“We didn’t want to expose his secret. We left that up to him to decide, and we had to play the part,” Josh answered.
She shot a look at her father. “When? How?”
“He called me yesterday afternoon,” her father said. “I’m sorry I didn’t let on when you called earlier, darlin’, but you were so excited. I didn’t want to ruin that for you.”
She turned back to Jack. “You did that?”
He nodded. “After I had lunch with my mom and sister—who, by the way, also gave us their blessing—I knew I wanted to marry you. Hell, I think I knew it when we said goodbye at the plane, but before I went to Tiffany’s, I called your father. I know how much he means to you, and I know how much your brothers do, too. I didn’t want to take a chance that I would come between you and your family.” He ran his finger down her cheek. “So I told each of them about my past, and we talked about my relationship with my family and my career. I have to say, your family is very protective of you. I think they know everything about me, including what year I went through puberty.”
“That was me.” Hugh held up his hand.
“You did that for me?” She couldn’t believe the depth of his consideration of her feelings, and the feelings of her family members.
“There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for you, angel.”
She smiled up at him and touched his cheek, knowing she’d love him even on the days that his hurt returned, because now that she knew the real Jack Remington, she understood the love that her father so desperately held on to, and she, too, was never letting go.
The End
Please enjoy a preview of the next Love in Bloom novel
Hearts at Play
The Bradens, Book Six
Love in Bloom Series
Melissa Foster
Chapter One
KAT BURST THROUGH the stockroom doors of Old Town Tavern, nearly plowing into Brianna.
“Jeez, Kat. What the hell?” Brianna Heart had been working since noon, and she had another two hours to go before her ten-hour shift was over. She didn’t have the energy for Kat’s drama. Not tonight, when she still had to muster the energy to pick up Layla, her five-year-old daughter, from her mother’s house, get her to bed, and then make invitations for Layla’s birthday party.
“Patrick Dempsey is here. I saw him. He’s sitting at a table in the bar. Oh my God—he is even hotter in person.” Kat flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder and tapped her finger on her lip. “I wonder if he’s looking for a date.”
“Kat.” Brianna shook her head. “You’re crazy. You always think you see famous people. Not a lot of famous people are clamoring to get into Richmond, Virginia.”
“Bree, I’m telling you. I think I need to change my underwear.” She looked at Brianna and furrowed her perfectly manicured brows. “Oh, honey. Here. Let me help you with your hair. You could be the prettiest bartender slash waitress out there and you know it. Well, besides me, of course.” She began fluffing Bree’s straight, shoulder-length brown hair.
Brianna shook her head. “Please. If it is Patrick Dempsey, I’ll be the last person he’s looking at.” She wiped her hands on the little towel she kept looped over her belt at all times—because she didn’t have time to breathe, much less go searching for something to dry her hands on.
“Oh, come on, Bree. Don’t you want to get out of this place? What better way than with a famous sugar daddy?” Kat looked at her reflection in the glass and flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder.
“Ugh. No, thank you. The last thing Layla needs is that kind of lifestyle, and the last thing I need is to stand in the stockroom talking about fictitious people. I love you, Kat, but I gotta get out there.” She patted her back pocket. “I need the tips. Layla’s birthday is coming up.”
“I can’t believe she’s going to be six. Gosh, that went quick. What does she want?”
“A puppy, a kitten, a bigger bedroom.” Brianna sighed. “But I think I’m gonna get her a winter jacket. Kill two birds with one stone.” She winked as she headed out of the stockroom and up to the bar. A quick scan told her that Patrick Dempsey was definitely not there. She snagged the empty glasses from the bar and wiped it down.
Mack Greenley, the manager of the bar, sidled up to Brianna. She’d worked for Mack for the past five and a half years, and though she was twenty-eight and he was only thirty-eight, he’d taken her under his wing as if she were his daughter.
“Booth.” Mack was a big man with a mass of brown hair and a thick, powerful neck.
