Capturing Her Curves

By Christa Wick

Velda Pace never cared that Shane had struggled to make ends meet back then, and the billionaire he's become since is practically a stranger now. The last thing she wants is for him see her as a charity case, but for the victims who're counting on her for help, she'll beg and borrow--even barter her heart if she has to.

 

Shane Wehr had thought he needed to have it all to hold onto Velda back then, but he ended up losing far more than he gained. And now that she needs him for the one thing that drove them apart, he gets a do-over. This time, he knows money doesn't mean happiness. So he's not going to try and buy a second chance.

 

He's going to rent it. One day at a time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christa Wick
• Release date: Nov 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223717836

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Wrestling with a drain trap, Velda Pace felt a finger tap twice against her foot. She jerked hard, launching an elbow on a collision course with the sink's basin. Her fingers flew open. The pipe wrench bounced off her nose then landed flat in the middle of a long, inventive string of obscenities.

A child's gasp tugged Velda out from under the sink. Pressing a hand against her swelling nose, she looked at the girl. Eight years old and thin as a rail, Honey Grier stood frozen. Tension from a tight braid made the big, electric blue eyes look even wider, their shocked appearance magnifying Velda's guilt over the language she had spewed in the child's presence.

I'm sorry I said those words, Honey. Pulling her hand away, Velda noticed a few red smears. More blood pooled inside her nose. I promise I wasn't saying them at you.

The girl's head bobbed.

Velda got to her feet in search of paper towels. Is there something you need to tell me?

Honey offered another bob.

The silent gesture added a few more pounds to the weight permanently lodged in Velda's chest. Like all children at the shelter, Honey came from an abusive household. One of her father's triggers had been noise. Not yelling, not banging on pans. Faint whispers elicited fury with their reminders of the mouths he had to feed, the bodies he had to clothe.

Getting on her knees, Velda curled her hand around the girl's elbow and gave it a light caress.

I'm sorry I made you bleed, Miss Pace, Honey whispered, the words bordering on inaudible.

You didn't, sweetie. I was clumsy, that's all. Accidents happen. She offered another faint stroke against the girl's arm then pulled away. What did you need to tell me?

Honey pointed at the door, her gaze locked on the cracked and faded linoleum beneath her feet. Man in a suit looking for you.

Ah, the dreaded suits, Velda thought. For shelter kids, such men were harbingers of doom. Prosecutors, police detectives, bail bondsmen, process servers, and bankers, among the most common.

The last option stuck in her head. Eleven days into the month, she was behind on the mortgage. But it was too soon for an in-person reminder. Unless Glenn Collier at the bank had stumbled across Velda's fundraiser to repair storm damage to the roof. A failure-to-maintain clause in the contract meant he could start repossession proceedings immediately.

Or maybe it was a city safety inspector. Repossession by the bank would take months, but a failed inspection would have everyone out on the streets within hours.

Hours…

The small drip of blood from her nose turned into a fire hose.

You need 9-1-1? Honey tightly whispered.

Velda shook her head, went to pat Honey's shoulder then snatched her hand back because of the fresh blood coating her fingers.

You go see what Billie is doing.

Billie was the baby sister Honey doted over.

Another string of obscenities ricocheted inside Velda's head as Honey moved with a ninja's stealthy speed to leave the room. Of all the kids, Honey's story hurt her the most. The little girl showered love and quiet attention on Billie because she knew from her own broken bones how much a giggle or muted cry could cost.

Velda?

A deep baritone sounded from where double doors connected the building’s gymnasium to the industrial-sized kitchen. She didn’t look to identify the man, didn’t need to. She had thrilled to the rumbling voice through four years of college.

Hearing it now made her already aching head spin. 

Velda!

Her ass hit the floor before Shane Wehr could erase the distance between them. Her skull was on a matching collision course, but then he was there, his broad chest supporting her back, his strong arms laced under Velda's to keep her upright.

Feet pounded down the hall. Two teens burst into the kitchen, weapons raised above their heads. A month past his thirteenth birthday, Reggie Snapp brandished the hardcover edition of Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary. Stefan Adams, two years older, wielded a flip-flop.

What'd he do, Miss Pace? Reggie asked, his body still poised to deploy all fifteen-hundred-plus pages of erudition on her behalf. We need to call the police on him?

Unable to trust herself with words, she tried to wave the boys away.

Reggie ignored the vague command. He took a step forward, his sharp gaze honing in on where Shane's chest pressed intimately against Velda's back.

We ain't afraid of him, Reggie insisted. You don't need to protect us.

Really? Shane laughed. Does your friend plan on taking me out with his shower shoe or will you go for the kill by unleashing an impressive vocabulary?

Velda answered for the boys with a hard elbow jab that landed an inch below Shane's ribcage.

I need ice, she gurgled. And a clean towel.

Eyeing Shane with distrust, Reggie tilted his head at Stefan. Stefan nodded, dropped the shoe to the floor and quickly stepped into it before grabbing a plastic bucket and two hand towels. He gave the towels to Velda then took the bucket into the gymnasium, returning in less than a minute with crushed ice.

She used the time to ease away from Shane. Still lightheaded, she stayed on the ground, her back against the nearest of the kitchen's three commercial stoves.

Which one of you knows where there's a first aid kit? Shane asked, his already rumbly voice turning into a frustrated growl.

Velda cut him a sharp glance.

And if you could be so kind as to fetch it, he tacked on with a softer tone.

I know!

Stefan rushed over to the supply cabinet alongside the fire extinguisher, his flip-flops slapping heel-to-ground-to-heel.

Me, she gurgled before Stefan could hand Shane the kit.

The teen hesitated, his gaze darting between them. Bruised flesh protesting the gesture, Velda raised one demanding brow until Stefan yielded the kit to her.

She flashed a thumbs-up then made a shooing motion at both boys. Reggie was slow to leave, his suspicious gaze lingering over Shane until Stefan reached through the door and pulled Reggie into the hall.

Inspiring loyalty.

Shane snatched an antiseptic wipe from the kit. He tore the package open, handed her the wipe. She dabbed gently at her nose as he loaded ice into one of the cheap linen towels.

Not that sink, she warbled as he stood to run cold water over the compress.

He grunted, moved to the next sink, twisted its handle. Velda wiped the blood from her face.

Can you stand?

Just hand me the damn ice, she growled.

Ignoring the demand, he grabbed a chair, placed it within arm's reach of Velda, and sat down. The compress dangled from his hand like bait.

Face tilted upward, she studied him through slitted eyes and considered all the ways fame and fortune had changed Shane Wehr since they were lovers.

What she saw hurt like hell.

CHAPTER 2

Every glance from Velda’s emerald gaze cast another dagger at Shane. If he was churlish, so was she. He had come to help her—to help her shelter. He rescued her from the very real likelihood of a cracked skull. Yet she glared like he carried a can of kerosene and a lit blowtorch.

Watching a purplish bruise spread across her creamy cheek, Shane surrendered the compress. She snatched it up, gingerly pressed the ice against her flesh. Her eyes drifted shut, a relieved sigh escaping at the same time.

Free from scrutiny, he contemplated the generous curves that had always made him hard in college. Hell, everything about Velda made him hard when he was young. Her laugh. The way she bit at her lush bottom lip when he tutored her on algebra. Her generosity, her quick wit, her…everything.

What happened? he asked, exhaling the memories with a harsh breath.

She looked at him, confusion wrinkling her brow. A pained wince quickly followed the expression. She reached behind her, dragged forward a pipe wrench then lightly tapped