Forbidden Craving. Gena Showalter

close to her type: absent.

      She gathered two plates to pass to the couple behind him. Communicate desire. “If you’ll excuse me, I really must finish serving the guests before there’s a revolt.” A few ladies at the back of the line looked ready to claw out her eyes just to eat the jelly inside.

      Tamara uttered a strained laugh. “There’s no reason to be rude, Shaye. You can do your duties while getting to know your new brother.”

      “No, thank you.” He wouldn’t be her brother for long. No reason to forge a relationship already doomed to fail.

      Her mother hissed, “I hate when you speak those three little words.”

      “Why? They’re polite.”

      “You,” her mother said, pointing to one of the other horrendously clad bridesmaids. “Take over the cake. Shaye, you will come with me.”

      Strong fingers curled around Shaye’s wrist. A second later she was being dragged out of the reception tent to the edge of the beach.

      Sand squished between her sandaled toes as a warm, salty breeze wrapped itself around her, swishing her grass skirt over her knees. Sunlight had faded completely. Now slivers of ethereal moonlight illuminated their path. Waves sang a gentle, soothing song.

      Her mom’s velvety-brown eyes—eyes exactly like her own—narrowed slightly. She dropped Shaye’s hand as if contact could cause premature wrinkles. “Do you want to kill my hopes and dreams? Because that’s what you’re doing.”

      Shaye wrapped her arms around her middle. “Your hopes and dreams...for me?”

      “Of course for you! At the rate you’re going, you’re going to die alone, not just unloved but despised. I’ll never have a grandbaby.”

      “There’s nothing wrong with dying alone. I imagine it’s quite peaceful.”

      “Would it kill you to be nice?” Tamara smoothed a wisp of hair from her face. “To pretend you have a heart for just a few hours?”

      That stung. Badly. “I’ll worry about me, and you worry about you, okay? This kind of upset could cause you to shrivel up like a raisin.”

      Horrified, Tamara patted the skin around her eyes. “I just had Botox. I shouldn’t have a single line or wrinkle. Do you see a wrinkle? Tell me!”

      A new card flashed through her mind.

      There’s only one person worthy of dating you—YOU!

      “Mother, you inspire me,” Shaye replied honestly.

      Somehow mollified, Tamara brushed her fingertips over the side of her face. “Yes, well. I try.”

      “So...are we done here?”

      “No! Not even close.” Her mom stomped a high-heeled foot. “Tell me why you spurn everyone. Tell me why you never date.”

      She used to date. She’d quickly discovered men never called when they said they would. Most hadn’t been interested in getting to know her as a person; they’d wanted to get her out of her clothing. Some guys had admired other women while they were out with her.

      Some had lied straight up. One had used her for her money. Another had cheated on her.

      Relationships were too much trouble for too little reward.

      Shaye twirled a strand of the grass skirt around her finger. Instead of explaining her reasons to her mother, she said, “I love you, and I’ll call you when you return from your honeymoon. Now I’m going home.”

      “You’re not going anywhere, young lady. Not until you’ve apologized to Preston.” Tamara shoved a finger in her face. “You treated him shabbily, and I won’t have it.”

      Had she treated him shabbily?

      Shaye valued and prized honesty, and that’s what she’d given him. Shouldn’t he thank her?

      Would she ever understand the complexity of human interactions?

      “Mother. Nannies raised me.” A gentle reminder. “Your orders hold no sway with me.”

      The color drained from Tamara’s cheeks. “But... I’m your mother.”

      “And I’m the Ice Princess of Bitterslovakia, the Grand Duchess of Rancorstonia and the Queen of Hostileland.” The many names Tamera had called her over the years.

      Waves splashed in the distance as her mother snapped, “All I’ve ever wanted was a nice, normal daughter. Instead I’m stuck with you.” Tears welled in her eyes. “You won’t be happy until you’ve ruined my wedding.”

      Fighting the newest sting, Shaye allowed a familiar icy numbness to encompass her. The same numbness she’d relied on during her childhood. A sweet relief against depression and desolation.

      Tamara stared past her. “Conner tried to tell me. You’re jealous of me. Admit it! I should have disowned you long ago. Conner says negativity must be purged to allow positivity to flourish.”

      Wow. Of all the things her mother had said over the years, that little gem might have cut the deepest.

      She thinks I’m the problem.

      Wow. Just...wow!

      As a little girl, Shaye had craved her mother’s attention, approval and adoration more than breath. But nothing she’d tried had worked. Not gifts or fits or pretending to be the woman’s shadow. Once, Shaye had even run away.

      The police had found her, and the nanny had come to pick her up.

      “Why don’t you do us both a favor and take responsibility for your own life,” Shaye said, her voice as cold as her internal armor.

      The tears began to pour down Tamara’s cheeks. “Conner and I wanted so badly for this day to be perf—” Her eyes widened and glazed with lust. “Perfect,” she finished on a dreamy sigh. “Hmm. So perfect.”

      Her voice had dropped to a husky purr.

      “Mother?”

      “Man.” Tamara stretched out her arms. “My man.”

      “I don’t understand.” Shaye dragged her gaze to the ocean—her mouth fell open in shock.

      There, rising from the water like primitive sea gods, were six gloriously tall, muscled barbarians. The moon glowed behind them reverently, providing each male with a golden halo.

      The warriors were shirtless, revealing washboard abs and skin so tanned it made her think liquid gold had been poured over steel. They looked like supermodels. Only better. Yes, so much better.

      Unbelievable...surreal...magnificent.

      As the six warriors focused on Shaye, molten air snagged in her lungs, melting her precious ice armor.

      The urge to strip and splay herself atop a table to offer her body as the dinner buffet bombarded her. She would be an all-you-can-eat buffet. No charge.

      She moistened her lips. Her mouth watered, her skin tingling, and her stomach clenched.

      I’m...turned on? By strangers?

      What’s wrong with me?

      The men continued to prowl toward her. They were so close she could see the silvery water droplets sliding down their chests and gathering in their navels.

      Other droplets slid lower...

      Her gaze snagged on the man in the middle, and she forgot how to blink.

      Dangerous, her most feminine instincts whispered. Lethal.

      He was taller than the rest of the group, his dark blond hair hanging in a wet tangle around features that had been chiseled by a master. His eyes... Oh, glory hallelujah, his eyes. They were blue-green, neither color blending with the other but standing alone, so wickedly mesmerizing she felt