He hooked his sunglasses in the open collar at his throat and studied her face, his brows drawn together. “Are you seasick? Are you worried about falling into the water because you can’t swim?”
“No, I’m not seasick and I know how to swim.” She stood up, swayed a little, and Trey stood too, steadying her with a hand at her waist.
“Your best bet is at the stern of the boat,” he said. At her raised eyebrow, he gave a little smile. “The back.”
With him hovering behind her, she made her way to the rear of the vessel. She stood there, the box in her hand, trying to imagine herself letting its content go.
Letting Nic go.
She glanced over her shoulder at Trey, his gaze trained on her face, his expression full of sympathy. “Why are you here?” she asked again.
His eyebrows rose and he glanced at the box, glanced back at her. “You want to do this now? First?”
She didn’t know what he meant. Well, of course she did. It was she who’d demanded to know why he’d gone to all this effort to accompany her when she’d said her goodbye the night before.
Why don’t you talk, Mia? Why don’t you tell him the truth?
She was supposed to admit to Trey she’d fallen in love with him in just their limited time together? It was such a risk, such an invitation to disaster—
Such a joy for you, little sister.
Mia looked out at the sea, the immensity of it overwhelming. God. The truth was, her feelings were just that big for the man, just that deep. In comparison, they made these fears and doubts as insubstantial as dust. Her hands tightened on the box and she looked down at it again. Hadn’t her best friend’s passing taught her the most important lesson, more essential than anything her parents’ disastrous marriage had etched?
She knew now that life was short and squandering any of its sweetness was the biggest danger, the biggest mistake of all.
Refusing to bend to further qualms, she spun to face Trey Blackthorne, and stood for another moment stunned by his model good looks, the very masculine structure of his form, the smile that grew in his eyes and then tugged up the corners of his lips.
He had great lips.
They moved, making the shape of her name. Then his big hand cupped her cheek. “I’m going first, because I’m not too proud to lay it out there or too stubborn to let your ditching me to wash your hair get under my skin.” His white teeth flashed.
“Trey,” she whispered, her heart starting to pound.
“I’m in love with you, Mia Thomas. I want to start something with you, something lasting.”
She stared, almost knocked overboard, because she’d been ready to propose that fling with him in Paris, Prague, Boston, or Beijing. Even something temporary would have been worth pursuing, just to have more time with this gorgeous man who thought her a mermaid, an angel. But this…
He loved her. “I’m in love with you too,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said, proving his Blackthorne arrogance didn’t stay down for long. His expression filled with humor. “I saw it on your face when I brought down that extra suitcase.”
She went to play-smack him and realized she still held Nic’s ashes. Her breath caught.
Trey sobered too. “You can do it, sweetheart.” He glanced at the sky. “Sunset. Time to grant her last wish.”
His hands on her shoulders turned her again toward the sea. Mia held the box in one palm and placed the other over the lid. “She’s not really here,” she said aloud, suddenly realizing the truth. “No more than she’s in dandelion fluff or that wisp of cloud on the horizon.”
“Or she’s in both of those and everything else too,” Trey said, pressing his cheek to hers.
Holding that thought in her head, Mia lifted the lid and leaned out, over the side of the boat, letting the ashes slide free, spilling like sand in a bottle into the blue, blue sea under the orange, pink, and red sky. Nic, returning and arriving, both at once.
Goodbye. Hello.
One big circle as never-ending as love.
Later, Mia sat in Trey’s arms on the balcony of their hotel suite, champagne cooling in a bucket at their elbows, watching night descend.
Even in darkness, new life, new love beginning.
Trey’s head bent to her ear. “You okay?”
She relaxed more heavily into the cradle of his body. “For two people who’d never been in love, we recognized the symptoms pretty quickly.”
“Yeah, especially for two people who never wanted to be in love.”
Shifting on his lap, she took a better look at his face. “Regrets?” she asked, though she knew the answer.
He laughed and stood, scooping her up to head for the bedroom. “Ask me again when both of us can breathe.”
“Promises, promises,” she said, laughing and clutching at his shoulders. It felt good to laugh. It felt good to see her man playful and relaxed, his hair falling over his forehead. They were good for each other.
Such joy.
Epilogue
Trey gripped Mia’s hand tightly, trying to warm her cold fingers which trembled slightly in his hold as they approached the front entrance of the house in King Harbor. “Sweetheart,” he said, drawing her closer to his side. “It’s going to be okay. There’s no need to be nervous.”
“Right,” she said, lifting her chin.
But he could tell his words didn’t put her at ease. He supposed the view, impossibly beautiful as it was with the autumn backdrop of gray-green ocean and deeply blue sky didn’t help, nor the imposing house in the foreground, with its many bedrooms, multiple terraces, and landscaping lush and well-tended. They’d walked around to the front entrance though he’d left his car in the driveway, near the cavernous garage. No other vehicles had been in evidence, but he knew his parents to be at the estate, already home for a few days after their own sojourn in Rome.
Before entering the house, he leaned down for a quick kiss. “Please don’t worry. Think about it. You know Mom. And Nana’s a hoot.”
