Those Nights in Montreal Read online

  Those Nights in Montreal

  Beverley Kendall

  Dedication

  To the love of my life, Ryan.

  Mommy loves you always.

  Acknowledgments

  I want to thank my editor, Kristin Anders of theRomanticEditor.com. Thanks, Kristin, for the great job you did at pointing out everything that needed fixing. I’d also like to thank all my wonderful fans who gave my new adult romance novel, WHEN IN PARIS… a try even though they weren’t interested or/and had never read the genre before. Your support is much appreciated and will never be forgotten. Kim, you nailed the cover. Absolutely LOVE IT!

  Note to Readers

  I started this book with the thought that it would be a quick novella that would be no longer than 25,000 words. It was intended to be a not too complicated story about Rebecca and Scott, characters first introduced in WHEN IN PARIS… Well Rebecca and Scott were determined that their story would not to be limited to a short word count and their story ended up being nearly twice as long as first intended (44,000 words).

  At the end of the day, THOSE NIGHTS IN MONTREAL turned out to be a short novel (or a rather long novella) because Rebecca and Scott’s story ended up being more involved than I first thought. However, their story can still stand on its own and doesn’t require you to have read WHEN IN PARIS…

  I hope you enjoy this story of second chances as Rebecca and Scott give their relationship—and love—another go.

  An ex is an ex for a reason.

  To Rebecca Winters, it’s not just a saying or the title to a catchy tune, it’s a rule she staunchly lives by. Especially since the breakup with her ex. What’s the point in trying to fix the “unfixable”? Besides, only a girl hell-bent on more heartbreak would go back to the guy who bailed on her when she needed him most. But saying no to Scott is becoming more difficult than surviving the breakup itself. And unfortunately for her, the kind of pressure he's exerting is making her rule all too easy to break.

  Scott Carver has given up trying to get over his ex. He’s still in love with her and their year apart has done nothing to change that. Yeah, he knows he screwed up. Just how royally, he wasn't aware of until now. So when Becca agrees to give him a second chance, he grabs on to it with both hands. But it’s clear the only way things will ever truly be right between them is if he comes clean…about everything. He can only pray the truth doesn’t send her running—for good this time.

  Table of 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

  Epilogue

  When in Paris…

  Also by Beverley Kendall

  New Adult Romance

  Language of Love Series

  When In Paris…

  ~*~*~

  Historical Romances

  The Elusive Lords Series

  Sinful Surrender

  A Taste of Desire

  All’s Fair in Love & Seduction (Free enovella)

  An Heir of Deception

  CHAPTER ONE

  REBECCA

  When I’m getting dressed to go out, let me tell you what I don’t need. I don’t need my mother acting as my conscience. Which, by the way, works perfectly fine. It’s just discriminating, as it should be.

  Maybe she can forgive John Reardon for what he did—or I should say what he didn’t do—but I can’t.

  I won’t.

  And guess what? I don’t have to.

  He’s not her father. And by father, I mean that in the loosest definition of the word, because apparently that’s the word still being used to describe men whose only contribution to the process is that of sperm donor.

  I don’t have a “father”. Never have. And I don’t want one now.

  Bottom line: no amount of cajoling is going to get me to change my mind about giving him another chance. I said all I had to say to him when he first contacted me over three years ago.

  Happy sweet sixteen, Becky.

  Right. Just the birthday gift I’d been hoping for. About six years and three father/daughter dances past the stage when I stopped giving a damn about wanting any sort of relationship with him.

  I give myself a vigorous headshaking in an effort to clear it of the conversation I had with my mom a half hour ago. I’m not even trying to think about him. It’s Friday night and I came out with my roommate and best friend, Olivia, and her boyfriend Zach with only one goal in mind: to enjoy the hell out of myself.

  I glance over at them, her tucked tightly into his side, his arms around her waist. Olivia is slim, pretty and blonde and her boyfriend is no slouch either. He’s the starting quarterback of Warwick’s football team, and he’s dark-haired, light-blue eyed and gorgeous with a capital G. As you can imagine, they make a nauseatingly beautiful couple. It’s a good thing they’re my very good friends or I’d be forced to hate them if only for that reason.

  Seriously, what I need is a guy. The hotter the better, and preferably not already taken. But like Pavlov’s dog, my mind instantly conjures up an image of my ex.

  Damn Scott.

  A year later and the term hot and Scott are still hopelessly entwined in my mushier-than-oatmeal brain. Maybe it’s the whole rhyming thing.

  Or maybe I’m thinking about him because lately he’s been driving me insane. I swear, these days every time I turn around, he’s there watching me in this brooding sort of way and looking annoyingly sexy while he’s at it. Honestly, it’s enough to drive a girl to drink. A lot.

  Anyway, that’s what tonight is all about: going out, having fun and hooking up with a super-hot, leave-Scott-in-the-dust guy. I refuse to spend another weekend like I’ve spent too many this last year: smiling on the outside and going through the motions of moving forward, when inside I’m standing absolutely still.

  I need to move on with my life.

