Raking the Ashes

By Kait Gamble

Tamara Roberts only wanted to live her life and write her novels. After living hard and fast in her youth, life now happens almost exclusively on the page for Tamara. Her carefully constructed life is torn apart when her long estranged husband makes an appearance on her doorstep looking too sexy for comfort.

Peter Worthington has one request before they part ways for good—that Tamara comes to make peace with his dying father. But the simple request comes with a huge tangle of complications. He never expected devastating revelations to be uncovered or for the chemistry between them to still be explosive.

But will the truth bring them back together or tear them apart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: Jan 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9781773398747

Kait Gamble

Kait was born and raised in the wilderness of the Pacific Northwest and started writing to entertain herself during the long winters as a child. Insatiably curious with a love of learning new things, she’s picked up many random skills including three languages and two martial arts. After travelling three continents (the other four are on her bucket list), she settled in England with her family where she spends most of her time cultivating her daughter’s love of reading and writing, scribbling ideas on every available scrap of paper, and trying out dialogue on her cat.

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Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2019 Kait Gamble

ISBN: 978-1-77339-874-7

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Audrey Bobak

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

For all those who have loved and lost.

RAKING THE ASHES

Kait Gamble

Copyright © 2019

Chapter One

Don’t you ever do anything but work?

Tamara Roberts looked up from her screen at her assistant and gave her a mild smile as she pushed a stray lock of dark hair out of her eyes. The last I checked, yeah. I eat, sleep, breathe, watch the occasional movie.

Very funny. Angela Parsons, PA par excellence, slumped into the chair on the other side of the table to smile at her boss and friend. Gentle concern was clear on her face. You’ve got to get out there. Live a little.

I’ve lived plenty. Hard, fast, and stupidly when she was younger. Tamara viciously stabbed the keyboard with her fingers as she finished a paragraph. They’d been through this many times before. Angela couldn’t seem to understand that not everyone needed—or wanted—to date wildly inappropriate men and party every weekend.

There was nothing wrong with wanting a quiet life. Work was more than fulfilling. Her writing was both a living and an escape. And it gave her a comfortable life. All pluses in her book.

I’m just saying that being cooped up in the house all the time with nothing but your screen and the voices in your head for company can’t be great for you.

It’s more than enough, Angela. Tamara picked up one of the many pens on her desk and jotted a note on a pad before she forgot about it. Besides. I have you.

You need to find a man like the ones you write about. She leaned forward, her beautiful red hair bouncing with her movement. Smart. Sexy. Handsome. Won’t take no for an answer. Worships the ground you walk on. You know, the perfect man.

Ignoring the man that came to mind at that description, Tamara shook her head. There’s no such thing as a perfect man except on paper.

Oh, I don’t know about that. The guy I’m seeing this weekend seems promising.

Tamara tapped her pen against her glasses. You’ve said that about the last four men.

It’s different this time. Caleb is a winner. I can feel it.

Tamara smiled as encouragingly as she could. Why Angela felt the need to go through the hassle of a relationship, no matter how short, was beyond her. So…

It took her almost a full three seconds to remember what they had been discussing before she went off on a tangent. Angela nodded. Of course. I’ll get your blog sorted out. Was there anything else you needed?

Milk? Tamara was already thinking about the hero’s final grovel. Angela didn’t usually need things spelled out for her. I have a list on the fridge.

I’m on it. She stood and stretched sinuously.

How can anyone be so innately sexual? Tamara shoved her glasses up her nose. Apparently, some people were just born with it. She, on the other hand, preferred to fly under the radar.

Angela made no move to leave, however.

What’s wrong?

I just thought you might want to talk about what your editor said.

Tamara bit the inside of her cheek. It’s all good, Angela.

Really? Because it looks like your head’s about to explode just thinking about it.

Why would she be upset over the fact that her editor said that her latest projects felt a bit ‘samey’? That her heroes lately were all barely redeemable jerks? That she needed to get out of her comfort zone and try something different?

Not upsetting at all.

Tamara was so okay with it that she had cried for a little bit. What was half an hour spent wallowing? Okay. It was an hour of wine and tears in the bath, but it was all part of a writer’s life, right? She knew she needed to evolve. And that was exactly what she was going to do with this new book.

Her PA’s voice cut through the reverie.

If you say so. But you know I’m always here if you want to talk.

Tamara couldn’t help but smile. Thanks. Angela was a true friend.

One who was currently distracted by something she saw outside.

When Angela continued to stand and stare, Tamara had to ask, What’s up?

