by T. M. Cromer
“Miss GiGi?”
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
“I…” The words stuck in her throat, and all she could do was pull him in a tight embrace. Finally, when he wiggled in his impatience, she released him. “I love you, too,” she managed. “But don’t think it’s going to get you cookies every time.”
He grinned, and in that smile, she saw the deviltry of Ryker. “Yes, it will.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Yes, it most likely will, and cake to boot.”
They laughed together and gobbled more raw dough.
When the cookies were removed from the oven, she gave him a handful. “Go find your mother, you cheeky monkey. I have to clean up this mess and meet my husband.”
He ran off after a hug and a wave.
After she’d dumped the dishes in the dishwasher and wiped down the counters, GiGi headed to the master bath for a long, luxurious soak in the garden tub. She sipped her wine and mulled over the events of the last few months since Ryker had stepped back into her life. A deep sense of contentment and peace flooded her. They would work this time around, she was sure of it. Both of them were committed to their marriage, and Ryker was now ready to put her first.
GiGi doubted there would ever be a lack of drama surrounding her family, and perhaps that type of disturbance would be enough for her husband’s deep need for excitement. It was certainly more than enough for her.
She took great care with her appearance, creating a slinky, form-fitting dress that subtly caught the light with its iridescent material. The neckline plunged the right amount without showing off anything more than the cleavage between her pushed up breasts. A side slit ran from ankle to mid-thigh and gave a tantalizing peek of her smooth, shapely leg.
Leaving her hair loose and flowing down her back was perfect to offset her shoulders, bared by the halter dress. She applied a smoky eye in deep purple to highlight the brightness of her violet-blue gaze. A bubble-gum pink lipgloss finished the look as did the three-inch dangling earrings with their row of diamonds. GiGi Thorne-Gillespie was dressed to kill and not taking any prisoners tonight.
She blew a kiss to the fierce warrior woman in the mirror, then stepped into the closet for a purse and to slip on a pair of four-inch, fuck-me heels. Ryker would need an adult-sized bib to catch his drool tonight.
A call to her niece’s husband, Keaton, confirmed he was in the driveway to deliver the present she’d ordered for her husband, and she stepped out the front door to admire the Corvette Keaton had found to replace Ryker’s beloved car he’d been forced to destroy.
“Think he’ll like it?”
Keaton snorted and handed her the keys with a light kiss to her cheek. “If Autumn ever wants to get me a gift of this nature, be sure to encourage it whole-heartedly, all right?”
She laughed and palmed the keys. “I’ll keep that in mind. Any specific color?”
“Candy-apple red does it for me.”
“And are you interested in finding one to restore with Chloe or one already finished?”
“You always ask the hard questions.” He studied her for a moment and smiled appreciatively. “All I know is that if my wife showed up in a car like this, looking like you do now, I would be a happy man. Ryker won’t know what hit him.”
“That’s what I’m hoping.”
His handsome face dropped its teasing air. “We are all thrilled you’ve found each other again, GiGi. Be happy.”
She cupped his cheek and smiled. “Thank you, dear. Now, I must be off before I’m late.” With a twirl of the key ring, she opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. The motor growled as she started the engine, and GiGi laughed at the throaty sound. “Yes, this is perfect.” With a wink and a wave, she drove away.
The place was busy, but she still managed to find a premium parking spot for Ryker’s new toy. As she swung her legs around to stand, a wolf-whistle pierced the night air. Without acknowledging the sound in any way other than with an eye roll, GiGi headed for the entrance.
She’d only been perched on her stool for a few minutes when the men in the bar each thought to try their hand at wooing her. She never bothered to make eye contact with anyone but the twenty-something female bartender, who seemed harried and irritated by life in general.
A not-so-subtle surge of energy rippled the air surrounding her.
Ryker.
