I hold my breath, looking into his eyes, trying to read what’s whirring through his brain.
He looks at me for an interminably long time, his brow furrowed, his lips pursed.
Fear grips me. Was I wrong to come here? Doesn’t he love me anymore? Did he ever? Is he trying to work out how to let me down gently? Or is he going to humiliate me in front of all these people?
“Sam, I . . . please,” I please. “Say something.” I clench my fists at my sides.
Before I know what’s happening, he collects me in a hug, lifting me clean off the floor. “Oh, Grace. Thank God. Thank God you’re here,” he mutters into my hair, his warm breath making my neck tingle.
I pull away to face him, tears streaming down my face. I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Does that mean . . .?”
His face breaks into a grin, crinkling his blue, blue eyes. “It does. Grace, it’s you. From the moment I met you. It’s you.”
He lifts me up in his strong arms again and kisses me on my mouth. I kiss him back as I breathe in his wonderful, familiar scent, feel his body pressed against mine.
Around us there are murmurs.
Embarrassed, I glance around the room, taking in the stunned looks on people’s faces, feeling the awkward silence.
Sam puts me back on the floor, his handsome face creased into a beautiful smile.
“What changed?” he asks.
I look back into his eyes. “I realised I was being an idiot. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’ll do it. I can pretend I don’t know you. Although I suspect the cat’s out of the bag for this lot here.” I gesture at our audience.
He chuckles. “You might be right on that front.”
“Sam, all I want is you. I can deal with the rest.”
“Grace, you’re amazing.” His eyes search my face. “But that’s not good enough.”
I jolt back in surprise. “It’s not?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
He turns to a young woman, lingering in the shadows. “Melissa, can you get my phone please?”
I watch numbly as she darts away. “What’s going on, Sam?” I can’t keep the desperation out of my voice.
Melissa is back with the phone within moments. “Thanks,” Sam says taking the phone and dialling a number.
Vanessa appears at my side. “Hey, Grace,” she says in her soft voice.
“Hi,” I reply absentmindedly, still watching Sam.
She smiles her beautiful smile, looking serene and happy.
Maybe she can explain what’s going on?
I hear a low, rumbling voice behind me. “Hi, Grace.”
I turn to see Trent next to Vanessa, smiling at me.
“H . . . hi,” I stammer.
“David,” Sam says into the phone. “You know how you want Vanessa and me to continue this fake relationship bullshit? Well, we’re done.”
I glance at Vanessa. Her eyes are sparkling as she tries but fails to suppress a grin.
“That’s right. Done. And another thing.” He looks at me, his eyes boring into me. “I’m in love with Grace Mortimer.”
His smile fills my heart with warmth.
“That’s right, you heard me. And Vanessa’s in love with Trent, her body guard. So, you see? You’ve lost the battle here. The crew have mutinied.”
It seems like the whole room turns to look at Vanessa and Trent, their mouths hanging open in shock. Trent places a possessive arm around Vanessa’s shoulder and they stand together, looking just as Sam said: in love.
“Thank you,” she mouths to Sam, who winks at her.
“Oh, and before I forget, David?” Sam says. I turn to look back at him. “You’re fired.”
Sam drops the phone, reaches a hand over to touch my face. “Your words rang in my ear, Grace. I am already someone. I don’t need this adulation. You’re what matters, Grace. You and me.”
My heart contracts with love as I step into him, pull him down into a kiss.
How could I have ever doubted this man, this wonderful, wonderful man?
“So, you’re telling me I just got comfortable with the idea of being your secret lover and you’re going to out us to the world?” I ask, grinning.
“Sure am,” he confirms.
“About bloody time,” I reply with a chuckle.
He wraps his arm around my shoulder and we turn and face the group. “Everyone, this is Grace Mortimer,” Sam announces as I grin like the Cheshire Cat at his side. “The love of my life.”
Epilogue
“HAVE YOU READ THIS ONE?” I ask, sliding my phone across the table to Sam.
