One night...and a whole lotta trouble!

When it comes to men, Ivy Rutherford never loses her cool. Ever. Then she meets wealthy, green-eyed cowboy C. J. Bartasavich, and desire burns out of control. Yeehaw. So for one night, Ivy will indulge in a passion neither of them will forget...and walk away without a backward glance.

Except now Ivy’s pregnant. And even worse, C.J. has come to her hometown of Shady Grove determined to get to know her and be part of their baby’s life—even if she’s convinced their attraction is purely physical. Because Ivy can’t let herself rely on a sexy cowboy...or worse yet, fall in love with one.

“Gotcha...”

Ivy Rutherford’s gaze snapped up to the cowboy’s. Her throat was dry. Her palms damp.

She could still feel the warmth of his breath against her skin; the single word was triumphant. A challenge.

Oh, she was in so much trouble here.

Something passed between them. Something heated and tangible and, on her part, wholly unwanted. Damn it. Damn it! She wanted him to touch her again. Wanted to do some touching of her own.

“It’s cute that you think so,” she murmured, keeping her tone even. Her eyes steady on his. “But don’t be getting delusions of grandeur.”

If possible, his grin amped up a few degrees, all cocky and pleased with her response. She shouldn’t have found it so attractive. “Aw, darlin’, you wound me.”

“You don’t seem like the kind of man who cares much for being subtle.”

“You’re right. I prefer the direct approach.” He scanned her face, taking his time before meeting her eyes again. “Makes it that much easier to get what I want.”

There was a strange fluttering in her chest, just under her heart. It was clear enough what he wanted...

Dear Reader,

I’m thrilled you picked up a copy of About That Night. When I first started writing the In Shady Grove series, I had planned to focus solely on the four Montesano siblings—a close-knit Italian-American family with strong ties to their beloved hometown. But something happened during What Happens Between Friends, the second book in the series, that changed everything.

Kane Bartasavich arrived.

As soon as he appeared on the page, I knew he was perfect for Charlotte Ellison. What I didn’t know was that during the writing of their story (Small-Town Redemption) I’d fall head-over-heels for Kane’s three brothers. I love family dynamics, and writing their stories gives me a chance to explore the relationships between the brothers. As with most families there are frustrations and irritations, sibling rivalry, shared memories and genuine—though at times, grudging—affection.

C. J. Bartasavich, the eldest brother, is a man in control of his life. Until he gives in to desire and spends a passionate night with sexy, cynical waitress Ivy Rutherford. When he learns Ivy is pregnant, he returns to Shady Grove. But he has his work cut out for him trying to convince Ivy they should build a life together and be a family. Luckily for him, he’s a man used to getting what he wants!

I had such fun writing C.J. and Ivy’s story. The sparks flew between them from the moment I put them on the page together. I hope you’ll look for the next In Shady Grove book later this year featuring handsome attorney Oakes Bartasavich.

Please visit my website, bethandrews.net, or drop me a line at beth@bethandrews.net. I’d love to hear from you.

Happy reading!

Beth

BETH

ANDREWS

About That Night

Romance Writers of America RITA® Award-winner Beth Andrews writes edgy, emotional contemporary romance for Harlequin Superromance. She loves coffee, hockey and happy endings. Learn more about Beth and her books by visiting her website, bethandrews.net.

Books by Beth Andrews

HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE

In Shady Grove

Talk of the Town

What Happens Between Friends

Caught Up in You

Small-Town Redemption

Charming the Firefighter

The Truth about the Sullivans

Unraveling the Past

On Her Side

In This Town

His Secret Agenda

Do You Take This Cop?

A Marine for Christmas

The Prodigal Son

Feel Like Home

Other titles by this author available in ebook format.

For Andy

Contents

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

EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE

CLINTON BARTASAVICH JR. tipped his Stetson in thanks to the toothy brunette who’d escorted him from the front desk of King’s Crossing Resort—Shady Grove, Pennsylvania’s equivalent of a four-star hotel. They stopped outside closed wooden double doors, the placard to the right stating Bartasavich/Ellison Party. “I appreciate the help...” He glanced at the small nametag on her chest. “Allison.”

He probably could have figured out how to get to this room—a distance of about a hundred feet straight down the main hallway—on his own. But when a pretty woman offered to lead the way, he didn’t argue.

Allison let out a high-pitched giggle that was grating enough to make a man’s ears bleed. “Oh, you’re very welcome, Mr. Bartasavich.”

He bit back a grimace. He hated having his name butchered. “Actually, it’s Bart-uh-sav-itch.”

Not Bart-as-a-vitch.

With a soft gasp, complete with a hand to her heart, she blinked at him so rapidly, he half expected her to start hovering above the ground. “How silly of me.” Sending him a look from under her eyelashes, she edged closer, her voice turning husky. “Maybe there’s...some way I could make it up to you?”

He’d eat his hat if she meant extra mints on his pillow.

“No harm done. It’s an honest mistake.”

One not made in Houston where the Bartasavich name was well-known. Even revered in certain circles.

Her lower lip jutted out in a pout no one over the age of six should attempt. “Well, if there’s anything else I can do for you,” she said in a whispery tone, “—and I do mean an...ee...thing—you just let me know.”

He cocked an eyebrow. Seemed Houston wasn’t the only place where his family’s name, power and wealth were known.

While he didn’t have any objections to casual sex—the more casual the better—he didn’t play games. No subtle hints about what either of them wanted. No coy looks or innuendos trying to convey what could be easily said with a few simple words.

And definitely no simpering.

But even if she’d held his gaze and told him in no uncertain terms that she was interested in him, attracted to him and ready, willing and eager to prove how much, he’d decline.