Epilogue
JAKE
Evie’s legs dangle off the edge of the upper birth. She’s barefoot, her courthouse dress hitched just above the knee, her garter peeking just below.
I’m one lucky son-of-a-gun.
I’d told myself it was over the second my foot hit the platform when we arrived in San Francisco.
We’d fooled the feds, dodged a tail, shared some laughs and a damn good kiss. She had her freedom. I had my last job to do and would be on the train heading south the next morning. Simple.
Only nothing about Evie was simple.
I’d stood on the platform like a sap, suitcase in hand, watching her walk away. She didn’t look back. She was holding her chin high, acting like the world didn’t scare her. I knew better. So did she.
But she was brave, I had to give her that. I was the coward for letting her walk away.
I turned away, like I planned. Took six steps before I heard her voice in my head saying, "You kissed me."
I did kiss her. I kissed her like a man kisses a woman he doesn't want to let go of.
And damned if I could take another step after that.
I doubled back. I found her and trouble.
Seeing that slick-haired bastard with his hand on her, dragging her away, made me see red.
That might’ve been the first moment I admitted it. She wasn’t just the dame I shared a train car with. Not just fake wife or a kiss I’d never forget.
She was mine.
And nobody puts hands on what’s mine.
I intervened and made sure Harold knew he needed to scram if he didn’t want me to re-arrange his face, or worse, feed him the sharks in the San Francisco bay.
Not a good first impression for me to make on Evie’s parents, but I’d deal with that when the time came.
And the time would come because I wasn’t leaving Evie again. Not without her.
Luckily, Harold got the message.
And now, with my job complete and a marriage certificate for Mr. and Mrs. Jake Callahan in my pocket, we’re celebrating a real honeymoon on the train to Los Angeles.
I slide my hands up her thighs to her waist and tug her off the berth, pulling her into my lap on the lower bunk. “We haven’t exactly planned what comes next.”
“Sure we have. We kiss a lot. We find a cheap apartment. I get a job pretending I can type. You become an upstanding citizen who handles scandal in Hollywood instead of causing it.”
I laugh. “That’s rich coming from the woman who ran from her wedding in nothing but a slip and broken garter.”
“Details,” she says, then tilts her head. “So, Uncle Danny’s really got something lined up for you?”
“Paperwork’s waiting,” I nod. “Studio fixer. All above board. Well… mostly. I suspect actors live lives even more depraved than bootleggers. But no more bootlegging. Just a life on the straight and narrow.”
“And me.”
“You’re the best part of the whole plan.”
Her smile is like the sun. “Does that mean you love me?”
I never thought I’d feel the words toward a woman much less say them. But if Evie needs to hear them a hundred times a day, I’ll say them.
“It means I love you.”
“I love you too.” She kisses me then, slow and teasing, like she knows exactly what it does to me. Her fingers tug at the collar of my shirt. My hands settle at her waist, then slide lower, pulling her flush against me.
Her fingers fumble with the buttons of my shirt. I take her hands in mine, stilling them. Not because I want to stop. Hell no. But because I need to be sure.
“You ever been touched by a man?” I ask, pulling back just enough to see her eyes.
She shakes her head once. “No. But I want to. With you.”
She leans in again, and this time the kiss deepens, and she wriggles in my lap with that wicked glint in her eye.
I groan, worried I’m going to embarrass myself.
“We’re married now.” She finds the buttons of my shirt again. “You wouldn’t want to scandalize your new bride by not properly sealing the deal.”
“I’d never be so unchivalrous.”
“You’re about to be.”
I grip her waist and lift her. She squeals then melts against me as I lay her down in the lower berth, kissing her as I go.
Her fingers are tentative at first, then bolder, slipping beneath my shirt. I shrug it off, and her palms skate over my chest like she’s memorizing me.
“Tell me if I move too fast.” I brush kisses along her jaw.
She cups my face. “Tell me if I don’t move fast enough.”
