Just
the Way You Are
By: Beverly Barton
Releasing Jan 27th, 2015
Zebra Books
Blurb:
The South sizzles in New York Times
bestselling author Beverly Barton’s sultry tale of a woman torn between two
brothers…
Mary
Beth Caine has always been the good girl in her small Mississippi town. But
when a big, protective, shamelessly sexy stranger offers to console her on the
night of her disastrous engagement party, Mary Beth lets him—only to discover
that Parr Weston also happens to be the older brother of her fiancé, Bobby Joe.
Parr
left Mississippi after years spent holding his family together. Now that he’s
back, he can’t steal Bobby Joe’s woman, and he sure can’t offer Mary Beth the
tidy happily-ever-after she deserves. But everything about the petite beauty—from
her flame-gold hair to her artless sensuality—makes him crave her more. Love or
lust, right or wrong, all he knows is that nothing has ever felt like this
before, and walking away will be the hardest thing he’s ever had to do…
Excerpt:
The entrance
to the lounge wasn’t far from the double doors. Parr guided her toward it,
shouldering through the crush of guests as she followed until they reached the
lounge, which was large, overheated, and even more crowded than the ballroom.
The music was loud, the atmosphere stimulating.
Couples
filled every corner, their eyes, their hands, their bodies speaking a language
of sensuous longing and human loneliness. Some—too many, in Parr’s opinion—were
staring into smartphones, the tiny, glowing blue screens doubled and redoubled
in the mirrored walls of the lounge as the phones’ owners ignored the real
people all around them. Parr didn’t get it.
Parr kept her
close, easing her through the throng until he found a table for two. He slipped
her smoothly onto a chair, guarding her with his big arm as he pulled up a seat
for himself.
Then he
signaled a waiter, not ordering anything for himself. Parr let her finish one
Coke and ordered her another before he felt she had calmed down enough to talk.
The entire time they’d sat there together, she’d remained silent, occasionally
glancing his way with a strangely puzzled look in those big, feline eyes, once
or twice offering a thanks-for-being here smile.
He decided
she was definitely the loveliest woman he’d ever seen, and totally different
from any he’d ever known. Perhaps it was because she seemed so young and
vulnerable, and was obviously in a great deal of emotional pain.
She winced
when she caught a glimpse of herself in a background mirror. “I need to fix my
face,” she sighed. “Would you please excuse me for a few minutes?”
No argument
there. Parr had thought it ungallant to point out that her tears had not
improved her eye makeup. A few delicate streaks didn’t make her any less
beautiful. But she didn’t have a purse with her, something she seemed to have
just remembered. Giving him an awkward smile, she rose and made her way through
the crowd.
Every male
head turned to watch her walk. Parr couldn’t blame them, not with all that
strawberry sweetness on display. Coming or going, she was a stunner.
He leaned
back a little in the spindly chair, drumming his fingers on the tabletop, alone
with his thoughts. He didn’t need drama, hadn’t ever liked it. He wasn’t
remotely tempted to turn this accidental encounter into something else. The
last thing he wanted in his life right now was someone with a new set of
unknown problems.
Since he’d
been a kid, other people had needed him, depended on him, and he’d come through
every time. He’d been there for Mama, even before Kenneth Parr Weston, his dad,
had been found in a motel room with a bullet through his heart. He’d been there
for Bobby Joe, and for his cousin Eve and her family. He’d been provider,
substitute father, as well as brotherly advisor, to the whole tribe. By the
time he was grown and on his own, it was like women sensed Parr would just
naturally step up and take care of whatever had to be done.
And he had.
Too often.
Every woman
he’d been involved with had wanted, needed, demanded—endlessly. Maybe he didn’t
know how to ask for what he needed, but it was still a fact that the giving
never seemed to work both ways. When he’d needed to know that someone would
return the favor, stand by him, have his back . . . it didn’t happen.
The lounge
crowd got liquored up and louder. Parr observed the interactions around him,
unable to avoid listening to chitchat that sounded depressingly familiar. The
more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Women wanted their freedom,
their careers, their hard-won rights, and at the same time, they wanted a man’s
love, his money, his body, and his total acceptance of them just as they were.
Parr was
thinking that he ought to stop thinking and order a real drink, a stiff one,
when the standing guests stepped this way and that to let someone through.
Her.
His cynical
mood dissolved in an instant.
She didn’t
look right or left but straight at him. Her eyelashes were darker, her cheeks
pink. She had fixed what needed fixing with a damp paper towel, he supposed.
The streaks were gone.
“Thank you
for waiting.” Her voice was gentle, extremely feminine, just like her smile,
her face, her body.
Parr rose as
she reached the table. “Not a problem.”
He sat down
after she did. “Don’t you want anything?” she asked, moving aside the glass of
melting ice.
The returning
waiter stopped and set down the second Coke, pausing for a fraction of a second
to look down at Parr, who shook his head. “Nothing for me, thanks.”
The young man
moved on.
“I was
thinking we might go somewhere quieter,” Parr began.
“I don’t mind
the noise.”
“I mean, if
you want to talk. Would it help?”
“I don’t
know.” She reached for the Coke the waiter had just delivered.
“Sometimes
it’s easier to talk to a stranger.” He didn’t know exactly why he was
encouraging her. But he really did want her to talk, to tell him what was
hurting her. Seemed like the least he could do, even though they might never
see each other again.
