The Christmas He Loved Her (Bad Boys of Crystal Lake #2) by Juliana Stone

Author: Juliana Stone
Title:  The Christmas He Loved Her
Series: Bad Boys of Crystal Lake
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 All he wants this Christmas is her.

In the small town of Crystal Lake, Christmas is a time for sledding, hot chocolate, and cozying up to the fire with those you love. For Jake Edwards, it’s also time to come home and face his past. He thought there would never be anything harder than losing his brother. Turns out there is: falling in love with his brother’s widow, Raine.

Ever since they were little, Jesse was the Edwards brother who was always there for her, and Jake was the one who knew just how to push her buttons. Raine can’t imagine a life without them, which is why it was doubly decimating when Jake left town after his brother’s sudden death. Now he’s back and she doesn’t know whether to be mad or thrilled. Maybe both. Maybe it will be the perfect chance for both of them to finally find happiness again.

 Excerpt

The cemetery where his brother rested was a desolate place in late November. It sat upon a drab green hill surrounded by a forest of pine and birch. In the distance, Crystal Lake shimmered through skeletal tree limbs like wisps of blue silk as a cold wind drew whitecaps on the water.

Jake Edwards pulled his Jeep over to the shoulder, cut the engine, and slowly exhaled. His fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly they cramped, and though he stretched them out and tried to relax, it was no use. He was wound tighter than a junkie in rehab, and he drummed a methodical beat along the dashboard as he gazed out the window.

This particular cemetery was the oldest in town, and many of Crystal Lake’s founding families were buried within its borders. Grand mausoleums and tombstones rose against the dull gray sky, painted dark like a macabre city skyline. He stared at them for several long moments, eyes hard, mouth tight, as a light rain began to fall. It was nothing more than a drizzle, really, and created a mist that hung over the cemetery, though he only had eyes for the row just beyond the large oak tree.

Row number thirty-six. Jesse’s row.

The darkness in him stirred, leaving the taste of bitterness on his tongue. He let it settle. He let it burn. Hell, these days it was the only thing that told him he was still alive-even if he did feel half-dead most of the time.

A crow flew lazily in the sky, slicing through the haze until it swooped low and settled on top of a large stone angel not far from him. It cocked its head, then turned and stared at Jake-its small beady eyes steady as it slowly blinked.

Jake held its gaze for several more seconds and then jerked his chin up as if to say Fuck you. The crow cawed, rotated its head, and flew off once more, out over the lake.

Abruptly, he turned the key and put his Jeep in gear. He continued down Lakeshore Road because he sure as hell wasn’t ready to deal with the cemetery yet.

His parents were expecting him, but first he had one more stop-a certain someone he needed to see. A certain someone he was damn sure had no desire to see him, and he didn’t blame her one bit. Not after the way he’d left things.

Jake had screwed up, and now it was time to set things right.

Five minutes later he stepped out of his Jeep and slung a worn leather bag over his shoulder as he glanced up at a small cottage set back a few hundred feet from the road. At one time it had been a carriage house and was a solid structure built entirely of large blocks of gray, weathered limestone. A simple white-spindled porch ran the length of it, with empty baskets hung at each corner, their usual treasure of deep-red geraniums long dead.

An old, rickety rocking chair moved gently on its own there, the legs squeaking as it moved back and forth, pushed either by the crisp breeze that rolled in off the lake or the ghost of Josiah Edwards, an ancestor said to haunt the woods.

Jake pulled the collar of his leather jacket up to his chin and shuddered as a strong gust of wind whipped across the still-green lawn, carrying with it the remains of dead, rotted leaves and anything else it managed to shake free.

He took a step forward, eyes narrowed, as his gaze took in an expensive Mercedes parked near the house next to a rusting and faded yellow Volkswagen. He wasn’t sure who owned the Mercedes, but the rust bucket he knew well. The ancient Beetle had been a broken-down mess when she had first bought it.

The car belonged to his sister-in-law, Raine, and in a world gone to shit, at least the car hadn’t changed.

Jake slowly perused the property. He spied a weather-beaten bench near the tree line and knew that if he took the path that led through the woods to his right, he’d end up at his parents’ home-eventually. It was still a hike, several miles to be exact, but this parcel of land, boasting an acre and a half of prime waterfront along with the stone cottage, had been severed years ago from his parents’ property. It had been a wedding present to his brother Jesse and his then-new bride, Raine.

A familiar ache crept across his chest, and for a moment he faltered, his eyes squeezed shut. He pictured the three of them, Jake, Jesse, and Raine, decked out in their wedding finery. It had rained that day, a good omen, according to some, and Raine’s dress was tattered along the hem from dancing outdoors in the mud, while his brother’s tuxedo had remained crisp and clean. Jake’s tux, however, was as ruined as the bride’s dress. They’d posed for a picture, the three of them, there by the bench beneath the ancient oak.

Jake sighed and opened his eyes, resting them once more on the empty bench. It needed a fresh coat of paint. He shook the melancholy from his mind and strode toward the house.

It had been a year and a half since he left Crystal Lake. And even though he was pretty sure Raine Edwards wanted nothing to do with him, he was going to try his best to make amends. It was the least he could do. For Raine. For Jesse.