“Got it.” Bree wiped her hands on the towel, grabbed an order pad, and went to the only occupied booth in the small bar. It was Thursday night at seven o’clock. Another half hour and the bar would be packed for Major League Baseball playoffs. Brianna focused on her order pad, thinking about Layla’s birthday and wishing she could afford the time or money to get her a pet, like she wanted. But as a single mother, she couldn’t balance working fifty hours each week with taking care of Layla and a pet. It was just too much. She pushed the thought away and feigned a smile.
“Hi, I’m Brianna…Bree. What can I get you?”
The guy in the booth lifted his head in her direction, and Brianna’s breath caught in her throat. She felt her jaw go slack. The man’s thick, windblown dark hair looked as if someone had just run their hands through it. While kissing his glorious lips and feeling that sexy five-o’clock shadow on her cheek. Jesus, he does look like Patrick Dempsey…on steroids.
“A sidecar and a glass of water, please,” he said.
Brianna couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even close her damn mouth. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
He cocked his head. “Are you okay?”
Are you kidding me? Does your voice have to be so damn smooth and rich? That’s so unfair. She cleared her throat. “Yeah, sorry. Long day. One sidecar coming up.” She cursed at herself all the way back to the bar.
Kat grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the sink, their backs to way-sexier-than-Patrick-Dempsey steroid guy. “I told you,” she whispered. “Jesus, you’re lucky. What are you gonna do?”
Brianna looked over her shoulder at the handsome man. Trouble. That’s what she saw. She’d known men like him before. Hell, that’s how she ended up with Layla.
“Nothing. He wants a sidecar. You take it to him.” Brianna handed her the pad and went to help the woman she and Kat called Red—a slutty redhead who spent every Thursday night trolling the bar for men.
Brianna focused on making Red her cosmo. The din of the customers fell away. Her mind circled back to the Patrick Dempsey look-alike’s voice. It was so…so…different from any other man’s voice. He didn’t speak as if he were rushed, and he looked at her eyes instead of her breasts, which was also different from most of the male customers at the tavern. She started when Kat touched her shoulder.
“Bree, come on. You do it. I can’t take him from you. He’s probably a big tipper. Look at that jacket.”
Brianna glanced at the brown leather jacket hanging on the end of the booth. “It’s okay. You go. I’m good.” She handed Red a cosmo.
“Do you know who that is?” Red lifted her glass toward the handsome man.
Bree shrugged. “No idea.” But I’m sure he’ll take you home.
“I think that’s my date,” Red said.
Isn’t every man? Brianna watched Kat bring him his drink. Her crimson lips spread with a flash of her sexiest smile. Brianna knew Kat’s next move. The hair flip. Then she’d touch his shoulder and…She watched Kat throw her head back in an exaggerated laugh. Brianna sighed and turned away. He’s probably an ass. She’d made it this long without a man dragging her through emotional hell; she wasn’t going to cave now. She pulled her shoulders back and rotated just in time to see Red sliding into the seat across from him.
ALL HUGH BRADEN wanted to do was disappear in the fog of a few drinks, then go back to his house and chill. Instead he was stuck waiting for a blind date
, and with a race around the corner, there’d be no drinking for him. A beautiful woman with the most contemplative eyes and the sweetest face he’d ever seen had taken his drink order. At least he could look forward to seeing her when she brought it to him. He had planned on ordering seltzer water, but one look at her and he was unable to remember what he wanted. Sidecar came off his lips like he ordered it all the time, and he’d had a sidecar only once—and that was several years ago. Now he’d have to stare at the damn drink all night.
It had been a grueling day. Hugh didn’t know why he’d let his agent talk him into the stupid photo shoot, and just as he’d anticipated, it had been a painful few hours. They’d taken the photos at the track and had scheduled another shoot for Saturday morning. The photographer was cool enough, but fake smiling and posing in positions he’d never stand or sit in made his already sore body ache. Ever since he won the last three Capital Series Grand Prix races, he’d been hounded by the media. Damn sponsor obligations. As much as he was thankful for the sponsors, he rued the attention, and he needed another racing magazine cover like he needed another expensive car or another house.
