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  Three Dates

  Grahame Claire

  Three Dates (Paths To Love, Book Two) Grahame Claire

  Copyright © 2018 Grahame Claire

  Thank you for reading and reviewing this book. It is illegal to distribute or sell this copy in any form. All rights reserved. No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the express written permission of the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Edited by Angela Houle.

  Cover by Hang Le.

  Ebook ISBN: 978-0-9974728-1-3

  For those who face their fears.

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Epilogue

  Enjoy this book?

  Bonus Book

  Book Stuff

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Grahame Claire

  About the Author

  Prologue

  “Be brave, Camila. When you make it through this hell, you will find paradise.”

  Dark eyes held the promise I had no choice but to believe. My brother shifted from foot to foot as I ran my fingers along the wall of corrugated steel and traced the hole cut into the metal. Just large enough for fresh air. He glanced back once, then again, reaching behind him and patting his lower back.

  Silently, he gripped my shoulder, urging me toward the back corner where a large space had been carved out among the boxes. A bag bigger than the one I carried sat swollen on the floor.

  I had food, water, tissue, and hope that had to last until I made it to safety. Nothing could be worse than staying put. Nothing.

  My brother kept his hand on his back. Sweat beaded his brow as he did a sweep of the space. He looked toward the door and then back to me. He was sending me to my salvation or my death, but either alternative was better than what I was leaving behind.

  I threw my arms around his waist, hugging him hard. He briefly returned my embrace, and I felt the gun tucked into his waistband. I sat when he applied pressure and stowed my bag under my bent knees so I could feel it within reach. He touched my head, a myriad of emotions in his eyes, the most evident of which was his resolve to see this through. We both realized this was likely the last time we’d ever see one another. I couldn’t cry; emotion was a luxury I could no longer afford. Numbness was the key to survival.

  I nodded once—a goodbye and an acceptance of my fate. Worry settled in his eyes, along with regret. I touched his hand in reassurance. He wasn’t to blame.

  After a long moment, he turned to go, rushing down the wall of boxes to the light. With a loud creak, the light disappeared. A shifting of metal as the lock was secured told me there was no escape.

  Pressing my eye to my small window to the world, I saw the sea and the setting sun, and I prayed God would never make me return to this place, even if it killed me.

  Chapter One

  Muriella

  I’d never been on a date.

  In my thirty-six years, I’d perfected the art of saying no. I could make rejection feel like a victory of sorts for potential suitors, and that’s the way I wanted it. I preferred to let them down easily. It wasn’t their fault I didn’t trust men.

  But my spotless track record of rejection had come to a screeching halt. No, I hadn’t finally decided to try something new. I’d been blackmailed into a date—three dates actually—with the hope of bringing my family back together.

  I heaved out a sigh. Blackmail was a strong way of putting it. Nobody had forced me into this. It was simply easier for me to think in those terms.

  “You’re wearing a hole in that dishtowel.”

  Vivian flashed me a mischievous grin. I scowled as I continued to run the fabric with ‘Happy Thanksgiving’ embroidered on it between my fingers.

  “This is your fault.” I paused long enough to point at her.

  My best friend batted her lashes. “I know.”

  “If I didn’t love you and Daniel more than life itself, this wouldn’t be happening.”

  “And if I didn’t love you more than life itself, I’d have figured out a way to let you off the hook.”

  Despite her somewhat normal demeanor, red, puffy eyes gave away the hell we’d been through the previous night. My fingers flexed in the towel. I hadn’t been that frightened in years.

  Daniel’s business associates had broken into our home, tied me to a chair, and held me at gunpoint.

  My wrists still burned where the ropes had bound them. When I’d entered Vivian’s and Daniel’s apartment, for a split second I believed I’d been discovered. Fear that I’d have to go back to him consumed me, until I realized the two men who had tied me to a chair were using me to get to Daniel. For a moment, I’d actually felt relieved, until I remembered that I was still tied up with a gun pointed at my head.

  Daniel had protected me since I was a girl, but he’d let these people into our home, into our lives. His businesses were complicated, and we had an unspoken understanding I’d leave it be. But to have had no warning of what could happen if things went wrong was a shock to the system. So many old anxieties—well, terrors actually—had been unearthed by this violent intrusion. Coupled with this impending date, I was struggling to keep myself together.