He picks it up and reads, “Vanessa and Grace to meet in the ring. You could take her, no problem. She’s very skinny.”
I chuckle. “You might be right. What happened to not reading about ourselves in the media?”
He shrugs. “When it’s as much of a whack job as this it’s worth it for the entertainment value alone.”
I shake my head, smiling. “Have you heard from Vanessa?”
“She texted me this morning. Seems married life is treating her very well.”
I smile, thinking how special Vanessa and Trent’s wedding was last week in Saint Tropez. So special, in fact, Sam and I decided to stay on for another week, enjoying all the South of France has to offer.
“Another croissant?” Sam asks, handing me the basket.
“Oh, I couldn’t. I’m so full.”
“Too full for this?” he asks, reaching across and pulling me in to a light and tender kiss. He tastes of pastries and coffee and the fresh morning air.
My body responds in an instant, as it always does with him. “Never,” I murmur, slipping a hand up under his t-shirt and feeling his taut belly.
I take him by the hand and lead him from the balcony into the bedroom, pulling him down to the bed with a long and sensuous kiss.
Sam was true to his word and ‘outed’ us to the media, stating he and Vanessa had gone their separate ways but remained steadfast friends and colleagues.
So far, the reaction has been mixed and there has definitely been the odd insult thrown my way. But with Sam at my side I know I can weather any storm.
“Before we do this, there’s one other thing,” he says.
“Anything as long as it’s not some Fifty Shades thing.”
“No, it’s . . . ah . . .” He looks suddenly serious, almost nervous.
“Sam, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He opens the drawer to the bedside table and pulls out a small box.
My heart leaps into my mouth. Could that be . . .?
He gets down onto one knee and pops the box open, exposing the most stunning—and huge, let’s make no bones about it—princess cut solitaire diamond ring I’ve ever seen.
He looks me in the eye. “Grace Mortimer, the woman who could take Vanessa Hudson in a fight, will you marry me?”
I leap onto him, knocking him right over onto the floor. “Yes, yes! Oh, yes!”
Lying on the carpet together he takes my left hand and slides the ring onto my finger. It sparkles and twinkles in the morning light.
I pull him in and kiss him. “Thank you, Sam.”
He grins. “You’re welcome?”
We both burst out laughing. Once recovered, I clarify. “I mean thank you for everything you’ve done so we can be together. It’s been amazing.”
He shrugs. “You’re worth it. And I’m sure I’m going to love living in Wellington, Mrs Montgomery.”
I smile at the mention of what will be my new name. Grace Montgomery. It has a nice ring to it.
Sam agreed to move to Wellington and we bought ourselves a house overlooking the city’s magnificent harbour a couple of months ago. Although we’ve barely been there with his filming schedule and now Vanessa and Trent’s wedding, we’re scheduled to be back there, living in our gorgeous new house, by the beginning of autumn.
Why autumn? That’s when I start my fashion design course. Sam finally convinced me to
try to make a living out of my passion, so I applied to design school and shocked myself by being accepted. I probably need to unlearn a whole heap of things, and I’m scared out of my tiny mind my teachers will trash my design ideas, but I can’t wait.
Sam and Vanessa’s first movie was a huge success and the sequel has wrapped production with talk of a third in the pipeline. And you know what? Their fake relationship and my subsequent reported ‘home wrecking’ didn’t seem to have an impact on the box office takings in the slightest.
Predictably there was a media storm when Sam announced his relationship with me to the world. This time, though, it was different: I had Sam. I’m getting used to being in the spotlight, although I can’t say I’m ever going to relish it the way some people do.
Which brings me to Tiffany. Thanks to Sam she now has a fledgling acting career, appearing in a few bit parts on television. Her talent may be dubious but I give her full points for persistence. Her ego has, unsurprisingly, moved into another stratosphere.
Rangi moved into my old apartment, allegedly as a new roommate. But, according to Taylor, she got sick of hearing them in Tiffany’s bedroom ‘squealing like a couple of stuffed pigs’, so Taylor moved out. She and Scott are still going strong and Taylor tells me it’s love. It seems all he really needed was the love of a good woman, and it turns out Taylor was the woman for the job.
