Just
the Way You Are
By: Beverly Barton
NOW AVAILABLE
Zebra Books
ABOUT THE BOOK~
The South sizzles in New York Times
bestselling author Beverly Barton’s sultry tale of a woman torn between two
brothers…
Mary
Beth Caine has always been the good girl in her small Mississippi town. But
when a big, protective, shamelessly sexy stranger offers to console her on the
night of her disastrous engagement party, Mary Beth lets him—only to discover
that Parr Weston also happens to be the older brother of her fiancé, Bobby Joe.
Parr
left Mississippi after years spent holding his family together. Now that he’s
back, he can’t steal Bobby Joe’s woman, and he sure can’t offer Mary Beth the
tidy happily-ever-after she deserves. But everything about the petite beauty—from
her flame-gold hair to her artless sensuality—makes him crave her more. Love or
lust, right or wrong, all he knows is that nothing has ever felt like this
before, and walking away will be the hardest thing he’s ever had to do…
AUTHOR INFO~
Beverly Barton was an award-winning, New York Times bestselling author of more than fifty novels, including Silent Killer, Cold Hearted, The Murder Game and Close Enough To Kill. Readers can visit her website at www.beverlybarton.com
Parr Weston
stood just inside the wide double doors that had been left ajar, his broad
shoulders practically filling the opening. He hated social gatherings,
especially if the invitation specified black tie, but this was one he’d been
unable to refuse. The engagement party for his younger brother, Bobby Joe,
seemed to be in full swing. The enormous hotel ballroom was jammed with
formally attired guests, dancing, drinking, and celebrating up a storm.
But Bobby
Joe was nowhere to be seen, which was odd. Maybe he had stepped out for a
smoke, something he’d sworn he’d given up long ago. Parr wouldn’t put it past
him.
He looked
back into the crowded ballroom and shook his head, then went outside. The dimly
lit patio beyond the doors was edged with benches set between manicured shrubs,
but Parr didn’t want to sit. The night air was warm and balmy, surprisingly
pleasant for late April in Iminga, Mississippi. He leaned back against a smooth
wrought-iron pillar, relaxing his tall, rugged frame for a few moments in the
embrace of the soft night.
Since he’d
footed the bill for this extravagant shindig, he thought the least Bobby Joe
could have done was be there to greet him at the entrance to the ballroom. He
was surprised Mama hadn’t rushed over to introduce him to Bobby Joe’s “perfect”
fiancée. During the three months he’d been on the construction site in Canada,
the whole family had met and fallen in love with this paragon of virtue his brother
intended to marry.
True, Parr
had arrived over an hour late, but the delayed flight from Memphis hadn’t been
entirely his fault. He couldn’t help it if a last-minute problem with one of
his suppliers made him miss the departure of his original flight.
He’d parked
himself and the carry-on with his formal wear at the gate to wait for the next
flight, and caught up on other pressing business on his laptop. Parr Weston
believed in staying focused. He worked off-line, so as to avoid wasting time on
the Internet, where Bobby Joe had no doubt posted scads of flattering photos of
himself and his true love.
Parr
preferred to skip all that and judge for himself when he met her in person.
He had
figured his family and the fabulous fiancée were all mad at him. But just what
did they expect him to do? His successful construction business had to come
first so they could all continue to enjoy their present lifestyle. Parr had
taken on the role of head of the household long ago, at the too-young age of
twelve, when their old man died. It hadn’t been an easy job then. It still
wasn’t.
A low,
sobbing sound interrupted his solitude, bringing his mind away from his
troubled thoughts.
What was
that noise? he wondered. Was someone crying?
He listened
for several minutes, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. As
if in answer to his confusion, the weeping grew louder. Then he saw her. On the
far side of the patio, a small form stood huddled against the wall, her face
hidden by a hand that brushed away tears.
Even in the
semidarkness, he could see the gleaming, fiery gold length of her hair, not
quite concealing the pearly white smoothness of her bare neck and shoulders,
and the womanly curves of her satin-covered breasts and hips. Before he saw her
face clearly, he knew she was beautiful. Just looking at her made him ache with
powerful longing. He wanted to take her in his arms. Comfort and protect her.
He crossed
the distance between them without thinking twice. When his big hand came down
on her shoulder, she cried out and whirled around to face him. Too late, he
realized he should have spoken before touching her.
