Welcome to McKay’s Treasure
At the Heart of It All.
McKay’s Treasure, Mississippi
Neve left home ten years ago, determined to chase her dreams and prove to herself to her brother, her sister and the whole damn town of McKay’s Ferry. The spoiled youngest child of the town patriarchs, Neve was viewed by all as the pampered princess and more than a little out of control.
But leaving town didn’t make it her life any easier. It just got a whole lot worse. A decade later, she returns, her life a mess and her dreams in pieces.
Best friends with the only male of the McKay clan, Ian came across the pond to manage the rennovated pub known as Treasure Island. When a tall, slim redhead comes into his place, the big Scot’s heart starts to race…then it stops once he realizes who she is.
Headed For Trouble
“I’ve been to Scotland,” she murmured, turning her head to meet his eyes. “Do you know . . . I can count on one hand how many times I saw a man wearing a kilt while I was there.”
A grin split his face. “Is that a fact?” He leaned in and nuzzled her neck.
It sent shivers of sensation running through her. She angled her head, whimpering in satisfaction when he followed her cue and raked his teeth down her skin.
“It’s a fact,” she agreed. Her breaths sounded ragged even to her own ears. “Since none of them looked as good in one as you do, I’ve decided not to smirk over the fact that you’re wearing one in a pub called Treasure Island.”
He laughed, the sound low and husky. “It’s a terrible name for a pub, Scottish or no. And I’ll thank you for not laughing.” He caught her earlobe, bit lightly. “I don’t think my pride could handle it.”
The middle child and the only male, Brannon is both the peace-keeper and the protector. Easier to laugh than his sisters, he likes his toys–aka cars that cost a mint and projects *think bookstores or rennovating apartments*–and he gets bored easily. He’s slow to anger, but his temper, once sparked, is legendary. He can’t seem to keep his eyes off Hannah Parker, his kid sister’s old friend, but damned if he’ll get involved. He knows too well how fleeting happiness is.
In high school, Hannah was a heavyset, quiet girl who adored Neve McKay. Odd friends, the shy girl and the boisterous troublemaker were close and only Neve knew Hannah’s deepest secret–a soul-deep need for the sexy, wicked Brannon McKay. Ten years have passed and Hannah’s not the quiet girl who once hid in the shadows any more. As a matter of fact, she’s not much for hiding at all.
The Trouble With Temptation
In the back of her mind, she heard the echo of his voice…wake up, come back to me…I’m sorry.
She knew he’d come to see her in the hospital. People told her that he’d been there. Every day. One of the nurses, Jenny, she’d said he read to her. He’d read Jude Deveraux’s Velvet Song to her. The first romance Hannah had ever read and she was on her third copy of it. He’d found her dog-eared copy and brought it to her, read it to her while a cop stood on duty outside her room.
A crazy urge drove her and before he could pull back, she turned her face toward his, lifting her mouth before he moved away. Twisting her head around, she reached for him, fisting her hand in the collar of his shirt and dragging him closer. He didn’t move as she pressed her mouth to his.
“You’re going to drive me crazy, Brannon,” she said against his lips.
Twenty years ago, Moira McKay had it all. She was the oldest daughter of the powerful McKay family and about to start college. She was in love with the bad boy, Gideon Marshall…and he loved her back. Then her parents were killed in a car crash and she was left to raise her brother and sister as well as take over the family dynasty–not to mention finish school. It broke her heart to do it, but she said good-bye to the boy she loved.
That boy is now the chief of police and he’s also the man who never stopped loving her. More than once, he’s lain awake at night, wondering how he ever got so tangled up in the McKays. The youngest is like his baby sister, a girl he found sobbing the night her parents died. Brannon is like his brother…and Moira has owned his heart since he was fourteen. He stood by and watched her get married, stood by and watched her get divorced and he’s stood by while she lived her life without him. He’s finally accepted that it’s time to move on…to take what’s left of his heart and leave. He knows Moira loves him, but sometimes love just isn’t enough.
The Right Kind of Trouble
“If you’re just going to walk away again, Moira…don’t.”
He put her down and started to pace. Moira wanted to go to him, but what was she supposed to do? Pantomime what she was feeling? She’d already tried to show him and that wasn’t working.
A muttered curse caught her ears and she looked up just as he spun to face her, rage written all over his normally calm features. “You’re killing me inside, okay? You’re…”
Then he stopped, his cheeks puffing out as he blew out a slow breath. He drew in a deeper, slower one, holding it for a few seconds. She opened her mouth, but he lifted a hand.
He wasn’t asking her, though. The question was directed inward.
“Look, you can’t even talk,” he said, still not facing her. “You can’t explain what’s going on and I can’t see inside your head. I don’t know what you want—”
She reached for the buttons on her shirt. He’d never leave without looking back at her one last time.
She didn’t think.
But then again, she’d messed up something awful.
Maybe this wasn’t the right way to tell him, but there were a hundred wrong ways to let him leave. And that was without trying again. Without reaching out, the way he’d done a hundred times.
She shrugged out of her shirt while he was still standing there. Her bra fell away next.
“When you’re feeling better, we’ll have to talk any…Moira.”
She looked at him through the fringe of her hair. He’d turned around.
She found no pleasure in knowing she’d been right. She was manipulating him and she hated herself, but if this would keep him here, with her, a little longer, until she could convince him she was tired of running, tired of pushing away?
Then she was going for it.
When she reached for the button of her jeans, her fingers shook.
Gideon was staring at her, his chest rising and falling in a harsh rhythm. She thought maybe that if she reached out just then, he might have turned and walked out. So she just pushed her jeans down her thighs, along with her panties.
Naked now, she stood there waiting. She figured this was best. If he turned around rejected her while she was naked, vulnerable, maybe it would even the scales.
The old wooden boards of the floor creaked a little as he took one step, then another toward her. She licked her lips, hardly daring to breathe.
“And what about tomorrow, Mac?” he asked. “You going to push me away…again?”
She saw the answer he thought to be true in his eyes.
Slowly, she shook her head.
She held out her hand.
For the longest time, he didn’t move.
Then he did—toward her.