Devlin Page 17

"I didn't say that."

  "Well, I have no intention of losing this race. I want us to win. And if Hannah and Frank want the trophy, they're going to have to beat us."

  "Good, because I don't play to lose."

  "Neither do I."

  "Maybe you're more like me than you think, Devlin."

  "I don't know that anyone is like you, Dad," he said dryly.

  "Good point. I've never wanted to be like anyone else, and neither have you. You've always been comfortable in your own skin, pursuing your own dreams. I respect that."

  "Thank you." He was surprised by the compliment, but he'd take it.

  "How long is Hannah staying in town?"

  "Only another day or two."

  "And you're just going to let her go?"

  "You're one to talk about not letting women go," he couldn't help pointing out.

  His father frowned. "My situation is completely different. Claire and I have been together for thirty-seven years. We will get past this."

  "I hope so. Anyway, it's showtime. Are you ready to do this?"

  "I'm ready."

  His heart began to race…and they were off…

  For the first sixty minutes, the boats were bunched together, but eventually they began to separate, the novices falling behind, the pros soaring ahead. The Daisy Mae was keeping up with the Wind Warrior, but there were three other boats on their tail as well. But he didn't have time to think about his competition. Right now, it was about the boat and the sea, flying through the waves with precision and fearlessness.

  Two hours into the race, his muscles were straining. The wind was fierce now, the waves bigger than any he'd ever raced.

  His dad had been moving with agile efficiency, but he seemed to be slowing down.

  "We're almost there," he yelled in encouragement. "We've got this."

  In the last five minutes, the field had narrowed to two—the Wind Warrior and the Daisy Mae. He'd always known it would come down to the two of them.

  It was close, but they were edging ahead. They could do it. They could win.

  And then his father stumbled. The sail shifted. It took less than a minute to recover, but it was sixty seconds too long.

  He was stunned to see the Daisy Mae shoot across the finish line by half a boat length.

  It was over.

  They'd lost.

  But when he looked over and saw Hannah and Frank hugging, he couldn't help but appreciate their joy. They'd both needed the win, and they'd gotten it.

  "Sorry, Devlin," his dad said, putting his hand on his shoulder. "I don't know what happened. I guess I lost my concentration for a second. This is on me."

  Had his father just slipped? There was something in his father's tone that made him wonder. On the other hand, why would he have thrown the race? He'd wanted to beat Frank even more than he did.

  Clearing his throat, he said, "No. This is not on you. Win or lose, we did it together. And I'm happy we did."

  His father met his gaze. "You're a hell of a sailor, Devlin, but you're an even better son. Your Uncle Mark would have loved seeing you race like this. In truth, he was always better than me. He was the reason we won all those trophies."

  "You never said that before."

  "I'm not the most humble man, in case you hadn't noticed."

  He laughed. "I've noticed."

  His dad surprised him once more with a hug. And then they took the Wind Warrior home.

  Her arms were aching, her legs shaking from the stress of the last few hours, but Hannah felt incredibly happy. She'd never really thought they could win, but they had.

  "I still can't believe we did it," Hannah said, as they brought the Daisy Mae into port.

  "The old girl raced better than I thought she would," her father admitted. "And you weren't bad, either."

  "Thank you. But it was all you. You were amazing."

  "I didn't think we had it. Devlin was right there. The win was his. Something happened."

  "What happened is that we crossed the finish line in front of them."

  "That's right," he said, but there was something in his gaze that made her frown.

  "But that's not what you really think?"

  "Honestly, I don't know, Hannah. But I've sailed for years with Devlin, and if he has a lead that close to the finish, he doesn't let it go."

  "Maybe he got tired, or his dad did, but whatever—we won. And I want to celebrate."

  "We will definitely do that. I'm going to lift that trophy high and hopefully right in Graham's face."

  She smiled, but the last thing she wanted to do was rub their win in Devlin's face. She knew the loss would sting, probably more because he would have lost with his dad. And that would hurt.

  As they got off the boat, the other racers were waiting to congratulate them. Words of praise washed over her in a warm, rosy haze. She felt like she was floating. And her dad seemed taller than he had before, as if he could hold his head up again. He'd needed this win, and she'd helped him get it.

  They didn't see Devlin and Graham until they lined up for the awards ceremony, and then they were on opposite sides of the big trophy. Devlin smiled and mouthed, Congratulations.

  She was relieved that he didn't look too upset, but she wouldn't have expected him to be anything less than a gracious loser.

  After speeches and the trophy presentation, the four of them posed for photos. It was crazy to think that two weeks ago, Frank and Graham had not even been on speaking terms, but now there was a thaw in the ice between them. They weren't being super friendly, but the level of animosity had dimmed.

  When everything was over, they were congratulated by Fiona Blackthorne as well as Devlin's cousin, Jason, both of whom were extremely complimentary and had perhaps even enjoyed the fact that Graham had to deal with a loss. It was extremely rare for Graham Blackthorne to lose, and she was secretly thrilled to have been the one to help make that happen.

  As Fiona and Jason moved on, the four of them had their first real chance to speak to each other.

  "Well, Frank, looks like you finally beat me," Graham said.

