Thrill of Love Read online

  Thrill of Love

  The Bradens

  at Peaceful Harbor

  Love in Bloom Series

  Melissa Foster

  This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

  THRILL OF LOVE

  All Rights Reserved.

  Copyright © 2017 Melissa Foster

  Google Play Edition

  V1.0

  This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Cover Design: Elizabeth Mackey Designs

  Cover Photograph: Sara Eirew Photography

  WORLD LITERARY PRESS

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  A Note to Readers

  Ty and Aiyla’s journey to their happily ever after is a much bigger story than you might be used to. Throughout the series, Ty has been a bit mysterious, but I’ve known he was extreme since the first time I met—and fell in love with—him. I knew he needed a forever love who could handle his past, and who was just as fierce as he was. Aiyla is most definitely his perfect mate. Their story was not an easy one to write, but every romance is not roses and wine, and theirs is an epic love story that I am proud to have written. I hope you enjoy Ty and Aiyla’s story and are looking forward to reading about Beau Braden and Charlotte Sterling in Anything for Love, the next Braden novel, and the first of the Bradens at Pleasant Hill.

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  www.melissafoster.com/News

  About the Bradens

  The Bradens are just one of the series in the Love in Bloom big-family romance collection. Each Love in Bloom book is written to be enjoyed as a stand-alone novel or as part of the larger series. There are no cliffhangers and no unresolved issues. Characters from each series make appearances in future books, so you never miss an engagement, wedding, or birth. A complete list of all series titles is included at the end of this book, along with previews of upcoming publications.

  Visit Melissa’s Reader Goodies page for…

  - Complete Love in Bloom series list

  - FREE Love in Bloom ebooks

  - FREE downloadable reading order, series checklists, and more

  Love in Bloom Subseries Order

  Snow Sisters

  The Bradens

  The Remingtons

  Seaside Summers

  The Ryders

  Billionaires After Dark

  Harborside Nights

  Standalone Romance Titles

  Tru Blue

  Truly, Madly, Whiskey

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  A Note to Readers

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Ready for more Bradens?

  More Books By Melissa

  Acknowledgments

  Meet Melissa

  Chapter One

  WHERE THE HECK is my bike helmet? Aiyla Bell had packed and checked her equipment more times than she cared to admit over the past week. Having spent the last decade traveling all over the world taking pictures for her elite line of coffee-table books, while working on the side as a ski instructor or hiking guide, she could pack in her sleep. There was no way she’d dropped the ball in preparation for the craziness that was the Children’s Charity Mad Prix and forgotten something as basic as a bike helmet. She’d taken part in similar, though not as lengthy, events when she was a teenager. She had always wanted to compete in the Mad Prix because she’d heard so many great things about it, but her travel schedule had been too crazy until now. The stars had finally aligned, and she’d gotten lucky enough to sign on for her first Mad Prix. Five days in the Colorado Mountains, five different wilderness events, and four nights spent sleeping on the forest floor. Heaven.

  She opened another equipment bag and began rifling through. A familiar woodsy, earthy scent surrounded her, and her hands stilled. Her pulse quickened. The smell that had haunted her for months thickened, and she sensed him crouching behind her. Her breathing halted, and goose bumps chased up her arms as memories of Saint-Luc, and the five most incredible days of her life, slammed into her.

  “Do you believe in fate?”

  His warm breath coasted over her cheek, and she swallowed hard, paralyzed by the sound of the deep, seductive voice she’d heard in her dreams so many times she wasn’t sure it was real. Her heart thundered against her ribs, and she forced her shaky legs to work. She turned, both of them rising at the same time, bringing all six-plus broad, muscular, feet of Ty Braden into focus. Oh God. It’s really you. His silky brown hair was in desperate need of a trim, stopping just short of his shoulders and framing his rugged features. The mix of longing and shock in his golden-brown eyes unearthed a storm of memories—her hand in his, his lips on hers, deep conversations as they shared their hopes and dreams, which were as perfectly aligned as the stars in the skies of Saint-Luc.

  “Ty” came out ridiculously breathless. She wanted to scale him like a mountain, to kiss his hot, sensuous mouth again and feel him holding her as he once had. But she couldn’t do any of those things. She was frozen in place, and that was probably a good thing. He was still Ty Braden, the world-renowned mountain climber and photographer, with a reputation as a player that preceded him.

  In an effort to regain control, she shifted her gaze away and managed, “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s fate,” he said confidently, as if he believed in it. “Fate has brought us together for another five days.”

  She forced herself to meet his gaze, her heart thundering at the prospect of more time with him. “You don’t believe in fate, remember? You believe people are in charge of their own destiny.” Their last night in Switzerland, he’d asked her to leave with him the next day and travel with him “to see where things end up.” Oh, how she’d wanted to throw caution to the wind and join him. But she’d worked years to build the life she had always dreamed of, and she couldn’t risk it all to be one in a long line of Ty’s women. She’d fallen hard for him—fallen in love with him—and she hadn’t been able to bring herself to confront the rumors about his reputation. Instead, she’d said, Do you believe in fate? And though he’d said he didn’t, she always had, and she’d said, if this is meant to be, we’ll meet up again. They’d agreed not to exchange phone numbers or addresses, and not to track each other down by any other means, but to truly leave their future in fate’s hands.

