Bella Andre's New York Times and USA Today bestselling novels have been #1 bestsellers around the world and she has sold more than 5 million books so far! Known for "sensual, empowered stories enveloped in heady romance" (Publishers Weekly), her books have been Cosmopolitan Magazine "Red Hot Reads" twice and have been translated into ten languages. She also writes "sweet" contemporary romances as Lucy Kevin. There are more than 50,000 5 star reviews for Bella Andre's books on Goodreads!
New York Times and USA Today bestselling Jennifer Skully/Jasmine Haynes is the author of classy romance, hilarious romantic mysteries, and the Max Starr paranormal suspense series. Her books have passion, heart, humor, and happy endings. Jennifer lives in the Redwoods of Northern California with her husband and their adorable nuisance of a cat, who obviously runs the household.

Chapter 1

Will Franconi gunned the engine of his classic 1970 Dodge Challenger and the rush of speed exploded through his veins.

He had built a billion-dollar luxury goods business by respecting his customers, his suppliers, his business partners, and his employees. After he'd learned the hard way as a kid how lies and cruelty could ruin a life, he'd worked like hell to turn his own around. Today, though his meeting was with a kid instead of a power player, he was just as intent on getting there on time. And if that meant pushing the powerful car even faster, all the better.

Jeremy Newman's letter to Will had been scrawled on spiral notebook paper that looked like it had been ripped out of an elementary school binder. Having watched Will's clip on the TV show Hot Cars, Jeremy had written that he loved cars, had seen every movie and TV show ever made about cars, and begged to see Will's collection.

The boy's longing had touched something in Will that he couldn't define. And only a total jerk would say no.

Powering into the turn off the freeway, his tires spat gravel while the back end held firm as he blew through the open gates of the municipal airport on the San Francisco Peninsula. The speed sent another rush through him—a rush that he'd always needed, lately more than ever.

Down the row of hangars, the two specks ahead coalesced into a woman and a young man, taller than she was and younger, too-a teen. The boy was bouncing on his feet with nervous energy.

Will had been expecting an eight-year-old. Could this teenager be Jeremy? Will took his foot off the gas and tapped the brakes, slowing as individual features came into focus. The two had similar bone structure, but where the teenager had brown hair, the woman was blond, and not out of a bottle, either.

Rolling to a stop beside them, Will focused on her, the bump in his pulse having nothing to do with his earlier burst of speed. It was all about her-the lush lips, the blond hair cascading in waves over her shoulders, and the business suit that failed to disguise her sweet curves. She wasn't dressed Saturday casual the way Will was, but all straitlaced and buttoned up. The hair gave her away, though, flowing free and sexy in the breeze blowing off the bay.

"Mr. Franconi, Mr. Franconi!" The teen began waving his arms, practically jumping out of his sneakers. In one hand, he gripped an orange spiral notebook, shaking it wildly. It could very well have contained the torn-out page Will had in his jeans pocket.

So this was Jeremy Newman. He had to be seventeen or eighteen, even though the printing in the letter had been, at best, at a third grade level, and the tone was the same, one of an exuberant child on a mission.

Will climbed out of the restored white Challenger. The car was the reason he'd almost been late. He'd been up in San Francisco that morning checking over a shipment of caviar. An exclusive from Russia, he'd paid a fortune for it and had done the inspection himself. Driving the Challenger to this meeting had been a last-minute decision, and the Bay Area traffic had been bumper-tobumper on the detour back to his home in Portola Valley to pick up the car. Spring was here, and everyone seemed to be out for a drive on the first clear, sunny Saturday in weeks.

Fortunately, the excitement on the boy's face as he raced around the car was worth the extra trouble.

"Wowowowow." Jeremy spoke so fast it was almost one word.

"Jeremy, calm down," the woman said, but she was smiling at the boy as she did so. Her voice was as smooth as the award-winning Japanese single malt whiskey Will imported.

If Jeremy had been younger, she could have been his mother-the same nose, the same blue eyes. But at somewhere in her late twenties, she was far too young to be the mother of an eighteen-year-old.

"I'm will," he said as he left Jeremy to his raptures over the car for a few moments and turned to focus his attention on her. "Will Franconi."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Franconi."

