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  Against All Odds

  Copyright © 2014 by Angie McKeon

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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

  Cover art by Regina Wamba/ Mae I design and photography.

  Copyediting by Cassie Cox

  Interior Design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats

  https://www.facebook.com/Fictionalformats

  PROLOGUE

  PART ONE

  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

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  AGAINST THE GRAIN

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  I’m so cold. It’s the kind of cold that seeps into my bones and makes me feel as though I’m going to die. My body trembles from the drugs and sheer terror coursing through my veins.

  Why is this happening to me?

  What did I do to deserve this?

  Please, God! I can’ t handle it.

  I open my mouth to scream, to cry, to do something, but nothing comes out. I’m aware of doctors and nurses surrounding me. They’ve placed Kayla on my chest. She’s still warm from being pulled from my body, but she’s not moving.

  She’s lying there… lifeless.

  I’m in a state of disbelief as tears slide down my face. My world shatters when I look at my precious baby girl. She’s everything I’ve always wanted, always dreamed of.

  Slowly, I run my fingers over her delicate lips; they’re so soft and small. An instant reminder of Cooper’s lips. He doesn’t have full and luscious lips like mine, but small ones that almost disappear when he smiles. As I run the tips of my fingers across her puffy cheeks and closed eyes, I try to memorize every last detail of her dainty face. She’s so beautiful it takes my breath away. Her hair reminds me of caramel; it’s light brown and silky to the touch. It looks like mine did when I was a baby. Her face is peaceful, and for a single moment, I’m so thankful she’s not in pain.

  Looking at my little girl is a moment I’ve always dreamed of. I love her instantly, and I want to hold her forever. To breathe her into me. To never let her go. The realization that I’ll never hold my precious baby again sinks in, and I feel my stomach clench as pain rips through me. I’ll never get to see her smile, laugh, roll over, or take her first steps. I’ll miss it all.

  How do I move past this?

  Can I move past this?

  As grief consumes me, my sobs become brutal. I feel as though I’m dying. Like my heart is burning up and turning to ash. I’ll never, ever be whole again.

  I pick her up and cradle her against my body, wanting to feel her skin against mine. She still feels warm—soft and smooth, like velvet. As I curl my arms around her, my tears drip onto her perfect head. I feel an overwhelming urge to fix this, to bring her back. I don’t want to lose my sweet baby. Everything in my body, my soul is screaming to bring her back.

  Desperately looking up at Cooper’s green eyes, I will him to fix this, to make it better and help me. Help her. He’s always been my rock, my glue, the person who makes everything better. But all I see in his eyes is sadness, desperation, and a helplessness that I know is killing him as much as it is me. He rubs his big, shaking hand gently over her tiny head. He looks as though he’s being tortured. Sobs rip through his body as he wraps his arms around me and our precious bundle while climbing into bed with us. I feel myself collapse against his chest as we sob over our loss.

  There’s nothing we can do.

  This is the end of a shattered dream.

  Our spirits are slowly dying, and I’m not sure we’ll ever be able to heal.

  Two years later…

  A cool breeze blows, and the salty undercurrent is oddly calming. I clutch a cup of coffee to my chest and close my eyes, letting the sun warm my face.

  I’m alone… completely alone.

  That’s what my life’s become. I have no comfort or love anymore, at least not from who I need it most. Only moments, slivers of time when I feel as though I can breathe. Those little reprieves help me survive.

  I use the serenity of my surroundings to prepare for the next couple of days. I’ll have to endure meetings, conferences, and fake smiles. I need to pretend my marriage isn’t broken. That my heart and soul aren’t lost, and I don’t feel like throwing away everything I’ve worked for over the last two years.

  I’ve always been a dreamer. I was the kind of girl who fantasized about the man who’d charge into her life and sweep her off her feet. I always believed that I was in control of my destiny, and as long as I worked and lived right, everything was guaranteed.

  I was wrong…

  Life’s a fucked up state of fucked up. I learned that the hard way.

  I’m sure I sound jaded, but it’s hard to pull myself together when everything I dreamed of died in less than twenty-four hours. Dreams have a way of shattering you when they don’t work out. The illusion of hope is a very dangerous thing. Once you’ve lost that, it’s like a black hole that sucks the very life from your soul, making you doubt your purpose.

  Opening my eyes, I bring my coffee to my lips and take in the sun shimmering on the surface of the water. The hot, nutty liquid is another balm to the internal ache that never goes away. I need to pull myself together. Get my head out of my ass before I go into the biggest meeting of my life. I can’t let Cooper down. He’s worked so hard for this, and I need to make him proud.

  Just this once.

  With the sun setting and the breeze picking up, I decide to head back to the hotel. I should use tonight to relax before all the big wigs show up. My job is to seduce money right out of their well-endowed pockets. I have to get them to invest with the Cooper Bailey Corporation—the next big thing in the insurance industry.