  Scott and I are over. Done. Finis. Kaput. Our relationship coffin has long been nailed shut. And I should know because I’m the one who’d swung the hammer hard enough to make it impossible for even a crowbar to pry the damn thing back open.

  Time. To. Move. On. Rebecca.

  Which is exactly what I plan—correction—what I am going to do tonight.

  “What about you, Rebecca?”

  Olivia’s voice filters through my internal-grumblings-cum-pep-talk and it’s Scott’s fault that I don’t have a clue what she’s talking about.

  “Come again?” I ask, placing my palm behind my ear, pretending I didn’t hear her because the noise of the party is the issue and not the fact that my mind has been hijacked by thoughts of my no-good ex.

  “Zach’s getting drinks. Do you want something now or would you rather wait?”

  I know if I hang out with them too long, they’re going to feel like they have to keep me company. Olivia’s sweet that way. But the only thing worse than feeling like a third wheel is actually being a third wheel.

  The good thing is I won’t be a third wheel for long. My friend Jill is somewhere here in this house of madness. Lucky for me, her boyfriend has to work so, like me, she’s boyfriendless tonight. Unlike me, she actually has one.

  “Don’t worry about me, I’m good. Jill just texted to say she’s here so I’m going to track her down.” A look around reveals a sea of faces packing the
room, the majority of which with eyes bright and shiny from too much alcohol. “You guys go ahead and find a nice quiet corner where you can indulge in your various forms of PDA.”

  I’m teasing but I’m only half kidding. I once actually walked in on them having sex. I had no idea Zach was there. They’re always at his apartment and I mistook Olivia’s moans for cries of distress. Yep, she’d been in distress alright. And if I thought that wasn’t embarrassing enough, they’d been doing it doggy-style.

  Uh huh. That’s right. Doggy-style.

  Olivia had naturally been mortified but she’d gotten over it rather quickly, after all, it had been her boyfriend’s gorgeous butt display. On the other hand, it had taken Zach an entire month to be able to look me in the eye again. Three months where we could actually joke about it. Okay, I would tease and he’d give this uncomfortable laugh. Now I’ll only bring it up if he does something like leave the toilet seat up or snags the last slice of sausage pizza.

  Olivia shoots a quick look up at Zach, her hazel eyes filled with amusement. “Why do you always act as if the first thing we’re going to do is scope out the nearest bed? I promise you we can control ourselves, can’t we, hon?”

  Zach’s response is to tighten his arms around her slender waist, pulling her back against his chest. “I don’t know, can you?” he teases, his mouth next to her ear.

  Blushing furiously and giggling, Olivia turns and playfully punches him in the arm. Actually, it’s more a love tap. “Stop, she’ll think you’re serious.”

  Okay, that’s my cue. “Let me leave you to your foreplay. If you can’t wait to get back to the apartment, the first bedroom is the second door on the left at the top of the stairs. Knock first though.”

  Laughing, I quickly duck away. I’m in search of my own fun for the night. I’m tired of being alone. Tired of not having anyone. Tonight I’m determined to change that.

  “Hey, Becca, over here.”

  College students litter the living room but it’s easy to spot Jill. She’s the crazy redhead with her hand in the air waving a beer can at me from across the room. That in itself tells me she’s been here a while and she’s on the fast path to Friday night drunkenness.

  I maneuver my way through the bodies separating us, evading the hands of a couple overzealous guys before I reach her.

  “What took you so long?” she demands the same time she thrusts a sweaty can of beer in my hand.

  I take it without thought. “I came with Olivia and Zach. I intend to have more than a couple of these—” I hold up the beer before taking a drink. “—so I hope that’s the only one you’re having tonight or I’m going to have to hitch a ride home with them.”

  Jill snorts. “Still in the honeymoon stage?”

  “At this point I’m not sure there’s any other stage when it comes to those two,” I say, smiling.

  I met Olivia freshman year in French class. Back then she and Zach couldn’t stand each other despite having gone to the same high school. By the end of the year, they were good as married.

  This year Olivia, April and I share an apartment in the same building as Zach. With everything being split in threes, it actually works out to be cheaper than living in the dorms. April, who is biracial and supermodel gorgeous, models part-time. She and Olivia have been best friends since they were eight. Now we’re all pretty tight.

  “This year, you’re going to find a guy.”

  “Absolutely,” I say with more conviction than I feel. Right now though, I’d settle for someone to flatter me, flirt with me, make me feel something for the first time since I broke it off with Scott.

  “By the way, your ex is here,” Jill says just a tad too casually to believe she doesn’t know how that kind of news would affect me. Tipping the beer to her mouth for a long swallow, she closely watches my reaction over the rim.

  I’m glad I don’t have anything in my mouth. No one likes spewing beer even in the best of situations. Or choking. For a second I freeze and my heart feels like it’s lodged in my throat.

  She jerks her chin in the direction of the entrance to the living room. My head whips around and I see Scott standing there.

  I should be used to this by now. This is the third party I’ve seen him at since school started three weeks ago. It wasn’t like this last year. Last year I saw him at one party. One. I’d gone to get drinks for me and Olivia and by the time I’d gotten back, he’d been hitting on her. Of course he’d been shocked to see me, and I don’t think I could have hated him more at that moment. Jerk.