“Sure.”
Trey had a sudden thought. “But don’t let Nana challenge you to a whisky drinking contest,” he said quickly. “Promise me.”
Mia nodded. “I’ve never actually tasted whisky.”
“Never tasted whisky?” His head spun. How had this never come up? It must have been all that wine they’d been drinking in France, and then in Spain and Portugal where they’d traveled next, chasing the last of the summer. “Good God. Don’t tell anybody that.”
Now he found his own nerves jangling and he reached into his pocket with his free hand and found Grandpop’s horn card case that he continued to carry. Touching the talisman calmed him and he was about to reach for the knob when the door swung open.
“You’re here.” With her husband at her elbow, Claire beamed widely, and Trey wasn’t surprised she hadn’t let the housekeeper be the first to greet them. “I’m so glad to see you.”
She hugged Mia and then Trey. Graham stepped up next, formally introducing himself and shaking Mia’s hand. Then he said, “Oh, you probably think I’m a pompous bore,” before he gathered her in for a brief but warm embrace.
When she was on her feet again, Trey’s dad turned to him. They smiled at each other. It wasn’t clear who moved first, but then they were hugging too, and that one moment seemed to close any lingering separation between them. “Son,” his dad said, then clapped him hard enough on his back to bruise.
They stepped away from each other, the smiles now grins.
Yeah. It was going to be okay.
Mia must have thought so too, because she slipped her small hand in his and leaned her cheek against his shoulder. Unspoken support, unspoken happiness.
Both clear as a bell to him.
“This way,” Claire said, indicating the shortest route to the great room. It was the usual gathering place when the house was being used just by family. She led to the arched entrance, then stopped and turned, watching their reaction as they stepped inside.
>
Trey didn’t see the immense glass doors that opened to the wide terrace in the summers, the one that offered another spectacular ocean view. He didn’t see the scattering of furniture, including the grand piano that Claire had tried to encourage—without success—seven Blackthorne boys to master.
Instead, his gaze took in the six tall men and six beautiful women all on their feet, their gazes trained on him and Mia, every expression expectant. “Surprise,” Devlin said, from his place beside his lovely Hannah. “And welcome home.”
Trey found he had to clear his throat of the strange lump there. “I thought I might see you this visit, Dev, since you’re solidly based in King Harbor, but everybody?”
Even his youngest brother Logan was there, recently relocated to Seattle with his sweetheart, game designer Piper. Why, they must have barely had time to fill up on salmon and Dungeness crab before returning to the land of chowder and lobster rolls. Logan lifted his hand to his forehead and gave a two-fingered salute.
Then his cousin Jason, who lived in LA, came forward to shake his hand and deliver another friendly blow to Trey’s shoulder. “Mallory and I couldn’t bear to miss meeting the woman who inspired you to take a month away from your desk.”
“Right.” Trey smiled, then glanced at Brock, standing with a smiling Jenna. Though Trey wouldn’t be stupid enough to talk business this afternoon and with this crowd in attendance, he and his youngest cousin had already exchanged some ideas about shifting and adjusting the duties and responsibilities at Blackthorne Enterprises. When his dad stepped down as CEO—and it seemed that would be sooner than later—they both would dually run the business, leaving plenty of time for leisure…or just plain living.
Ross caught his eye. “We had to come too,” his cousin said, slinging his arm around his fiancée Holly, who worked at their distillery in Lexington, Kentucky, “though I kept to the speed limit the entire way.” The innocent expression he donned made Trey only shake a finger at him.
“Good to have you back.” Phillip grinned, and the Blackthorne cousin who’d felt the loss of his folks so deeply appeared completely at ease, with the girl who’d once got away now securely on his arm.
Trey grabbed Mia’s wrist and tugged her to the middle of the semicircle. “Everyone, this is Mia Thomas.” Lifting her left hand, he kissed the back of it and showed off the engagement ring they’d found at a jeweler’s in Lisbon. It was “vintage” or “used” according to your point of view. “Soon to be Mia Blackthorne. We’re marrying at Christmas and we hope to tie the knot here.”
The crowd went wild at that. He and Mia had already shared the news with the Arsenau family who’d been nearly as noisy with their approval. Trey realized that protocol might suggest they shouldn’t beat Devlin and Hannah, Ross and Holly, Phillip and Ashley, and Brock and Jenna to the altar since the other pairs were engaged before them, but he’d told Mia it was the prerogative of being oldest.
As she was deluged by Blackthornes, it was hard to help her with identifying each member of his family through the loud exclamations, handshakes, hugs, and warm welcomes from his brothers, cousins, and their women. Ultimately Trey threw in the towel and backed off, finding Nana uncharacteristically seated at the periphery. Concerned, he crouched in front of her and took her hands. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Oh, I’m just fine,” she said, nodding to the short crystal glass of whisky on the small table beside her and then at the large knot of celebrating Blackthornes. “Enjoying the show.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “It’s a good show.”
“For you, my darling,” she said. “To prove they’re with you always, as you’re always one of them.”