  I head to my suite, deciding what to wear as I go. I want to feel sexy, so I decide to throw on a little black dress, red peep-toe Louboutins, and some killer lingerie. Then I’ll hunt for a warm body to keep me company. There’s no point spending the night alone.

  I’ve found that nothing is more empowering than having a man eating out of the palm of my hand. There’s a thrill, a numbness in it that I crave. It helps dull the pain of not having Cooper.

  I hit the shower, do my hair, and lightly apply some makeup. When I’m done, I grab my clutch, check for the money I won’t need, and head to the lobby bar. At the elevator, my stomach tightens. I wonder where my husband is. I haven’t seen or heard from him since I landed in Key West this morning. He hasn’t even bothered to check in. I should call him, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to be the first to make sure he’s okay again.

  No, not this time.

  Once the elevator doors open, I step in and a surge of excitement pings through me. The tension of th
e day drains from my shoulders. I’m ready to take on the night. I stride into the lobby and head straight for the bar, purposely not paying attention to those around me. A trick I’ve learned is to play uninterested until men make their move. It gets their motors churning and makes the hunt that much more fun. I grab the first seat I see at the bar and tap my nails on the counter, signaling to the bartender that I need to be served.

  “What can I get you?”

  “I’ll have a shot of Patron and a cranberry vodka, please,” I say, peeking up at him from under my lashes.

  He nods and heads over to fix my drinks. I take a moment to survey my surroundings and see if there are any viable options for the evening. The bar is filled with suits and preppy men in polo shirts. The rich and highly powerful sit in every corner, sipping on scotch and expensive whiskey. The lighting is dim, an ideal setting for those trying to grab a quick, hot fuck. The kind of men who frequent a bar this late, in a hotel of this stature, have money, power, and aren’t looking for more than a one-night stand.

  I drag my gaze across all the tables and catch sight of a beautiful blonde at a center booth. She’s cuddled up next to my husband. They’re not doing anything overtly naughty, but their smiles and gentle laughter instantly send a pang of jealousy and hurt through me, squeezing my heart.

  He can’t call or text to check in, but he can come to a bar looking for his next hook up. We’re so disconnected. This is just another reminder of what we’ve become. Cooper always notices everyone but me. He works to make everyone happy but me. He wants everyone but me.

  The clink of my drinks being placed on the mahogany bar startles me. I turn and grab them, throwing the tequila back and picking up the vodka as a chaser. Why does it have to hurt so badly?

  I’ve never seen him in the act with another woman. He’s always been friendly and flirtatious, but that’s just him. I’m not in denial; I know he’s having sex with other people. It just hurts. It hurts like a bitch with every passing day, slowly tearing me apart, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it. I’ve made my bed, and now I have to lay in it. Reality is a cold slap in the face. I’d rather live in a state of “what I don’t know won’t hurt me” than see shit with my own eyes. Ignorance is bliss.

  I toss back the rest of my drink and signal for two more. I need to get drunk and find someone fast. I need to put Cooper out of my mind. There’s no point dwelling on what I can’t have. Not with everything I need to do tomorrow. A tingle moves through me, alerting my senses that someone has taken the seat next to me. I glance over at a pair of mischief-filled chocolate eyes on the most decadent face. My stomach plummets, butterflies taking flight, and I think I’ve found my ticket to freedom for the night.

  “Why’s a sinful little thing like you sitting at a bar all alone?” My body vibrates as his velvety voice permeates the air.

  I take a minute before responding, allowing my gaze to stroke his body. “Because this sinful little thing’s looking to be dirty.” I smile seductively.

  His eyes light up, but it’s quickly covered by a smooth, buttery charm that I’m sure has ladies around the world spreading their legs. “I think you found it, sweetheart. The name’s Nathaniel, but you can call me Nate.” He tips his glass in my direction. “Can I get you another drink?”

  “That would be nice,” I answer coyly.

  My attention lingers on chestnut hair that’s styled messily. His skin, a flawless olive brown, and the stubble prickling his jaw make him appear older. Maybe late thirties. His broad shoulders and thick arms are held in by a white polo shirt, and tan slacks hug his hips in just the right places. He’s all business and has an aura of power that exudes from every pore.

  “I’m Kylie, by the way.”

  “A beautiful name for an even more beautiful lady.” He smirks, stroking his jaw. I see his eyes skim my breasts.

  “Hmm, I’m sure you say that to every sinful little thing you pick up,” I tease.

  “I don’t need pickup lines,” he quips, his eyes incinerating me with pure sexual power. “I can have anyone I want.”

  A small prickle of annoyance shoots through me. Who says that? How do I even respond?

  He seems to notice my reaction because his baritone chuckle fills the air, causing heads to swivel in our direction. “Don’t look so put off, Kylie. You’ll be happy by the end of the night.”

  My pulse spikes as excitement blossoms. As arrogant as this bastard is, I need him badly. “Confident much?” I roll my eyes. “Seriously, though. Do you say shit like that to all the ladies?”