And maybe, for himself.

He stepped up onto the porch, his eyes settling on the newly painted white trim that encased the door-a door that was no longer the green he remembered, but a deep, dark red. He heard voices inside and his gut rolled nervously. She had company. Maybe now wasn’t a good time.

His dark eyes drifted toward his Jeep. Ten seconds and he could be out of here before anyone knew better. He took a step backward, weighing his options, his jaw clenched tightly as the all-too-familiar wave of guilt, anger, and loathing washed through him. Coward.

Jake ran his fingers through the thick mess of hair atop his head and tried to ease the tension that settled along his shoulders. He hadn’t seen Raine since the Fourth of July, well over a year ago, and they hadn’t parted on good terms. They’d both said some things…hurtful things…but he’d made everything worse by taking off for what he meant to be only a few weeks to clear his head. The few weeks had turned into months, and those months had bled into nearly a year and a half.

It had been much too long, and he still wasn’t sure he was ready to face the ghosts of his past. Yet here he stood.

Jake blew out a hot breath and reached for the door, when it was suddenly wrenched open and a bundle of gold streaked past his feet and barked madly as it did so. It was a ball of fur that ran crazily down the steps, with a chubby frame that was barely able to manage them. He stepped back, and then the puppy was forgotten as he stared down into the face that had haunted him his entire life, it seemed.

Huge round eyes the color of Crystal Lake on a stormy day widened, while the small bow mouth fell open in shock. Her skin was pale, the kiss of summer long faded, and the angles of her face were sharper, more defined. She looked fragile. And beautiful. And delicate. And…

“You cut your hair,” was all he managed to say-barely.

Her fingers twisted in the uneven, ebony ends that fell a few inches past her jaw but didn’t quite touch her shoulders. It was a reflex action, and damn if it didn’t tug on the cold strings still attached to his heart. She pulled on a long, curling piece, tucked it behind her ear, and settled her hand, tightened into a fist, against her chest.

She wore a pink T-shirt, Salem’s Lot etched across her breasts in a bold, black font. The old, worn jeans that hugged her hips looked tattered and done for, the ends rolled up past delicate ankles, leaving her feet bare, her toenails painted in chipped blue polish.

For a moment there was nothing but silence, and then she moistened her lips and exhaled slowly. “Your hair is longer than it’s ever been.”

The sound of her voice was like a returning memory, one that filled the emptiness inside and stretched thin over his heart.

He nodded, not quite knowing what to say. He’d officially left the military six months ago, and hair had been the last thing on his mind. The closely cropped style he’d sported his entire adult life was no more. Now it curled past his ears.

“It’s been…a long time.” Her words were halting, as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to speak.

He held her gaze for a moment and then glanced away. The old wicker chair still rocked gently in the breeze, and the golden bundle of fur that had shot out of Raine’s house was sniffing the ground near his Jeep.

“Yeah,” was all Jake managed, and even that was hard.

“Nice that you made time for your father.” A touch of frost was in her voice now, and he glanced back sharply.

Awkward silence fell between the two of them as he stared down into eyes that were hard. Had he expected anything less?

“He’s been sick for a while now.” Her chin jutted out. “You know that, right?” Accusation rang in her words.

A spark of anger lit inside him. So this was how it was going to be. “Yeah, Raine. I know.”

Her mouth thinned and a flush crept into her pale cheeks. “Well, why the hell did you wait so long to come home to us?”

“I couldn’t get away,” he said flatly.

She arched an eyebrow and shivered. “Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?”

He took a step closer and reiterated. “Couldn’t.”

He knew part of it was bullshit. If he’d really wanted to come home earlier, he could have. The guys would have understood. But he’d never admit that it was only his father’s health taking a wrong turn that had finally brought him back. Because that would mean admitting the reason he’d stayed away for so long was right in front of him.

All five feet four inches of her.

Her toe tapped against the shiny wooden planks at her feet, and her eyes narrowed into a glare that told him everything. Raine Edwards was pissed.

She cleared her throat and raised her chin.

She was more than pissed.

Jake squared his shoulders. This was good. He’d rather she was mad as hell than weepy and soft. Mad he could handle. Soft and needy, not so much. Not from her, anyway.

“You going to invite me in, or are we going to have it out, here on the porch?” Jake arched an eyebrow and waited. Nothing was ever “easy” and “gentle” between him and Raine. There had always been that friction.

She and his brother, Jesse, had been like yin and yang, while Jake and Raine were like oil and water. They didn’t exactly mix and rarely saw eye to eye.

From the time they were kids… How many nights had Jesse given up and gone to bed long after the two of them argued over every last detail of whatever the hell it was they happened to be discussing? From Scrabble to politics to music and everything in between.

Raine’s mouth thinned and she stepped past him, clapped her hands, and yelled “Gibson” as she did so. The puppy’s head shot up, its round body quivering as it answered her call. The dog ran toward the house, chasing a leaf, weaving an intricate path until it climbed the stairs and barked at her feet.