Her lips twitched in an effort to suppress her pleasure as she brought her martini to her lips. The aggressive guy next to her crowded closer, as if her half-smile was encouragement. She didn’t bother to acknowledge him, instead shifting in the opposite direction to face her husband.
“Hi.” His deep, warm tone curled her toes and woke the butterflies low in her belly. Just as it always did.
“Hi.”
Ryker held out a hand as if to introduce himself. “I’m Ryker.”
She placed her palm in his. “GiGi.”
“Hey, pal. I saw her first,” the leech to her left protested angrily.
Ryker tilted his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “Should I be concerned?”
“Not in the least.”
“Bitch,” the guy muttered as he started to storm away.
Not bothering to verbally respond, GiGi flicked a finger his way. The man face-planted on the sticky barroom floor. He came up sputtering and glaring at the crowded room before hastily making an exit.
“Nicely done,” Ryker murmured. Leaning one elbow against the bar, he gave her the once-over. Inch by slow inch, his eyes traveled back up the length of her body. His half-smile turned into a wolfish grin. “You look lovely. May I buy you a drink?”
Unsure what his game was, she shrugged. “I’m waiting for someone.”
“Really? Hmm. He’s a fool to keep you waiting.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think he’s worth the wait,” she replied meaningfully.
Their eyes locked.
“Really?”
“Absolutely.” She stretched the short distance and settled a kiss on his mouth. “Want to tell me what this is about?”
“I thought we could start over. A clean slate, as if we were only meeting each other for the first time.”
She settled a hand at the base of his throat and felt the hard hammering of his pulse. Looking at him in all his sexy self-assurance, no one would ever believe Ryker was nervous. But the pounding of his heart didn’t lie.
“It’s a lovely gesture, but…” She opened the small beaded purse in front of her, removed the keys to the Corvette, and dangled them in the air between them. “…then I couldn’t give you this for an anniversary present.”
His dumbfounded expression made her laugh aloud.
* * *
Ryker stared at his wife’s amused countenance in a state of utter shock. First, she’d remembered today was their anniversary. Second, if those keys belonged to the ‘Vette he’d seen in the parking lot, he just won the damned lottery.
“Tell me it’s that cobalt blue beauty in the front lot.”
“Maybe,” she teased, but he knew it was.
“I honestly wanted to wine and dine you to show you a good time after the nightmare we’ve been through.” He could hear the indecision in his own voice. Damn, he wanted to drive that car. “I can wait.”
“I can’t. Let’s go take it for a spin and come back.”
“Goddess, I love you, sweetheart,” he breathed as he snatched the dangling keys from her hand. “So much.” He followed his words with a deep kiss, one that left her flushed and breathless.
“After a kiss like that, I believe you.”
He grinned and reached for her hand. Although he wanted to run, he kept his pace slow, mindful of her sexy-ass shoes. Pausing halfway to the door, he leaned in to say, “Later, when we are in bed, I hope you consider leaving those heels on.” He raked his gaze down her smoking hot body. “I…” Words failed him. “Yeah. Come on.”
The throaty growl of the engine nearly made Ryker whimper. “GiGi, y
ou are a goddess among women.”
“Don’t you ever forget it.”
“Never,” he promised as he lifted their joined hands to drop a kiss on her knuckles. “You shall be worshiped from here to the end of our lives, as is your due.”
“You say the sweetest things.”
They drove the backroads in silence, a mutual appreciation of the car’s speed and handling. After twenty miles had passed, Ryker pulled off the road and let the engine idle. “Do we go back for drinks and dinner, or would you like to see my surprise for you?”
“You remembered?” Even in the darkness of the car’s interior, he could see the sheen of tears in her brilliant eyes.
“Of course.” He leaned forward to brush his nose with hers. “How can I forget the day you made me the happiest man alive?”
“Oh, Ryker,” she breathed. GiGi rested a palm on each side of his face and pressed her forehead to his. “I love you so much more than I ever thought possible. Sometimes I’m terrified that I’ve lost my mind and this is all a dream.”