  My tone must surprise him because he laughs again. Though he’s still being an asshole, a rush of something very tantalizing spreads across my body.

  “Is something funny?” I ask.

  “Mmmhmm, you. You’re gorgeous and fiery. Very intriguing. Now tell me the truth, why are you sitting here all alone?”

  His question irritates me. I’m not sure he believes the real reason I’m sitting at this bar, but I don’t want, or need, an inquisition. I decide to give this guy a glimpse into the real me. Just a morsel of what he could be taking to bed tonight.

  “It’s Nate, right?” He nods, so I continue. “Listen, Nate, I’m here looking for a man who knows how to handle a woman.” I lick my lips and drag my eyes to his cock for just a moment. “I need someone to erase all the shit I’ve gone through today. I need a man who knows how to shut up and just… use me.” I let that sink in. “Are you going to be that man? Because I’m not here for a heart-to-heart. I really don’t care about your background, and I don’t want to know your secrets.”

  He seems shocked and completely taken aback. My expression is one of absolute sincerity. This is me in my finest form. Take it or leave it.

  Open.

  Honest.

  “Damn! You’ve almost left me speechless.”

  His eyes sparkle under the muted lights, and the grin tilting the corners of his mouth is adorable. This man, who probably controls a multimillion dollar business, has just been bested by a woman.

  The smile I feel forming makes me pick up my fresh drink and bring it to my lips. “Welcome to the world of Kylie.” I laugh and take a sip. “I know that might’ve been blunt, but I just want a minute to escape.” I let out a breath and slide my eyes back to his. “You know how that is, don’t you?”

  Caught off guard again, he looks at me with interest, and something else. “You’re refreshing, you know that? I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman who doesn’t pussyfoot around. I like that. It’s hot.”

  Uncomfortable with the sudden intimacy, I decided to break the moment—Kylie style. “Well, champ, whose room? Yours or mine?” His deep laugh makes me smile.

  “Why don’t you come to mine? We can have some drinks and relax in privacy.”

  “That sounds good,” I say as I stand and grab my clutch. I start to pull some money out of my wallet, but Nate’s large hand covers mine.

  “I’ve got this,” he says.

  Our fingers lace together, and he tugs me close. My chest is crushed to his, and his face brushes the side of mine. I feel his hot breath in my ear, sending a trail of goose bumps down my body. Damn, he feels good. Warm, hard, and lean.

  “Tell me something,” he whispers. My pulse rises as I try to push back, aware that Cooper could see this, but he doesn’t let me go. “How do you want to be fucked? I can take you hard and fast, or slow. Are you wild, Kylie? Because that mouth of yours has me so hard, I can’t wait to shove my cock in it. I want you. So fucking badly.” He presses his dick against my stomach. “That’s what you’ve done to me with your naughty voice and attitude. I just hope you’re as good as you give, sweetheart.”

  I’m breathless. I lick my lips, swallowing hard. “You can have me anyway you want.”

  He stills, and the air around us, already charged, turns wicked. He pulls back, and his face is so hot, I melt. I dissolve into a pool of lust as I stare into his hungry eyes.

  He plants a soft kiss on the corner
of my lips. “How did I get this lucky tonight?”

  Feeling his body so close to mine is almost too much. I’m in public, and Cooper’s somewhere in this bar. I push back again, and this time, he lets me go. As I turn to leave, my gaze lands, of course, on the man I want but can’t have. Cooper’s eyes burn holes straight through me. Hate’s so clearly etched on every line of his stunning face. We stare at each other, the temperature in the room ratcheting up, and I feel the last string holding me together snap. Tears well in my eyes as my heart beats for its missing half. I force them back, keeping my gaze locked on his, and remind myself to be strong.

  I inhale and smile, giving him a short, clipped wave. It’s messed up, but that’s my message that he can’t hurt me anymore. That, at least for tonight, I’ll be okay. Blondie’s still sitting with him, practically perched in his lap. This is Cooper and me at our best, and nothing’s going to change. It’s just another night, another notch in our fucked-up bed post.

  Expression unchanging, Cooper grabs Blondie’s face and brings his lips to hers. His eyes never leave mine. It’s not a peck. Oh no, this is a full blown kiss. He’s taunting me, trying to hurt me or piss me off. My body blisters, and I feel myself tremble. Everything in me wants to give out. This is the first time I’ve seen his lips on another woman, and it’s a punch straight to my core. As our eyes stay connected, I see his hand sweep up her back and into her hair.

  I can’t breathe. I feel the air being vacuumed out of my lungs. A palm settles on my shoulder, breaking my stare. I twist and see Nate looking at me curiously. He takes in my stricken expression, and leans in, sliding his hands possessively around my lower waist.

  “Come on,” he says softly. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll take care of you. You won’t be thinking of him tonight.”

  I close my eyes. He doesn’t know who Cooper is, but he clearly knows what I need. I breathe in his warmth, using it to choke back all the hurt that’s threatening to smother my evening. I can’t let it.

  Cooper needs time, and I need this.