As If You Were Mine (Seriously Sweet St. Louis #2)

186 Pages·2021·0.24 MB·english

by  Cindy Kirk [Kirk

AS IF YOU WERE MINE
CINDY KIRK
Copyright © Cynthia Rutledge 2020
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book
review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of
the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events,
locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 9798694627399
First published in 2001 as JUDGING SARA by Silhouette Books
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Sneak Peek of Surrender Your Heart
Also by Cindy Kirk
CHAPTER ONE
On a scale of one to ten, Sara Michaels decided James Smith’s kiss
rated no more than a five. It wasn’t a great kiss; her pulse didn’t soar
and her heart didn’t flutter like the heroines in the books she read.
But it wasn’t bad, either. His lips were cool and dry, and though he
kept his mouth firmly closed, he tasted like spearmint-flavored
mouth-wash.
Impulsively she pulled James against her and returned the kiss
with unusual gusto. Normally he kept a proper distance between
them and she could sense his surprise when her body molded to his
and her arms slipped up to encircle his neck.
He hesitated for only a second before his lips captured hers,
more demanding this time. In that moment his rating rose to a six.
Sara resisted a sudden impulse to run her fingers through his
carefully coiffed hair or maybe even nuzzle his neck.
Sara stopped herself just in time. She could only imagine his
response if she did something so foolish. He’d probably think she’d
turned into a wanton woman. Straight-as-an-arrow Sara a wanton
woman? Laughter bubbled up from deep inside and tugged at the
corners of her mouth. Unexpectedly a giggle slipped out.
“Sara?” James broke the contact and took a step back. His brows
pulled together and she could see the hurt confusion in his eyes.
Shame flooded Sara. He probably thought she was laughing at
him.
“I don’t know what got into me.” She touched his arm with her
hand. “I’m sorry.”
James was a wonderful man, an honorable man. A man any
woman would be lucky to call her own. The dozen yellow roses
sitting on the side table in the crystal vase were a testament to his
generosity and thoughtfulness. Even though he knew red was her
favorite color, he’d chosen yellow for friendship rather than be
presumptuous and pick the ones that stood for love.
“Am I interrupting?” Meg Stanley, Sara’s manager, stood in the
doorway, a knowing smile on her face.
“No, of course not. James just stopped by. With flowers.” Sara
swept a hand in the direction of the coffee table. “Aren’t they lovely?”
“Beautiful,” Meg said. Though she’d once told Sara she
personally didn’t care much for James, she graciously cast an
admiring glance at the flowers. “You done good, James.”
James winced, and Sara knew even though he understood that
Meg’s grammatical error was intentional, it had still hurt his ear.
Sometimes his insistence on perfect grammar got tedious, but he
meant well.
Sara’s once-abysmal grammar had improved dramatically over
the past year, thanks to James’s tutelage. Of course, he insisted
that, as her publicist, honing her image was just part of his job.
“What brings you by today?” James’s gaze narrowed. “I thought
you were out of town this weekend.”
“I was.” Meg dropped her purse to the floor and settled into a
nearby chair. “But I got a hot lead on a bodyguard for Sara.”
“Bodyguard?” His blond brows slanted in a frown. “I can’t believe
you’re doing all this because of a few ridiculous notes. Don’t you
think you’re overreacting?”
“I’m not overreacting and they’re not ridiculous.” Meg’s blue eyes
snapped. “They’re threats against Sara. I would think you’d be more
concerned. As her publicist, if nothing else.”
“That’s exactly why I am concerned, Meg.” James didn’t bother to
hide his displeasure.
Here we go again.
Sara took a seat on the Queen Anne sofa and waited for the
battle to begin. The two had been arguing steadily about how to
handle the matter since the day that Meg had discovered Sara had
been receiving threatening notes and called the police.
James had been furious because of the possibility of bad press.
Sara had deliberately played it cool. No one could suspect she knew
more than she was telling.
The police had said that although the notes were disturbing, they
weren’t threatening in the legal sense of the word. And that, even if
they found the writer, they wouldn’t be able to prosecute.
Sara had thought that would be the end of it and Meg would let
the matter drop. Obviously she’d been wrong.
“C’mon, Meg.” Sara kept her tone light. “Having a bodyguard
could cause all sorts of unnecessary talk.”
“I agree,” James added.
“I agree, too,” Meg said.
“You do?” Sara and James spoke as one.
“Of course.” Meg’s lips curved up in a slight smile. “That’s why I
thought we’d say he was your new boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?!” Sara’s voice came out as a high-pitched squeak.