She scooped the puppy into her arms and laughed as it struggled to lick her face. Something inside him thawed in that moment. Something that he’d encased in a wall of ice. It was painful, and the dread in his gut doubled. He’d known this was a bad idea, but it was a bad idea he needed to see through. He owed it to Jesse, even if he was a year and a half late.

And he owed it to Raine, after the way he’d left things.

She stepped back and cleared her throat. “You planning on spending the night?”

“Excuse me?” Jake answered carefully, not understanding her angle.

Raine licked her lips, the heightened color in her cheeks a healthy pink in an otherwise pale face. She pointed toward his bag. “Did you pack extra boxers and your toothbrush?”

“No.” Jake shook his head. “This is just…”

She turned before he could finish and indicated that he follow her inside as she strolled down the hall with the puppy still in her arms, her hips swaying gently. He couldn’t help himself. His eyes roved her figure hungrily, taking in every inch, from the top of her head to the bottom of her bare feet. His mouth tightened, a frown settling across his brow because he sure as hell didn’t like what he saw. She was too thin. Too pale.

Too much like the ghosts he’d seen wandering the base at Fort Hood-war widows and widowers, distraught families, friends. All of them had that look. Christ, he saw it every day he looked in the mirror, but Raine…damn, he wanted more for her.

Then maybe I should have done something about it. He winced at the thought, mostly because it was the truth.

The house was brightly lit, the sun that shone in through the windows creating warmth against the rich oak floors. For a second, Jake faltered as the heaviness of the moment slipped over him. So many memories he’d tried to forget. He’d helped his brother restore the entire main floor the last time they were home on leave nearly two years ago. It was the last time all three of them had been together.

Voices echoed in his head, echoes from a past that would haunt him forever, and he forced himself to move, noting that the kitchen sported a complete redo-gleaming antique-cream-colored granite, dark chocolate cabinets, and shiny stainless-steel appliances. No doubt a gift from his parents, because the last he knew, working at the youth center in the neighboring city didn’t pay much. Not that it mattered. Aside from the sizable life-insurance settlement Raine had been entitled to, the Edwards family looked after their own.

She would never want for anything.

Raine had been a part of their lives from the time they were kids. Raised for the most part by her Aunt Jeanine, she’d been on her own since the age of sixteen, when her aunt died. Her mother, Gloria, traveled extensively, doing missionary work for the church. It was mighty charitable of her, though Jake had never understood the need some people had to help others when it meant neglecting their own.

His face heated when he realized that was exactly what he’d done for the last year and a half. He was no better than her mother-worse, even-because Raine had always counted on him and he’d let her down when it mattered most.

She’d become an extra member of the Edwards family, the third wheel in a lot of the Edwards boys’ shenanigans, and it had come as no surprise to anyone when she’d married one. The serious one, Jesse.

A male voice interrupted his train of thought, and for a moment the hot flush of something fierce washed through him. He jerked his head, hackles up, and stared at her in silence, hands fisted tightly at his sides.

Raine paused in the doorway that led to the living room/dining area and glanced over her shoulder-eyes still questioning, mouth still tight.

“Look what I found on the porch,” she announced and walked into the living room. Jake took a moment and then followed suit, halting just inside the room.

“Son of a bitch!” Mackenzie Draper, one of his oldest buddies, set his beer onto the low-slung table in front of the sofa and rose, a smile splitting his face wide open. “You didn’t say anything about coming home for the holidays.”

Jake grinned. “It wasn’t in the plans last time I saw you.”

“Wait a minute,” Raine interrupted. “When did you see Jake?” Her gaze focused on Mac, who shifted uncomfortably.

“I had business in Texas a few months back, and we got together for a drink.”

“Texas,” Raine muttered. “Right.”

She turned stormy eyes his way, and Jake flinched at the hurt and accusation that colored them a darker hue. He felt even more like a shit.

“Nice that you have time for some of your friends, Jake.”

“It wasn’t planned, really,” Mackenzie began. “I had a couple of extra days and we got together.”

Raine set the puppy down. “That’s a hell of a lot more than I ever got.” She didn’t bother to hide the bitterness in her words.

Jake ignored the taunt and remained silent, his eyes locked on to Mackenzie’s. His friend was dressed in an expensive suit tailored to fit his tall frame, the charcoal gray a nice choice against the plum shirt. Though his collar was loose and a thin black tie lay on the table in front of him, Mac always looked GQ ready. With his thick dirty-blond hair and vibrant green eyes, he’d been labeled a pretty boy his entire life.

Mackenzie, Cain Black, Jake, and his brother Jesse had been the best of friends from the time they were five years old and Mackenzie had come to school with his front teeth missing and a shiner the color of rotted grapes. It had impressed the hell out of the Edwards twins, though they were too young to appreciate the darkness and violence it represented.

It was good to see him. “You home for the holidays too?” Jake asked.

Mackenzie shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think Ben would appreciate it if I crashed his long weekend. I had business in Detroit and thought I’d squeeze in a visit with my mother, but…”

“But?” Jake prodded.