God help me.
I kiss her again, deeper this time. My hand slides over her hip, fingers slipping under the hem of her dress. She arches into me, pressing against me where I’m already aching
“Wife,” I groan, “you keep moving like that and I’m going to forget to be gentle.”
“Don’t,” she whispers. “I want to feel how much you want me.”
I grin against her lips. “You’re going to ruin me.”
“I hope so,” she says, breath hitching as my hand finds the garter beneath her skirt and glides higher.
I take my time undressing her. When she’s bare beneath me, pink-cheeked and luminous, I nearly forget how to breathe.
“You’re beautiful, Evie.”
“Say it again.”
“You’re beautiful.” I kiss her neck. Her shoulder. The soft swell of her breast. “And you’re mine.”
“For real. Not pretend.”
“Never pretend.” I resume touching and kissing, overwhelmed in my attempt to touch and taste every inch of her.
“Jake?”
I stop, worried this is too much for her. I lift my head and look into her pretty eyes. “You okay?”
“Tell me what pleases you.” Her hand slides between us and I hiss as it finds my hard length. “Like this?” She rubs and I groan.
“Yes.”
“What else?” Her fingers undo my pants and push them down, then her hand finds me, wraps around me leaving me breathless.
I thrust involuntarily.
“This?”
“Evie, I like it all.” I take her hands and hold them over her head. “But if you keep doing that, you’ll miss the best part.”
Her cheeks flush pink and it makes my heart swell in my chest. I quickly undress and settle over her.
I gently nudge her thighs apart, pausing when she stiffens. “Breathe.”
She nods.
“It might hurt…if it does you tell me and I’ll stop.”
She exhales. Opens.
I enter her slow, with care and reverence, which isn’t easy because she feels like heaven. When she sucks in a breath, I pause.
She wraps her arms around me, holding me tight. “More.”
I press in deeper, closing my eyes to rein the need to drive hard, fast. She’s wet. Tight. Perfect.
I move with her, against her, until her hips lift to meet mine.
Until there’s no more hesitation, only the two of us moving in rhythm.
Like our banter it’s an easy push and pull, tease and surrender.
Her nails scrape down my back, her breath hot against my ear, and I swear I’ve never felt more alive.
“Jake…” She sighs my name over and over.
The friction builds, but I do my best to focus on her.
Okay, so I might also distract myself with baseball scores.
Anything to keep from rushing. I need this to be good for her.
Better than good. I want her to remember this, not just as her first time, but as the moment everything changed. For both of us.
Her breathing quickens. Her body pulses around mine.
“Oh!” She arches, her mouth forming a perfect O as pleasure floods through her. It’s the most beautiful moment of my life watching her fall apart in my arms, knowing I’m the one who brought her there.
Her body tightens around mine, and I don’t stand a chance. The swell of heat, the rush of release tears through me like a freight train. My vision blurs, and I cling to her like she’s the only thing keeping me from shattering.
Later, tangled in sheets and each other, she presses her mouth to my jaw and whispers, “We just broke rule number two.”
I slide my hands over her breasts, kneading them until she gasps. “Rules are made to be broken.”
She sighs. “And you’re so good at breaking rules.” Then she surprises me by pushing me until I fall onto the floor.
I land with a thud, startled and then delighted as she climbs on top of me, all flushed cheeks and wicked intent.
“I want to break some rules too.”
Already I’m aching with need again. “Break them with me, sweetheart.”
When she sinks over me, I lever up, gently bite her earlobe then whisper, “Go on, Evie. Let’s see just how bad you can be.”
Jenna Harte is a ghostwriter, having written over 90 romance books for her clients in the last seven years, and a hybrid author, having penned over a dozen romance and mystery novels, two author organizers, and an author marketing planner.
She’s the managing editor at , a romance anthology publications.
She also supports authors through her online community for romance writers at Get free books, bonus content, and more at