“Calm
down,” he said as his hand eased gently from her shoulder to rest tentatively
at the small of her back. “It’s all right. Really. I heard you crying. I was
concerned.”
She tilted
her head slightly to gaze up at the towering, dark-eyed stranger, her whole
body surrendering as his arm encircled her, pulling her against his hard male
strength.
She
clutched at the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, burying her face in the stiff
pleats of his white shirt as the tears began to flow again.
“I’m so . .
. sorry . . . I . . . please,” she gulped helplessly between sobs.
He let her
lean against him, still weeping as she snuggled closer and closer, as if
wanting to lose herself in the warmth of his body. God, but she felt right in
his arms.
Parr
couldn’t fight the wild idea that she belonged there or the strange feeling
that this unknown woman was somehow meant for him.
But she
didn’t belong in his arms, he told himself. He sure as hell didn’t believe in
fate—or luck, for that matter. But he made no move away. She nestled closer.
What would
it be like, he wondered, if they could act on instinct and let this unexpected
closeness lead to its natural conclusion? What would her small, round body feel
like naked beneath his?
Parr
stiffened. That wasn’t his brain talking. He had to regain self-control or this
random encounter might go in an unwanted direction. The beautiful teary woman
in his arms obviously needed nothing more than to be held for a few minutes.
Give her that and then let her go, he told himself.
“Shhh . . .
shhh . . .” His voice was deep and rough.
She moved
her face up a few inches from his chest, looking into his eyes, trying to
smile.
“You must think that I’m crazy.”
“No.” He
was still holding her close, so close that he could feel the soft warmth of her
breasts. “Something upset you, hurt you.”
She stared
into his brown eyes, eyes so dark they appeared almost black. “Yes. But I—I
just can’t explain. Not now. Not here.”
His hand
gently stroked her cascading strawberry blond hair and she rested her head on
his chest again as her arms went around his waist.
To steady
herself, Parr thought. Not to embrace him.
“That’s all
right, honey,” he whispered into her hair. “You don’t have to tell me anything
you don’t want to. Just let me hold you. It’ll do you good.”
Her
response was a tiny, relieved sigh.
Parr wasn’t
sure how long they stood there hidden in the shadows. No one saw the big, dark
man with a small, golden woman in his arms. Soon enough, he realized that they
couldn’t stay out there forever. The nearness of her was driving him crazy. He
didn’t even know her name, but he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted
anything in his entire thirty-two years.
“Hey.” His
lips brushed her forehead. “You okay?” She didn’t answer. Her green, catlike
gaze raised to meet his, then moved downward to his slightly open mouth. Then
up again. The eye contact was as hot as a kiss. Maybe hotter.
Parr
guessed that she was feeling exactly what he was. That she wanted him
desperately, his lips on hers, his body on hers, his . . .
Oh God, he
thought. We’ve got to get out of here.
“Come on,”
he said, putting one hand at her waist to lead her across the patio. “Let’s go
to the lounge and get something to drink.”
She
hesitated momentarily before accepting his proposal and moving into step beside
him.
“I don’t usually drink.”
He wondered
if he’d heard her right. She’d sounded so prim and proper, it almost made him
want to laugh. Was she kidding?
No. One
look at that beautifully sweet face told him that she was sincere. “Don’t
drink, don’t smoke, don’t fool around,” he mumbled under his breath.
“What?” She
stopped still, her body suddenly tight as a coiled spring.
“Nothing.
Just thinking out loud. I’ll get you a Coke or coffee. Okay?”
She smiled
with relief. “Yes. A Coke would be great. Thanks.”
MY REVIEW~
I was given an ARC of this book as part of this tour in exchange for my honest review.
I was very sad when Ms. Barton passed away because she was one of my favorite, and the most talented Romantic Suspense authors around. In fact, to this day, her RS books remain some of the best ones out there. So when I learned that some of her books were being published posthumously I was very excited.
Overall this book missed the mark for me.
It wasn't that it was bad or poorly written; it was just okay. Okay plot, okay characters. I think it just felt somewhat unfinished/unpolished. Perhaps I am being unfair by holding this book to the standard of her others.
If other books by Ms. Barton continue to be published, I will still read them and don't let my okay review sway you from taking a chance on this book. If you've read her before, perhaps you will agree with me about her RS books being much better. If you're a first time reader of Ms. Barton, I 'll think you'll be pleased overall.
Thank you for hosting today!
ReplyDelete