She shook his hand and he was struck not only by the strength of her handshake, but also by how soft her skin was. So soft that he didn't want to let go, especially when he caught the flicker of awareness and heat that sparked in her eyes when they touched.

"I'm Harper Newman." She carefully drew her hand away from his. "My brother Jeremy is obviously too excited for a proper introduction." She smiled fondly again at her brother, who was kneeling to study the rim on the right rear tire, lovingly running one finger over it. "I really appreciate your taking the time to show us your car collection. With your busy schedule, we don't want to keep you too long."

"First of all, call me Will. And second, it's my pleasure." He hadn't expected to meet a gorgeous woman—and single, judging by her bare left hand-here today. She had no idea just how great a pleasure this meeting had turned out to be.

Jeremy raced back over to them. "It's just like the Challenger Barry Newman crashed in Vanishing Point." His speech pattern was slightly off. Not slurred so much as over pronounced, as though his mouth had to work harder at making the sounds come out right, and his inflections were out of sync with his words. "Barry Newman," he repeated, then poked his own chest. "Jeremy Newman, get it?"

Will was thinking that Jeremy was way too young to know about the classic movie from the early seventies, when Harper told him, "He's watched all the great car chases, from Vanishing Point to Bullitt and every one of the Fast and Furious movies." Her hand lay on the boy's back, rubbing between his shoulder blades, a calming gesture. Sweet and simple affection for her brother.

But Will knew first hand that there was nothing simple about affection...and that it wasn't necessarily a given between family members. Jeremy was very lucky indeed to have Harper as a sister.

"I've also seen the new Transformers: Age of Distinction." Jeremy said the last word carefully and Will didn't have the heart to correct it to Extinction. "That chase with the evil bad cars was cool," Jeremy enthused, his eyes wide.

Harper didn't correct the movie title, either. Or maybe she didn't know the difference, given that Will didn't see her as a Transformers fan. Besides, maybe distinction was a better word in this case, considering that Harper Newman was already a woman of distinction in Will's estimation—both because of how well she treated her brother and the way her natural beauty shone through despite the rather severe outfit.

"Was having the same last name as the star of Vanishing Point what got you started as a car enthusiast, Jeremy?"

"Cars are cool. I can't drive, but if I could, I'd go fast." Jeremy didn't quite answer the question, and again, there was that odd cadence in his speech.

"I like to go fast, too," Will agreed wholeheartedly.

There was nothing like speed to make you feel alive. Will knew he'd never completely outrun his past, and that he'd always be his father's son no matter how much he wished he wasn't. Nonetheless, he'd worked long, hard years to put as much of his past behind him as he could, with all his focus, drive, and energy bent on taking control of his future.

For a good decade or more, success had been enough for him. Yet in the last few months, something had changed a feeling of emptiness that working harder hadn't been able to fix. When even millions in profits from a new product couldn't get him excited, a fast ride was the only sure-fire way to get his blood pumping again.

Until now, at least, when Harper Newman was having the exact same impact on him.

"He's always liked cars," Harper answered for Jeremy. "I can't say I feel the same way." She offered an apologetic smile and politely said, "But the collection we saw on TV is impressive."

Would she be equally polite in the bedroom? Mr. Franconi, could you please touch me here?

Jesus, that thought was hot. So hot that he forced himself to push it away, since they were standing in front of her brother. "When you're able to drive," Will said, turning back to Jeremy, "I'm sure you'll want to obey all the traffic rules." But his tone was tongue-in-cheek. At Jeremy's age, he'd broken all the rules. Now he made his own.

Will found himself wondering what kind of rules Harper had...and which ones she might be willing to break with him.

"I can't drive." Jeremy's brow knit seriously. "Harper drives me. But she doesn't like to go fast. Not like we do." He nudged Will's arm with his elbow as if they were a conspiracy of two.

Harper smiled indulgently, and Will could easily guess that Jeremy had told her to go faster one too many times. She didn't offer an explanation as to why Jeremy couldn't drive, but Will had realized by now that while the boy might be in his late teens physically, his mental capacity hadn't caught up for some reason.

She glanced at her watch. "In the interest of time, maybe we should look at the cars."

