Her eyes widened. “No.”
He shrugged. “Yes. Not the intimate details, of course, but enough to give them a clear picture of the urgency I felt.”
This time, she frowned. “What urgency?”
He took a deep breath. “I told them I loved you, but that I had treated you badly and made you run away.”
Ivy went so white he thought she might pass out. The mostly-healed scrape on her cheek was visible still. She was far too thin. Had she not been eating well?
“Yes, you did,” she said, her lips pale. “But I’ve pursued other employment.”
“What do you do?” He didn’t really care, but he sensed he needed to keep the conversation flowing or she would shut him down.
Ivy played with Dolly’s hair. “I wait tables at a bar six nights a week. My shift starts at nine and ends at one in the morning. The lady next door comes here to my room and watches TV while Dolly sleeps. The bar tips are decent. I give her part of my paycheck for her trouble.”
Good God. That meant Ivy was wandering the streets in the middle of the night, vulnerable to any number of dangers.
And all because of him. He hadn’t thought his spirits could sink any lower. It wasn’t so easy to speak casually this time, because his throat was tight with emotion. “When do you sleep?” he muttered.
Ivy stared at him. “From two until seven in the morning, when this little one wakes up. And again during her naps. It’s not so bad. We’re making it work.”
Farrell looked around him at the awful orange-and-gold wallpaper and the threadbare carpet with the unidentifiable stains. He wanted to cry. And he would have if he thought Ivy would take pity on him.
Why should she ever forgive him for what he had done? At least her bastard of a husband had kept a roof over her head. Farrell had made her homeless. He swallowed hard.
“Did you hear what I said earlier?”
“About what?”
“I told Katie and Quin and Zachary that I loved you.”
Her bottom lip trembled. “But you never told me.” Huge tears welled in her eyes, rolled down her cheeks, wet the baby’s head.
“Ah, God, Ivy.” He went to her, his heart breaking, and knelt beside the bed. Taking her free hand in his, he kissed it, held it to his cheek. “I love you, Ivy Danby. You burst into my world, not like a blazing comet, but like a quiet, unremarkable moon on the back side of a planet. I barely knew you were there at first, and then I started looking for you. All the time.”
The hint of a smile interrupted her tears. “That’s a terrible metaphor, Farrell. Stick to inventing.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s a simile, but we can argue about that later.” He looked up at her, letting her see the nights of agonized worry, the deep regret, the unquenchable hope. “I adore you, Ivy. I knew it when I made love to you that last night, but I thought I could keep my emotions out of it. Then you fell down those god-awful steps, and I realized how easily I could lose you. It terrified me. I didn’t want to feel that pain again. So I shoved you away.”
He laid his cheek on her thigh. “I am so sorry, my love. Sorrier than you will ever know. Forgive me for being such a complete and utter failure as a human being.”
Slender fingers sifted through his hair. His heart stopped. Jerked. Beat again more rapidly.
Ivy exhaled, a broken, shaky sound that heaped more coals of fire on his head. “I forgive you, Farrell. I do. And I even understand. But I’m not the woman to replace your Sasha.”
Farrell stood abruptly and lifted Dolly from Ivy’s arms. He grabbed the baby’s favorite stacking cups from the dresser and set her and the toy in the port-a-crib. A brand-new one. He patted the baby’s head. “Give me ten minutes, Dolly. Please. And if we’ve got a deal, I’ll buy you a pony on your fifth birthday.”
Luckily for him, the little girl was in a mood to be entertained easily.
Farrell spun back toward the bed, took Ivy’s cold hands in his and drew her to her feet. He squeezed her fingers, looking down into her glorious hazel eyes. “Listen to me, Ivy. You’re nobody’s replacement. Ever. You’re not second-string. You’re not the consolation prize. You’re strong and brave and tough and vulnerable. I love everything about you. When you were in a bad situation, you fought your way through, and you made it. You kept yourself and your daughter afloat against all odds.”
She shook her head slowly. Nothing in her expression told him she had heard or believed a word he said. “You don’t have to rescue me, Farrell. I’ve rescued myself. I’m only here at the motel temporarily. I have several job interviews coming. I’ve made plans for the future, for Dolly and me. I enjoyed having sex with you. A lot. But I’m moving on.”
“Don’t lie to me, sweetheart. I was there. You gave me your precious body and you took mine as your right. We were together in every sense of the word. You’re my future, Ivy. I can’t live without you. I won’t. If I have to, I’ll book the room next door and wait up for you every night until you come home to me. You’re mine, Ivy. I didn’t know it would happen like this, and God knows, I don’t deserve you, but if you’ll give me another chance, you won’t ever have reason to doubt me again.”
He ran out of breath and out of words.
Only their hands touched.
Ivy’s big-eyed gaze searched his face. He wasn’t sure what she saw. He’d been torn apart and put back together so many times in these past weeks, he wasn’t the same man. “Ivy?”
She reached up slowly, put her hands on his cheeks, tested the stubble on his chin, stroked his brow. “You mean it, don’t you?”