“Absolutely not.” James crossed his arms across his chest and a
hint of sheen graced his forehead.
“Okay.” Meg shrugged. “Have it your way. I’m not inflexible. If you
only want Crow as your bodyguard, that’s fine too.”
“Crow?” A faint image of a martial arts master flashed through
Sara’s mind. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Tell me you haven’t been drinking.”
Meg gasped.
“James!” Sara shot him a scathing look. “What in the world has
gotten into you?”
Although Meg freely admitted she’d been an alcoholic, James
also knew she hadn’t had a drink in five years. She’d quit drinking
the year before she’d taken over handling Sara’s career and she’d
been sober since.
“I’m sorry, Meg,” James said, sounding remorseful. “I didn’t mean
it the way it sounded.”
“Apology accepted,” Meg said smoothly with no expression on
her face, but her eyes were stony with anger. “To answer your
question. No, I haven’t been drinking. And no, I’m not kidding. Not at
all.”
“I seem to be putting my foot in my mouth a lot today, so I hope
you don’t take this wrong.” James moved to stand behind Sara and
his hand dropped to rest loosely on her shoulder. “It appears to me
that having a bodyguard or not having a bodyguard is Sara’s
decision, not yours.”
“I’m her manager. And her friend.” Meg’s gaze shifted to Sara.
“Unless that’s not what you want anymore.”
Meg’s expression was carefully controlled but her hands were
knotted on her lap. Sara knew Meg realized the chance she was
taking, pushing the issue.
It was no secret that for months James had been trying to get
Sara to move her management contract to a firm run by one of his
friends. A firm he said had the ability to make her into a superstar.
“Sara. You don’t want this investigation pushed,” James said
persuasively. “You’ve told me so yourself.”
That much was certainly true. The thought of what such an
investigation might uncover turned Sara’s blood cold. But the thought
of hurting Meg, who’d been more of a mother to her than her own
had ever been, was unbearable.
Dear God, please help me.
“Meg is talking bodyguard, James,” Sara said finally, flashing a
reassuring smile at her manager. “Not a P.I. or a cop. Right, Meg?”
Meg hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “That’s right.”
“Well, then.” Sara smiled brightly. “I don’t see any problem. I’m
not sure when I’ll be able to meet this Mr. Crow—”
“It’s just Crow,” Meg interrupted. “As far as when, why not now?”
Sara frowned. “Now?”
Meg rose from the overstuffed chair. “He’s in the foyer waiting. I’ll
go get him.”
“He’s here?” Sara forced herself to remain calm. She needed to
slow things down. The trouble was, she didn’t know how to do that
without arousing suspicion. Still, he was only a bodyguard. And he
would be working for her.
“You certainly didn’t waste any time getting this all arranged,”
James said.
A self-satisfied smile crossed Meg’s face. “Sara pays me to keep
on top of things.”
He stiffened as though Meg had struck him.
Sara hid a smile. One of James’s selling points for the new firm
was that they’d keep on top of the changes in the industry. But in the
year he’d been her publicist, he’d never taken the time to get to know
Meg. Or to give her any credit.
In Sara’s mind, there wasn’t a better manager in the business.
And it didn’t surprise her in the least that Meg had come with all her
ducks in a row, fully prepared.
“What are we waiting for?” Sara said. “Bring him in.”
Salvadore “Crow” Tucci shifted uncomfortably on the rock-hard
settee and glanced down at his watch.
The fifteen minutes of waiting had been pure torture. Unlike many
guys who could sit in a recliner all afternoon watching football, Crow
needed activity—the more physical the better.
That’s why he’d chosen law enforcement after graduating from
college instead of becoming a physician like his brother Nick, or a
lawyer like his other brother Tony.
At first his parents had been supportive. But when he’d gotten
promoted and gone undercover, all that changed. His mother’s fears
skyrocketed out of control. She was certain every time he took an
assignment that his cover would be blown and he’d get shot. His
father worried more about him adopting a new identity for weeks or
months than he did about the physical danger.
Crow had dismissed these concerns. And for the first three years
he had little difficulty separating his personal life from the life he led
as an undercover cop. Recently he’d noticed a subtle shift. He’d
started to feel more like Crow than Sal. He’d become suspicious and
cynical and his temper had started to flare at the slightest
provocation. That’s when he’d decided it was time for a break.
He’d put in for a leave of absence, not knowing what he’d do for
six months, but at that point not really caring. When the chief asked
him if he might want to take on an assignment helping out an old
friend of his, it almost seemed like the offer had been “heaven-sent.”