaxed—deliciously rumpled and disordered. His white shirt had splashes on it from the hot tub and the sleeves were rolled up to expose muscular arms. He’d unbuttoned the top two buttons, revealing a vee of dark hair and the curve of his throat. He must have shaved this morning, because the stubble was already darkening the fine, square jaw.

  “The curse?” He glanced over at her, his gray eyes contemplative. “You’re the curse.”

  “Me?” That threw her for a loop. “How so?”

  He released her foot and it slid back into the water as he rose and walked over to pick up her glass. Now he was standing behind her, so she had to tip her head back and look over. Why won’t he take off his damn shirt?

  He took a drink then refilled the flute from the last bottle she’d brought in here and set it back down next to her. “Has it occurred to you that for the last ten years, we’ve been…together, or otherwise in touch, on just about every New Year’s Eve?”

  She thought about that, thought about the last few years. “Well, there was that first one—when we first started the bet. When I kissed you.”

  “Yes.” His voice was hardly more than a breath. “That was the beginning of it. Ever since then, you’ve totally ruined my New Year’s Eves.”

  She nearly surged up out of the water in disbelief, but caught herself at the last minute. Even though it was getting hot in the tub, she felt a little awkward about exposing herself. This was Johnny Wilder, but this was a different Johnny Wilder than she remembered.

  Different from the one who thought of her as intimidating. Who texted suggestive comments instead of whispering them in her ear.

  No doubt about it: he’d changed. Oh, he’d changed. He’d become a man.

  And she realized…I want this man. This gallant, brave, sensitive man who’d risked his life for his country but would kiss his mother’s feet if she asked him to. Who’d been in her life…but not quite visible enough, not quite assertively enough…for ten years.

  She collected her thoughts, drawing in a long, slow breath…just enough to lift the tops of her breasts from beneath the rumbling water. When she saw his eyes go right there, and his knuckles turn white, she knew there was still more than a chance.

  “So, I’ve ruined your New Year’s Eves. Want to explain further?”

  “Well, there was that first one. And then the year after, we all hung out—you and me and Grat and Cara and my date and your date. And that was fine. But I remembered that kiss, you know.”

  “Yeah. I think you’re exaggerating. How did I ruin that one particularly?”

  “Well, I blame you for the fact that I haven’t gotten laid on New Year’s Eve for ten years. Including that one. At the time, I didn’t know it was because of the Curse of Tess Devine, but now in retrospect….And then the year after,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over her protests, “we were here all night—remember? With the flood? I sent Kaylie Schwartz and her 34 double-Ds home alone and came in to help you. You blew my mind that night, you know—out here in your evening gown and boots. You could’ve been home in bed…but you were here. Working.”

  “Of course I remember. That was…that was one of my fondest memories. And you were here too, of your own volition. And you know…I almost kissed you that night. When you dropped me off at home? I was just about to lean in, then I thought…no. He’s not interested. He’s dating Kaylie. And I was afraid I’d ruin our friendship—which I really did enjoy.”

  The look of consternation on his face was a balm to the fact that she’d just made that confession. “Well, that sucks. Because I was trying to work up the nerve to do the same thing.” He sat on the edge of the tub, looking down at her, his feet on the floor.

  “What about the year I asked you out? How could I have ruined your night?” she demanded, her mouth suddenly dry. His hand was right there, propped on the edge next to her, showing off a strong, sturdy wrist and muscled arm. “You blew me off.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I just didn’t want to see you, Tess. It was too difficult…especially since you never seemed to respond to my overtures.”

  “Your texting overtures? Really? You were totally drunk that night—you probably don’t even remember what you said to me. How was I supposed to take you seriously? Or the year…the night…you know,” she felt her cheeks warm. “The night you stayed at my parents’ house. You were smashed. You were saying all sorts of things…you probably don’t remember any of it. And it’s just as well I didn’t fall for it. I know you were just trying to get in my pants. It’s what you do. You’re an opportunist. I know that about you.” Which was why she really couldn’t believe anything he said. “You were going off to the service, I was getting married—it was a last-ditch effort. But I knew that.” I wanted to believe you, but I knew better.

  “Tess,” he said, his voice a low, careful drawl. “I remember everything I’ve ever said to you. Or texted you.” His gray eyes held hers and she suddenly couldn’t breathe—his gaze was deep and intense and hot. Something deep inside her quivered, sharp and hard. “And I meant it.”

  Then he quirked a cocky grin, his eyelids sliding half closed, his voice dropping even lower. “Trust me, if I’d just been trying to get in your pants…I would have.”

  Tess looked up at him, aware of all sorts of crystalline pieces settling into place in the back of her mind. “The problem is,” she managed to say, even though her heart was racing and her pulse had spiked and she felt as if she were about to make some great reveal, “I know you too well…I know how you are with women. I know better. And it’s okay. So why don’t you climb on in here with me and let’s see how amazing we could be together. It’s been ten years…let’s finish it.”