She pointed. If you wanted to get out of your rut and try something new, you should take a run at the guy outside, Angela said approvingly. Very hot.

There was someone outside? Tamara couldn’t imagine who would go out of their way to search her out. True, she had some diehard fans, but she wrote under a pseudonym and, thanks to her reclusive nature, people who lived nearby had no idea who she was besides being the quiet writer. That was if they ever saw her stray farther than the mailbox.

She pushed her chair back and strode over to stand next to her friend. The instant she saw the familiar tall, broad-shouldered build clad in a fine dark suit, Tamara’s knees wobbled a little.

Even after nearly a decade, she still knew him on sight. She didn’t even have to see his face. And her body reacted with a force only he’d even been able to elicit from her.

No. It couldn’t be.

As if he could hear her thoughts, he turned his head slightly to peer at the window where they stood. Tamara’s heart stuttered to a stop. What she already knew was confirmed.

Dark hair shorter and his face leaner than she remembered, he was still a fine specimen of the male of the species. One look at him always had the ability to knock the breath from her lungs.

Peter Worthington.

Impossible. What would he be doing there?

Her first impulse was to hide. It would have been so easy to get Angela to answer the door and deny her being there, but it was obvious he knew she lived there. Why else would he be there?

Tamara? Are you okay? Angela’s bright green gaze bounced between her and the man outside. Who is that?

No one.

You’re not reacting like he’s no one. Alarmed now, she put her hand on Tamara’s shoulder. You don’t think he’s a stalker or something, do you?

No. Tamara watched him take long-legged strides up the boarded path with growing dread. It’s my husband.

****

Peter stared up and down the beach and the white house set on the hill just above the water. It looked small, secluded. Cozy. Not at all what he imagined Tamara would call home. It was too lonely. He recalled a woman who loved going out to meals and shows. A woman who delighted in hanging out with family and friends. Not someone who would hide on windy bluffs miles from civilization.

Did he have the wrong place?

No. Tamara was around here somewhere. Though he couldn’t see her, he could feel her gaze on him.

What had caused her to move away from people?

He shook off his curiosity. What did he care? She was no longer a part of his life. No longer his concern. Tamara had ceased to be his … anything … a long time ago.

So why did the thought of her being alone out here bother him so?

The fact that he had to really dig to find her added to the nagging suspicion that the Tamara he knew was gone.

Of course, she would be. She had been but a girl when he’d seen her last. Touched her last…

They’d both been so young.

So stupid.

Peter Worthington shook off the melancholy that always accompanied memories of them.

What surprised him was that she was now quite famous and wealthy writing romance novels. Though under a pseudonym. It had taken great time and cost to track her down. Now that he had, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see her, let alone talk to this recluse she had become.

Only he had to.

He knocked though he knew she’d already seen him approaching. Peter had felt her gaze as surely as if she’d reached out and touched him.

After a long moment, the heavy wooden door opened to reveal a striking redhead. Anger flashed in her stunningly green eyes. So, this woman had been forewarned about him. It was almost amusing that his wife had sent her minion, or whoever that was, in her stead. Of course, she couldn’t face him. I wish to speak with Tamara.

I’m sorry but I don’t know any Tamara.

Fuming, he considered barging in. Did they think he was an idiot? I didn’t come all this way to the corner of nowhere to be sent away. He looked over the redhead’s shoulder. Tamara! I know you’re in there.

The woman before him looked as if she was ready to set him on fire but a soft voice inside called her off. Angela, it’s okay.

The woman who walked into view was beautiful, as he knew she would be. Even in loose clothing, her hair up in the messy bun and glasses, she shone like a star. Why was she trying to hide from the world?

Why did he care?

Peter gritted his teeth. Tamara, we need to talk.

She stood taller. Glared at him. I think we’ve said everything that needed to be said years ago.

He glanced at the judgmental mannequin that was the other woman. Can we speak privately?

Tamara shook her head. I just told you we have nothing to talk about.

Obviously, she wasn’t going to be budged. At least not without some persuasion. I thought we could at least be adult about things.

Right. Adults. There was a flash of something in her eyes that let him know she wasn’t completely unfeeling toward him. That, at least, he knew how to exploit.

Can I come in, at least? It’s been a long trip.

The word no was already leaving the redhead’s mouth but Tamara placed a hand on her shoulder. Let him in, Angela.

Her guardian stepped aside grudgingly.

You don’t need to be here for this, Angela. Tamara held his gaze. He won’t be long.

Are you sure? The redhead eyed him again as if he would sprout fangs and try to kill Tamara the instant her back was turned. I don’t mind waiting.