  Her father looked Graham straight in the eye. "You ran a good race, better than I expected."

  "I'm sure you didn't expect much." Graham paused, then extended his hand. "Congratulations."

  Her father hesitated, then shook Graham's hand. "Thank you. And from here on out, just so you know, I'll keep my mouth shut when it comes to you and Claire. You were right; it was none of my business."

  Graham nodded. "You were right, too. I just didn't want to hear you. Why don't I buy you a drink?"

  Hannah watched in shock as the two men made their way to the bar. "Well, that just happened. Are they friends again?"

  Devlin laughed. "Looks that way."

  She shook her head in bemusement. "That's crazy."

  "Can we take a walk, Hannah? Get out of here? Or maybe you want to stay and celebrate? In fact, that's exactly what you should do." He shook his head, as if annoyed at himself. "Sorry, I don't know what I was thinking. This is your moment. Soak it up."

  "It's more my dad's moment," she said, watching her father and Graham shaking hands with more competitors. "I'm so happy for him."

  "You did it, too, Hannah."

  "I know, and I'm proud of myself. But it was never about the trophy. Let's take a walk."

  A happy gleam entered his eyes as they moved toward the door.

  It took them about fifteen minutes to actually get out of the club, but eventually they made their way down the sidewalk and walked toward a path that wound its way around the bluffs. The hills were empty now that the race was over, but she could still hear the distant cheers as they'd sailed into first.

  Despite Devlin saying he wanted to talk, he was remarkably quiet, although he did take her hand, squeezing her fingers as if that would somehow convey whatever he needed her to know. But she wasn't sure what he was trying to get across. Was he leading into a conversation that would involve words like fun, we had a goo
d time, and let's stay in touch?

  She wasn't sure she was ready for that. But whatever was coming, she needed to hear it. When they came upon a bench, she motioned for Devlin to sit down with her.

  "This is good," she said. "My legs and arms are aching. I'm going to be sore tomorrow."

  "But it will have been worth it."

  "It was great to win. I felt empowered in a way I haven't felt in a long time. I think that's because I haven't put myself to that kind of physical and mental test in years. It was exciting and grueling."

  "I'm glad you won."

  "Well, I'm sorry you lost."

  He smiled. "It's just a race. There will be another one next year."

  "That's true. You and my dad can reunite."

  "Or…you and I could do it together."

  Her heart skipped a beat. "You want me to race with you a year from today?"

  He slowly nodded. "I think we'd make a good team, too."

  "But you don’t look that far into the future."

  "I do now." He paused, shifting sideways so that he was facing her. "I don't like waking up and having you be gone, Hannah."

  "I thought it would be easier that way."

  "You always think that, but it's not."

  "I'm sorry. I did leave you a note."

  He gave her a faint smile. "I appreciated that."

  "I guess I wanted to avoid good-bye."

  "I want to avoid it, too. Is there any chance you'd consider moving to King Harbor?"

  Her breath caught in her chest at the question, at the intense, determined look in his eyes. "Are you sure you want that?"

  "Yes. I'm falling in love with you, Hannah. Actually, I don't think I'm still falling; I've already hit the ground. You have knocked me off my feet. And I don’t want to go a day without seeing you."

  She could hardly believe what she was hearing. "But it was supposed to be a fling, a casual thing. You like things simple."

  "I used to. I thought not caring too much would prevent me from having to walk through pain again. But I've been in pain the last week. The thought of not seeing you again, not being with you—it physically hurts. I know it's a lot to ask. You have your mother, your business, and your life in Austin. It would be difficult for me to move, but if that’s what needs to happen, then I'll find a way to work it out."

  "You have to be by the ocean. It's where your company is, and you make boats."

  "Your father lost his wife to work. My father might have lost his for the same reason. I do not want to follow in either of their footsteps. I think we could have something great."

  "I do, too," she whispered. "And you don't have to move to Austin, because I want to come home. King Harbor has always been the home of my heart. I can sell real estate anywhere. And there's this pretty house on the hill I have my eye on."

  "It hasn't sold yet."

  "How do you know that?" she asked in surprise.

  "I called Kathy yesterday. I was curious. I was thinking I might buy it, use it as added leverage to get you to stay."

  "You'd buy me a house to do that?"

  "I'd buy you the whole damn world, Hannah." He framed her face with his hands. "I want you to be happy. I want us to have a committed, exclusive relationship. And I can promise you that nothing about that makes me want to panic. It actually brings me a feeling of incredible calm. You and I—we're right for each other. I know it."

  "I know it, too. You make me happy, Devlin. And I would like to be in a committed, exclusive, and very hot relationship with you. See how I added the word hot?"

  He laughed and kissed her. "Oh, baby, we are definitely hot. We are on fire."

  She grinned back at him, feeling happier than she ever had before. "Let's go back to your place. You still owe me a steak."

  "You don't want to celebrate with your dad?"

  "I don't think he'll miss me. He told me before the race that if I wanted you in my life, I should make it happen. So, I'm going to make it happen. You are an incredible man, Devlin Blackthorne."

  "That's not what you said the first time you saw me."