Mac shrugged. “Same old same old. I called ahead and it’s not gonna work. Ben’s already home and liquored up. I guess his long weekend has an extra few days tacked on to it. Mom snuck away and we had coffee.” Mackenzie’s mouth tightened. “She’ll never change. There’s always some reason for the bruises on her arms or the soreness in her side. He beats the crap out of her and she stays.”

“She’ll wake up one day, Mac,” Raine said carefully.

Mackenzie turned to her, with a bitter smile. “I doubt it. In spite of everything, she loves him. How fucked-up is that?” He glanced at his watch. “Anyway, I gotta hit the road. It’s a good ten hours until I hit New York.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay for Thanksgiving? I’ve got-” She halted and cleared her throat. “Well, the spare room isn’t usable right now, but the sofa is yours.” Raine prodded gently, “Maybe Ben will…I don’t know…”

“Do us a favor and kick the bucket?” Mackenzie shook his head. “That son of a bitch will outlive us all.” He enveloped Raine into a bear hug and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks, but I’d be crap company anyway.”

Mackenzie paused a few inches away, his eyes intense as he studied Jake in silence. “You look like shit, soldier.”

“I’m not a soldier anymore.”

“No, I suppose you’re not.” The two men stared at each other for several moments, and then Mackenzie lowered his voice. “I miss him too.”

The band of pain that sat around Jake’s chest tightened and he nodded, a lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he muttered.

They shook hands, but when Jake would have pulled away, Mackenzie held on for a quick hug. “Don’t be such a douche bag, and stay in touch.” Mackenzie stepped back and cocked his head to the side. “Give your dad my best. He’s a tough son of a bitch, so I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Jake nodded. “Will do.”

“It’s good you’re back.”

Jake nodded but remained silent.

Mackenzie smiled a million watts at Raine, his green eyes crinkled with warmth. “Take care, gorgeous, and I’ll think about Christmas.”

The door closed behind Mackenzie, leaving silence in his wake and the oppressive weight of two ice-blue eyes shooting daggers at Jake. Now that Mac was gone, she didn’t make any effort to hide her anger.

Jake turned to her, set his leather bag onto the coffee table, and waited for the hammer to fall.

“I should kick your ass all over Crystal Lake, you know that, right?” She blew out a strand of hair that caught at the corner of her mouth. “And maybe I will, but first I’d like to hear all about your yearlong vacation.”

Vacation?

Okay, so now anger burned beneath his leather collar. Fort Hood was no fucking vacation. The nightmares in his head were no fucking vacation. The guilt and pain that lived with him every single day were no fucking vacation.

“Are you serious?” He asked so softly, he knew she barely heard him, or else she might have taken the hint and backed off. “You think the last year has been a vacation?”

Instead, Raine took two steps forward and thumped him in the chest with the palm of her hand. “Yes, I do,” she spat. “You took a vacation from life for the last year and a half while the rest of us slugged it out in the trenches.” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and she’d never looked more fierce. Never looked more delicate and frail or so damn lovely it made his stomach ache. “It’s time to come clean, Edwards. Why have you stayed away so long?”

The hammer, it seemed, was heavy, and it didn’t take long to strike.

 The Christmas He Loved Her is a part of the Bad Boys of Crystal Lake series. 

As a holiday read I think this is one of the best I've ever read. I absolutely loved Jake and Raine together, Jake is a man that wanted to get away from his past but the time has come to return home and face his ghosts. Raine is the widow of his dead brother. 

When he comes back to heal old wounds he runs into Raine again and from the start you can feel the intensity between them. I suppose I have a thing for men with dark pasts because from the get go Jake won me over. 

Applause for Juliana Stone for writing such a wonderful novel, I can't wait to read more of her Crystal Lake series.

 

Until next time book lovers...

Krissys Bookshelf Reviews received a digital copy in exchange for an honest review from Netgalley. All thoughts, comments and ratings are my own.

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Carved in Stone by Kate Douglas

Author: Kate Douglas
Title: Carved in Stone
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Archeologist and folklore expert Nate Murdock has discovered ancient stone carvings that will either revolutionize thinking in his field or get him laughed out of it entirely, and he’s hired world-renowned photographer Alex Martin to document his find and bolster his claim. When the alluring Alexandra Martin, not Alex, shows up for the job, Nate’s not sure whether to send her packing or take her into his arms.

Alexandra Martin, the daughter of the famed photographer and just as talented with a camera, is a dark-haired and dark-eyed beauty. Years ago her father built his reputation on photographs he’d stolen from her, and she’s out to prove once and for all that she’s the real deal. When the opportunity to work with the celebrated and ruggedly handsome Nate Murdock falls into her lap, she jumps at the chance—whether he likes it or not.

As tempers flare and accusations fly, the two dig in for a battle of wills and an uneasy truce at their remote mountainside camp. But when drug smugglers trap them in a cave and leave them to die, Nate and Alexandra realize they must trust each other—and the fiery passion growing between them—and surrender to a mysterious force as it guides them through a perilous escape and the acceptance of a powerful love as primal and compelling as the mountain itself. 

Excerpt

Full light was at least an hour away, but the pale glow in the eastern sky outlined the rocky monolith towering over Nate Murdock’s campsite. He stared at the massive rock wall, shoving aside the lingering unease he’d felt since his discovery. Up there, a bit to the east and high enough to make the area almost inaccessible, he’d found magic carved in stone barely a year ago.

