Prologue

One month ago ~ Halloween

Cake and tequila. The perfect way to drown one’s sorrows, at least according to Nola Boudreaux who found herself, officially, all alone in the world. What’s worst she was all alone in a room filled with people having a great time. Enjoying life. Secure of their place in it.

Tonight was the night of her company Halloween party. B&B Solutions did it up big every year for the macabre holiday, which until today she loved. But today also happened to be the day she put her much loved Grammie into the ground. This is the kind of homecoming celebration Grammie would have appreciated, she thought with a bitter laugh as she knocked back another shot. She’d snuck a bottle of the gold tequila because the silver stuff made her feel like she was drinking water and tonight she needed to feel the alcohol.

She looked around the large ballroom from her spotat the corner table where she had purposely sat herself despite her boss, Brooks’ assertion that she belonged at the head table as a “vital member of the team.” That made her scoff. She wasn’t a member of the team. Nola was support staff. She fetched coffee and lunch for Brooks, organized his schedule, and screened his calls. Sure, he sometimes asked her to proofread contracts or test products but she knew her role, despite their friendship. Executive Assistant to the CEO. A well-paid secretary.

Very well paid, she thought. Remembering how badly she wanted this job two years ago so she could pay for her grandmother’s room at the nursing home, a room she’d anticipated paying for the next twenty years. Joke’s on you, Nola. She knocked back another shot as tears stung behind her eyes, the alcohol tasted bitter this time. But she wouldn’t stop, not tonight. On this All Hallows’ Eve she needed oblivion and it would be found deep inside a bottle of tequila. If she were at home, she’d knock back one of the few remaining bottles of moonshine.

She should have been one of the bright young things dressed up in expensive or slutty costumes and having the time of her life. One glance down at her Marie Antoinette costume told her she had one part down but she wasn’t close to having a good time. “I am close to numb, though.” With a smile, she took a bite of one of the three slivers of cake before her. She’d planned the whole party at Brooks’ and his twin brother Bronx’s insistence so she knew the yellow cake, almond amaretto, and red velvet were all delicious. And indulgent. If sugar and alcohol aren’t working, nothing will. She blew out a long breath and closed her eyes as the room began to spin. Sweet oblivion closed in and she welcomed it.

“You are looking far too serious for a party, a Halloween party at that.”

She recognized that deep gravelly voice anywhere. Hell, that voice gave her wicked commands in her fantasies, told her to touch herself or put her mouth on him. Nola looked up into sea blue eyes with a blank expression on her face. “Yeah well, drinking is serious business.” She held up the shot glass and tilted it down her throat. “Don’t worry about me, Bronx, just go have fun, or whatever it is you do.” It certainly wasn’t pay attention to her. Despite the fact that his twin brother was her friend and boss, and much friendlier, it had been Bronx who’d captured her attention. And he had never looked at her as more than the plump EA of his brother.

Russet colored brows shot up in surprise. “You don’t want my company?”

Maybe it was the tequila, or it could have been the grief, but Nola couldn’t find it in herself to lie. To protect her already broken heart further. Not tonight. “There have been plenty of times in the past year I would have liked your company, Bronx, but I’m not tall or busty, nor do I have a double digit IQ.” She sighed, letting out some of the exhaustion plaguing her. “Tonight I don’t want or need your company.” Even to her ears, her voice sounded shaky. Emotional.

She could tell her words had caught him off guard. Hell, they’d caught her off guard, too, but tonight was a night for grieving, for celebrating. For honesty. With a small smile she thought of Grammie again and how the woman made her own Alabama moonshine until the day she died even though she’d met and married a California Yankee fifty years ago. Nola raised another glass overflowing with golden liquid. “May you stir up as much trouble up there as you did down here.”

“You know Nola, you’re not allowed to drink away your sorrows alone.”

Damn, he was fine. He oozed masculine appeal, sexuality. Heat. She might be over her crush on him—tonight—but he was still her favorite eye candy. “I’m not alone, there are people everywhere,” she said the same time he asked.

“What flavor of eye candy am I?”