We were back in New Zealand last month for Brooke and Logan’s wedding, which was, of course, a very classy and sophisticated affair at a vineyard north of the city. Mia was bridesmaid and I carried her down the aisle in an adorable pale yellow dress with embroidered flowers to ‘ahh’s’ from all the guests. It was an original Grace Mortimer design.
While there Sam took the opportunity to shred that confidentiality agreement my family and friends had signed. We all toasted its demise with a nice, crisp chardonnay.
On the work front, Jessica has been amazing, allowing me as much time as I need to be with Sam. Although now that her daughter, Sophie, has come along and I’m about to start design school, she will need to get another assistant on board fast.
Savannah has been accepted into the family with open arms. She’s happy and says she doesn’t regret finding us. Her mum has even been to visit, which shows you how awfully well adjusted my mother is—either that or she’s a complete masochist and needs to get into therapy, stat.
All in all, everything has worked out quite nicely, thank you very much.
And all because I fell off the catwalk and into a new, crazy, and totally unexpected life.
I look at Sam—my fiancée of three minutes—grinning at me on the floor, looking happy and sexy and everything I could wish for in a man. I return his smile, feeling a flood of love for him. He’s my Big Love, my gibbon, and I know deep down, as long as I have Sam, I can take on the world.
THE END
Thank you so much for reading Falling for Grace, Book 3 in the Wellywood Romantic Comedy Series! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it.
Read on for a sneak peek at the first book in my new Cozy Cottage Café Series, entitled One Last First Date. Here’s the book blurb:
Cassie Dunhill and her friends make a pact to marry the next guy they each date. What could possibly go wrong?
Cassie is sick of dating. It's been ten years and it's time, time to find The One. It's either that or buy a fetching habit and veil and abandon the whole thing. But Cassie believes in love, and she's not ready to give up yet.
Cassie and her best friends make a pact that the next date they go on will be their One Last First Date. The pressure is on to find Mr. Right, and Cassie's the first to find him: Parker Hamilton. He's good-looking, smart, cultured--and a doctor. Despite his obvious credentials, Cassie's not taking any chances. She's vetted Parker so thoroughly she could offer some pointers to the CIA. Needless to say, he passes with flying colors.
Things get complicated when Will Jordan, her irritating work colleague, muscles in on her dream job and her love life. Will is a typical guy, complete with nicknames for everyone, even Cassie. His good looks and relaxed, easy nature can be distracting. But Cassie can do without that kind of distraction right now, no matter how good Will looks with his shirt off.
In the end, is there only One Last First Date?
You can order One Last First Date here
Sneak Peek at One Last First Date
“SO, WE ALL AGREE? We’re really doing this?” Marissa’s upturned face was illuminated by the crackling fire as the waves continued their dark, rhythmic pounding against the shore.
We stood in a tight little group, empty wine glasses discarded carelessly on a picnic blanket next to the glowing fire. I looked from one of my friends to the other. They were both smiling, their faces full of hope and excitement, their right hands placed on top of one another’s, awaiting mine.
I bit my lip as goose bumps rose on my bare legs in the late summer evening breeze. “After more than ten years of dating, we need to take things into our own hands.” I placed my hand on top of theirs. A surge of anticipation hit me, and my face broke into a grin. “Let’s do this.”
“Yes!” Paige cried, almost piercing my eardrum.
“Good,” Marissa added more calmly, nodding. “Let’s begin, then.” She cleared her throat. “We, the three present on this beach tonight, agree that—”
She was cut short by Paige. “Umm, Marissa?”
“What is it?” Marissa asked.
“It’s just . . . shouldn’t you name us?”
“Why?”
“To make it, you know, more official,” Paige replied.
We were still standing in the circle, our hands piled up on top of one another. My arm began to hurt.