  His eyes glittered. “Not interested in that, Tess. I might have been once, but not anymore.”

  Her lungs seized up, tightened, and she couldn’t breathe. Her vision turned dark with mortification. Her lips formed a half-smile that she tried to make cool and collected, but inside she was reeling. “All right then,” she managed. “Consider the curse broken.”

  “You don’t understand. I’m in love with you, Tess.” He said it in that low, sexy drawl.

  But he was looking at her, and the words were clear—and this time she knew she’d heard it correctly. But he repeated it, taking her hand and putting it to his chest where his heart thumped madly. “I’m in love with you. But I’m no longer intimid
ated by you. I’m no longer afraid to say it. Being at war changes a man. You learn what’s important and to go after what you want—no settling for second best. For leftovers or after thoughts. And so…if I climb in that tub…I expect to spend every New Year with you for the rest of our lives.”

  “Then what,” she said, reaching for his shirt, “the hell are you still doing up…there?” And she pulled him toward her, down to kiss her—and he came easily—and then, in a long, slow movement, down into the water.

  When their lips parted, damp and hot from the steamy water, she looked into his eyes. “So can you stop calling me your curse now?” she asked, sliding her hand down along a very solid belly to the very interesting package behind his zipper. Oh yes. She grinned, exploring behind his wet trousers.

  He sighed, the cords of his neck tightening as she found him and cupped him with her fingers. “Right,” Wilder said, dipping his mouth to nuzzle a spot right next to the hollow of her throat. “My curse…and my blessing. Happy New Year, Tess.”

  “Happy New Year, my love.”

  ~*~*~

  ~*~

  Read how Tess Devine’s spunky Aunt Helen

  helps catch a murderer in Colleen Gleason’s

  The Cards of Life and Death.

  ~*~

  When Diana Iverson inherits her great-aunt's home in Maine, she doesn't expect to encounter a handsome neighbor...or a deck of haunted Tarot cards.

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  Or visit ColleenGleason.com for more information.

  Colleen Gleason is the international bestselling author of the Gardella Vampire Chronicles. She’s written more than twenty novels for Penguin Group, HarperCollins, Harlequin and Chronicle Books, and her books have been translated into seven languages.

  Find out more about Colleen’s books on her website, or sign up for her newsletter and announcements about new releases here.

  Annabelle

  Dedicated with love to

  Harry & Jody Ford

  One of the world’s great romantic couples.

  The Keeper of the Debutantes

  Chapter One

  New Year’s Eve - Noon

  “So how many laws are we about to break?”

  Duncan James couldn’t help but smile. Sitting shotgun in his best friend Brooks Bennett’s police cruiser, he’d been mulling over that question himself ever since they’d pulled off the road, lying in wait for the target of their bet. He glanced over at Brooks’s long, lanky frame comfortable in the police uniform after six years on the job. “Why are you asking me?” Duncan said. “You’re the cop.”

  “And you’re the lawyer.” Brooks folded his arms over his chest, turned his head and allowed a broad and engaging grin to expand under his mirrored sunglasses and short cropped curly bronze hair. He chomped on his gum a few times before admitting, “Nah, we’re in the clear. Mr. Devine gave us his blessing. He knows darn well his baby Annabelle needs to slow herself down a peg on these back roads. You met Harry Devine about a month ago at the Club, remember? Same night we arranged this bet.”

  “And I’m looking forward to meeting his baby Annabelle who has curled you and Vance around her little finger. This is going to be like taking candy from a baby. And I’m talking about you and Vance, not Miss Devine.”

  “You, my fancy friend, are about to meet your comeuppance.”

  Duncan shook his head and glanced out at the pine trees surrounding them. His golden eyes narrowed at the artfully tousled hairstyle he saw reflected in the side-view mirror. He supposed he was fancy compared to his buddies. Neither of them would ever spend any real money on a haircut or shoes or be caught dead wearing a cashmere coat. But this entire week between Christmas and New Year’s had been unseasonably cold for North Carolina and he wanted to look official without actually impersonating an officer. “It just can’t be that hard to give a woman a speeding ticket. Seriously. I know you’ve said she’s a hottie and all. But it’s your job to give tickets. And between you and Vance, you’ve stopped this woman how many times?”

  “Well it’s not that easy when you’ve known the girl all your life. Maybe it will be easier for you.”

  “Damn right it’s gonna be easier for me. I don’t care how hot she is, or if she pouts her lips and claims she’s racing home to a dying relative. This Annabelle Devine is going down. And you and Vance will be paying my bar tabs for all of next year.”

  Brooks’s grumbled curse was cut off by the hearty sound of Vance’s voice coming over the police scanner. “Just spotted Baby D looping around the exit ramp off 85 revving her engines and heading for home.”