And if he ever had the nerve to publish the truth about those amazing petroglyphs, he’d probably be laughed out of the department, not to mention his entire profession. Folding his arms across his chest, he allowed himself to think of all the possible repercussions.

They weren’t pretty.

Dr. Nathan Murdock, renowned professor of North American antiquities and folklore at UC Berkley, would probably have trouble finding a job flipping burgers.

He glanced in the direction of the tiny town of Weaverville. Alexander Martin had promised to be on site by six. If the photos by a Pulitzer Prize winning photographer couldn’t give Nate’s absurd hypothesis more credibility, he really didn’t know what to do next. The story was too big, too important, to let it go, but the risk—if he couldn’t prove his theory—would end his career.

Not could. Would.

Even tenure couldn’t save him if he ended up looking like a complete jackass. Turning away from the cliff, Nate grabbed his towel and soap. From the pale light in the sky, he had time for a quick wash-up before the photographer arrived.

And maybe enough time to figure out the approach he’d need to convince the rest of his department—and the world—that he’d found something so amazing, so unbelievable, it would change forever the way scientists looked at humanity’s movements in the New World.

Alex Martin watched the helicopter until it was no longer even a tiny speck in the early morning sky, until the pulsating thrump, thrump, thrump of its blades faded into the natural rhythms of the forest. She glanced at the mound of supplies and padded bags of expensive digital camera equipment piled at her feet, then turned and studied the silent campsite behind her.

Where the hell was he? That had to be the professor’s tent just beyond the fire pit, a small nylon dome shining bright blue in the early morning light, but there was no sign of Dr. Nathan Murdock. So far, she was less than impressed with the illustrious and much-renowned professor of antiquities and folklore. All she’d heard when she’d gotten the job was how lucky she was to have a chance to work with him.

You’d think the least he could do was be here to meet her, after only two days’ notice and explicit orders she be on site at the crack of dawn.

Alex spun slowly about, studying the unfamiliar surroundings that would be her home for the next six weeks. Tall pine and cedar trees bordered the secluded meadow on three sides. To the east, a rugged wall of rock thrust upward, dwarfing the huge trees.

The carvings must be there, somewhere near the top. What had Jessie called them? Prehistoric graffiti? She’d better not refer to them that way in front of the professor. When the anthropology department secretary at Berkeley had contacted Alex about the job, she'd said the petroglyphs were located near the top of a cliff, that whomever was hired needed to be comfortable with rock climbing and heights.

Other than that, though, there hadn’t been any specifics offered. Alex gazed at the sheer cliff rising high overhead. It would have been nice if the secretary had mentioned the climb was well over five hundred feet straight up a solid wall of what appeared to be granite.

Alex yawned and raised her arms over her head, linking her fingers to stretch the tired muscles in her back. She bent at the waist, touched the palms of her hands flat to the ground and looked between her knees at the pile of stuff she’d brought.

Changing the view and staring at the pile upside down didn't make the bags appear any smaller or lighter. Straightening her back and glancing again at the rugged face of rock didn’t make the climb look any easier. If anything, it looked worse as the sky grew brighter. She hadn't done any serious climbing for months, much less hauled camera gear hundreds of feet up a cliff.

Too late to back out now. Alex shivered, rubbing her hands over her flannel sleeves. What if Jessie was right?

It wouldn’t be the first time. She dragged her duffle bag and camera equipment closer to the campsite, kicking up small clouds of dust with her scuffed hiking boots.

The professor's tent sat near a carefully constructed stone fire pit. Two scarred cedar logs provided seating by the smoldering fire. A pot of coffee simmered over the hot coals.

The professor couldn't be far away. Cupping her hand to her mouth, she called out. "Dr. Murdock?"

Well, that sounded like a little kid looking for the monster in the closet. She cleared her throat and tried again, louder this time. "Dr. Murdock? It’s Alex Martin. Are you here?"

Jessie’s parting words popped into her head. Again. Honestly, Alex, I can't believe you're gonna spend six weeks in a tent with some guy you've never met. What if he's psychotic, or an ax murderer or has bad breath or something?

She'd just have to assume universities didn't give tenure to psychotics or ax murderers. Bad breath she could deal with. It wasn’t like she planned to kiss the old fart. And she'd brought her own tent.

She unrolled it and slipped the plastic tubes in place to form a small dome, and then pegged it securely to the ground next to—but not too close to—Murdock's tent.

The sun still hadn’t crested the mountains, but it was definitely light, and even though she never wore a watch, Alex knew it had to be after six. Where in the hell was the good doctor?

Curious, she stuck her head through the open flap on his tent and took a quick look. Everything was neatly in place, but nothing offered any clues about her new employer. Feeling guilty, she quickly backed away and glanced around the secluded meadow. Still no sign of him.

The way the secretary had talked about him, how well-respected he was, how many books he’d published and discoveries he’d made, the professor had to be at least in his sixties. Maybe even older. If her luck was running true to form he was probably old as the hills and lost in the woods.