Tamara shook her head. I really need some of the stuff on the list and it’s getting late.

Angela nodded curtly, still eyeing Peter with distrust. I’ve got my phone if you need me.

Thanks. Tamara gave her a wan smile before turning her attention back to Peter. I apologize for Angela. She can be a bit overprotective. Can I get you something to drink?

A coffee if it’s not too much trouble.

****

Tamara saw the fatigue on his face, in the way his shoulders were set. What would have prompted Peter Worthington to wear himself out?

She nodded at the breakfast bar. Have a seat. Would you like something to eat?

He shook his head. You have a lovely home.

Knowing it was nothing compared to what he was used to, Tamara just smiled, even as grim as it was. After pouring him a coffee from the carafe that she kept almost constantly full, Tamara proceeded to pour herself one too. Whatever it was he so urgently needed to talk to her about probably warranted it.

Sliding his over to him, she stayed on the other side of the bar.

Peter hadn’t changed much. Besides maybe getting better looking. He’d lost the softness of youth. His face had been honed, as had the rest of him from the looks of it. At first glance, she would have him pegged as a banker, a CEO, maybe even royalty. He oozed wealth and privilege as if it was part of him.

Which, of course, it was. His family’s wealth was as old as time and almost unimaginably vast. So much so that they could never spend it all. They probably owned an even larger chunk of the world now.

Like she’d know. She hadn’t taken an interest in the Worthington name in a very long time.

What piqued her curiosity now was the fact that Peter had taken the time to track her down. She had made sure it would be very difficult. Yet he’d managed it.

Whatever it was had to be important to even get him off his pedestal to talk to her.

Tamara leaned back against the counter and sipped her coffee. He came to her, he could be the first to speak.

Peter regarded her evenly over the rim of his mug. You’ve done well for yourself.

Her grip on the mug tightened. You seem surprised.

He studied her for a breath. Not at all. I always knew that you could do anything you put your mind to.

She scoffed, irritated by the platitudes. Why are you here, Peter? We both know you’re not here to compliment my life choices.

Surprise flashed in his eyes as he put the mug down. You’re right. I want you to come back with me.

Now it was her turn to be stunned. You’re joking, right?

Do I look like I’m kidding? His voice had hardened. The words came through gritted teeth. No, he wasn’t and it seemed he was having a hard time keeping his temper in check.

Shaking her head, she scoffed. You can’t honestly expect me to drop everything to run off with you just because you show up after all these years and ask. Hadn’t she done that once before? And look how well that had turned out.

Peter stood fluidly, rounded the bar, and loomed over her. He was too close. She could smell him and that brought back far too many memories. Holding her breath, Tamara stood her ground with the help of a death grip on the countertop behind her.

My father is … dying and apparently, he has something to say to you.

Chapter Two

A chill rushed through her, so fast and so fierce she shuddered and grabbed her mug again, needing its warmth. Your father wouldn’t have anything to say to me, Peter. He’d said more than enough over the few months she’d known him.

His eyes glittered warningly. Apparently, he does. Why else would I be here?

Why else indeed. They’d had nothing to do with each other for so long, Tamara was sure she’d never have to see Peter or any of his family ever again.

You could have done it over the phone or vid chat. You’ve obviously done some digging to find me. After all that, my contact information would have been just as easy to come by.

He huffed a derisive breath. And would you have answered if you knew it was me or my father?

No. That was the truth. If she had known he had found her and was going to show up at her door, Tamara would have made sure she wasn’t around. Maybe even taken that vacation she so desperately needed.

Since you’re here now, I don’t mind calling him and talking. Anything else would cut into my schedule. I have a lot going on right now.

His expression turned blank. I don’t know why I expected more from you.

That’s funny coming from you. She practically spat the words and she edged past him. As usual, it’s what you want and to hell with everything else.

You’re talking about work being more important than a man’s dying words.

Anger flared, blurring her vision for a flash. That man has held nothing but contempt for me since the moment you’d introduced us.

Peter held up his hand. He’d been through this with her more than once. I’m just asking for a few hours. We’ll fly in, you’ll listen to what he has to say, then you’ll fly back.

He made it sound so simple and it all would likely be just as he said, but Tamara knew that if Peter was involved, things could get infinitely more complicated.

The fact that his father wanted to speak to her brought back the same dread she’d felt whenever she had to be in his presence in the past. It was ridiculous. Tamara pressed her trembling hands together. She was a grown woman. That she still reacted this way when imagining herself in the presence of Arthur Worthington was beyond