Will smiled at her as he said, "I have all afternoon."

He didn't actually have much time at all to spare, but like hell if he was rushing this meeting. Not only because he wanted some time to get to know Harper better before he asked her out, but also because Jeremy was bouncing on his toes again, bursting with excitement. Will understood that kind of passion, and appreciated it.

"I store six cars here," Will told them both. He had eight more classics in Portola Valley, plus his personal vehicles.

Jeremy opened his notebook, flipping through, then held up a picture pasted to a page. "James Bond. Aston Martin DB5. I love James Bond."

"Sorry, buddy, I don't have that one here." Will kept that car at home because the Aston Martin was great on the rural roads of Portola Valley, like driving through the French countryside of a Bond movie.

The boy's features drooped. But not for long. "That's okay, Will. I love the Challenger, too."

Smiling at Jeremy's eagerness, Will opened a metal box on the hangar wall and punched in the security code. When the red light flashed to green, he tapped another button for the roll-up door. Inside, two rows of overhead lights popped on one after another, stretching to the back of the hangar, spotlighting each classic car in turn.

"Wow." Jeremy's voice went soft with awe.

Harper merely smiled her appreciation, though not with Jeremy's delight. She was clearly the indulgent older sister, here to make her brother happy, and Will liked that about her. Liked it as much as he liked looking at her.

Jeremy tiptoed between the two rows of cars arranged at an angle, each ready to be driven out of the hangar at a moment's notice. Rolling tool chests lined the metal walls, along with a couple of floor jacks for lifting the cars. Will had a full-time mechanic, Leland, who kept the engines tuned and clean, and the bodies spotless. Leland worked both here at the airport and out at Will's Portola Valley property.

"1965 AC Cobra," Jeremy recited as if he'd memorized a list. "Wow." His gaze was bright in the lights shining down on him as he held his notebook close to his chest, his mouth open slightly.

First on the left, the Cobra was cream in color. Will had thought about topping the paint job with a blue racing stripe, but Leland had rolled his eyes heavenward as if commiserating with the paint gods, then asked if Will wanted to be like everyone else. Of course, Will had never been like anyone else, and Leland had an excellent eye. The cream finish was like glass. "It's a very nice car," Harper said in that polite voice that totally revved Will's engine. "And it looks brand new."

"It's a kit car," Will explained. "I had all the parts shipped here, and assembled it from the frame up. It's a replica of a '65 Cobra." The project had taken a year. He could have done it faster, but he'd enjoyed the work and hadn't wanted to rush. There was pleasure not merely in the end result, but in watching something grow.

"You built this yourself?" She looked surprised to hear it. She ran a finger along the finish, as if finally perceiving the beauty that Will saw.

"Cars are my thing."

Very few people knew Will's story-that he'd been barely eight years old when his father had taught him how to hotwire his first stolen car, with illegal drag racing coming a handful of years later. It wasn't until Will had turned eighteen that he'd vowed to turn his life around. Now, though he still spent his free time playing with cars, he always did it on the right side of the law. "What's that one?" She pointed to the model opposite.

"1965 Mercedes 300 SL Roadster," Jeremy said before Will could supply the answer.

"He's been studying you. Your classic car collection, I mean."

Maybe she was afraid he'd think her brother was coming across like a stalker, but it was the farthest thing from Will's mind. On the contrary, he was flattered. Jeremy seemed so open, so hopeful, so happy. All the things Will had never been in his youth. He couldn't actually say he felt those emotions now either, despite how far he'd come from the derelict Chicago neighborhood of his childhood.

He also liked watching the bond between the two of them, the way Harper looked at Jeremy, the light but warm touches, her affection easy to read on her face. The bonds of blood could be meaningless or worse, they could utterly destroy you if you let them but Harper clearly loved her brother with everything she had.

Will had the same kind of connection with the Mavericks. That's what the five of them-Daniel, Sebastian, Evan, Matt, and Will-called themselves. The Maverick Group. Back in Chicago, they'd been five kids brought together by misfortune and neglect. Their bond had been forged in need, not by blood. Most people believed blood relations automatically deserved devotion, but he knew better. Devotion had to be earned, and family and blood didn't go hand in hand, not in his experience. Susan and Bob Spencer Daniel's parents, who had taken them all in-were exceptions, just as Harper Newman and her brother were. "Is that a kit car, too?" she asked, gesturing toward the Mercedes.

