Friendship On Fire

Fool her once, as her best friend.

Fool her twice...as her fake fiancé?

Top Boston interior designer Jules Brogan has no shortage of work. So why say yes to designing a yacht with Noah Lockwood—her former best friend who disappeared from her life ten years ago after one smoldering encounter? Especially since the job requires posing as Noah’s fiancée! But what are old friends for...especially if she can coax him into one more kiss?

JOSS WOOD loves books and traveling—especially to the wild places of Southern Africa. She has the domestic skills of a potted plant and drinks far too much coffee.

Joss has written for Mills & Boon Modern and, most recently, Mills & Boon Desire. After a career in business, she now writes full-time. Joss is a member of the Romance Writers of America and Romance Writers of South Africa.

Also by Joss Wood

Convenient Cinderella Bride

The Nanny Proposal

His Ex’s Well-Kept Secret

One Night to Forever

The CEO’s Nanny Affair

Little Secrets: Unexpectedly

Pregnant

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Friendship on Fire

Joss Wood

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07660-9

FRIENDSHIP ON FIRE

© 2018 Joss Wood

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Epilogue

Extract

Extract

About the Publisher

Prologue

Callie...

As she’d done for nearly thirty years, Callie Brogan kissed her daughter’s sable-colored hair, conscious that nothing was guaranteed—not time, affection or life itself so she took every opportunity to kiss and hug her offspring, all seven of them.

God, no, she hadn’t birthed them all. Levi and the twins—Jules and Darby—were hers. The Lockwood brothers—Noah, Eli and Ben—were the sons of her heart. Biologically, they belonged to her best friend and neighbor, Bethann Lockwood, who had passed away ten years ago. Dylan-Jane, well, DJ was another child of her heart.

The life Callie had lived back then, as the pampered wife of the stupendously wealthy, successful and most powerful venture capitalist in Boston, was over. Her beloved Ray was gone, too. She’d been a widow for three years now.

Callie was, gulp, alone. At fifty-four, it was time to reinvent herself.

So damn scary...

Who was she if she wasn’t her kids’ mom and her exuberant, forceful husband’s wife?

At the moment, she was someone she didn’t recognize. She needed to get to know herself again.

“Mom?”

Callie blinked and looked into Jules’s brilliant eyes. As always, she caught her breath. Jules had Ray’s eyes, that incredible shade of silver blue, incandescently luminous. Callie waited for the familiar wave of grief, and it washed over her as more of a swell than a tsunami.

Damn, Callie missed that man. His bawdy laugh, his strong arms, the sex. Yeah, God, she really missed the sex.

“Mom? Are you okay?” Jules asked, perceptive as always.

Callie waved her words away. She considered herself a modern mom but telling her very adult daughter that she was horny was not something that she’d ever do. So Callie shrugged and smiled. “I’m good.”

Jules frowned. “I don’t believe you.”

Callie looked around and wished Noah—and Eli and Ben—were here. Eli and Ben had excused themselves from Sunday lunch; both were working overtime to restore a catamaran. And Noah was in Italy? Or was it Greece? Cannes? The boy used jet travel like normal people used cars.

Would Noah ever come back home to Boston? The eldest Lockwood boy wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve but his stepdad’s actions after Bethann’s death had scarred him. He had far too much pride to show how wounded he was, to admit he was lost and lonely and hurt. Like Bethann, he saw emotion and communicating his fears as a failure and a weakness.

Noah’s independence frustrated Callie but she’d never stopped loving the boy...the man. Noah was in his midthirties now.

Her own son, Levi, sat down on the bigger of the two leather couches and placed his glass of whiskey on the coffee table. “Right, Mom, what’s the big news?”

Callie took her seat with Jules next to her, on the arm of the chair. Darby and the twins’ best friend, DJ, bookended Levi.

Jules rubbed her hand up and down Callie’s back. “What is it, Mom?”

Well, here goes. “Last Tuesday was three years since your dad died.”

“We know, Mom,” Darby murmured, her elegant fingers holding the stem of her wineglass.

“I’ve decided to make some changes.”

Jules lifted her eyebrows, looking skeptical. Jules, thanks to Noah’s desertion and Ray’s sudden death, wasn’t a fan of impetuous decisions or change. “Okay. Like...?”

Callie looked out the picture windows to the lake and the golf course beyond. “Before you were all born, Bethann’s father decided to turn Lockwood Estate into an exclusive gated community, complete with a golf course and country club. Your dad was one of the first people to buy and build on this estate and this house is still, apart from Lockwood itself, one of the biggest in the community.”