  �
��I think that’s changed, Aiyla.” He said her name like he’d been waiting to say it for all these months. He stepped closer, so close she could smell something minty on his breath. “I can’t believe you’re here. After all this time, you’re really here.”

  The longing in his voice confused her even more. She looked into his eyes, and memories swamped her. She remembered the feel of him holding her in his arms as they fell asleep fully clothed and waking to his sweet whispers and gentle kisses. Cuddling under blankets as snow fell around them and they reminisced about their childhoods and families. She felt like she already knew his five siblings, though she’d never met them. A lump rose in her throat, and she shifted her gaze over his shoulder to try to regain control. Two female competitors were whispering and watching them. Her stomach knotted again. Why did the only guy she’d ever fallen for have to come with a womanizing reputation? He hadn’t seemed like a player in Saint-Luc. He hadn’t even tried to sleep with her until that very last night, when she knew he’d been picking up on all of her sexy signals. Signals she’d then dashed with one sentence. She’d been seconds from going back to his hotel room when he’d stepped away to answer a call. The brief moments it had taken him had given her a chance to clear the lust from her head enough to make a more rational decision. He probably thought she was a cocktease, but it wasn’t merely sex she’d been avoiding. She’d thought she was saving her heart. And she’d regretted that decision ever since.

  Ty lifted his hand, and her bright red bike helmet swung on its straps from his long fingers—fingers she could still feel running through her hair as they had four months ago, when he’d been on a photography assignment for National Geographic in Saint-Luc and she’d been teaching at a ski resort and collecting photos for her latest book. Did he still think about their kisses, which had turned her inside out? And the way they’d held hands and talked into the wee hours of the mornings?

  She reached for her helmet and he lifted it higher, his lips quirking up at the edges as he stepped closer and touched her arm. Heat spread through her like liquid fire. She focused on her helmet to keep from looking at him, remembering the first day they’d met. She’d been standing on a ridge taking in the snow-covered valley below and he’d come upon her while taking pictures. When she’d asked if she could see what he’d photographed, he’d held the camera up in the same way he was now holding her helmet, with the same coy smile, demanding to know her name before he’d share his pictures.

  She wanted to ask so many things: Had he traveled to the places he’d hoped to since the last time they’d seen each other? Were the rumors about his being a player true? But her words got tangled in her befuddled brain and tumbled out too fast. “I live here…in Colorado. I can’t believe the race is here. You’re here.” Oh God! Shut up already. “Small world, I guess. I need my helmet.” I need my helmet? Jesus, I don’t give a damn about my stupid helmet! She clamped her mouth shut to keep from rambling.

  He handed her the helmet, a wolfish grin settling into place. “Surely there’s a little reward in it for me, considering I could have let Johnny Jackass keep it.”

  Oh God, yes. A kiss…or a thousand? She really needed to get a grip. She couldn’t afford to get hot and bothered over him, but his sexy brown eyes with flecks of gold and his smart-assery were as addicting as her favorite candy, Tropical Heat Hot Tamales. Maybe his acceptance of fate had changed, but had anything else?

  She forced herself to focus. “Reward…?”

  An announcement sounded with a twenty-minute prerace warning. She zipped up her equipment bags, and as she started to hoist them over her shoulder, Ty took them from her hands.

  “I can carry those,” she said as he slung them easily over his back.

  “Call it a ‘thank you’ instead of a ‘reward’ for retrieving your helmet,” he said, ignoring what she’d said. “Something simple, like a walk after the race?”

  The first leg of the race was a thirty-mile bike ride, the last eight miles were through the mountains, ending at a site where their equipment would be left for them to make camp.

  When she didn’t answer right away, he said, “Come on, Aiyla. We took lots of walks in Saint-Luc, and I seem to remember your hand fitting perfectly in mine and your lips…” He arched a brow.

  A nervous laugh slipped out before she could stop it. Their lips fit together, all right, even more perfectly than their hands, and a walk sounded wonderful. But she needed time to think. As he set her bags by the transportation trucks and they headed for the bikes, she asked, “Who’s Johnny Jackass?”

  Ty nodded at two guys standing with a group of women. “Johnny Jackson, one of the Jackson brothers. They stop at nothing to bring down their competition. Stealing equipment is tame for those cretins.”

  “This is a race for charity, not the Olympics. Besides, I’m a woman, not even in their league of competition.” There were three groups of winners: men, women, and couples. She knew Ty was a fierce, and honest, competitor. If the articles and online gossip were true, he was a dichotomy of morals when it came to sports competitions versus his personal life, with one similarity—he always achieved his goals. The Mad Prix was probably like just another woman for him to conquer.