He couldn’t
take his eyes off her soft, sweet mouth. God, what a smile. Sensual and
sincere. Meant for him. She wasn’t checking herself out sideways in the
mirrored walls like practically everybody else in the lounge, female or male. A
tiny dimple appeared in her cheek. That right there was almost his undoing.
Parr
struggled to sit up straight and not lean over the table to taste those full,
pink lips and kiss the breath out of her.
“For some
reason, you don’t seem like a stranger,” she said. “It’s as if I’ve always
known you.”
Her frank
admission surprised him. The identical thought had just crossed his mind,
unbidden, but he would never have told her. “Same here,” he muttered. Before he
could stop himself, he raised a hand and caressed her cheek. Her skin was dewy
and cool. She must have splashed cold water on her face in an effort to regain
her composure. He was getting more rattled by the second.
“I didn’t
mean anything by that,” she said quietly.
“I . . . I
have a boyfriend.” She took a deep breath. “Well, he’s more than that.”
“You’re
engaged?” Parr couldn’t help noticing that her hands were in her lap. He hadn’t
noticed a ring, but then he hadn’t been looking for one, mesmerized by every
other little thing about her.
“We were.”
Two words that seemed to have been ripped from her heart.
Anger and
frustration consumed him. Whoever the other man was or what his reasons might
be, Parr wished he didn’t exist. How could any man hurt her? The would-be
bridegroom deserved to be broken in two.
“We were supposed to be celebrating tonight,
in fact.” Her voice cracked on a sob, her eyes pressed tightly shut to hold
back renewed tears.
Parr scooted
his chair next to hers and pulled her into his arms, not caring who saw. No one
seemed to notice—a noisy game of beer pong had started up at the back of the
lounge. Thankful for that, Parr knew his only concern was for her. He wanted to
comfort her. He wanted to ease her pain. He wanted to make her happy.
Oh God. He
just plain wanted her.
Seeming to
draw strength from his embrace, she continued, her voice ragged and low. Parr
had to strain to catch every word.
“He says he
loves me, that he wants to marry me, but tonight—of all nights—he did something
. . . unforgivable.”
The last word
was spoken with anguished determination, as if she were making a vow: No matter
what anyone says or does, I will not forgive him.
“What did he
do, honey?” The endearment seemed right. Parr couldn’t take it back.
“I . . . I
saw him . . . them.”
“Who?”
“He was with
his old girlfriend. In each other’s arms, to be exact. And that’s n-not all,”
she stammered, her face scarlet.
“Maybe she
was kissing him.”
“No maybe
about it. She was all over him!” Abruptly jerking out of Parr’s arms, his fire
gold angel faced him. “And vice versa. Kissing. Touching. He practically had
her undressed less than an hour after we announced our engagement.”
“Oh.” Parr
wasn’t sure what to say, didn’t know what she wanted to hear. She obviously
needed consoling, but he’d bet good money that, gentle as the woman seemed, she
had good reason to take her fury out on any representative of the male sex in a
fifty-mile radius. And he was a lot closer than that.
The fire in
her soul shone in her green eyes. Parr was dazzled. Angry, she was even more
beautiful. And available, because some selfish idiot had cheated on her. Parr
was suddenly more than ready to volunteer for consolation duty.
It had been a
long time since he’d wanted a woman badly. In all honesty, he couldn’t ever
remember wanting one this much.
“I knew he’d
loved her once. I knew that they’d had a hot affair. But he swore everything
ended when she married another man. And I believed him.”
Parr nodded.
“He used to
say that the love he felt for me was so different.” She just about spat the
words. “So much
deeper. Then
tonight . . . there they were. I caught them almost in the act.”
This was no
ordinary drama, not the way she told the story, in few words but with matchless
intensity and good old-fashioned righteous, blazing indignation that would do a
real angel proud. Even though infidelity happened every damn day, every hour,
every second all around the world.
Still.
Whoever her
fiancé was, he must be the biggest fool ever to walk the earth. What man in his
right mind would mess around with an old girlfriend when he could have this
gorgeous little redhead?
“I’m sorry,”
she said, placing her hand on his where it lay on the table. “You don’t need to
know the details. I appreciate your patience. You’ve been truly kind.”
“Whatever I
can do.” Parr forced his thoughts back onto the gallant track.
“Thank you.
But we are strangers. I can’t ask you for help—I’ve already presumed too much.”
Her hand
began a slow withdrawal. The sensation of her soft fingertips moving over his
skin was too much for him. “Not at all.” Parr captured her slender wrist.
She gave him
a startled look but didn’t pull away.
Impulsively,
he took her hand, brought it to his lips, and pressed a kiss to her palm. Then
he released her. She didn’t seem shocked or pleased.
“Sorry.” Parr
didn’t know what had possessed him to do that. “I just thought—maybe you
needed—”
Her reply was
swift. “No need to apologize.”
*************************
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22043086-just-the-way-you-are?from_search=true
Author Info:
Beverly Barton was an award-winning, New York Times
bestselling author of more than fifty novels, including Silent Killer, Cold
Hearted, The Murder Game and Close Enough To Kill. Readers can visit her
website at www.beverlybarton.com
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