Her kids’ faces all reflected some measure of frustration at the history lesson. They’d lived here all their lives; they’d heard it all before. “It’s definitely too big for me. The tenants renting the three-bedroom we own on the other side of the estate have handed in their notice. I’m going to move into that house.”

Callie could see the horror on their faces, saw that they didn’t like the idea of losing their family home. She’d reassure them. “When I die, this house will come to you, Levi, but I think you should take possession of it now. I’ve heard each of you talk of buying your own places. It doesn’t make sense to buy when you have this one, Levi. The twins can move in here while they look for a property that suits them. This house has four bedrooms, lots of communal space. It’s central, convenient, and you’d just have to pay for the utilities.”

“Move in with Levi? Yuck,” Darby said, as Callie expected her to. But Callie caught the long look her daughter exchanged with her twin sister, Jules, and smiled at their excitement.

Callie knew what was coming next...

“DJ could move into the apartment over the garage,” Jules suggested, excitement in her eyes.

She loved this house; they all did. And why wouldn’t they? It was spacious, with high ceilings and wooden floors, an outdoor entertainment area and a big backyard. It was close to Lockwood Country Club’s private gym, which they all still used. The Tavern, the pub and Italian restaurant attached to the country club, was one of her kids’ favorite places to meet, have a drink. The boys played golf within the walls of the pretty, green estate where they were raised, as often as their busy schedules allowed.

It was home.

“I don’t want to live with my sisters, Mom. It was bad enough sharing a childhood with them,” Levi said.

He was lying, Callie could tell. Levi adored his sisters and this way, he could vet who they dated without stalking them on social media. Levi’s protective streak ran a mile long.

“It’s a good solution. This way, you don’t have to rent while you’re looking to buy and, Levi, since I know you and Noah sank most of your cash into that new marina, it’ll be a while before your bank account recovers.”

Callie wrinkled her nose. Levi probably still had a few million at his fingertips. They were one of Boston’s wealthiest families.

Levi shook his head. “Mom, we appreciate the offer, but you do know that we are all successful and you don’t need to worry about us anymore?”

She was Mom, Callie wanted to tell him. She’d always be Mom. One day they’d understand. She’d always worry about them.

“Are you sure you want to move into the house on Ennis Street?” Jules asked.

Absolutely. There were too many ghosts in this house, too many memories. “I need something new, something different. Dad is gone but I’m still standing and I’ve made the decision to reinvent my life. I have a bucket list and so many things I want to do by the time I turn fifty-five.”

“That’s in ten months,” Darby pointed out.

Callie was so aware, thank you very much.

“What’s on the bucket list, Mom?” Jules asked, amused.

Callie smiled. “Oh, the usual. A road trip through France, take an art class, learn how to paint.”

Jules sent her an indulgent smile. God. Jules would probably fall off her chair if Callie told her that a one-night stand, phone sex, seeing a tiger in the wild, bungee jumping and sleeping naked in the sun were also on her to-do list. Oh, and she definitely wouldn’t tell them that her highest priority was to help them all settle down...

She wasn’t hung up on them getting married. No, sometimes marriage, like her best friend’s, wasn’t worth the paper the license was written on.

Callie wanted her children to find their soft place to fall, the person who would make their lives complete.

But, right now, Callie wanted Noah home, back in Boston, where he belonged.

How was she supposed to get him to settle down when he was on the other side of the world?

One

Noah...

Noah pushed his hand into her thick hair and looked down into those amazing eyes, the exact tint of a new moon on the Southern Ocean. Her scent, something sexy but still sweet, drifted off her skin and her wide mouth promised a kiss that was dark and delectable. His stupid heart was trying to climb out of his chest so that it could rest in her hand.

Jules pushed her breasts into his chest and tilted her hips so that her stomach brushed his hard-as-hell erection...

This was Jules, his best friend.

Thought, time, the raucous sounds of the New Year’s party receded and Jules was all that mattered. Jules with her tight nipples and her tilted hips and her silver-blue eyes begging him to kiss her.

He’d make it quick. Just one quick sip, a fast taste. He wouldn’t take it any further. He couldn’t. He wanted to, desperately, but there were reasons why he had no right to place his hand on her spectacular ass, to push his chest into her small but perfect breasts.

One kiss, that’s all he could have, take.

Noah touched his lips to hers and he fell, lost in her taste, in her scent. For the first time in months his grief dissipated, his confusion cleared. As her tongue slid between his teeth, his responsibilities faded, and the decisions he’d been forced to make didn’t matter.