  I opened my mouth to tell Vivian I couldn’t go through with it, but the doorbell chimed before any words escaped. She skipped off toward the foyer.

  I white-knuckled the towel braided through my fingers. I’d s
urvived far worse things than this, but somehow that knowledge didn’t undo the knot in my stomach.

  It was just Stone Jacobs. A man I’d known six years. A man I’d found to be kind, charming, easy-going, and well, pretty much perfect.

  Three dates with a friend. No problem, right?

  Vivian bounced back into the kitchen. Stone strolled in behind her all long legs and lop-sided smile.

  Wrong. This was a big problem.

  I dug my fingernails into my palm when our eyes locked. I’d seen this man a thousand times. We’d shared meals, vacations, and important moments. But today was different.

  I’d become a master at pretending he didn’t affect me, but I couldn’t steady my nerves. The dishtowel was threaded so tightly between my fingers, I thought they might break.

  My throat went dry. He hardly ever wore anything other than jeans, but the way they molded to his legs spelled trouble and pulled my mind in a direction it did not need to go. The dark chocolate plaid snap-button shirt was new. Not that I took stock of his wardrobe…much.

  Country-cool, he sauntered around the island in my kitchen until he stood next to me. I stopped breathing and refused to turn toward him. I pleaded with my eyes to Vivian for her to not make me go through with this. If I did, something fundamental would change. I liked my life. It was constant and certain. But now the ground was shifting beneath me, and I couldn’t get my footing.

  “You’re breathtaking, darlin’.”

  I swayed into the counter. This was bad. So very bad. I struggled to get my reaction to him under control. “Hello, Stone.” The words came out stiff, a betrayal of my anxiety.

  I chanced a look in his direction in time to see his expression soften. He reached for me, but dropped his arm when he thought better of it. Touching was a hard limit for me except with Vivian and Daniel.

  Vivian clapped her hands, and I jumped at the noise, wary when she rounded the island.

  “As much fun as this is, you two’d better get going.” She placed my small hand in his large, warm, callused one, and everything stopped.

  I stared at the place where we were joined. New desires and old fears clawed to the surface. I yanked my hand away. Vivian’s mouth dropped open. Stone’s flattened.

  “I can’t do this.” My chin quivered, but I held his gaze.

  He cocked his head. “I held up my end of the deal. You aren’t backing out on me, are you?”

  Chapter Two

  Stone

  Close.

  We were so damn close I could taste it. But Muriella was retreating into a corner fast, and if I didn’t do something, this date I’d waited six years for wasn’t going to happen.

  Vivian shot me a helpless look, but I kept my cool…on the exterior at least.

  That dishtowel Muriella clutched like a lifeline was so tight around her delicate fingers, the fabric was stretched to the point of ripping. She was scared. I got that. But I knew if she’d just give me a chance, I could take all her fears away. I’d coerced her into the dates in the first place by playing on her devotion to Vivian and Daniel. It was low of me to only agree to help Vivian make Daniel jealous if Muriella would go on three dates with me. I knew full well she wasn’t too keen on the idea, but I’d seen it as maybe the best chance I’d ever get. Maybe I’d pushed too far. Too soon. It was all I could do not to snort at that. We’d waited long enough.

  Or maybe this was about last night. I boiled every time I remembered the sight of her tied up, gun held to her head. Out of all of us, she’d been the most brave through the whole thing. I’d hardly slept after, that image engraved on my mind. What should’ve been a night of anticipation for this date had become one of consuming anger tinged with a fear I couldn’t shake.

  I’d lost count of how many times I’d gotten up, phone in hand, to demand Daniel tell me where I could find those sons of bitches and show them what a mistake they’d made ever laying a finger on her. One quick pull. That was all that had separated life and death for Muriella. One. Pull.

  The whole damned fiasco had reinforced one thing for sure: I couldn’t lose her.