A cartoon image of a cute little professor in short pants and pith helmet popped into her head.

Wishful thinking?

She should have asked the secretary what the guy was like beyond his credentials. She’d done a little research on him but hadn’t found a picture. He wasn’t on any social networking sites she’d checked, and she hadn’t been able to find out his age or whether he was married or single, straight or gay.

Not that it mattered.

After shoving her equipment through the open flap of her tent, Alex crawled inside and arranged her sleeping bag and gear. The sun must have broken over the mountains to the east, because the inside was beginning to feel like a sauna. She’d noticed their site would give them afternoon shade—as warm as it was beginning to feel, she decided to give Dr. Murdock points for a good campsite.

Wiping sweat from her forehead, she stripped off her warm flannel shirt and heavy blue jeans, slipped into a pair of worn sweats, grabbed a knapsack with her soap and towel, and then backed out of the small tent.

She’d checked out the campsite online and knew there was a good-sized creek nearby. The steady roar of falling water beckoned with the promise of a quick swim that should help wake her up a little better. After spending a sleepless night in a really seedy motel in order to get her morning flight, she figured it couldn’t hurt.

Heading along a well-used trail toward the sound of falling water, Alex glanced back at the two tents, one blue, one orange, sitting so close together. It looked terribly intimate, and she fixed the image of the cartoon professor firmly in her mind.

The least he could have done was be here to meet her. The helicopter pilot had assured Alex the professor was expecting her this morning, that he was anxious to get started after his original photographer had bailed out at the last minute.

Maybe the guy was a total jerk to work for. At least the project paid well, and she definitely needed the money.

And the recognition.

Muttering uneasily to herself, Alex headed down the well-worn trail in the direction of the creek. It suddenly dawned on her she was on her way to freshen up before meeting the man she'd be sleeping beside for the next six weeks.

Not that she was worried or anything. Just cautions. A woman always had to be cautious on jobs like this. Right?

She heard him first, off-key and high pitched, obviously trying to imitate Roy Orbison singing Pretty Woman, and failing miserably. Sheesh...the music definitely dated the guy. She added a little more gray to the visual, and while she couldn't see him on the overgrown trail, there was no way anyone could miss his voice. Alex paused a moment, then laughed when he cracked on the high note.

Still grinning, she rounded a sharp turn in the trail—and collided full on with a very large, very naked man.

"Oh God! I'm sorry, I didn't...." Alex recoiled and abruptly turned away.

But not fast enough. Seared on her retinas was a broad, heavily muscled chest with a narrow pattern of dark hair that narrowed below his naval to point quite emphatically at...shit, shit, shit. If this was Nathan Murdock, he was definitely male, and definitely nowhere close to doddering old professor status.

She slapped her hand over her mouth to clamp off a nervous giggle when she realized she hadn't even noticed his face.

"Who the hell are you?" The falsetto was gone and this guy sounded pissed.

Just who the hell did he think he was? "Excuse me? Public trail, here, right? National forest and all that." She straightened her spine. Who the hell did he think he was? King of the mountain?

She turned deliberately, holding out her right hand, looking directly into the darkest eyes she had ever seen. "I'm guessing you’re Dr. Nathan Murdock. I’m Alex Martin, your photographer. The woman you hired, Dr. Murdock. Unless you’ve forgotten the desperate request that I show up immediately. Before six in the morning. Which I did, except I got tired waiting for you, and decided a quick swim was in order. It was a long trip. Had to leave really early in the morning to get here on time."

At least she'd managed to keep her voice steady. Alex locked eyes with the man, willing herself not to drop her gaze to the tantalizing view below his chin. Of course anything would be better than his scowl. She wondered how he'd look if he ever calmed down.

Right now, his deeply set eyes were narrow, angry slits. His lips, which might have otherwise been attractive, were pressed tightly together and heavy eyebrows met in angry knots over a long, slightly crooked nose. His square jaw was clenched, but she could almost make out laugh lines. Almost. She really had to use her imagination on that one.

This wasn't working. Imagination could only accomplish so much, and he was obviously really pissed. Sort of how she felt. She continued holding her hand out to him, silently daring him to grasp her outstretched fingers.

It was a dare she didn't expect him to take. The man was still, after all, buck naked. Holding her chin higher, she willed her hand not to tremble, kept her eyes steady, and the thought intruded that if she could pull this off without getting fired, she might even figure out how to exit gracefully.

Sure. Like that’s gonna happen.

His sudden, unexpected touch startled her. She felt a sharp spasm race from fingertips to shoulder as his rough palm suddenly grazed, then grasped hers, and his long, callused fingers wrapped tightly around her smaller hand.

Locked doubly now, eyes and hands completed a circuit that held Alex immobile, frozen in time and space for a heartbeat. Fighting the sudden desire to pull away and end the contact, in fact to end the entire embarrassing episode, she clasped his hand tighter.

He was magnificent, standing tall and tan in front of her, and the moment stretched on forever, though in reality, lasted only seconds.

She was absolutely beautiful, and Nate fought a silent struggle to control his suddenly active libido. It wasn't easy to ignore the fact that while he was standing here shaking hands with the sexiest woman he'd ever seen, he was also bare assed.

