Page 24 of Midnight Player

Willa thanked him again and raced out the door. Once she arrived home, she brought up the email server where all her contact form submissions were sent. She scrolled through hundreds of messages. Since hitting theNew York Times, messages from her contact form on her website exploded in the best of ways. But it meant she was scrolling for a while before she came across one that made her rejoice.

At spying his name, she cheered. In the days since they parted, he sent her message after message. She read through every single one he sent.

Willa, answer me, woman. Call me.

Willa, I won’t let anything bad happen. We’re meant to be. I need to tell you how I feel.

The list went on and on. By the time she reached the end of his messages, she was sobbing. Because the connection had been as deep for him as it was for her. She didn’t know how to make it better. How to apologize and ensure he knew she meant it.

And it was the last one that made the lightbulb come on.

Willa, I just finished Tangled in You. My god, woman, you are so damn talented. I’ve already bought the rest of your books and will read every single one. Call me when you get this. Please.

She opened a new Word document and started writing. The story flowed from her fingertips. Her fingers flew over the keyboard. It gripped her by the throat and wouldn’t relent.

And she spent the next few days writing it, ignoring her other deadlines in favor of the story ripped from her heart. She ignored her agent. She ignored her editor asking about the book on deadline. She ignored food, showers, her phone, her mail, herself.

Nothing else mattered but gettingtheirstory on paper.

She wrote the entire book within a week. When she finished at five minutes to midnight a week after her meeting with Gabe, she sent it off to her editor, knowing she would need it edited before she published it. Before she sent it to him.

And once it was finally off to her editor, she went horizontal for twelve hours straight. But this time, for the first time since leaving Houston, she went to bed with hope in her heart.

* * *

Two weeks passed before she received the book back from her editor. But she already had the cover made forMidnight Player. And once she finished the round of edits, then forwarded it to her proofreader and back, she was finally able to put the book up for sale. But she wasn’t done. She finally, finally for the love of god, had received the rush order on the print books.

And Gabe, bless the man, had been able to score his mailing address. She owed him a gift basket for his help. Even if the outcome she yearned for didn’t materialize the way she hoped.

On the interior of the book, she signed it.

I love you.

Always yours,

Willa

Sir can reach me at.

And she included her phone number, mailing address, and private email. She would send up smoke signals if that’s what it took to get his attention and get her man back.

She raced to the post office and shipped it overnight, hoping and praying he would forgive her callous disregard.

14

Three days before Christmas

At the rather ungodly hour of eight in the morning, her doorbell rang. She bolted out of bed at the sound. Willa met another deadline last night. And always slept like the dead once she finished. Her doorbell rang again. With a snarl because she hadn’t even had coffee yet, she descended the stairs, still in pajamas with her hair askew, imitating Medusa’s hairstyle, and mumbled to herself as she approached the door. “Just remember, orange is not your color. Murder is wrong.”

She yanked the door open, ready to unleash a furious diatribe. But it died the moment she spied the man standing on her front porch in jeans and a leather jacket.

Jake. He was here. At her house. Had she died? She opened her mouth to question him.

But he didn’t say a word. With the door open, he waltzed right inside her house, took her face between his hands, and kissed her. Every part of her being rejoiced. She thought she heard choirs of angels sing as he kissed her with a passion that almost brought her to her knees. She clung to him. Her hands gripped his coat. And she kissed him back with all the love she held for him.

They stood in her foyer, the door open, kissing each other blind.

Until Jake finally tore his mouth away. Still holding her face between his hands, he lowered his forehead until it touched hers. “Fuck, woman, I missed you. I hope you’re prepared, because I want it all, sugar. I love you, Willa.”

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