"No. It's the real thing."

Jeremy moved down the line, Harper following, her arms crossed. Her high-heeled shoes tapped on the concrete with every step, her hair shifting across her shoulders, the light from above catching the changing hues of blond.

"Oh man, a 1956 Jaguar XKSS." Jeremy turned to smile brilliantly at Will. "BRG."

"Right." Will cocked a thumb at Harper. "Maybe you'd better tell your sister what that means." He winked conspiratorially, while hoping Jeremy knew the answer. It wasn't his intention to embarrass the boy.

Sure enough, he knew. "British racing green." Jeremy's voice echoed, overly loud in the hangar, from his excitement. With that, he sprinted down the center aisle, pointing as he went. "1968 Lamborghini Miura." The gold tones of the car gleamed under the lights. "1954 Austin Healey 100S." And finally to the last one. "1965 Stingray Coupe."

Harper beamed. "He got them all right." She was clearly proud, and Will experienced an ache under his ribcage that he hadn't felt since his mother died when he was six.

They made him want in. In on their bond. In on the pride and adoration in Harper's gaze.

Watching Harper and her brother together made him need things he hadn't craved in thirty years. His father had bullied those cravings out of him.

Harper's gaze was still on her brother, the light of some special emotion shining in her eyes, when he asked them both, "You want a ride?"

Chapter 2

Harper froze. She'd known it was coming, but she'd expected the question about getting into one of Mr. Franconi's cars from Jeremy. Not from the billionaire!

She had her excuses lined up. Mr. Franconi couldn't possibly have time. He didn't even know them and couldn't be expected to let just anyone ride in one of his cars. She'd imagined the powerful businessman would readily agree with everything she said, likely because he'd be angling to get out of there and back to making more billions as soon as possible.

But now that he'd made the unexpected offer, though Jeremy was already jumping up and down shouting his glee, she couldn't possibly take him up on it.

"Thank you for the lovely offer, Mr. Franconi, but Jeremy and I have already taken enough of your time."

"Like I said, I've got all afternoon." He smiled at her again. "And it's Will."

Sweet Lord, that man had a smile on him. It was cocky, sexy, and somehow sincere, all at the same time. He had to be aware of the effect it had on the female gender. She guessed he used it knowingly, undermining resistance, so that he could get whatever he wanted.

But why would he be using it on her?

"I don't think "

"Come on, Harper." Jeremy gave her his best hangdog expression. "We want to go out in the fast car!"

"Yeah, come on, Harper." Amusement laced the billionaire's voice as he echoed her brother. Will's gaze was deep, startlingly blue, like the Mediterranean ocean of his heritage. "We really do want to go out in the fast car."

His hair was as dark as the devil, his features more handsome than a man with his wealth deserved. She'd half expected to be met today by a flock of Franconi Imports publicity reps. After all, she'd figured the slick, filthy-rich business owner giving his time to a young man like Jeremy would be a publicist's goldmine.

Yet Will had come alone and was dressed casually in jeans and a dark T-shirt-one that emphasized his muscled biceps, but was as far from a five-thousand-dollar suit as anything could be.

Just as Jeremy had researched Will's cars, Harper had researched the man himself. There was a great deal of information online about how he'd built his business, but very few details about his personal life or past.

None of her research had helped her understand why someone as wealthy and powerful as Will Franconi would even bother to answer Jeremy's letter. The invitation to meet at his hangar had floored her. After all, he was a luxury importer and she wasn't even sure what that meant, exactly. How could a man make billions off luxury? And all his cars she'd seen profiled on the Hot Cars show Jeremy had made her watch smelled of money. Will was a collector of things, so she'd assumed he probably collected people, too...until he got tired of them.

But then she remembered the way he'd looked at her and Jeremy, with a longing that she didn't quite understand, but felt all the same, right in the center of her chest where her heart was beating just a little too fast from nothing more than the look in his eyes.

