Hidden in Graystone Manor is a book containing all the dark secrets of Harmony Harbor, and Ava DiRossi is determined to find it. No one-especially not her ex-husband, Griffin Gallagher-can ever discover what really tore her life apart all those years ago. With Griffin back in town, it's more important than ever that she find the book before someone else does. Because her ex is still angry with her for leaving him. And he still has no idea Ava never stopped loving him...
Ava is no longer the vibrant, happy woman Griffin had once loved and married, and he would do anything to bring back the sparkle to her brilliant green eyes. But what's never changed are the sexy sparks of attraction between Ava and Griffin, and he won't give her up again without a fight. He knows there's the real possibility of a future together... if the truth doesn't burn the bridge between them forever.
Turning the lever to hot, Griffin left the bathroom to retrieve a bar of soap from his kit. He stopped short at the sight of Ava walking across the room carrying an armful of wood.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Her mouth fell open, and she dropped the logs…onto her foot. “Crap. Ow. Crap,” she yelped, grabbing her foot and hopping around.
“Ava, let go of your foot. You’ll hurt your arm.”
She ignored him, swearing in Italian while still holding on to her foot with both hands.
He released an exasperated sigh. “Stubborn as ever,” he muttered as he walked toward her and scooped her into his arms. She might be as stubborn as she used to be, but she was at least thirty pounds lighter. When they were together, she’d been all soft, lush curves. She released a surprised gasp and her arms automatically went around his neck. Beneath the smell of damp wool, he caught a whiff of the same perfume she used to wear—Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue. It brought back memories of all the times he’d held her in his arms. Seven years of memories, most of them amazing.
He set her on the edge of the bed and cleared his throat. “Do you think your foot’s broken?”
She didn’t answer; she looked like she might be in shock. He crouched in front of her to remove her wet shoes. The old Ava wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing shoes like these. She loved heels, the higher the better. Sexy, strappy shoes that were colorful and blinged out. He never could figure out how she walked in them for hours on end without complaining. But damn, he’d loved watching her do it. He should probably be grateful her taste in footwear had changed too.
This pair though…“For Chrissakes, Ava, there’s a hole in the bottom of this shoe, and look at this.” He lifted the other shoe, flicking its flapping sole.
She made a small choking sound, her eyes huge in her flushed face.
He frowned. “What’s wrong with—”
“You…you’re naked.”
He scowled and rose to his feet. “It’s not like you haven’t seen it before,” he grumbled, stalking to the bathroom to retrieve a towel. She was gone by the time he came back.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Her mouth fell open, and she dropped the logs…onto her foot. “Crap. Ow. Crap,” she yelped, grabbing her foot and hopping around.
“Ava, let go of your foot. You’ll hurt your arm.”
She ignored him, swearing in Italian while still holding on to her foot with both hands.
He released an exasperated sigh. “Stubborn as ever,” he muttered as he walked toward her and scooped her into his arms. She might be as stubborn as she used to be, but she was at least thirty pounds lighter. When they were together, she’d been all soft, lush curves. She released a surprised gasp and her arms automatically went around his neck. Beneath the smell of damp wool, he caught a whiff of the same perfume she used to wear—Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue. It brought back memories of all the times he’d held her in his arms. Seven years of memories, most of them amazing.
He set her on the edge of the bed and cleared his throat. “Do you think your foot’s broken?”
She didn’t answer; she looked like she might be in shock. He crouched in front of her to remove her wet shoes. The old Ava wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing shoes like these. She loved heels, the higher the better. Sexy, strappy shoes that were colorful and blinged out. He never could figure out how she walked in them for hours on end without complaining. But damn, he’d loved watching her do it. He should probably be grateful her taste in footwear had changed too.
This pair though…“For Chrissakes, Ava, there’s a hole in the bottom of this shoe, and look at this.” He lifted the other shoe, flicking its flapping sole.
She made a small choking sound, her eyes huge in her flushed face.
He frowned. “What’s wrong with—”
“You…you’re naked.”
He scowled and rose to his feet. “It’s not like you haven’t seen it before,” he grumbled, stalking to the bathroom to retrieve a towel. She was gone by the time he came back.
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