Cara Summers - Risking It All

He held up his hands, palms out. “Okay. I plead insanity. But I’m not walking away this time.”

In a move so quick that she couldn’t prevent it, Chance pulled her onto her toes and kissed her.

As his taste, his heat, streamed through her, Natalie felt as if she were coming home. It would have been so easy to sink into that feeling, into him. But not yet. She hooked a foot around his ankle and gave him one good shove that sent him to the floor.

Couples scattered, and she heard a burst of applause. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tracker and Sophie on the side of the dance floor. Mac and Lucas stood behind them grinning.

“You go, girl!” Rory shouted.

“Trust in your talents,” Sierra called, the laughter clear in her voice.

Natalie kept her eyes on Chance as he shot her a grin. It nearly melted her, but she wasn’t through with him. Not yet. Planting her hands on her hips, she said, “You’re a jerk.”

“Okay. I plead guilty to that one.”

There was another burst of applause from the crowd.

Chance held out his hand. “Help me up?”

Her brows shot up again. “Do I look like I have the word Sucker written on my forehead?”

CHANCE THREW BACK his head and laughed. This was his Natalie all right. He got up off the floor and faced her. “God, I’ve missed you. I liked Rachel. I’ve always had this thing for blondes.”

“Really?” Her foot began to tap again.

Chance began to warm to his theme. “And Calli was really sexy. I had a real thing going for her.”

“Yeah. I got that feeling.”

She was softening. He was almost sure that he’d seen her lips twitch.

“But I missed you.”

He waited a beat, and when she said nothing, he decided for the first time in his life to risk everything. “I have another proposition for you.”

Her eyes narrowed and her foot tapped faster. “If you think—”

He raised a hand to stop her. “I thought we might go behind those potted trees over there—for old times’ sake?”

“Forget it.”

Oh, his Nat was back all right. He might have even begun to enjoy himself, if it weren’t for the fear that had tied itself into a tight knot in his stomach. If he blew this— No, he wasn’t going to blow it. He couldn’t.

“Okay. I’ll do it right here.” He pulled the small box out of his pocket. Then he got to his knees and opened it.

“A ring? You brought me a ring?”

There was such astonishment on her face, in her voice, that a quick sliver of panic raced up his spine. Was he pushing her too fast? “Yeah. It doesn’t have to be an engagement ring. It could just be a—”

Words slipped away as she dropped to her knees in front of him.

“Looks like an engagement ring to me,” she said, meeting his eyes. “But if you’re having second thoughts…”

“No.” Chance met her eyes steadily and saw what he needed to see. “No second thoughts. How about you?”

She gave him a shaky smile. “Just about a thousand or so. I didn’t plan on this.” She drew in a breath and let it out.

He smiled at her. “Me either. But I’m good at improvising. So are you.”

She looked down at the ring again. It was a big step, a huge one. And there wasn’t a plan in the world that she could come up with to deal with it. But as Chance put his hands on her shoulders, she thought she could hear a voice telling her, “You can do it, Nat.”

And then she heard Chance’s voice. “I love you, Nat.”

She met his eyes then and smiled. “I love you, too. So I guess we’ll just have to make it up as we go along.”

He kissed her then, and though she vaguely thought applause and shouts had broken out around them, the one thing that she was sure of was Chance.

He took a step toward her. “Give me one kiss and I’ll do everything I can to get you the interview.”

Rory thought that her heart might just beat out of her chest. Kissing this man might be the biggest risk she’d ever take. But she wanted the kiss. Desperately. What could it matter? She dared herself to do it.

“One kiss,” she agreed.

He backed her up against the mirror. “Last chance to change your mind.”

“I’m not going to change—”

Before she could even finish her sentence he’d lowered his head, drawn her up on her toes and covered her mouth with his.

There was such heat—glorious waves of it. And each movement of his hands, of his tongue seemed to throw fuel on the fire. She arched her body, straining against him, but it wasn’t enough. She had to—

“I want you.” His voice was a rough whisper in her ear.

No, she told herself to say.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes. Please hurry.”

Writing a miniseries about triplet sisters Natalie, Rory and Sierra Gibbs has allowed me to create three very special women who find the courage to risk it all to get what they want. As they came alive on the page, I found myself admiring each one of them. But if I had to pick a favorite, I’d lean toward Rory—perhaps because she lacks the confidence of her more focused sisters.

Wannabe magazine writer Rory Gibbs has always thought of herself as the “muddled in the middle” triplet. Her sisters are tall, beautiful and successful; she’s short, still trying to figure out what she wants to be when she grows up, and as unlucky with men as she’s been with jobs. However, her latest plan—to land an interview with reclusive businessman Jared Slade—will allow her to prove to herself, her boss and everyone else that she’s finally found a career she’s good at. Problem number one is she can’t get past Hunter, Jared Slade’s handsome and dangerous bodyguard. Problem number two is she doesn’t want to get past him—she wants to make love with him!

I hope you’ll enjoy reading about how Hunter and Rory dare to take the greatest risk of all. And I hope you’ll want to read Natalie’s and Sierra’s adventures, as well—in The Proposition (May) and The Favor (July). For excerpts, contests and news about my future books, please visit www.carasummers.com.

Happy reading,

Cara Summers

To my cousins, the Kansier women: Jane, Kathy, Mary, Margaret, Amy and Debbie. I admire your strength, your courage, your love of adventure—and especially your unfailing sense of humor. You inspire the kind of women I try to create.

Thanks.

Summer 1999

IF HE FAILED, the drop to the alley below would kill him. Harry Gibbs stood on the roof of the Hotel L’Adour Paris and glanced at the gap between the two buildings. He felt the familiar rush of adrenaline and grinned.

He didn’t allow himself to look down, or to take in the picture-postcard view that the roof of the hotel offered. At 3:00 a.m., the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame were still bathed in light, but Harry focused all his concentration on that dark narrow space—ten feet at the most. He’d paced off the distance in the alley that morning. Just in case the robbery didn’t go quite as planned.

And it hadn’t. He’d gotten the necklace out of the safe, but he hadn’t had time to close it and replace the tapestry before Madame Cuvelier had awakened in the next room and rung for her maid. There was only one route from the maid’s quarters to Madame’s bedroom, and that was through the salon he’d been standing in.

Madame Cuvelier, a resident of the small hotel for the past ten years, was a restless sleeper. That information was in the dossier he’d compiled on her. That made the theft riskier.