  I’m lost in thought by the time I realize he’s staring directly at me. He’s not frowning or smiling, just staring. His eyes are squinted like he’s working around the glare of the sun. I try hard not to notice how hot he looks in his khakis and blue-striped, button-down shirt. I have to forcibly tear my gaze away.

  “I think he’s stalking you now. What’s that, three parties in a row?” Jill asks, her brows rising suggestively. Almost like she knows something I don’t.

  “Coincidence,” I say, gulping down a third of the can, my heart thumping furiously. Silly stupid heart. My goodness, it’s been a year. A whole year since we were together.

  “I don’t believe in coincidences and neither do you,” Jill says dryly.

  “Can I get you girls another beer?”

  Suddenly my friend and I are the focus of Cameron Goodwyn, a senior classman who is said to be able to get any girl he wants. I didn’t know he knew we were alive.

  Although my back is now to Scott, I get the sense he’s still staring at me. So when I look up at Cameron, he’s treated to the full force of my smile. I quickly drain the last of my beer.

  “Sure I’ll have another,” I say, making sure my eyes convey interest.

  Hey.” Cameron gives Jill a small smile before returning his gaze back to me, a clear indication of where his interest lays—at least for now. I’ll take it. He’s dark-haired, brown-eyed, smells nice and is easy on the eyes. What more could a girl ask for, right? I’m flattered and smugly happy to be able to rub Cameron in Scott’s face. He’s not the only one who can move on. So it’s taken me a little longer. Not that he’ll ever know that. There’s no way I’d ever tell him that there’s been no one since him.

  I smile even more brightly at Cameron.

  His voice goes low and his eyes drop to my mouth. “Before I get you another, you have to tell me your name.”

  “Rebecca.”

  “I’m Cam.” His gaze returns slowly to my eyes and he gives me the look. He’s definitely interested. “Don’t move, I’ll be back.” A cocky wink and he’s gone.

  “Well aren’t you headed for the big times?” Jill barely gets that out before an arm wraps itself around her waist. Her boyfriend Daniel tugs her back into his arms and kisses the side of her neck. Yep, I’m practically the only one of my close girlfriends who doesn’t have a boyfriend.

  Jill squeals, spins around and throws an arm around his neck, the beer can still clutched in the other. “I thought you said you couldn’t make it?”

  “One of the other guys needs the money more, so I gave him my shift.” He drops a kiss on her pursed lips.

  I suffer another pang of envy. That used to be me once, happy and adored by a guy who I thought could do no wrong. What I learned, once again, is that they have a habit of abandoning you when you need them most. I shake off a creeping sense of melancholy before it can pull me under and dampen my evening.

  As if sensing my mood, Jill turns and flashes me a wide grin. “Now that Daniel’s here, he can be our designated driver,” she says triumphantly.

  It’s obvious to me what she’s doing: trying not to make me feel like the third wheel I’ve just become. What it does is make me more determined than ever to hook up with someone tonight. I’m a decent-looking girl. There’s nothing wrong with me. I don’t have to be alone if I don’t want to. And tonight I don’t want to. Maybe Cam will be the one to end my lengthy dry spell. I can only hope.

  “No Daniel does
n’t have to drive me home,” I state firmly. “It’s completely out of his way. I can catch a ride home with Zach and Olivia if I need one.” If things go well for me, I won’t need one.

  Speaking of hookups, where the hell did Cam go to get my beer, the North Pole? A glance around the crowded room finds Cam talking to Sydney Walsh, sorority president and the girl voted most likely to marry into an American dynasty. I vaguely remember hearing that the two had once gone out. Maybe so because they appear to be involved in a pretty intense conversation. Sydney does not look happy.

  My stomach drops and a lump forms in my throat. I fight back a wave of disappointment. I guess I’ll be getting my own beer. Which is what I half mumble to Jill before I turn and head toward the kitchen.

  At first I ignore the hand on my elbow, thinking it’s the inadvertent brushing of bodies because the number of people in the room is exponentially larger than the space itself. It’s not until I feel the hand tightening on my arm that I shoot a glance behind me.

  My gaze first hits a tanned male throat. My stomach turns, does a series of flip flops before my eyes continue upward. I know exactly what to expect now. A dimpled jaw that is in constant need of a closer shave, a mouth I’d kissed hundreds of times, a straight nose and eyes the color of winter pine. Scott.

  When our eyes meet, the corner of his mouth lifts a fraction. Again not exactly a smile.

  At six-one, he’s almost half a foot taller than me. Lowering his head, he brings his mouth next to my ear. “Can I talk to you?”

  My heart starts racing and my breathing goes shallow. I’m shaking my head and trying to move past him, tugging on my imprisoned arm. “I have nothing to say to you. Now let me go.”

  “Please, Becca.”

  I immediately stop trying to get free as my eyes drift helplessly closed. I try to swallow but it’s impossible. I don’t take another breath until he raises his head, removing his mouth from so close to my ear.