Plus, she hadn't expected him to be so nice. He didn't laugh at Jeremy. In fact, Will hadn't looked at her brother as if there was anything wrong with him at all.

And now he wanted to take Jeremy for a ride in one of his super fast cars.

Knowing they were both staring at her, waiting for her answer, she finally said, "Where would you take him if I said it was okay?"

"Please, Harper," Jeremy pleaded, not at all afraid of going fast even though speed had taken so much away from him.

Will didn't know their story, even though Harper sometimes felt like everyone else did, as though it was the only thing that defined her and Jeremy. Eleven years ago, her brother had been hit by a car driven by a rich teenager who was driving way too fast. The teenager's father had not only bought him out of a prison sentence, he'd also forced her parents to accept a payoff in lieu of the litigation that they'd been told would have dragged on for years otherwise.

Harper had never blamed her parents for their decision to take the money. Jeremy had suffered irreparable brain damage and now he was an eighteen-year-old who had never progressed mentally past the age of seven. She understood why economics won out over justice sometimes. Her brother's road to recovery hadn't been cheap, but thankfully, as long as she was careful with her investments and earned enough with her salary as a recruiter, there was still money left to support his current needs, like the special school he attended.

When her parents had died six years ago, Harper had made it her mission to carry on their legacy and protect Jeremy. But in many ways, on the day of the car crash she hadn't only lost her little brother, she'd also lost her parents to financial worry and emotional turmoil, years before they'd passed away in a private plane crash.

Speed had taken so much from her and her brother, but Jeremy was a good kid. He always had been, and she couldn't help giving in to him when he wanted something badly. Surely one ride here today had to be a safe way for Jeremy to experience that speed he so longed for...and if she had any longing left inside of her for just that same thing, she shoved it down.

It was up to her to be the responsible one, after all.

"All right, Will." She wanted to keep on thinking of Will as Mr. Franconi, but somehow he made that impossible with those smiles of his and his charming insistence that she call him by his first name. "But not too fast."

Will's expression was solemn as he crossed his heart. "I promise. No faster than my mechanic would allow."

"How fast is that?"

He smiled again. "Nothing that would hurt the pristine engine."

She had no idea what that meant, but she was helpless against the combined power of his smiles and promises. "All right, fine. But I'll be watching."

"I'm thinking the Cobra for our first ride." He turned to Jeremy. "Sound okay to you?"

"Yay!" Jeremy crowed.

Harper suspected Will had chosen the Cobra because it was the one he'd personally labored over, the one that held the most meaning for him.

"Let me call the tower so they're ready for us."

Once again, Will keyed a code into a pad next to an office door. The lights inside turned on automatically, illuminating a desk and bookshelves crammed with manuals, the names of the cars written along their spines. There were trophies and framed photos, mostly of the cars, with only a few including Will. He punched a couple of numbers on the phone, spoke quietly into it, then turned back to them with that killer smile while he waited for the person on the other end to respond to his request to clear the runways. Harper's heart beat faster despite herself.

"All clear." He put the phone down, then grabbed a key off a board on the wall, tossed it up, and caught it in his fist. "Let's go." Jeremy followed him like a smitten puppy and worry swept through her stomach again. Will Franconi had a hangar full of ridiculously expensive cars, a personal mechanic, and one call to the control tower allowed him to take over the runways. So why was he wasting so much time with them?

Harper knew she was sometimes a little too careful with her brother. It was just that if anything happened to him, she'd never, ever forgive herself. But here in the hangar with all the amazing cars, Jeremy was so happy and excited that she couldn't bear squashing him down.

Will opened the Cobra's door. "Hold onto the roll bar back here to get in." He demonstrated with a pat on the curved bar behind the passenger seat. "Don't use the windshield."

The car had no top, just the roll bars behind each of the two seats. The interior was brushed metal, with no carpeting, and the seats were a simple leather bucket. After Jeremy was in, Will leaned over the passenger door to secure the buckle, which was much thicker than a normal seatbelt.

Clapping Jeremy on the shoulder, Will said, "There you go, buddy," then rounded the hood. He climbed into the driver's seat after a jaunty salute to Harper.

Copyright: Bella Andre & Jennifer Skully