Only in My Dreams Read online

  “It’s the only thing I can do.” Kyle shoved his remorse aside. It sounded like she might blame herself, but so did he. Hell, every person in their family carried a hefty piece of guilt. If he’d been here, maybe he would’ve seen something to indicate his state of mind. His sister Sara, who had been here, insisted that wouldn’t have been possible.

  “I don’t think that’s true. I think you honor Alex by coming back here, by rejoining your family.” She glanced at him nervously. “If that’s what you’re doing. I don’t mean to presume.”

  “Keep your therapy to yourself. It didn’t help Alex, and I don’t want what you’re selling, doctor.” He set his hands on his hips, his forefingers dipping into the pockets of his jeans. “I want those drug dealers, whoever they are, to pay.”

  She stood and crossed her arms across her chest again, as if they could provide some sort of defense against his anger. “I told you already that I can’t help you with that.”

  “Did he talk to the psychiatrist here?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t even work here then. I had my own practice in Ribbon Ridge.”

  “Which you conveniently shut down after Alex died.”

  “I was devastated.” She flicked him an uneasy glance and edged closer to her desk. “I think you should go.”

  “I’m not finished.”

  Her gaze turned stoic. “I’ll call security if I have to.”

  “Security? Do you feel threatened?”

  She tightened her arms around herself. “I don’t feel comfortable.”

  “Then welcome to our hell.” He pulled out the business card he’d stashed in his front pocket. He dropped the creased rectangle on her desk. The Archer logo with its A shaped into a bow and arrow stared up from the face. “Call me when you have information to share—and don’t tell me you don’t have anything. You talked to my brother—what, every week for nearly a year? I’m sure you’ll think of something that can help me.” He speared her with an icy glare. “It’s the least you can do.”

  Her look of remorse did nothing to ease his frustration at walking away empty-handed, but he hoped she’d come around. She had to have something that could help him track down the person—or people—who’d provided Alex with the means to kill himself. If she didn’t . . . He refused to go down that path.

  He turned and strode from her office, leaving the door ajar as he went. Her assistant was in the corridor. “Finished already?” she asked.

  “For now,” he said darkly, not bothering to adjust his tone.

  A half hour later, he walked into the headquarters of Archer Enterprises on the southwestern edge of Ribbon Ridge. Home to nearly fifty employees, it oversaw operations of nine brewpubs and countless real estate endeavors. The two-story building, designed to Dad’s specifications about eight years prior, sprawled at the edge of wine country with epic views. Yet stepping inside never failed to jolt Kyle with uneasiness. He was filling in for his younger brother Hayden while he was on a yearlong leave of absence making wine in France. And Kyle was, as everyone liked to point out, no Hayden.

  Nodding at the receptionist as he passed, he took the central curving staircase up to the second floor. Hayden’s—rather, Kyle’s—office was toward the southeast corner, situated between his dad and Derek Sumner, the two people who currently despised him most. Altogether, the work environment was awesome.

  The executive assistant he shared with Derek looked up at him as he approached. “Hey, Kyle. How was your lunch?”

  Natalie Frobish was young, attractive, and worked like a fiend. She was the first person there in the morning and the last one who left at night. She’d only been with Archer two years—since graduating from nearby Williver College—but both Dad and Derek constantly remarked how Archer would be lost without her. Kyle was pretty sure Dad wanted to promote her to his assistant when his retired next year. But it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see Natalie had ambition, and Kyle thought her upward mobility at Archer would move her out of the executive assistant category before that could happen.

  “It was fine.” He hadn’t told anyone he’d planned to ambush Dr. Trent. Better to keep his plans to himself until he had something important to share. He hoped he’d have something important to share—and soon.

  Natalie gestured for him to come around her desk, which was tucked behind a counter at which she greeted those who visited the executive wing.

  Since she was being a bit secretive, Kyle glanced around, but the office was quiet. Dad’s assistant, Paula, was out to lunch, and Dad’s office door was closed. Derek, who was CFO, didn’t seem to be about either. Kyle stepped around to where Natalie was sitting. “What’s up?” he asked quietly.