“I feel the same.”
She brought his head down for a kiss, and in that kiss, Ryker felt all their tomorrows. As he slowly pulled away, he pressed his lips lightly to the tip of her nose. “Back to the restaurant?”
“I could eat, but I’m also impatient to see this surprise of yours.”
“Hmm. Well, I suppose we could always whip up some dinner when we get to where we are going.”
“Is it the Grand Caymans? You know I love it there. Don’t tease me.”
He laughed at her eagerness. “No, but good to know a trip would go over well as a present.”
He twisted slightly, looked both ways, then peeled out onto the highway. Utilizing Granny Thorne’s cloaking spell, he broke the speed limit by a good fifty miles per hour. They arrived at their destination in record time.
“Where are we?” GiGi asked as she slipped out of her heels.
“The site of our new homestead—if you like it.”
“Homestead?” She laughed and shook her head. “Ryker, it’s dark, and I can’t see a thing.”
“Right. One sec.”
He jumped out of the car and hustled to her side to open the door. With a nod to her now bare feet, he said, “You may want to conjure a pair of clogs or gardening shoes. The grass is likely to be damp.”
“I don’t care.”
With a light laugh, he swept her into his embrace, secretly loving her little meep of surprise. “Come, my darling bride. There are things I wish to show you.”
GiGi wrapped her arms around his neck and tucked her head under his chin. Her deep sigh spoke of contentment.
Ryker walked to the center of the area he’d mapped off then set his wife on her feet. With one arm raised horizontal to the ground and palm out, he slowly spun in a circle. One by one, the thousands of tea lights he and his nieces’ husbands had painstakingly laid out came to life. The small clearing brightened enough to show the beauty of the setting around them.
“What is this? Ryker?”
“Since there are so many sad memories for us at the old place, I thought you might want to start fresh. Give our place to Leonie and Armand. If you don’t want to build again, I understand, but I—”
She cut him off with her index finger to his lips. “It’s a wonderful idea. Especially since things are heating up between her and Matt lately.” She walked the tentative outline of the future structure. “This is east?” She pointed, and at his nod, she smiled. “A sunroom should go here, don’t you think? It should be right off a massive kitchen with a window overlooking the garden that will grow just there.”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he agreed.
“I want a large island to prep food, so when Armand visits, we can bake his favorite cookies.”
“I predict he’ll be over every day with as much as you spoil him. But don’t forget my pies.”
She laughed and practically skipped to where he remained at the center of their projected home. “I’ll bake you at least one pie per month.”
“It’s going to have to be bi-monthly or no deal.”
“You drive a hard bargain, babe.” GiGi caressed his cheek with her fingertips. “But I get to keep my French sofa.”
He groaned and acted put out. “Fine. But please promise no matter how angry you get, I’ll never be forced to sleep on that POS again.” He was unable to maintain his disgruntled look for long, and laughed at her saucy expression. “I don’t care if we have boxes for furniture, sweetheart. Just as long as I am living with you, I’ll be happy.”
The love in her eyes glowed fiercely. “How is it you always know the right thing to say to melt my heart?”
For a long moment, he didn’t answer. Instead, choosing to trace the beautiful bone structure of her face. Each curve complimented her loveliness, and the petal-soft skin begged to be caressed. Finally, he met her questioning gaze.
“From the moment I saw you, I was captivated.” He eased forward and lightly brushed his mouth against hers, smiling slightly when her lips clung to his. “Nothing’s changed from then to now. I’m still captivated. And I can’t say what’s right or wrong. I can only speak from my heart where you’re concerned, GiGi.”
“When do we conjure our new home?”
“Is tomorrow morning soon enough?”
“Perfect. I can’t wait for our new beginning.”
He grinned and tugged her within his embrace. “It’s already begun.”
Turn the page to read an excerpt of ESSENTIAL MAGIC. Nash’s story is sure to delight.