  My feelings for her were solid. I’d always been sure of them, but seeing her like that had set them in concrete. Knowing we had been an instant away from never getting to this very point had strengthened my resolve to see where this thing between us could go. We’d lost so much time. Going on this date today wasn’t ideal timing, but if Muriella had her way, there’d be no such thing. If I thought she was so skittish because she truly wasn’t interested, I’d have dropped the whole thing in a New York minute. But we’d been doing this dance a long time, and I was pretty sure there was something there for her too. The wall she’d put up to protect herself had nothing to do with me. I was a patient man, and come hell or high water, I intended to get through that wall.

  Muriella stared at the granite countertop, but no tears fell. That was a positive sign.

  Gently, I tugged on the end of the dishtowel. She cut her eyes over to me. A deep mocha color that was anything but ordinary, they were magnetic. A maze to get lost in. That’s what those eyes did to me.

  “You’re gonna break your fingers or rip this towel in two. I haven’t decided which will happen first.” I pried the fabric from her hands and tossed it on the counter, out of her reach.

  “Talk to me. Tell me what’s the problem.”

  Her nostrils flared. “You know what the problem is.”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t have asked.”

  “I can’t go on a date with you,” she said as she leveled me with her gaze. “I don’t want to.”

  I was a pretty confident guy, but that shot had me wanting to reach for the dishtowel myself. I took a moment to steady my racing thoughts. I’d been in quite a few tricky situations over the years. None had ever made me this nervous.

  “I see,” I finally said, not bothering to hide the hurt in my voice. “If you don’t want to go on a date, I can’t make you. But could you at least give me the courtesy of an explanation?”

  “I—” She tapped her foot. “It’s just not a good idea.”

  Vivian discreetly nudged me in the back as if to say do something.

  “I was hoping for a little more than that, but if that’s all you can give, then that’s all you can give.”

  Her lips parted, her tongue played peek-a-boo with me in the corner of her mouth. The woman was trying to kill me, testing all my patience and restraint in one sitting.

  I flattened my palm against the counter to keep from snatching her into my arms and kissing some sense into her. We’d never recover from a setback like that, but her sexy mouth was inspiring dangerous thoughts that I only seemed to have around her.

  “I’m sorry you wasted your time.” Her shoulders drooped. “I’m sorry I couldn’t hold up my end of the deal. If there’s any other way I can make it up to you…”

  I shook my head. “Sorry. But three dates is the only thing I want.” For now, I added in my head.

  Vivian opened her mouth like she wanted to say something and then thought better of it. I adored her, and certainly could’ve used a little help, but what she’d say was a wildcard. I liked to deal in certainties.

  I tapped the stone countertop a few times with my index finger. “Tell you what,” I said, like I was getting ready to compromise. “Let’s not call it a date. How about calling it lunch? We’ve done that plenty of times.”

  “Not alone,” she said quickly.

  “Actually, that’s not completely true. Remember that terrace in Capri? The one that overlooked the ocean, was bigger than the house.”

  “There were supposed to be three bedrooms, but one was a home gym.”

  I pointed at her. “That’s the one.” Her face pinched at what I was certain was a memory of that discovery. “We ate every meal out on the terrace.”

  “With Vivian and Daniel,” she insisted.

  “Except one afternoon. They started lunch with us, but excused themselves before they finished the meal.” I winked
at Vivian, whose cheeks turned pink. “Neither one of us went back inside for three hours.” I pointed back and forth between Muriella and me. “So we had three-quarters of a lunch all alone. It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

  She chewed on her lip. “That doesn’t count.”

  I clutched my chest. “You wound me. Here I thought we’d had a nice time.”

  She looked at me apologetically. “We did. But you know it’s not the same as this.”

  “I don’t see why not. Only thing that’s different is the geography.”

  She glanced to Vivian, who was suspiciously quiet, and then back to me. “I—”

  I cut off whatever objection she was about to put up. “How about if you start having a rotten time with me, then we call Vivian and she can join us?”

  That lip went back between her teeth. I’d had plenty of wary horses eye me the way she was now. Sometimes things went my way. Sometimes they didn’t.

  “You’d do that, wouldn’t you, V?” I lifted an encouraging brow, and she nodded enthusiastically.