Once and Forever Read online

  New York Times Bestselling Author

  Mary Blayney

  “One More Kiss is a delightful combination of social comedy, slight mystery, and sweet romance. It’s a thoroughly charming novel, well worth a read.”… —NY Journal of Books

  New York Times Bestselling Author

  Elaine Fox

  Praise for Beauty, Sleeping “Fox introduces a charming ghostly television reporter to the woman who buys his haunted house in Beauty, Sleeping, a clever, turned–on–its–head version of Sleeping Beauty.” —Publishers Weekly

  Emelle Gamble

  “…Secret Sister offers a shocking turn of the paranormal kind. So if you are the type of person that wants ordinary romance in a book, you won't find that here. This is a story of friendship, family, and most of all, true love…I cannot recommend Secret Sister strongly enough… “ —Fresh Fiction, Fresh Reviews

  Lavinia Kent

  Praise for What a Duke Wants “Kent does an excellent job mixing romance, mystery and history, keeping her readers enthralled with plot twists and revelations. Another winner! Four Stars!” —The Romantic Times

  And Introducing

  Evie Owens

  Once and Forever

  Mary Blayney

  Elaine Fox

  Emelle Gamble

  Lavinia Kent

  Evie Owens

  Posh Publishing, USA

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

  Once and Forever

  Posh Publishing/published by arrangement with the authors

  Copyright © 2013 by Posh Publishing

  “Playing for Keeps” by Mary Blayney, Copyright © 2013 by Mary Blayney

  “The Princess & The Pinot” by Elaine Fox, Copyright © 2013 by Elaine Fox

  “Duets” by Emelle Gamble, Copyright © 2013 by Emelle Gamble

  “Never and Forever” by Lavinia Kent, Copyright © 2013 by Lavinia Kent

  “The Psychic Detective” by Evie Owens, Copyright © 2013 by Evie Owens

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  ISBN:978–1–940886–00–8

  Cover design © Tammy Seidick Design

  Formatting by Anessa Books

  Contents

  Playing for Keeps

  Mary Blayney

  The Princes & The Pinot

  Elaine Fox

  Duets

  Emelle Gamble

  Never and Forever

  Lavinia Kent

  The Psychic Detective

  Evie Owens

  Playing for Keeps

  By

  Mary Blayney

  Dedication

  For Steve who is always an inspiration

  Prologue

  New York City

  July, 2013

  O'Hara's arrogant and incompetent. Even on a good say he's a joke.” The man gestured with his burger, scanning the room for potential eavesdroppers. The restaurant was a typical New York chat–and–chew, narrow as a railroad car and crowded with tables and a counter that ran the length of the place. But at this hour, too late for lunch and too early for dinner, they mostly had it to themselves.

  He swallowed, took another bite, and kept talking with his mouth full. “O’Hara has everyone fooled into believing he’s some kind of expert when he’s nothing more than a two–bit hustler making money off the rich and famous.”

  “Most wouldn’t agree with you, Carmody,” DeJesus ventured with a cautious edge to his voice.

  “Doesn’t make them right and me wrong.”

  Emboldened by Carmody’s reaction, DeJesus went on, “We both know you’ve hated his guts since he lasted longer than you did in the pros.”

  Carmody didn’t deny it. “Soccer was my life.”

  “So it was the last straw when O’Hara refused to hire you?”

  Carmody shook his head, giving DeJesus a look that would have silenced a screaming baby.

  They finished their lunch while Carmody kept his eyes glued on the one measly flat screen TV, watching as Mike O’Hara interviewed LeBron James about the upcoming playoffs and anything else the talk show celeb could get out of the pro, who had an ego larger than Cleveland.

  “He’s doing a bunch of shows here in a couple of weeks,” DeJesus said, gesturing toward the big man on the little screen.

  “Yeah, so he is.” Carmody’s pleasure was tinged with a vicious satisfaction.

  “Since I can see you won’t let it go, tell me what you’re thinking,” DeJesus pressed.

  “I’m gonna hit him where it hurts. Start slow and then ramp up the pressure. In the end I’m gonna hurt him bad, maybe so bad he’ll never walk again.”

  “Damn.” DeJesus shook his head.

  Carmody leaned in closer, eager to share his plan, but DeJesus held up his hands in a warning gesture. “No details. I don’t want any part of this.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Then Carmody went on, “Let’s leave it at this. I’m gonna take him down, but first I’m going to make him sweat and scare the shit out of him.”

  Chapter One

  New York City

  Brooklyn Heights

  Two Weeks Later

  Kendall, you can’t do that!”

  Kendall Marshall looked at her twin sister and grinned. “Jess, you’ve been saying that since we were kids.”

  “Yes, I have,” she admitted. “And after thirty years, I should know that the minute I say it you become determined to prove me wrong.” They headed down Remson toward Jessica’s house. One or two neighbors were watching the commotion from their windows and Mrs. Westbook was sitting on a folding chair on her front stoop. They waved like the neighbors they were and continued toward the action at an interested but unhurried pace.