Obviously there’d been a mistake. The man he'd hired to document the petroglyphs was an experienced Pulitzer Prize winning photo-journalist, and this woman was no sixty year old man. Late twenties maybe. Very definitely female. Easily five ten or better with nut-brown skin, brilliant blue eyes and a tousled mass of black hair falling loosely to her waist. Tall and proud, she dared him to cover himself, dared him with a look that chilled him and sent fire through his veins in the same instant.

Her lips twitched and Nate saw a twinkle in the blue eyes that held him captive. Then she lost it completely. Pulling her hand free from his grasp she covered her mouth in a worthless attempt to stop the laughter that suddenly exploded, full and throaty and uninhibited.

Still laughing, she turned her back and Nate grabbed his towel off the tree branch. He wrapped it tightly around his waist, libido abruptly extinguished. The thought flashed through his mind that Miss Manners probably wouldn't consider laughter a polite response in this particular situation.

The damned woman kept laughing! At least her shoulders were shaking, even if she did seem to be fighting for control. Nate took a couple of deep breaths, aware his own lips were beginning to twitch. Talk about feeling ridiculous!

"I'm sorry. Really." Gasping for air, the woman grabbed a large white handkerchief out of her sweatshirt pocket. Still giggling, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. "Look," she said, can we try this again?" She started to turn back to him, then halted. "You are decent now, aren't you?"

"I'm always decent," he insisted, reaching for his last shred of dignity. "I just wasn't dressed. You can turn around now."

Alex liked this softer version of his voice, warm and deep without the anger. She turned, hand outstretched from long habit. She retracted it immediately when she realized he was using his right hand to hold a very small pink towel around his lean hips.

Somehow, the towel made him look even more naked than before. A dark flush spread across her face and neck. She looked somewhere off to the right of his left ear, past the long auburn hair that curled damply to his shoulders. "Look," she said, struggling to keep her voice matter-of-fact, "it's obvious you've already bathed, so why don't I just meet you back at camp after I clean up? I’ve had a long night and a very early wake-up call."

“Okay.” He stretched the word and she could tell that he was fighting to keep his lips from curving into a smile. "I guess we can save the formal introductions for later." He picked up a small knapsack hanging from a nearby branch, almost losing his towel in the process. He fumbled with the towel a moment then headed back up the trail, obviously trying to look nonchalant and failing miserably.

Alex couldn't stop grinning as she stole a quick glance at her new employer. The tiny pink towel molded his lean hips, dark hair covered his long, muscular legs, and rubber flip flops flapped and slapped against the soles of his feet. She contemplated describing the scene to Jessie, right down to the man's wonderfully broad shoulders and gorgeous rear end.

Maybe she'd leave out the part about the flip flops.

As soon as he disappeared around the curve in the trail, Alex undressed and rinsed off in the freezing mountain creek. The sun was well above the eastern plateau by the time she stretched out on her belly on a warm flat rock at the water's edge. Leaning over, she rinsed her long hair in the swiftly running stream, soaking up the sun's rays that quickly heated her back.

The air was cool, but the sunlight felt good against her bare skin. She lay there a moment, wondering about the man, why he'd been so shocked by her presence. Other than the obvious, of course. She giggled, picturing the pink towel.

“Crap!” She scrambled into a sitting position. What if that wasn’t Nathan Murdock? The man hadn’t given his name. She shivered as a chill raced along her spine, then just as quickly she relaxed. That had to be Dr. Murdock. The pilot wouldn't have taken her to the wrong campsite.

Maybe she wasn't quite what Murdock expected. Alex grinned, wringing the water out of her long hair. Professor Murdock definitely wasn't what she expected! But what if Jessie was right? What if this job was a mistake? She'd certainly tried to argue Alex out of coming.

Of course, Jessie liked to argue about everything. They'd been raised as sisters, and they certainly fought like sisters, but this disagreement had been worse than usual. Staring into the swirling water, Alex thought about their argument.

She’d been trying to convince Jessie just how much she needed this assignment. How else was she ever going to get her reputation back?

A job like this—high profile work with a reputable professor—could go a long way toward fixing the whole mess.

As usual, Jessie had disagreed. "The studio's finally coming together. We've got at least two months of remodeling before we can open and—"

"And you're perfectly capable of handling it." Alex had refused to budge. Okay. So Jessie was worried about her. What else was new? Why couldn't Jessie see she had to do this? The professor at UC Berkeley didn't want to hire the great Alexander Martin. His secretary had called the studio and specifically requested Alex. Alex had done her best to try and convince Jessie how important this was to her career, but Jessie wouldn't even listen.

"It always comes down to your father, doesn't it?”

Alex had never seen her so angry, especially when she’d gotten right in Alex’s face and practically yelled at her.

“When are you gonna quit competing with him?” She’d practically sneered when she said added, “You can't win! The man's a cheat and a liar. My god, he stole your work, and you keep making excuses for him.”

Then she’d slammed her fist down on the worn countertop, and looked Alex straight in the eyes. "The man's a bastard!" she’d said. “He’s not worth it.”