  "Because I didn't know you." She gazed deep into his eyes. "But now I do. And if I'm going to risk my heart on anyone, I want it to be you."

  He took her hand and put it on his chest. "My heart is yours."

  "I'll take good care of it," she promised, as she pressed her lips against his.

  # # #

  I hope you enjoyed DEVLIN! Want more Blackthorne fun and romance?

  Don’t miss JASON, the next book in the 7 Brides for 7 Blackthornes series!

  Jason Blackthorne wants to make films. As head of Blackthorne Entertainment, he’s finally getting his break – a gritty cop drama filmed near the family compound. He has a lot riding on the success of the series, both with family and the industry. He doesn’t have time to notice how pretty or talented his assistant is. He just needs her to jump when he says jump.

  * * *

  Mallory Price has tried acting, but what she really wants is to be behind the camera. She is a storyteller at heart and she knows she could direct a killer show. She has great ideas, and though Jason seems to hear her, he never sees her as anything but a Girl Friday.

  * * *

  But when an accident on set puts him flat on his back, and a mercurial director goes missing, Mallory steps in. Long nights at work and equal footing create sparks between Jason and Mallory. But when Jason is on his feet once again, and the director returns, has anything really changed between them? Or was it all just a dream?

  Continue Reading for an Excerpt from JASON

  Jason - Excerpt

  JASON - by Julia London

  * * *

  CHAPTER ONE

  Once upon a time in Hollywood, Mallory Price needed a job.

  She was an actress, but admittedly, not a very good one (funny how those high school roles didn’t translate into bankable talent as an adult for most). Her acting gigs were few and far between.

  She was also a filmmaker and, if no one minded her saying, a pretty good one. Filmmaking was her passion. But she had only an old used camera, and so far, no one was interested in her short films, in spite of having entered three into various contests around town.

  Mallory had run out of money and had to face facts. So she’d combed through job postings for three weeks and the only lead she’d found was “customer service specialist” with the county tax department.

  That job had sounded like death on a stick.

  Unfortunately, eating was also a personal passion of hers, and she’d been on the verge of taking that really awful sounding tax clerk job. But then, just like in the movies, the heavens had parted and the sun had shone and fortune had smiled its lovely countenance upon her, because she stumbled on an opening for the perfect job.

  Mallory was ecstatic. She’d put in her application, and by the time she’d finished folding the laundry, a bot responded to her submission. CALL OFFICE TO ARRANGE INTERVIEW. So Mallory did. A woman who sounded frazzled and out of breath answered on the fifth ring. Mallory told her why she was calling. The woman said, “Great. Can you come in this afternoon?”

  So Mallory raided her roommates closet, found a very cute pink dress, and decided she might as well borrow some shoes, too, and two hours later, she was sitting in the frigid air of the reception area at Blackthorne Entertainment. She felt like a million bucks in Inez’s dress and shoes. She felt confident. She was practicing the art of positive thinking, steadying her breathing and chanting her mantra, I will get this job.

  A woman, about Mallory’s age of twenty-eight, suddenly appeared. She had dark hair that she wore in a messy bun—unclear if by design or necessity—a shirt that appeared to have some sort of stain on it, and a pair of jeans ripped at the knees. She had dark circles under her eyes, and without a word, she marched to a desk, picked up an enormous tote, and started shoving things into it. When she had filled it, she hoisted it on to her shoulder and started for the door. That’s when she seemed to registe
r Mallory’s presence.

  She paused. “Are you here for the interview?”

  “Yes,” Mallory said, and stood up. “I’m Mallory Price.” She extended her hand.

  The woman made no move to take it. She glanced at the binder Mallory was holding. “What’s that?”

  “Background material.”

  The woman blinked. And then burst into laughter. “Good luck with that,” she said, and walked out the door.

  “But…” Mallory’s voice trailed off.

  “Are you Mandy Price?” a male asked behind her.

  “Mallory.” She turned around to the voice and stood, speechless, because the man looking back at her was one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen with her own eyes.

  He looked her up and down. He scraped at his beard. “Well, come on then. Let’s do this.” He turned and started walking down the hall.

  Her mind leapt to a very strange and sexual place when he said that, but she quickly shrugged it off. “And you are…?”

  He spared her a glance over his shoulder. “Jason Blackthorne.”

  Jason Blackthorne. He sounded like a spy from a movie.

  Mallory followed him into an office at the end of the hall. The office, with its view of a parking lot, was filled with papers and equipment for viewing digital films. There were stacks of scripts on a shelf, and a couple of shirts and a jacket tossed over a chair. A Chinese food container was on the small table. Jason Blackthorne was sexy as sin, but his office was a mess.

  He perched on the only free spot at the edge of his desk and gestured her into a chair.

  Mallory’s belly felt tight, and she was aware that the hand holding the binder was really damp. But she plastered on a smile, remembered all she’d learned from YouTube tutorial Putting Your Best Foot Forward: Strategies for Job Interviews, and said, “Thank you for seeing me today. I just want to say, I am a perfect match for this opportunity.”

  “Oh,” he said.

  She sat a little straighter. “May I tell you how?”