  What does that make me?

  Her stomach sank.

  She put on her helmet to give her something to concentrate on just as they reached her bike.

  “Chances are they’ve swiped something key out of everyone’s bags. They’ll get pulled from the race as soon as the coordinators get wind of it.” Ty lowered his broad shoulders, bringing with him the scent of sunshine and rugged virility all wrapped up in one big delicious package.

  Great. Now I’m thinking of your package.

  Her eyes drifted to the bulge in his bike shorts, which left nothing to the imagination. Who was she kidding? She’d spent so many hours fantasizing about him, there was nothing left to imagine.

  In a voice that could melt butter, he said, “Now, about our date.”

  Aiyla looked at him for a long moment, remembering the ease and openness of their conversations and how effortlessly she’d been drawn to him. She couldn’t get distracted from the reasons she’d put on the brakes before. But was he really the man rumors made him out to be? What if the rumors were unfounded? If the women standing behind him whispering were just being silly and not talking about him at all?

  Another announcement sounded, and Ty’s fingertips grazed hers, drawing her eyes to his again.

  “Aiyla, I know you felt what I did in Saint-Luc. Give me a reason to win this leg of the race.” His lips curved up in a sexy smile, and her insides heated up. “Promise me a walk.”

  She didn’t want to turn him away again, not when fate had truly stepped in. But she needed to know the truth about his personal life, and the only way to find that out was to muster the courage to ask him. More nervous laughter slipped out as she said, “If it means the difference between you winning and losing, then how can I say no?”

  His fingers curled around hers, and his expression turned serious. “I don’t know how you could say no anyway.”

  He leaned in close, and she held her breath, readying for a kiss she wasn’t sure she should accept—but she wanted nonetheless. She closed her eyes and his lips touched her cheek.

  “Good luck out there, baby cakes,” he said just above a whisper, and walked away.

  The air rushed from her lungs. Baby cakes. That’s what he’d called her last time they were together, though she’d never known why. Did he call everyone baby cakes? And if so, did those other women feel as special as she did when he said it? She watched him walk away and noticed several other girls also enjoying the view of his fine ass in those tight cycling shorts. Life would be a whole lot easier if she were more like her much-older sister, Cherise, who had raised her from the time Aiyla was fifteen, when they’d lost their mother. Cherise lived a careful, meticulously orchestrated life, void of any risks, including those that pertained to her heart. She’d married a safe, reli
able accountant with no sense of adventure. They had a comfortable home with a white picket fence and two adorable little boys. Just the idea of living such a mundane life made Aiyla’s stomach turn. Hadn’t their mother’s death taught her sister that fate played its hand no matter how many walls one erected? Living a safe, boring life in fear of it all being taken away wasn’t living at all.

  Aiyla had accepted long ago that she’d never be a white-picket-fence type of girl. She loved adventures, thrived on capturing in photographs that would live on forever the faces of people who had lived full, even if torturous, lives. And she felt rejuvenated when surrounded by untamed wilderness. As she forced her gaze away from Ty, her fingers absently brushing over the cheek he’d kissed, she had to admit, she also enjoyed the sheer energy of a man marking his territory.

  Now, if only she could focus on the race instead of the man who’d set her heart on fire.

  COOL AIR WHIPPED against Ty’s cheeks as he pedaled past his competitors cycling up the last big hill before hitting the mountain trail. The sound of tires on pavement was similar to a waterfall, constant and airy, with a wave effect that eased as he cycled farther ahead of the group. He’d been taking part in charity events like this since he was a teenager. Sometimes one of his older brothers, Sam, competed with him, which was always fun. But it was the busy season for Sam’s river-rafting adventure company, leaving Ty to blow away the competition on his own.

  He gained speed on the incline and rounded a bend, passing a crowd of spectators and volunteers who were cheering them on and offering water. He stayed low over the handlebars, and when the pavement turned to earth, he kicked up his efforts. A cloud of dust erupted in his wake. He sucked down a gel pack and followed a narrow trail into the woods.

  Eight miles to go.

  He could hear the others gaining on him, then falling farther behind once again. While their lungs and thighs would burn from pedaling over the rough terrain, Ty reveled in the extra exertion. Mountains were to him as oxygen was to others. He’d had a fascination with mountains for as long as he could remember. Their majestic beauty and quiet power fueled a rivaling sense of calm and inspiration within him, the same way spending time with Aiyla had in Switzerland. His mind raced back to the moment he’d first seen her digging through her bag a few hours ago. He’d been checking his equipment with the transportation crew when he’d caught a glimpse of her. Her honey-blond hair had curtained her face, but he’d know her anywhere. She was petite but strong, with lean shoulders, gorgeous legs, and arms that were as delicate as they were defined. And her hair? It was the perfect blend of light brown and dark blond, naturally straight, shining even in the dead of night. His fingers itched with the memory of those silky strands threaded between his fingers as they’d kissed beneath the evening skies.