He nodded, willing her to understand. “I’ve never felt like this before. I was a very young man when I was with Sasha. We were young together, and we were naive about what the world could throw at us. But you and I have been through hell and back, Ivy. We’ve been tested, tried. Neither of us knows what the future holds, but I will love you for as many days as we have on this earth, and I pray they’ll be too many to count.”
She sniffed and wiped her nose on his expensive Egyptian cotton shirt. “Engineers aren’t supposed to be poets.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung. “I love you, too. Almost since the beginning. And I won’t let you go either.”
Her admission sent a shudder through his body, a wave of pained relief. For the longest time, they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, contemplating how close they had come to having nothing at all. At last, Farrell couldn’t bear it anymore. He pulled back, found her lips with his and kissed her. Until they were both dizzy.
He ran his thumb over her soft cheek. “You’re my world, Ivy. You and Dolly.”
Her eyes sparkled. “And you’re the best man I’ve ever known. I want to be your wife, please.”
“Is that a proposal?” he asked, chuckling at her artless assurance.
The woman in his arms gave him a look that warmed all the cold places in his heart. “Take me home, Farrell, to your cabin in the woods. It’s where all good fairy tales start. We’ll live happily ever after.”
“You can bet on it, my love. You can bet on it.”
* * *
Zachary Stone is determined to lay his family’s
problems to rest. When the one person who can help him turns out to be his former rival, he is torn
between duty and desire.
He’s the last bachelor among the Men of Stone River. Has he met his match?
Don’t miss Zachary’s story
Secrets of a Playboy
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One
Alice
I parked at the end of Spencer Riggs’s long, narrow driveway and glanced out at the vine-covered arbor leading to his porch. Along the path, potted plants grew in colorful disarray, giving me a sense of elegant chaos.
I was trying not to panic about this meeting, but Spencer was different from my other Nashville clients. He was a former lover of mine, a dark shadow from my past.
Was it any wonder I was nervous?
I stayed in my car for a few more minutes, still gazing out the windshield. The music industry adored Spencer, and so did the women in this town. According to the social media buzz, he was quite the catch. An award-winning songwriter with a reputation for being a creative genius. A handsome twenty-eight-year-old who lived in a beautifully renovated old house and rescued abused and abandoned dogs. Talk about a new life. He didn’t even have a goldfish when I knew him. He’d been working as a bartender back then, struggling to sell his songs.
I’d heard rumors that he was considered unattainable now. Of course, that just made women want him all the more. But in spite of his female following, he kept his affairs private. No one was out there bragging about being with him. He wasn’t dropping names, either.
I found that curious, considering my dirty-sex history with him. Our hookups only lasted a few months, but I’d never forgotten how wild he was in bed. Or how troubled he’d made me feel. During that time, I’d had all sorts of emotional problems, and my affair with him had only fueled the fire.
These days, I was a freelance fashion stylist, and I would be dressing him for an upcoming magazine photo shoot. The magazine was willing to provide Spencer with one of their stylists, but he wanted to hire me instead, footing the bill himself and paying me directly. I didn’t relish the idea of working for him, but what could I do?
My career was still in its early stages, and I was in no position to turn down an A-lister. His name would look good on my resume. But even more importantly, a world-renowned photographer was booked for the shoot. If I impressed him, this could be a game changer for me. And the final kicker? I’d spent way too much money over the years, and the hefty sum I’d received from a legal settlement when I was just nineteen years old was dwindling. If I didn’t take this job and use it to my best advantage, I might never get out of the hole I created.
I drew a breath, then exited my car and made my way to Spencer’s door. It had rained heavily earlier, but it was just drizzling now.
I rang the bell, and he answered quickly enough.
Holy cow. It had been five years, and Spencer was hotter than ever. He stood tall and fit, with a naturally tanned complexion and straight, collar-length brown hair, parted on the side and swept across his forehead. His deep-set eyes were dark, almost black, and his jaw was peppered with beard stubble. He had strong features: prominent cheekbones and a wide, luscious mouth. He wore a plain beige T-shirt, threadbare jeans, torn at one knee, and leather sneakers. His left arm boasted a full-sleeve tattoo, but the ink was white, making it look like scarring against his dark skin.
“That’s new,” I said.
He blinked at me. “What?”
“The tattoo.”
“Oh, yeah.” He was staring at me as though he was having the same knee-jerk reaction that I was having to him. “How have you been, Alice?”
“Fine.” When he shifted his stance, my long-lost libido clenched. I’d been celibate since I’d shared his bed, swearing off men until the right one came along—a decision that my reckless hookups with him had obviously factored into. I’d already been using sex to fill the void inside me and being passionately consumed with him had intensified the ache.
“Do you want to come in?” he asked.
I nodded, wondering what he would think if he knew how cautious I was now. Or how badly I wanted to fall in love, get married and have babies.
He stepped away from the door, and we both went inside.