  Her dark eyes—maybe a shade lighter than Dr. Trent’s—found his and she pointed at her computer screen, which showed a large bouquet of flowers. “Paula and I were thinking of sending these to Emily from Rob.”

  Mom had gone to France with Hayden almost two months ago. Things had seemed a bit strained between her and Dad, and they all hoped this separation would help both of them heal. Alex’s death had taken a pretty hefty toll on them. Kyle had spoken to Mom several times and she sounded better, more relaxed. Dad, however, was as tense and short-tempered as ever. It was like he just didn’t want to deal with the grief at all, so he shoved it away. Since he was already pissed at Kyle from four years ago, their relationship was as uneasy as ever. Helping Dad find some closure with Alex’s death had prompted Kyle to track down how Alex had obtained the drugs he’d used to kill himself. And scoring some points in the meantime wouldn’t be a bad thing.

  Kyle looked at the beautiful flower arrangement. “It’s a nice sentiment, but I wouldn’t do it. I’m not sure how things are between them.” They’d find out when Mom came home in a few weeks for Derek’s wedding.

  Natalie nodded. “Okay, it was just a thought.”

  Kyle moved back around to the other side of her desk. “And a good one. Just maybe not right now.” Dad was so uptight all of the time—Kyle and his siblings were all worried about him.

  Dad’s office door opened. His slate-gray eyes landed on Kyle. “I thought I heard you.”

  “Hey, Dad.” Though they had yet to discuss Kyle’s departure four years ago, Kyle knew it was coming at some point. Dad was still pissed that Kyle hadn’t accepted the job he’d offered and Kyle was still frustrated with how his Dad had meddled in his life. And if he were truly honest with himself, he was ashamed too. A conversation would happen someday, preferably when Dad was in a more positive mental state.

  “Come in here for a minute.” Dad turned from the door and went back behind his desk. When Kyle came in, he said, “Shut the door.”

  Uh-oh, Kyle thought as his dad sat down. Kyle didn’t want to sit so he stood in the center of the office and folded his arms over his chest. “What’s up?”

  Dad glanced at the chair, registered that Kyle wasn’t going to get comfortable, and briefly pressed his lips together. “Have you and Derek nailed down the details for our booth at the Ribbon Ridge Festival?”

  “Nearly.” Though it was taking forever since they were communicating almost entirely by email.

  “You know, things might happen faster if you and Derek actually talked.”

  Probably, but the rift between Kyle and his former best friend was deep. He imagined they would’ve lost touch entirely if Derek hadn’t moved in with the Archers during their senior year of high school when his mother died, subsequently becoming the de facto eighth Archer sibling. Now Derek was as much a part of their family as Kyle. And, like the situation with Dad, Kyle didn’t think they could ignore the past forever. But he was fine doing it for now. Better than fine. “Hey, don’t blame me.”

  Dad leaned back in his chair, his gaze cool with skepticism. “So if Derek came to you tomorrow and said, ‘Let’s start over, forget what happened four years ago,’ you’d drop whatever grudge you’re holding and move on?”

  Derek had betrayed him. He owed Kyle an apology
and it was never going to come. Fuck it. “We’ll take care of it.” Kyle’s response was clipped. He itched to turn and leave.

  “How? I want to know how you’re going to improve your working relationship at least. When I agreed to let you fill in for Hayden, I expected you to behave professionally.”

  Kyle dropped his arms to his sides. “Haven’t I? If you have an issue with how I’ve performed, I’d like to hear it.” Kyle hadn’t known the first thing really about being a chief operating officer, but Hayden had been very helpful, even from France. Kyle had worked harder than he’d ever worked in his life to try to prove himself, and he was sick of taking the brunt of Dad’s grief and anger. “When are you going to cut me some slack?”

  “When you’re ready to talk about what happened before you ran off.” Dad set his forearms on his desk, which had become far more cluttered than Kyle ever remembered it being. “You never even thanked me.”