Another lump grew in his throat. His parents, with his permission, had explained to the family the circumstances of his conception. While Graham and Claire had been in Rome, reconciled quite quickly despite—or maybe because of—those months apart, they’d video-conferenced with the other six of Trey’s generation. Since, he’d fielded calls from each and every one, filled with assurances and affection, but seeing them here for him…
“It means everything,” he told Nana, realizing that this time the “family fixer” was the one being sorted out. Certainly there would still be moments ahead when he’d wonder about the missing biological half of himself, but there would always be these people, this clan at his back.
His people.
“Blackthornes are nothing if not loyal,” Nana said.
Then Graham was shouting them all down, demanding quiet. Trey stood and crossed to Mia as drinks were offered to those without. His woman didn’t blink an eye when handed a glass of whisky, poured from a bottle of their premium brand, Blackthorne Gold.
The patriarch held up his own glass, his other hand wrapped around that of his wife. “Since May, we’ve been in flux, but now we’ve come out of those unstable times, better and bigger than before. We—and I include myself—have taken our lumps, searched our souls, and discovered essential truths.”
A spirited round of applause followed.
Graham paused until there was quiet again. “So here’s to us, and finding pride in learning, pride in change, pride in give and take. But one thing has not and will not be altered, and that’s pride in family.” His voice rose. “To the Blackthornes!”
They all toasted and drank.
Mia managed to smother her small cough at her first taste of whisky and then Trey stepped up, his gaze meeting hers. “I love you,” he whispered. He might be Graham Wallace Blackthorne III, but he knew he’d always be first in her eyes, and that meant everything. God, how lucky he was to have her. How glad he was that his crisis of identity had led him to her.
He thought he owed Nicolette Arsenau a little gratitude as well.
Damn straight.
Mia had shared that sometimes she heard her best friend’s voice in her head and Trey thought sometimes she spoke in his too. It proved how much he’d changed that the whimsical idea didn’t make him blink. Just more magic that his urban mermaid had brought into his life. In return, he would care for her always and do all he could to make her happy.
Now he turned his gaze from his fiancée to sweep it over the rest of the assemblage, from Nana, to his parents, to his brothers and cousins and the women beside them.
“To what remains unbroken and to that common thing running through all our veins,” he said, lifting his glass of Blackthorne Gold. “To love.”
The End
* * *
Dear Reader:
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I hope you enjoyed TREY, the final book in the 7 Brides for 7 Blackthornes series! Writing a book set (mostly) in Paris was a joy and brought back my past experiences visiting the City of Light. It’s always a pleasure working with such a talented and fun group of authors, too.
* * *
Did you miss any of the Blackthornes? I know you’ll want to read every one of their romances and you can find links to each book at http://www.7brides.net.
* * *
Interested in sharing your thoughts with other readers? I hope you’ll leave a review for the book here.
* * *
Continue on to read an excerpt to the first book in my Billionaire’s Beach series, TAKE ME TENDER, guaranteed to make your heart sing.
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Sign up for my newsletter to be informed of future releases and to receive other information about upcoming books and specials. You can also follow me on Facebook, Twitter, or visit my website.
Best wishes!
Christie Ridgway
TAKE ME TENDER
Billionaire’s Beach Book 1
Bachelor-about-town Jay Buchanan doesn’t want a woman in his life, but a guy’s gotta eat so he puts out feelers for a private chef. If the best applicant’s female, so what? More needs to come out of his Billionaire’s Beach kitchen in Malibu than peanut butter and beer, and he’s in no mood for romance anyway.
* * *
Long ago Nikki Carmichael learned to put up her gu
ard when it comes to guys, and her new client, Jay Buchanan, is the manliest man she’s ever met. She figures ignoring his magnetism will turn him away…but instead it backfires, and Jay is only further intrigued by the woman who refuses to fall at his feet.
* * *
They flirt, they fight, they ultimately share a bed and then their deepest secrets…but can these two trust that what seems like a summer fling is truly the love of a lifetime?
* * *
USA Today bestselling author Christie Ridgway serves up six sexy, sun-drenched romances with a decided emotional kick in the Billionaire’s Beach series. Enjoy them all!
Take Me Tender (Book 1)
Take Me Forever (Book 2)
Take Me Home (Book 3)
The Scandal (Book 4)
The Seduction (Book 5)
The Secret (Book 6)
TAKE ME TENDER - Excerpt
A good cook is like a sorceress who dispenses happiness.
—ELSA SCHIAPARELLI, FASHION DESIGNER
* * *
Slowly threading through the tables of the darkened restaurant, Nikki Carmichael refused to let a single tear fall. No, she wasn’t going to cry, though the night’s last entree had been plated and served two hours before and the last patron escorted out the door thirty minutes ago. For the final time, she’d heard the clear-bell clink of the wineglasses greeting their partners as they were slid into their nightly resting place in the rack over the bar. The kitchen’s enormous stock-pots that had simmered broth all through the dinner service were now clean, their steam no longer able to corkscrew the baby hairs that escaped her braids.
Pausing beside a table, she tweaked a white linen napkin already folded in the signature Fleming’s twist, ready for the next day’s dinner rush.
Trey Page 18