  “Affirmative,” Brooks responded. Then he threw a mischievous grin at Duncan. “Buckle up. It’s show time,” he said as he started the cruiser. They waited patiently until the custom-made, wide-bodied, motor roaring, fire-engine red Camaro flew by.

  “Holy shit,” Duncan whispered.

  Brooks pulled out in hot pursuit, spraying gravel as his tires fought for purchase. “What kind of a woman drives a car like that?” Duncan breathed. He tightened his seatbelt as Brooks hit the siren and they began to gain speed. The Camaro was nothing but an elusive red dot at the end of Duncan’s vision. “How the hell are we going to catch her?”

  “We’ll catch her. Eventually. I know where she lives.” Brooks punched the gas pedal.

  Duncan was thrown back in his seat, but he kept his eyes trained on the dot on the horizon. “How fast is she going?” He glanced over at the speedometer. “Holy hell, how fast are we going?”

  “Just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

  It took a good ninety seconds for the cruiser to start gaining ground. The brief flash of brake lights and gradual slow-down indicated when the driver realized they were behind her. Eventually, a pale, slender arm ventured out the window, waving them around.

  “Does she think you’re heading to an emergency? Not pulling her over?’

  “She knows I’m pulling her over.”

  “Ah. Her tactics already at work, I see.”

  Eventually the muscle-bound Camaro slowed to a stop and they pulled up behind it on the shoulder of the road. Duncan could not take his eyes off the souped-up machine and imagined the driver with tattoos and body piercings, dyed black hair and skull and crossbones jewelry. None of which he found particularly hot. This was going to be a cakewalk.

  Brooks threw the car into park and said, “Okay Dunc, you’re on. The bet is you have to give Annabelle a full-blown speeding ticket. No letting her off with just a warning to make yourself her hero. If you manage that, we pick up your bar tab anytime we’re together over the next year.”

  “Here and in Raleigh,” Duncan clarified.

  “Here and Raleigh.” Brooks nodded. “In addition, if she meets Vance at the courthouse and actually pays this fake ticket, whatever money changes hands you get to keep.”

  Imagining how the scene was going to play out, Duncan nodded, cleared his throat and reached for the door handle. Then he stopped. “Give me your glasses.” Brooks handed them over and Duncan exited the car in one graceful move. He donned the mirrored shades, turned up the collar of his coat and pulled a pair of black leather gloves out of his pocket. He squared his shoulders and applied his gloves like he was strapping on a gun belt and heading for a showdown.

  As he approached, a flurry of activity caught his attention through the Camaro’s rear window. What the hell is she doing? Brushing her hair? Putting on lipstick? As if he were going to fall prey to her heavily mascaraed feminine wiles. Even if body piercings were his thing, he had a bet to win. A very simple bet. All he had to do was give the speed demon a ticket. In his mind, he was already regaling their fraternity brothers at NC State’s next Homecoming about besting Brooks and Vance.

  Duncan rapped his knuckles on the driver’s side window like he’d done this a million times. When the electric window slid down, he put both his gloved hands on the sill of the door and leaned down to get a good look at the driver.

  “D
anica Patrick, I presume?”

  Annabelle Devine’s endorsement-ready smile broke wide as she tossed the curling ends of her Pretty Woman mass of red hair over one shoulder. Her spontaneous laugh drew Duncan in, and when she pulled off her designer shades, her bright brown eyes and fresh-faced beauty shocked the hell out of him. Where was the nose ring? She was nothing like he’d pictured.

  “And you must be Officer Friendly,” she drawled.

  Quick-witted too!

  An unbidden grin crept to life as Duncan leaned in a little closer. “Good a name as any, I suppose,” he said, his brain starting to panic. He’d planned to play Bad Cop, but suddenly he found he didn’t have it in him. His libido argued that Officer Friendly could give tickets too. “Do you have any idea how fast you were going?”

  Annabelle placed one manicured hand over his right glove. “Now, Officer. My daddy is waitin’ on me at home just up the road not five minutes from here. And if you’ll indulge me, I’ll tell you that he and Mother throw a big New Year’s Eve ball every year at the Country Club and he relies on me to help him oversee the set-up. Mother can get a little over-zealous with the decor, making it just a teensy bit gaudy, if you know what I mean. Daddy relies on me to be the go-between. I’m sure you can understand. If I’m able to play my part, the entire family arrives at the ball in a good mood and there are no awkward moments for our guests. Now,” she said, tilting her head and batting her long, long lashes, “I know you don’t want me to be late and disappoint my daddy.”

  Duncan found her Southern accent charming. And her evasive maneuvers entertaining.

  “Miss Devine.” When the sparkle in her eyes shifted from amusement to curiosity, he said, “Yes, I know your name. In fact, you’ve become rather infamous. So infamous that it might be more appropriate to call me Special Agent Friendly, because I’ve been called in to make sure the Henderson Police Department ends the year on a high note.”