  “We have a great reason to ask him for an autograph, and you know it.

  When Jessica rolled her eyes, Kendall could tell her sister was already halfway convinced despite her better judgment.

  “It’s only a TV production crew. And Mike O’Hara is only a talk show host, not the president.”

  Kendall looked up and down the tree–lined street. There was a police presence at each end to keep the space clear of foot traffic and vehicles. The fact that they lived on Remson and could prove it was the only thing that had gotten them through the barricade. Well, that and a little flirting on her part.

  Kendall poked her sister’s arm. “Come on. This will be an adventure.”

  “An adventure.” Jessica sighed, apparently not convinced it would be a good kind of adventure. “Mike O’Hara might not be the president, but look at all these people around the set. Half of them are probably his security detail. Ever since that New Yorker piece called him the Oprah Winfrey of sports, he’s been the hottest thing on TV.”

  They were close enough now to see Mike O’Hara and the man he was interviewing, the Redskins quarterback Robert Griffin III.

  “Jeez, I can see why. Mike O’Hara is hot in more ways than one,” Kendall said, even if he wasn’t exactly her type. Too big, too good looking, and too intense.

  “He does sort of take over the space, doesn’t he?” Jessica said.

  Kendall turned to look her sister. Jessica was checking him too, but she had a smile on her face that said, “Take me, I’m yours.” Kendall hadn’t seen her sister rea
ct to a guy that way in a long time, a fact that only strengthened her determination.

  “Come on, Jess. You know it would mean the world to Cassie to get his autograph, and who would turn down the wish of a girl who’s waiting for a heart transplant? He’d have to be a real creep.” Kendall took a step toward him, but Jessica’s hand on her arm stopped her.

  “If he believes us.”

  “What, we don’t look like we have a sick sister?”

  “No, we look like groupies who lied their way onto the set, or whatever it’s called.”

  “No way. If that were true, someone would have stopped us by now.”

  “Who’s the guy over there watching us?” Jessica asked in a quieter voice, nodding discreetly toward the edge of the set. “Do you think he wants an autograph too?” She was nearly whispering now, as if it would make them less noticeable.

  Kendall looked over and stopped short. The man was leaning against one of the old trees that lined the street. Tall and fit, he was wearing a black lightweight jacket. He didn’t seem the least bit interested in O’Hara or the film crew.

  Catching her eye, the guy smiled at her, an expression both friendly and flirtatious. Kendall only nodded back, but her whole body registered his whole body in a way that made her wish he was something other than a guy who had nothing better to do than pretend he was a part of a tree in Brooklyn Heights.

  Apparently one look was all he needed. Kendall swore very quietly when he straightened and came toward them.

  “Hey.”

  “Forget it. I’m not interested.” Kendall turned her back to him, but not before she’d taken note of his blue eyes and gorgeous mouth, plus the worn down sneakers and ragged jeans he was wearing.

  “How do you know I’m talking to you and not your friend?”

  “My sister.” Kendall corrected him, immediately sorry that he’d dragged even that little bit of information from her.

  “Really?” He moved in front of her, forcing both of them to stop walking.

  Kendall gave a dramatic sigh of pure exasperation.

  “Sure, I can see it. Same blue eyes, same medium build, but the difference in your hairstyles would be enough to confuse any guy. Those dark blue streaks and spikes are about as different from your sister’s sleek blond do as a cat from a dog.”

  “We like it that way,” Jessica told him, clearly sucked in by his million–dollar smile and casual charm. “It means people never confuse us. We’re twins. Identical.”

  The guy stared at them for a moment and then addressed Jessica. “But she has a beauty mark near her lip.”

  “A fake mole. Kendall thinks it makes her look sexier.”

  “Jessica!” What the hell was Jessica doing? She never talked this much to strangers. Leave it to her to wait until they were trespassing on a TV set to become an extrovert.

  “Jessica, will you tell your sister – Kendall, is it? – the mole is a wasted effort. Even without it she would define sexy.”

  Only for losers like this guy, Kendall thought, but she knew Jess would be mortified if she said something like that out loud.

  “So do you two live around here?”

  “No, but we’re working here today,” Kendall said, finally addressing him. “We’re part of a cleaning team that takes care of short–term vacation rentals.”

  “Kendall!” Jessica pressed her lips together. Thank God she wasn’t ratting her out for lying. This guy did not need to know that Jessica owned the brownstone two doors down from where they were standing.

  “Your sister’s not doing any cleaning in that floaty sundress thing.”

  It was one of Jess’s prettiest dresses. Kendall’s outfit, a man’s shirt and leggings, couldn’t be more different.

  “She has a change of clothes in that gargantuan tote she carries,” she explained and then turned her back on him.

  “I love this street,” he said, not taking the hint.

  When Kendall swiveled to face him again, he was looking around as if he were more interested in the general architecture than in any one house in particular. “It’s more like a little neighborhood than a street in a big city. Of course, you’d have to win the Power Ball lottery to afford a place here.”