  The familiar resentment gathered in Kyle’s chest, made him grit his teeth. “Because I didn’t ask for your help. I had things under control.”

  Dad’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t, and the fact that you still don’t realize that is why I don’t cut you any slack.”

  Kyle threw up his hands. “I guess my coming back and participating in Alex’s project and taking over for Hayden didn’t earn me any points at all.” He turned to go.

  “You say you’re back, but for how long?” Dad asked quietly. “You need to regain my trust, Kyle. You need to regain everyone’s trust. And you’re not going to do that if you don’t actually engage and really come back.”

  What more could he do? He was afraid he knew the answer, but he wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. “I am back, Dad, and I’m doing the best I can. Too bad it’s never been enough.”

  About the Author

  DARCY BURKE is the USA Today bestselling author of hot, action-packed historical and sexy, emotional contemporary romance. Darcy wrote her first book at age eleven, a happily ever after about a swan addicted to magic and the female swan that loved him, with exceedingly poor illustrations.

  A native Oregonian, Darcy lives on the edge of wine country with her devoted husband, their two great kids, and two Bengal cats. In her “spare” time, Darcy is a serial volunteer enrolled in a twelve-step program where one learns to say “no,” but she keeps having to start over. She’s also a fair-weather runner, and her happy places are Disneyland and Labor Day weekend at the Gorge.

  Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

  By Darcy Burke

  CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

  Ribbon Ridge

  Where the Heart Is (a prequel Christmas novella)

  Only In My Dreams

  Coming soon

  Yours to Hold

  When Love Happens

  HISTORICAL ROMANCE

  Secrets and Scandals

  Her Wicked Ways

  His Wicked Heart

  To Seduce a Scoundrel

  To Love a Thief (a novella)

  Never Love a Scoundrel

  Scoundrel Ever After

  Regency Treasure Hunters

  The de Valery Code

  Romancing the Earl (winter 2015)

  Raiders of the Lost Heart (2015)

  The Legacy of an Extraordinary Gentleman (2016)

  Give in to your impulses . . .

  Read on for a sneak peek at seven brand-new

  e-book original tales of romance from HarperCollins.

  Available now wherever e-books are sold.

  VARIOUS STATES OF UNDRESS: GEORGIA

  By Laura Simcox

  MAKE IT LAST

  A BOWLER UNIVERSITY NOVEL

  By Megan Erickson

  HERO BY NIGHT

  BOOK THREE: INDEPENDENCE FALLS

  By Sara Jane Stone

  MAYHEM

  By Jamie Shaw

  SINFUL REWARDS 1

  A BILLIONAIRES AND BIKERS NOVELLA

  By Cynthia Sax

  FORBIDDEN

  AN UNDER THE SKIN NOVEL

  By Charlotte Stein

  HER HIGHLAND FLING

  A NOVELLA

  By Jennifer McQuiston

  An Excerpt from

  VARIOUS STATES OF UNDRESS: GEORGIA

  by Laura Simcox

  Laura Simcox concludes her fun, flirty Various States of Undress series with a presidential daughter, a hot baseball player, and a tale of love at the ballgame.

  “Uh. Hi.”

  Georgia splayed her hand over the front of her wet blouse and stared. The impossibly tanned guy standing just inside the doorway—wearing a tight T-shirt, jeans, and a smile—was as still as a statue. A statue with fathomless, unblinking chocolate brown eyes. She let her gaze drop from his face to his broad chest. “Oh. Hello. I was expecting someone else.”

  He didn’t comment, but when she lifted her gaze again, past his wide shoulders and carved chin, she watched his smile turn into a grin, revealing way-too-sexy brackets at the corners of his mouth. He walked down the steps and onto the platform where she stood. He had to be at least 6’3”, and testosterone poured off him like heat waves on the field below. She shouldn’t stare at him, right? Damn. Her gaze flicked from him to the glass wall but moved right back again.