A blond waitress set his drink on the table. “Hi. I’m Kat. Enjoy your sidecar.”
Really? This is definitely not my night. “Thank you.” He peered around Kat, looking for the dark-haired beauty who had taken his order. Bree. He spotted her taking a drink order from a stocky blond man in a flannel shirt. The first thing Hugh had noticed when she’d taken his order was that she looked as if she was thinking about a hundred things and taking his order was white noise to her internal thoughts. In the space of a breath, she’d struck him as interesting, beautiful, and intense in a way that had nothing to do with sexuality— which in and of itself struck him as strange that he’d notice something like that. But he had. And now he was unable to look away as she moved from one customer to the next, focused and efficient and completely oblivious to him.
Hugh had picked the Old Town Tavern to meet the blind date because it was out of the way. A little bar with a smaller restaurant. The last thing he wanted to deal with was another group of sex-craved or money-hungry women eyeing him like they hadn’t eaten in a month and he was a big juicy steak. He’d hoped he could go unnoticed. When Brianna had finally lifted her eyes to his and her jaw dropped open, he’d worried that she’d recognized him. But she’d ditched him and sent Kat as a replacement. Hell, she hadn’t even taken a second look. He might not want to be recognized for who he was, but being noticed as a man rather than a race car driver and then rejected by Brianna was a whole different story. This was definitely not his night.
He’d accepted the damn blind date only because his buddy and crew chief, Art Cullen, had claimed he had the perfect woman for him—smart and beautiful, and best of all, she had no clue who he was. Now, as an overdeveloped redhead slid into the booth across from him, he questioned that decision.
“Hey, sugar. Are you Art’s friend?” The redhead put her glass on the table between them and ran her red fingernail around the rim of the glass. “I’m Tracie. That’s with an I E, not a Y.”
I’m going to kill Art. Tracie looked like a dime-store hooker with overprocessed hair and a tight red dress that was three sizes too small across her rounded hips and breasts. Hugh pressed his lips together and forced himself to lift his cheeks into a smile. “Hugh. Nice to meet you.”
“Art said you were handsome, but I never expected you to look like that guy on television. McDreamy? McSteamy?”
She laughed, and Hugh sighed. At least Art had promised not to tell her what he did for a living. No more fan girls. Based on the other patrons’ eyes locked on the pre-playoff show on the large-screen televisions, and the lack of attention from any of the guys in the now-packed bar, Hugh assumed he was safe from being identified. Might as well make the best of it.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that. Patrick Dempsey,” he answered. He was already bored. He glanced at the group of guys coming into the bar, each one louder than the next as they approached the bar. The blond waitress, Kat, picked up a tip from a table, then headed back in his direction, seating two more people on her way across the floor.
Kat appeared by his side and scowled at Tracie, then flashed a smile at Hugh. “What can I get you, darlin’? Another sidecar?”
If looks could kill. One more drink. Then I’m out of here.
“Get us both another one. On me,” Tracie said, fluttering her false eyelashes.
On you? Right. Women like Tracie were made of hollow offers and a boatload of needs. Not that Hugh needed anyone to buy his drinks. He eyed his untouched beverage. Not very observant, are you? “No. I’m good.” He nodded at his full drink, wishing he could escape the booth and sit by himself—or maybe at a table where the cute brunette would take another order he wouldn’t drink.
“My pleasure,” Tracie said.
There’s that sex-hungry stare again. No way in hell.
“Thank you,” Hugh said, showing the manners his father, Hal Braden, an affluent thoroughbred horse breeder from Weston, Colorado, had instilled in him. With a bigger trust fund than he could ever spend, Hugh didn’t need women buying him drinks, but dealing with the wrath of a woman who felt put off would be worse. He could spare another half hour, have a drink, then politely excuse himself.