  Or marry a rich woman, Kendall thought. She wouldn’t let anyone use Jess that way. She grabbed her sister’s arm and led her toward the TV set. “Come on. O’Hara’s done.”

  They moved off, leaving the loser behind, but he didn’t take the hint. “Wait up.”

  Jessica was about to turn back when Kendall grabbed her arm and pulled her along.

  “Stop.”

  So O’Hara did have security. The authority behind that one word made her think twice about forging ahead.

  She turned around to see who had come up behind them, expecting to see some Mr. Clean lookalike with bulging biceps, but no one was there. Well, no one except for the guy who had spent the past few minutes harassing them. Or had it been his version of flirting?

  “Exactly what do you two have in mind?” he asked.

  “That’s none of your business.” Kendall tried for a patronizing voice, the one she’d used in her last audition. “Unless you’re in charge of O’Hara’s security.”

  He held out his hand. “Steve O’Hara. Wellstone Security.”

  She felt her cheeks redden as she ignored his proffered hand. Offense is better than defense, she decided. “Keeping it in the family or is the last name just a coincidence?”

  “Kendall!” Jessica stepped between them and took Steve O’Hara’s hand. “She’s not usually this rude.” Kendall did not need the burning glance her sister tossed over her shoulder to get the message. She was behaving badly; she knew it. “We wanted to see if O’Hara would give us his autograph for our sister, Cassie. She’s only sixteen, but she’s on the list for a heart transplant. She loves sports and it would mean the world to her. She watches his show everyday.”

  “Autograph? Hell, we can do better than that.”

  “Better than an autograph?” Kendall asked, more skeptical than appreciative. “Like what?”

  “Give me her number and I’ll have Mike call her, maybe send tickets to one of the studio shows. Can she travel?”

  “No,” Jessica said with a sad shake of her head. She edged out of the way so that she was no longer standing in front of her sister. “I know they say good excitement is okay, but I don’t want to be the one to test the limits, do you?”

  “Maybe he could call after her surgery,” Kendall suggested, pushing to see how far the guy was willing to go. All of this was for Cassie, she told herself.

  “That’s possible. But for now it’ll be a piece of cake to get you a picture and an autograph.” Steve O’Hara nodded. “Come on. Give me your names and I’ll introduce you. They’ve stopped filming.”

  Jessica hesitated and actually took a step back. Kendall tugged her arm and forced her to come along. “We came this far. Don’t stop now.”

  Jessica resisted, pulling her sister aside so that neither of them were facing Steve O’Hara. Speaking as quietly as she could, she said, “Kendall, the last thing I want is to meet a man who thinks he’s better than everyone else.”

  “You don’t have to marry this one. We’re doing this for Cassie, remember?”

  “I’m not so sure of that. Aren’t you maybe hoping he could use an assistant of some kind?”

  “Only a little,” she admitted. That was the problem with a sister, twin or not. They knew exactly what made you tick.

  “Come on. We can’t quit now.” Kendall pulled Jessica along with her, and when they reached Steve, she held out her hand. “Thanks so much, Steve. I’m Kendall Marshall and this is my sister Jessica.”

  Before Steve could do more than return her handshake, a string of pops stopped them in their tracks.

  “Were those gunshots?” Kendall asked, not directing her question at anyone in particular.

  Steve O’Hara shook his head as he gestured to one of the uniformed security team members,
sending him down an alley. Smoke wafted up from around the corner seconds later.

  “Firecrackers,” he explained as he stepped behind them, urging them to move faster.

  The production crew around O’Hara and Robert Griffin III, were engrossed in the final handshakes and fist bumps. When RG III was herded away by his team, Mike O’Hara held a hand up to two men toting clipboards, probably his producers, and walked over to Steve.

  They really didn’t look alike, not at all. Perhaps they weren’t related after all…or maybe they were only half–brothers. Steve’s face was longer and leaner. His whole body was long and lean, yet it managed to convey an aura of strength and purpose that Kendall could not believe she had missed when she first spotted him. Now she realized he hadn’t not been slouching against the tree but holding it up.

  Tall and robust, Mike O’Hara was big in every physical sense. He exuded charisma, reminding her of some of the acting greats with whom she’d worked, men and women whose talent stemmed as much from the way they held your attention as from their ability to convince you of something by a turn of the head or a quirk of the chin.

  “Food, bro. I need something to eat.” Mike said, slapping Steve on the shoulder. Then he saw her and Jessica. She was sure he was going to say something about them being good enough to eat, which would send Jessica running the other way, but thankfully he didn’t. “Would you ladies care to join us?” Mike asked, as though standing next to his brother was all the intro needed.

  “We’d love to,” Kendall nodded with enthusiasm as she spoke. “Actually, we were on our way to my sister’s place, over there.” She gestured to a brownstone not ten yards away. “I know there’s lasagna and salad in the fridge. We could be eating in a few minutes if you’re really hungry.”

  “Kendall!” Jessica looked totally appalled. “That’s not good enough for company.” She spoke in a whisper, deliberately not looking at either of the O’Haras.