  “Scared of heights?” he asked. His voice was a slow, deep Southern drawl. Sexy deep. “Maybe you oughta sit down.”

  “No, thanks. I was just . . . looking for something.”

  Looking for something? Like what—a tryst with a stranger in the press box? Her face heated, and she clutched the water bottle, the plastic making a snapping sound under her fingers. “So . . . how did you get past my agents?”

  He smiled again. “They know who I am.”

  “And you are?”

  “Brett Knox.”

  His name sounded familiar. “Okay. I’m Georgia Fulton. It’s nice to meet you,” she said, putting down her water.

  He shook her hand briefly. “You, too. But I just came up here to let you know that I’m declining the interview. Too busy.”

  Georgia felt herself nodding in agreement, even as she realized exactly who Brett Knox was. He was the star catcher—and right in front of her, shooting her down before she’d even had a chance to ask. Such a typical jock.

  “I’m busy, too, which is why I’d like to set up a time that’s convenient for both of us,” she said, even though she hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. But she couldn’t very well walk into the news station without accomplishing what she’d been tasked with—pinning him down. Georgia was a team player. So was Brett, literally.

  “I don’t want to disappoint my boss, and I’m betting you feel the same way about yours,” she continued.

  “Sure. I sign autographs, pose for photos, visit Little League teams. Like I said, I’m busy.”

  “That’s nice.” She nodded. “I’m flattered that you found the time to come all the way up to the press box and tell me, in person, that you don’t have time for an interview. Thanks.”

  He smiled a little. “You’re welcome.” Then he stretched, his broad chest expanding with the movement. He flexed his long fingers, braced a hand high on the post, and grinned at her again. Her heart flipped down into her stomach. Oh, no.

  “I get it, you know. I’ve posed for photos and signed autographs, too. I’ve visited hospitals and ribbon cutting ceremonies, and I know it makes people happy. But public appearances can be draining, and it takes time away from work. Right?”

  “Right.” He gave her a curious look. “We have that in common, though it’s not exactly the same. I may be semi-famous in Memphis, but I don’t have paparazzi following me around, and I like it that way. You interviewing me would turn into a big hassle.”

  “I won’t take much of your time. Just think of me as another reporter.” She ventured a warm, inviting smile, and Brett’s dark eyes widened. “The paparazzi don’t follow me like they do my sisters. I’m the boring one.”

  “Really?” He folded his arms across his lean
middle, and his gaze traveled slowly over her face.

  She felt her heart speed up. “Yes, really.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  Before she could respond, he gave her another devastating smile and jogged up the steps. It was the best view she’d had all day. When Brett disappeared, she collapsed back against the post. He was right, of course. She wasn’t just another reporter; she was the president’s brainy daughter—who secretly lusted after athletes. And she’d just met a hell of an athlete.

  Talk about a hot mess.

  An Excerpt from

  MAKE IT LAST

  A Bowler University Novel

  by Megan Erickson

  The last installment in Megan Erickson’s daringly sexy Bowler University series finds Cam Ruiz back in his hometown of Paradise, where he comes face-to-face with the only girl he ever loved.

  Cam sighed, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on his shoulders. But if he didn’t help his mom, who would?

  He jingled his keys in his pocket and turned to walk toward his truck. It was nice of Max and Lea to visit him on their road trip. College had been some of the best years of his life. Great friends, fun parties, hot girls.

  But now it felt like a small blip, like a week vacation instead of three and a half years. And now he was right back where he started.

  As he walked by the alley beside the restaurant, something flickered out of the corner of his eye.

  He turned and spotted her legs first. One foot bent at the knee and braced on the brick wall, the other flat on the ground. Her head was bent, a curtain of hair blocking her face. But he knew those legs. He knew those hands. And he knew that hair, a light brown that held just a glint of strawberry in the sun. He knew by the end of August it’d be lighter and redder and she’d laugh about that time she put lemon juice in it. It’d backfired and turned her hair orange.

  The light flickered again but it was something weird and artificial, not like the menthols she had smoked. Back when he knew her.