He watched Kat return to the bar and whisper to Bree. Even her name was appealing. She wiped the counter with a serious look in her eyes, served up drink after drink, and dodged a guy putting his hand on hers—“Behave, Chip,” she said with a shake of her head—all in a matter of seconds. She didn’t look at any of the men at the bar. In fact, she seemed to be purposely shifting her eyes to the counter every time a guy spoke to her. She was the only person in the bar not smiling—besides him—and Hugh wondered why.
He turned his attention back to Tracie, who was rattling on about Grey’s Anatomy. Hugh didn’t watch television, and after Tracie finished her next drink, he looked at his watch with a loud and purposeful groan.
“Well, Tracie, this has been nice, but I’m afraid I have to run. I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow.” He stood and extended his hand. “Thanks for coming out to meet me. I appreciate it.”
She climbed from the booth. “I don’t have my car here. A friend dropped me off. Can you drive me home?”
Are you freaking kidding me?
Kat appeared by his side again. “Leaving already?” She glanced at the fifty-dollar bill he’d left on the table.
“I’m afraid so. It’s getting late,” he said. “Thanks for everything.”
Red wrapped her arm around his, and Hugh noticed Kat’s eyes narrow.
“Right,” Kat said. She snagged the money from the table and stalked back to the bar.
As Hugh pushed the door open for Tracie to pass through, he noticed Kat and Bree watching them leave. He smiled—and this time it wasn’t forced. Kat waved. Bree turned away.
(End of Sneak Peek)
To continue reading, be sure to pick up the next
LOVE IN BLOOM release:
HEARTS AT PLAY, The Bradens, Book Six
Love in Bloom Series, Book Nine
“Contemporary romance at its hottest.
Each Braden sibling left me craving the next.
Sensual, sexy, and satisfying.”
—Bestselling author Keri Nola (on THE BRADENS)
LOVE IN BLOOM is a contemporary romance series
Check online retailers for availability
SNOW SISTERS
Sisters in Love
Sisters in Bloom
Sisters in White
THE BRADENS
Lovers at Heart
Destined for Love
Friendship on Fire
Sea of Love
Bursting with Love
Hearts at Play
COMING IN 2014
THE REMINGTONS
Game of Love
Stroke of Love
Slope of Love
Flames of Love
Rea
d, Write, Love
Acknowledgments
There are so many people to thank for their support, energy, enthusiasm, and inspiration, not the least of which are my readers. It’s difficult to convey how much your messages inspire me. I hope you continue to enjoy my stories, and please keep your letters and emails coming. I truly enjoy them. Chrissie Parker, thank you for giving me the Vintage Indian Chief (I love that sexy ride).
I am indebted to my team of editors and proofreaders: Kristen Weber, Penina Lopez, Jenna Bagnini, Juliette Hill, and Marlene Engel. I’m under no ill-conceived impressions that I could complete this process without each of you. Thank you for allowing me to work with you.
To my girlfriends—far and near—you have pulled me through intimate scenes, forehead-slapping frustrations, and days when I’ve been too tired to think straight, and you’ve done it with levity and grace. Thank you for always being there. You know who you are, and I appreciate you.
Natasha Brown, sis, as always, thank you for putting up with me and working with me to design the perfect cover for Bursting with Love. Rachelle Ayala, as always, your patience floors me. Thank you for expertly formatting my work—several times over.
To my World Literary Café volunteers, I couldn’t love you more, except if you brought more chocolate when you visited. And, of course, to my mother and my children, you are so kind to put up with my crazy schedule. Thank you for your support. Last but never least, thank you to my hunky husband, Les, who may or may not be my inspiration for my hunky heroes. He always wants to know, and I’ll never tell.
About the Author
Bursting With Love Page 28