Jules was in his arms and she was kissing him and the world suddenly made sense...

He was about to palm her beautiful breasts, have her wrap her legs around his hips to rock against her core when hands gripped his shoulders, yanked his hair.

Surprised, he stumbled back, fell onto his tailbone to see Morgan and his dad looking down at him, laughing their asses off. His eyes bounced to Jules and tears streaked her face.

“Bastard!” Morgan screamed.

“That’s my boy,” Ethan cooed. “Blood or not, you are my son.”

And Jules? Well, Jules just cried.

Another night, the same recurring dream. Noah Lockwood punched the comforter and the sheets away, unable to bare the constricting fabric against his heated skin. Draping one forearm across bent knees, Noah ran a hand behind his neck. Cursing, he fumbled for the glass of water on the bedside table, grimacing at the handprint his sweat made on the deep black comforter.

Noah swung his legs off the side of the large bed, reached for a pair of boxers on the nearby chair and yanked them on. He looked across the bed and Jenna—a friend he occasionally hooked up with when he was in this particular city—reached over to the side table and flipped on the bedside light. She checked her watch before shoving the covers back, muttered a quick curse and, naked, started to gather her clothes.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

Hell, no. He rarely opened up to his brothers or his closest friends, so there was no chance he’d talk to an infrequent bed buddy about his dream. Without a long explanation Jenna wouldn’t understand, and since Noah didn’t do explanations, that would never happen. Besides, talking meant examining and facing his fears, confronting guilt and dissecting his past. That would be amusing...in the same way an electric shock to his junk would be nice.

He tried, as much as possible, not to think about the past...

Noah walked over to the French doors that opened to the balcony. Pushing them open, he sucked in the briny air of the cool late-autumn night. Tinges of a new morning peeked through the trees that bordered the side and back edges of the complex.

He loved Cape Town, and enjoyed his visits to the city nestled between the mountains and the sea. It was beautiful, as were Oahu or Cannes or Monaco. But it wasn’t home. He missed Boston with an intensity that sometimes threatened to drop him to his knees. But he couldn’t go back...

The last time he left it nearly killed him and that wasn’t an experience he wanted to repeat.

Noah accepted Jenna’s brief goodbye kiss and walked her to the door. Finally alone, he grabbed a T-shirt from the chair behind him and yanked it over his head and, picking up his phone, walked onto the balcony, then perched lightly on the edge of a sturdy morris chair.

The dream’s sour aftertaste remained and he sucked in long, clean breaths, trying to cleanse his mind. Because his nightmares always made him want to touch base with his brothers, he dialed Eli’s number, knowing he was more likely to answer than Ben.

“Noah, I was just about to call you.” Despite being across the world in Boston, Eli sounded like he was in the next room.

Noah heard the worry in Eli’s voice and his stomach swooped.

“What’s up?” he asked, trying to project confidence. He was the oldest and although he was always absent, his hand was still the one, via phone calls and emails, steering the Lockwood ship. Actually, that wasn’t completely true; Levi buying into the North Shore marina and boatyard using the money he inherited from Ray allowed Noah to take a step back. Eli and Ben were a little hotheaded and prone to making impulsive decisions but Levi wasn’t. Noah was happy to leave the day-to-day decisions in Levi’s capable hands.

“Callie called us earlier—a for-sale sign has gone up at Lockwood.”

“Ethan’s selling the house?” Noah asked.

“No. He’s selling everything. Our childhood home, the land, the country club, the golf course, the buildings. He’s selling the LCC Trust and that includes everything on the estate except for the individually owned houses.”

Noah released a low, bullet-like curse word.

“Rumor has it that he needs cash again.”

“Okay, let me assimilate this. I’ll call you back in a few.”

Noah sucked in his breath and closed his eyes, allowing anger and disappointment to flow through him. Ten years ago he’d taken the man he called Dad, a man he adored and whom he thought loved him, to court. After his mom’s death he discovered that the marriage that he’d thought was so perfect had been pure BS. The only father he’d ever known, the man he placed on a pedestal was, he discovered, a serial cheater and a spendthrift.

Stopping Ethan from liquidating the last of Lockwood family assets, passed down through generations of Lockwoods to his mom—a legacy important enough to his mom for her to persuade both their biological dad and then their stepdad to take her maiden name—meant hiring expensive legal talent.