Essential Magic Excerpt
Ryanne Caldwell woke, heart pounding and mouth dry. What the hell had she just dreamed about? Two sisters—goddesses at that—and a cursed object? Snippets really. Someone declaring her “the Chosen,” and then a vision of a necklace. The rest of the nightmare faded to obscurity.
A trip to the bathroom provided a much-needed drink of water for her sore, parched throat. She’d woken herself screaming, which was rare enough to make her question what she’d eaten the night before that might’ve triggered a nightmare of such magnitude. Nothing out of the ordinary jumped out at her. No caffeine after four p.m. No sugary goodness past noon. Yep, not food related.
Next, she ran through the list of shows she’d watched on TV. No murder mysteries, time travel, or unconventional movies to warp her thought process.
Dismissing the bizarre dream as simply that, she checked the clock.
Four-twenty a.m.
She swore under her breath, threw on her ratty old robe, and padded to the living room. No getting back to sleep after a dream of that nature.
“A full workload today on only three hours sleep is going to suck,” Ryanne complained aloud to no one.
The sound of her own disgusted tone echoed off the barren walls of her tiny two-bedroom apartment. Plain white—ugh! She cast the room a distasteful look. Really, after three years in the same place, she could add some damned artwork or colored paint. Anything to make the space more habitable. More home-like.
Even after thirteen years, a home without her sister, Rylee, didn’t bear thinking about. Maybe she should consider getting a cat?
With a dismissive shrug, Ryanne headed for the coffee maker.
Milk and sugar in the mug, she waited for the single brewer to work its magic and make her the drink of the gods. A shudder shook her. Yeah, better not to think about gods or goddesses. That dream had been wack. Who in their right mind would consider her a Chosen? What did that even mean?
She toyed with the idea of calling in sick to work. A mental health day. As a star employee of Thorne Industries for the last two years, she’d been the perfect little worker bee. She always showed up on time, stayed late, and hadn’t used one single day of vacation.
“Maybe I’m due,” she muttered.
Perhaps her brain was on overload and, as a result, was fried. It would explain the freaky visions her mind had conjured.
The more the idea of p
laying hooky bounced about, the more she warmed to it. She could lounge around, eating ice cream and catching up on rom coms. Let Nash pull a research assistant from the main floor. All his female workers were eager to be singled out. Her coworkers would backstab each other with letter openers in their desire to catch his eye.
And who could blame them? Nash was, well, Nash.
A sigh escaped, followed by a self-deprecating snort.
Working for the great Nash Thorne had made her immune to his charms. Or nearly immune. If, on occasion, she became short of breath in his vicinity, only she was the wiser. And if there were times when she would look up to find him standing over her, staring with those intense, all-knowing jade eyes, she was quick to suppress her lustful feelings.
Ryanne was certainly not as naive or as starry-eyed as she’d been when she first started working for him. A relationship was off limits. The arrogant little speech he’d honored her with on her first day made that quite clear.
“If you intend to be my top research aide, there will be no hanky-panky.” He’d gone further to state that he didn’t want her drooling over the ancient tomes in his possession.
Jerk.
Really, who used the term “hanky-panky” in today’s day and age? He’d acted as if she’d be unable to control her baser urges in his presence. The conceit of the man had cured her of her brief fantasy almost immediately.
If she were forced to be brutally honest with herself—which she would go to the grave avoiding—she’d have to admit that on the days when he crowded in next to her to help translate a text, his unique scent turned her body into a live wire.
The musky, citrus smell of his skin had her wanting to bury her nose against his wide, muscular chest and inhale for all she was worth. And if, on her loneliest of nights, she fantasized about running her tongue along his corded neck or nuzzling his firm jaw with its perpetual two-day beard growth, who could fault her?
The blame could be firmly placed at the door of her dating dry spell. God, how long had it been since she got laid? She’d lost track around the two-and-a-half-year mark. Her vajayjay was ready to stage a strike.