Excerpt from Beautiful Ruin...

Mina lifted a wine bottle to her lips, tipped her head back, and drained a long swallow of cheap merlot. The liquid slid down her throat, soothing in the oppressive, late-summer heat. She lowered the glass and licked the sticky sweetness from her lips.

Her limbs grew heavy, and the ballroom, where she sat on the cool wood floors with her legs outstretched, took on a cozy glow about her.

Outside, soft rain began to fall. She plucked the flimsy fabric of her T-shirt away from her body as a breeze wafted in through the French doors to lick her heated skin. A sigh of relief eased from her.

Cut short when her gaze slipped to the cruel violence of upturned earth slashing across the pristine landscape of her backyard, and her stomach gave a little wrench.

Three weeks had passed since the crew had found whatever it was they’d found out there, and the delay on the well had caused a domino effect of delays. Walter had given the arrowhead a cursory glance and declared it authentic. As an anthropologist, he wasn’t qualified to help her figure out what was going on, but he’d promised to work with the state office in finding someone who could and sending him or her out as soon as possible.

As of yet, no one had shown up.

Mina drowned the rising panic with another nip from the bottle.

With a start, she realized she was no longer alone. A presence infused the air, and she turned her head to find a man standing beneath the archway.

The fading light threw shadows across the room and obscured his features. She could tell only that he was tall and broad-shouldered, strongly lean.

One of Sam’s guys returned to retrieve a forgotten tool or misplaced hardhat. With her bad ear turned toward him, she hadn’t heard his approach.

She climbed to her feet. “Let me guess, you forgot your favorite drill?”

“The door was open.”

At the man’s deep Irish brogue, she stilled.

The newcomer moved toward her with the smooth, fluid grace of someone comfortable with his body.

Her smile faltered and her heart tripped over in her chest.

How many times over the years had she thought she’d glimpsed him only to realize it was some other dark-haired man, someone else’s schoolgirl crush?

He stepped from the shadows, and she found herself ensnared by dark, deep-set eyes, which might be brown or black but with traces of amber glinting throughout. Sort of like molasses.

Her stomach dropped with a dizzying swoop. She swayed. “Noah?”

For several long seconds, he stared, pinning her in place with those eyes.

“Hello, Mina.” His voice was deeper, his accent more pronounced than she remembered.

His gaze slipped down the length of her body and wandered back up without hurry. Slow as, well, molasses. She felt the perusal like seeking hands before his eyes gripped hers from beneath the sweep of black lashes.

Despite the muggy heat, a shiver raised gooseflesh across her skin.

“It’s been a long time,” he said. “How are you?”

Her thoughts scrambled. Lonely. Lost. Drunk.

“Good,” she lied. “You?”

He shoved his hand into the pockets of his khaki cargo shorts. “Good.”

She wanted to thread her fingers through his dark hair. Shot through with streaks of caramel and golden honey, the soft strands curled at the ends, teasing the tips of his ears and his nape.

Caramel, honey, molasses....

It struck her then she shouldn’t have skipped dinner in deference to the alcohol.

Noah’s gaze dropped to the bottle in her hand. He gifted her with a lopsided grin. “Drinking alone?”

She held out the wine bottle to him.

With a quirked eyebrow, he drew nearer and took the bottle. He raised the wine to his lips, and the muscles of his neck worked as he drank.

At the sight of him, head thrown back and mouth pressed to the place where hers had been only moments before, an unfamiliar hum of sensation chased through her body.

A worn T-shirt hugged his broad shoulders and sinewy biceps and exposed a portion of the Celtic cross tattooed in black ink on his right arm. Beneath the collar of his shirt, a flash of silver glinted in the fading sunlight.

Mina’s heart gave a little pinch. He still wore the St. Nicholas pendant.

She stared, trying to calibrate her fantasies—uh, memories—to the flesh-and-bone reality.

With a choked cough, Noah wrenched the bottle away and shot her a hard look of indignation. “This tastes like shit,” he said, his soft, full mouth stained ruby red.

“They were buy one, get one free.”

His low, throaty chuckle moved through her, transporting her to a fall night half a lifetime ago when they’d laughed together.

Hours later, he’d gasped in her ear when she’d taken him inside her body.

The tip of his tongue appeared to lap at the moisture on his lips.

Outside, the chorus of crickets quieted, and a low rumble of thunder rippled across the distant sky.

Mina faked a calmness she didn’t feel. “What are you doing here?”

He rolled his shoulders, as if to shake off the shadows. “Seemed like a good time for a visit.”

She blinked. “No, I mean, what are you doing here? In my house?”

Noah stiffened. “Your house? You live here?”

“Well, not here, inside the house. I’m living in the carriage house out back while I renovate.”

The last traces of softness fell from his face. “You own it?”

His gaze, alert and exacting, whipped around the room, taking in every detail, from the dulled marble fireplaces at either end of the room to the crumbling plaster and tired hardwood floors, their poor condition visible even beneath the scattered array of power tools and sawdust. A curious smile played on his lips while he stared up at the faded frescos of impish cherubs soaring on the ceiling overhead.

Then his dark eyes swung back to her, and for one terrifying, irrational moment, she feared he saw too much.

Heat warmed her cheeks, and she scrambled to erect barriers, to fight off the invasion and keep hidden those corners no one should see. Even she did not inspect those places.

His smile lingered. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

“A property management company planned to convert it into apartments, but the economy tanked and they lost it to foreclosure. I bought it from the bank three months ago.” Then, because the wine loosened her lips, more words tumbled out. “But everything’s gone wrong. There’ve been delays and setbacks. Expensive setbacks.”

“Well, I’m glad somebody’s going to save this old place.” His voice filled with some nameless emotion. “It’s a beautiful house.”

Her heart struck against her breastbone with painful wallops. “I hope to make it beautiful. One day.”

Dark eyes seized on her face for one aching heartbeat, two. “It’s beautiful now. Only needs someone who gives a shit about it. Someone like you.”

Raindrops plopped to the earth in a steady patter. Lulled by their rhythm, Mina stared up into his face. A part of her wanted to hate him for leaving and taking with him all that she’d wanted, except she wasn’t able to muster anything more than sorrow and regret for the young girl who’d dreamed of him so often and for so long. Many, many years. Of his easy smile and gentle touch.

Fifteen years between then and now.

His face swam before her eyes.

He swallowed hard. “What is it?”

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

A slash of emotion slanted across his well-shaped features.

Even knowing the wine made her vulnerable, she couldn’t stop the words. “Where have you been?”

He made a bitter sound, like a laugh except without a trace of humor. Only a pained loneliness Mina recognized all too well.

Her heart squeezed and she drew nearer to him. His scent carried to her, a tormenting mix of soap and citrus and man.

Noah stilled.

She might’ve shrunk back if not for the chord of vulnerability thrumming in his dark eyes.

She rose up on her tiptoes and touched her lips to his.

He held himself immobile.

Mina’s heart stuttered to a stop. “You’re not married, are you?”

His throat worked as he swallowed. “No. Are you—?”

She gave a small shake of her head, cutting off his next words. “No. There’s no one.”

His hand slipped to her waist, and he applied pressure so her body came up snug against his. He bent his head low.

She tipped her chin up.

But rather than kiss her, he pulled back. A tiny movement, which might as well have been a slap to her face.

His features hardened to stone. “Be careful, Mina. You’re not slumming it with the Nolan bastard this time.”