Noah ran his hand over his eyes, remembering those bleak months between his mother’s death and the court judgment awarding the Lockwood boys the waterfront marina and the East Boston boatyard and Ethan the Lockwood Country Club, which included their house, the club facilities, the shops and the land around it. Ethan was also awarded the contents of the house and the many millions in her bank accounts. All of which, so he’d heard, he’d managed to blow. On wine, women and song.

Fighting for his and his brothers’ inheritance had been tough, but he’d been gutted by the knowledge that everything he knew about his mom and Ethan, the facade of happiness they’d presented to the world, had been a sham. A lie, an illusion. By cheating on his mom and choosing money over them, Ethan had proved that he’d never loved any of them.

Why hadn’t he seen it, realized that his dad was actually a bastard, that every “I love you” and “I’m proud of you” had been a flat-out lie? Faced with proof of his father’s deceit, he’d decided that love was an emotion he couldn’t trust, that marriage was a sham, that people, especially the ones who professed to love him, couldn’t be trusted.

And Morgan’s actions had cemented those conclusions.

The year it all fell apart, he’d spent the Christmas season with Morgan and her parents. Needing something to dull the pain after her parents retired for the night, he’d tucked into Ivan Blake’s very expensive whiskey and dimly recalled Morgan prattling on about marriage and a commitment. Since he’d been blitzed and because she’d had her hand in his pants, he couldn’t remember what was discussed...

The following day—feeling very un-Christmassy on Christmas morning thanks to a hangover from hell—he’d found himself accepting congratulations on their engagement. He’d tried to explain that it was a mistake, wanted to tell everyone that he had no intention of getting married, but Morgan had looked so damn happy and his head had been on the point of exploding. His goal had been to get through the day and when he had Morgan on her own, he’d backtrack, let her down gently and break up with her as he’d intended to do for weeks. He’d had enough on his plate without dealing with a needy and demanding girlfriend.

Yet somehow, Ivan Blake had discerned his feet were frozen blocks of ice thanks to his sudden engagement to his high-maintenance daughter. Ivan had pulled him into his study, told him that Morgan was bipolar and that she was mentally fragile. Being a protective dad, he’d done his research and knew Noah was a sailor, one of the best amateurs in the country. He also knew Noah wanted to turn pro and needed a team to sail with, preferably to lead.

Ivan had been very well-informed; he’d known of Noah’s shortage of cash, his sponsorship offers and that there were many companies wanting to be associated with the hottest sailing talent of his generation.

Ivan had known Noah didn’t want to marry Morgan...

He’d said as much and that statement was followed by a hell of an offer. Noah would receive a ridiculous amount of money to sail a yacht of his choice on the pro circuit. But the offer had come with a hell of a proviso...

All Noah had to do was stay engaged to Morgan for two years, and Ivan would triple his highest sponsorship offer. Noah’s instant reaction had been to refuse but, damn...three times his nearest offer? That was a hell of a lot of cash to reject. It would be an engagement in name only, Ivan had told him, a way for Morgan to save face while he worked on getting her mentally healthy. Noah would be out of the country sailing and he only needed to send a few emails and make a couple of satellite telephone calls a month.

Oh, and Ivan had added that he had to stay away from Jules Brogan. Morgan felt threatened by his lifelong friendship with Jules and it caused her extreme distress and was a barrier to her getting well.

A week later he’d forgotten that proviso when he kissed the hell out of Jules on New Year’s Eve...the kiss he kept reliving in his dreams.

Not going there, not thinking about that. Besides, thinking about Jules and Morgan wasn’t helping him with this current problem: Ethan was selling his mom’s house, his childhood home and the land that had been in his family for over a hundred and fifty years. That house had been the home of many generations of Lockwoods, and he’d be damned if he’d see it leave the family’s hands. His grandfather had built the country club and was its founding member. His mom had been CEO of the club and estate, had kept a watchful eye on the housing development, limiting the estate to only seventy houses to retain the wide-open spaces.

Think, Noah, there’s something you’re missing.

Noah tapped his phone against his thigh, recalling the terms of the court settlement. Yeah, that’s what had been bugging him...

He hit Redial on his phone and Eli answered. “In terms of the court settlement, Ethan has to give us the opportunity to buy the trust before he can put it on the open market.”

“I don’t remember that proviso,” Eli said.

“If he wants to sell, he has to give us three months to buy the property. He also has to sell it to us at twenty percent below the market value.”

Noah heard Eli’s surprised whistle. “That’s a hell of a clause.”

“We had an expensive lawyer and I think it’s one Ethan has accidentally on purpose forgotten.”