Alex shuddered, the pain from Jessie's harsh words still fresh, but Alex knew she was just as guilty of fighting dirty. She’d been oh, so controlled when she’d replied, "I don't want to argue, especially about my father. Besides, it's common knowledge that if you're going to call anyone a bastard, that would be me."

Ashamed, Jessie had burst into tears.

Bastard.

It was such an ugly word. A terrible burden to give an innocent child. Alex wondered if she'd ever be able to lay it down. She knew that it really wasn’t that big a deal, not in today’s world, but when she’d been small, she’d heard it often enough. Alexander’s poor little bastard. She was nobody’s poor anything, but the pain never seemed to lessen. Still, Jessie's angry words had awakened long buried questions.

Staring into the clear waters of the creek, Alex wondered again about the unwed seventeen year old girl who had died giving her life. She knew so little about her mother, a woman whose Mayan Indian heritage was stamped strongly upon her own features.

Was that why her father had never married her mother? Because she was Indian? Alex wondered if she'd ever know the truth. Wondered what her life might have been like if things had been different.

But they weren't, and she'd learned long ago that wishing for what might have been didn't solve a thing. Leave it to Jessie to reawaken painful memories best forgotten.

Dammit! Jessie could manage the remodeling, and by the time this job was finished, the studio would be almost ready to open.

Jessie accused her of being a control freak. Alex had to agree. Win or lose, at least her future was in her own hands.

Her mother obviously hadn't had that choice.

Now she was dead.

Unlike her mother, Alex Martin's life was controlled by no man.

She felt his presence before she saw him. Turning quickly, she grabbed a towel to cover her nudity. He stood not ten feet away, fully dressed, watching her, holding two cups of coffee.

"I thought you might like a cup," he offered casually. A broad smile creased his face and he held the steaming mug out to her. He acted as if seeing her naked was an everyday occurrence.

His cavalier attitude angered Alex more than it embarrassed her, but she knew immediately why he was here. Typical, she thought, the way men always need to even the score.

"You might have waited until I finished bathing." Alex's voice trembled with anger, infuriating her even more. What if he took the audible quiver in her words as a sign of weakness? She grabbed her sweats and glared pointedly in Nathan's direction.

He didn't move. Alex ignored the coffee he offered. "Do you mind?" she hissed, clutching the towel and the folded bundle of sweats close against her body.

"Mind what?"

His wide-eyed innocent look goaded her even further, and Alex recognized the precise moment when temper overrode common sense. She glanced at the fist-sized rocks along the streambed, and thought longingly of the kind of damage she would love to do.

But she had other weapons.

Proudly she stood up and dropped the towel, giving Nate an unhurried look at her long legs, small breasts and the dark thatch at her center. She glared at him, letting him feel her anger. Then, very slowly, she proceeded to dress.

What had he been thinking, to pull such a childish stunt?

Nathan stared, transfixed, as she carefully pulled her sweatpants on, and then slipped the worn sweatshirt over her head. She didn't say a word. She didn't have to...her blazing eyes spoke volumes.

This wasn't quite what he'd expected, but earlier she'd sent him off feeling embarrassed and foolish. Coming back to catch her at her bath seemed like a perfectly acceptable way to even the score.

But by the time she pushed her long black hair out of her eyes and tossed it back over her shoulders, Nate's mouth was dry. When she stepped close, reached out with one slender hand and silently accepted the coffee mug still clenched in his trembling fingers, he could hardly resist the urge to wipe the sweat beading his upper lip.

As she took the cup, Nate made a strategic decision to beat a hasty retreat back to camp. Gritting his teeth in angry frustration he turned away and stomped along the brushy trail, muttering to himself as he shoved the rich green foliage out of his way.

He wasn't certain who she was or what she was doing here, but there was no denying the fact his body was achingly aware of every curve and line of her dusky figure. Her small, firm breasts with their dark nipples beaded from the morning chill, the sleek line of her torso and the perfect curve from small waist to rounded hip to long, long legs. And all that thick, glorious hair, sleekly wet now, combed back from her fascinating face, hanging long enough to curl around her hips.

It was bad enough that she didn't belong here. It was even worse she had interrupted his morning bath. But the last straw, the thing that really ticked him off, was the fact he was responding deep in his gut not to her almost primitive beauty, but to something as unprovocative as the sound of her footsteps stamping angrily behind him along the trail that led to camp.

Carved in Stone is a very unique story with quite a few twists and turns, I was fascinated to find that both the lead characters are flawed, they have a past and things aren't as wonderful as you would hope them to be. I really enjoyed the build of the plot of course for me personally I was hooked from the beginning when I found that I got to go along with an archeological experience, the fact that Kate managed to add paranormal in the mix was outstanding.
Ever full of surprises I wasn't expecting the ending to turn out the way it did but I also liked that there was redemption to be found.
Carved in Stone is exciting, suspenseful, realistic with a whole new up do!
I look forward to reading more works like this in the very near future!

Until next time book lovers...

Krissys Bookshelf Reviews received a digital copy in exchange for an honest review. 

All thoughts, comments and ratings are my own.

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