He was no longer staring at me, but I suspected that he wanted to take another long, hard look. We’d had sex in every room of his old apartment. One of his favorite activities had been doing body shots off my navel or from in between my breasts. Everything we’d done together had been hard and fast, including midnight rides on his motorcycle.
He led me to the living room, where a shiny red piano made a bold statement. His house boasted vintage charm, but was rife with contemporary updates.
He wasn’t born and bred in Nashville. He was originally from LA and never knew his father. He was raised by a single mother but somewhere along the way, she’d died and he’d moved in with an aunt and uncle. He’d only given me vague details. He knew far more about me than I did about him.
He gestured to an impressive wet bar and coffee station. “Can I get you anything?”
“That’s all right. I’m okay.” To keep my hands busy, I smoothed my top. I wore an oversize tunic, skinny jeans and thigh-high boots that served me in the rain. My bleached blond hair was short and choppy, left over from my cowpunk phase. It was the only wild side of myself that I’d held on to.
He sat across from me, illuminated by the cloudy light spilling in from the windows. My mind was whirring, working feverishly about how I was going to dress him. I envisioned a variety of looks, ranging from rebellious to refined. From what I recalled, he’d never really cared much about clothes, except when he was removing mine.
“You came highly recommended,” he said, jarring me out of my thoughts. “Kirby suggested that I hire you.”
I gaped at him. “Kirby Talbot?” The country superstar who’d destroyed my mother, who’d promised to buy her songs, but had merely slept with her instead. “Seriously, Spencer?” He knew damned well that I hated Kirby. Not only had Kirby ghosted my mother after their affair, he’d filed a restraining order against her when she’d tried to contact him again.
His heartless actions were a tragedy from which Mama had never recovered. I never got over it, either. Her depression had destroyed me when I was young. Now that I was grown up, Kirby kept trying to fix it. But I couldn’t forget the pain he’d caused.
I frowned at my former lover. I was aware that he’d written some recent hits for Kirby, but beyond that I didn’t know what their relationship entailed. “Just how chummy are you?”
“He’s actually become a mentor to me.” Spencer twisted one of the threads that looped across the hole in his jeans, then looked up, his gaze instantly riveted to mine. “I couldn’t have gotten sober without him.”
I blinked, then glanced at the bar, where bottles of liquor were clearly visible. “You’re a recovering alcoholic?”
He continued looking at me. “I’ve had a problem with it for years. Don’t you remember how drunk I used to get?”
“Yes, but I didn’t know it was an addiction. I just thought you liked to party.” I was feeling foolishly naïve. All those slurred, sexy nights, all those body shots. “Why do you have a fully stocked bar now?”
“I keep it around for guests.” He ran his gaze over me. “I can resist the temptation.”
I hoped he resisted his drink of choice far better than he was resisting his renewed attraction to me. The air between us had gone unbearably thick. Temptation, I thought. So much temptation.
And on top of that, I wasn’t convinced that if push came to shove, he wouldn’t fall off the wagon. He still seemed restless to me. “How long have you been sober?”
“Two years, three months, five days and—” He removed his phone from his pocket and checked the time “—six hours.” He glanced up and laughed a little. “Give or take.”
His jokey remark didn’t ease my concern. “I’m glad you’re trying to turn your life around.” I would at least give him credit for that. �
��But you know what sucks? That I used to tell you what a jerk Kirby was, but you still managed to bond with him. You’d never even met him when I was with you.”
He scowled. “Well, I got to know him later. And what was I was supposed to do? Shun him because of you? He’s been trying to make amends with you for years.”
I tightened my spine, sitting ramrod straight. Spencer used to support my hatred of Kirby, but now he was siding with the enemy. “Did you hire me as a favor to Kirby? Is that what this is all about?”
“No.” His scowl deepened.
“Then why did you hire me?”
He shrugged. “For old times’ sake, I guess.”
Meaning what, exactly? That he was curious to see me? That didn’t make me feel any better. Our affair had started in the gutter. We’d hooked up on Tinder, strictly for the sex. I’d been all of twenty then. Young and promiscuous.
I gave him a pointed look. “You still shouldn’t have blindsided me about Kirby.”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand your reluctance to forgive him. He apologized for what he did to your family, not just privately but in a press conference, too. He bought the rights to your mom’s songs from you and your sister and made good on his promise to market them. You got a nice settlement from him.”
“It wasn’t enough to last forever. Going to college and starting a new business wasn’t cheap.” I’d definitely spent a huge chunk on those things. But I’d blown tons of it, too. Not that I was going to admit that to Spencer. But in my defense, I was still running wild when I first got the money.
“Yeah, well, it’s just crazy that you won’t give Kirby a chance.” He shook his head again. “Your sister is even married to his oldest son.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to accept Kirby the way she has. Besides, Mary has a softer heart than I do.” She was also blissfully happy with Brandon and their children. I was still waiting around for my dream man.
Upstairs Downstairs Temptation (The Men 0f Stone River Book 2) Page 17