Marissa rolled her eyes. “Okay, Paige. I’ll start again.” There was a sizeable note of irritation in her voice. Marissa cleared her throat once more, closing her eyes momentarily to collect her thoughts—and, perhaps, to try to remember our middle names.
“We, Marissa Jane Jones, Cassandra . . .”
“Clementine,” I whispered after a beat.
She shot me a surprised look. “Really? Pretty.”
I rolled my eyes. “Long story.”
She nodded. “Cassandra Clementine Dunhill, and Paige Prudence Miller, agree that—”
“Why does my name have to be last?” Paige interrupted again, sounding indignant, as she dropped her hand from ours.
I let out a frustrated breath. “Does it matter whose name comes first, Paige? It’s getting cold here.”
“Of course it matters, Cassie,” she insisted. “It won’t be real otherwise. Plus, Marissa always puts herself first. We need to be more . . . egalitarian.”
“Egalitarian?” Marissa questioned. “This isn’t some sort of committee, Paige. We’re just three friends on the beach, who have, quite possibly, had a little too much to drink and have decided to make a pact.”
There was a low rumble of thunder in the distance, diverting our attention. All three of us broke into nervous laughter as the wind picked up, whipping our hair around our faces. I glanced around the deserted beach. All we needed now was a cauldron on the fire and we’d look like a coven of witches, brewing up a spell.
Paige shrugged, looking wounded.
“I guess this was Paige’s idea,” I offered, ever the peacemaker.
Marissa’s hands shot up into the air in surrender. “Okay. Do you want to do it?”
Paige’s face beamed. “Yes, I do.” She smoothed her full skirt down and stuck her hand out in front of her.
Marissa and I added ours once more.
Paige looked from Marissa to me and back again. She tossed her dark hair in a dramatic fashion, and then began. “We, the three maidens of the beach—”
Marissa sniggered. Paige glared at her. Unperturbed, she continued, “The three maidens of the beach, Paige Prudence Miller, Cassie Clementine Dunhill, and Marissa Jane Jones—”
Marissa scoffed.
“—agree that the next date eac
h of us goes on will be with the man we marry.”
A Girl Scout knot looped in my belly.
“We agree to this pact in the presence of the Goddess of the Beach,” Paige continued.
My eyes darted around, half expecting to see a goddess floating nearby. Hmm, definitely too much chardonnay for me tonight.
Marissa scoffed again. “I don’t remember agreeing to any goddess crap,” she protested.
“Just go with it, will you?” Paige replied, arching her eyebrows. “I know what I’m doing; this isn’t my first beach pact.”
I looked at Paige in surprise. “It’s not?”
Paige shook her head. “No.”
I let out a breath. Goddess or no goddess, I didn’t care; it was the pact that mattered to me—and meeting the man of my dreams. “I agree to the pact.”
“I agree to the pact, too,” Marissa said at length.
Paige held her chin high, a strange look on her face—perhaps triumph? Or solemnity? Or a combination of both. “Then, it is set.”
There was a sudden flash of lightning followed immediately by a loud crash of thunder. Marissa and I leaped a good four feet back from one another. Marissa fell on her butt, narrowly avoiding the fire. I stumbled but managed to right myself.
“What the heck was that?” Marissa exclaimed, pushing herself off the ground and brushing the sand off her jeans.
“Whatever it was, it scared the living daylights out of me.” I let out a short, sharp laugh, my heart pounding in my chest.
Paige remained standing stock still, a look of pure exhilaration on her pretty face as the wind whipped her hair and made her skirt billow around her. She looked like something out of Game of Thrones. “That, my friends, was the sealing of the pact. There’s no going back now.”
The sealing of the pact? I looked at her, wide-eyed, half expecting her to regale us with some lame ghost story, a flashlight illuminating her face in a prepubescent attempt to freak us out.
“Actually, I think it was that storm we’re expecting,” Marissa replied in her pragmatic way. She leaned down and scooped the picnic blanket and the empty bottle and glasses up. “We might need to take cover, girls.”
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