Nola shrugged, feeling her body heat from her neck to her scalp. “I don’t know, Bronx, maybe you should ask someone who’s had a taste.” She didn’t know why she went there, but she had no problem blaming the alcohol. And the Universe. Her gaze slid away from Bronx and to her coworkers out on the dance floor having fun, flirting, and drinking too much. She envied them. Was happy for them and their carefree joy.

“What’s wrong, Nola?” Thick dark brows bunched in concern.

Everything. “Nothing.” She rolled her eyes at his intense stare because she knew what he was doing. Waiting. Watching. Knowing that eventually his stare would become too much and she would speak. And she did. “I buried my grandma today.”

“Damn babe, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, me too. But I’m fine. Really.” At least she would be. Some day.

“Bullshit. You’re allowed to be sad, Nola.”

She took another shot and things began to blur. “Didn’t say I wasn’t sad, just said that I was fine.” Grammie had been slowly dying for three years and it had been painful to watch. Now she was pain free though, and that’s what mattered. Even if it means I’m alone.

Bronx’s smile knocked her heart into her gut and when those dimples popped out she bit back a groan, she just hoped it had been successful. “I’ll get us a bottle of the good stuff so you can drown in proper alcohol,” he winked and stood just as one of his weeklies, the women he went hot and heavy with for exactly seven days, pushed her body flush against his. This week’s woman was tall, blonde, and at least a D.Typical.

“I’ve been looking all over for you baby,” she pouted.

Nola knew the feeling. Watching them had her stomach turning even though she knew it shouldn’t. He didn’t go for petite blondes with just a handful of boobs and a plump round ass. Tonight though, it stung like a thousand wasps against her delicate alabaster skin. She took advantage of his distraction, grabbing the not quite empty bottle and slipping from the ballroom. She stood with a wobble, watching herself in the gold-mirrored elevator doors and saw big sad green eyes staring back.

She’d argued for a week with Brooks about booking a room for herself but now she was grateful because the thought of sitting in the back of a cab or limo for nearly an hour made her feel worse. She stepped on the elevator and leaned against the wall with her eyes closed, enjoying the floating sensation for nine floors until the bell sounded.

After two, okay three tries, she got the keycard to work and pushed into the room, kicking off her shoes along the way. “And this ridiculous dress,” she growled as she struggled to get out of the darn thing. Why she’d chosen it, she had no idea but it was right where it belonged. On the floor. She climbed on the bed with the bottle, wearing nothing but her underwear which consisted of French knickers and a corset, and squealing when the TV revealed an old Law & Order episode. “The original too!”

She got comfortable on the bed and binge watched while she drank, and regretted leaving her cake behind. Nothing would work to make her forget her pain. Her sorrow. So she opted for a shower instead. Maybe washing away the alcohol will make me feel better. She doubted it but it was now her backup plan.

The shower succeeded in making her feel less fuzzy but her misery level was the same. So she rubbed on some of her lilac scented lotion and pulled on a camisole and a pair of panties for bed and hopped right back into the start of another episode of Law & Order. The perfect way to end the night.

Well, since hot sex wasn’t on the table, it would have to do.

She groaned when a knock sounded at the door and she slid off the bed, stomping to the door and looking through the peephole. Bronx. She pulled open the door and schooled her expression. “What is it?”

“Tequila,” he said with a smile and held up the bottle with a snake head for a cap.

Of course he brought some of the most expensive tequila in the world. She reached for the bottle but Bronx pulled it back at the last minute, just out of reach. “Fine,” she groaned and stepped back. “I guess you can come too.”

“Thanks for the…what in the hell are you wearing?” His voice sounded angry, strained.

She sighed and hopped on the bed, not bothering to cover up. “It’s called pajamas. If you don’t like it you’re free to leave. The tequila stays.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it. It’s peach silk and it’s tempting as hell.”

“Maybe not in so many words.” She snatched the bottle from his hands and worked to remove the cork. “Thanks for this but you don’t have to stay.”

“I know.” His tone and expression were both dark. Intense. “Can you please cover up, Nola? You might not think much of me, but I’m still a man dammit.”

She froze and stared at him in stunned disbelief. “My room. My rules.” She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed.

“Nola, you have five seconds.”

She smiled and leaned against the headboard, feeling too buzzed and something else to heed the warning bells going off in her head.

To his credit, Bronx waited.

Ten whole seconds.

Then, he pounced.