Sexy in the City
Page 125
Clicking it off, she dragged the duvet over her head. She’d reply later, her mind veering from blond gods to windy weather as she slept.
Her eyes flew open as she felt someone gently shake her shoulder. Jerking up, she turned to find her room darker than when she’d gotten into bed and her bed lamp on. How long had she been asleep? Gasping in surprise, she saw her father sitting in the chair next to her.
Shaking her head to get rid of the fuzzy cobwebs, she blinked, positive she was seeing things. “Dad. What are you doing here? I thought we were going to meet tomorrow,” she said, her voice scratchy from sleep.
“We were, habibi. I was going to surprise you. Your friend let me up. I did not know you were unwell.” His voice was soothing as his hand patted hers.
She frowned at the unfamiliar word. “Habibi?”
“It means ‘my love.’ If you think it is too soon to use such a word, then you only have to say so. Forgive me, I am still quite overwhelmed to have actually found you.” Tears were starting to shimmer in his eyes.
“No, please carry on. That’s a lovely word,” she murmured, her own tears starting to prick at her eyes.
“Good. Now, little one, I am sorry to see you so unwell. Tell me all that has happened since I last saw you in LA.”
It was too much. The loving endearment, the sympathy and now the mention of LA. Dropping her head in her hands, she let the tears flow, unable to hold back any longer.
“What is the matter? Are you hurt?” His voice rose as he rubbed her back, pulling tissues out of the nearby box and shoving it in front of her face.
Hiccupping on a smile at the comical image of all the tissues spread in front of her, she turned to look at him. The poor guy. Only their second visit and his long-lost daughter was having a break-down on him. Welcome to parenthood.
Breathing slowly through her nose, she pressed her lips together. Okay, Rania, time to get a grip … “I’m sorry. It was just … ”
“The mention of LA?”
She inhaled sharply at the direct question. His golden eyes were clear as they looked at her and she nodded.
“Come on, tell your Abb everything.” At her frown, he smiled and smoothed the tear-wet hair from her face. “Abb means ‘father’ in Lebanese. Or just … Dad?”
“Abb. No, I like it.” Picking at the corner of the duvet cover in front of her, she took a deep breath. “So … ”
• • •
The constant pealing of the bell shook him out of his latest Rania-fueled daydream. Only this time instead of the dream being in his room in LA, they were in the swimming pool.
Pushing his chair back, he stood up, draining his glass of whiskey. Nowadays, the night-cap routine had become more of a regular occurrence after he put Theo to bed. Thoughts of Rania kept him up most of the time. He had no idea how to answer Theo’s questions about why Rania was not at work anymore.
After the first two times he’d asked, Nick had placated him by saying she was probably busy, and then made sure to arrange things for Theo so he didn’t have to go past the shop. After the third time, he was highly tempted to go down himself and find out. Crazy thoughts of her running away with Ricardo Suarez flew through his brain and he’d nearly gone off the deep end, only calming down when he’d seen Ric on TV with yet another starlet. That left him with the conclusion she was avoiding them.
The bell started again and he slammed the glass down. God help that person if they woke up Theo with all that noise. Marching to the door, his mouth dropped open at the sight of Nasim Charles.
“Good evening, Mr. Trenton. May I come in?” His clipped tone brokered no argument.
Moving aside to let the older gentleman in, he pointed toward his office, pressing his other finger to his lip as he gestured upstairs. At Nasim’s understanding nod, he gently shut the door, leading the way to his office.
“Can I offer you a drink, Mr. Charles?” Nick gestured at the open cabinet.
At the icy stare, he sat down behind his desk, motioning the other man to make himself comfortable.
“Mr. Trenton, I am not here on a social call. I am here about my daughter.”
Two feelings coursed through him. The first was happiness that Nasim Charles had come through for Rania and was calling her “daughter.” The second was total panic.
“What’s happened to her?” His voice was sharp with panic as he stood up quickly, wondering what was the best way to grab Theo and drive down to the shop.
“Mr. Trenton, please sit down.” The older man’s calm voice did nothing to soothe his frazzled nerves. “There is nothing wrong with Rania that some aspirin, water, and a few good nights of sleep won’t cure. Though I must say, I’m pleased to see you react this way. It makes what I have to say even easier.”
What the hell was he going on about, Nick wondered, sitting down heavily.
Seeming to take his silence for agreement to listen, Nick watched as the other man leaned forward, his golden gaze — so like Rania’s — locked on him.
“I have just come from my daughter and in addition to suffering from the common cold, she is heartbroken. Over you.” He paused, waiting for the information to sink in. “And furthermore … ”
He stopped as Nick help up a hand. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I think you have it wrong. Rania couldn’t wait to leave us.”
“After offering her the position as a nanny when there was far more to it than that? Of course she would leave.” the older man retorted.
Nick stood up, needing to move. “I offered her what I thought she wanted. She loves Theo. Or at least I thought she loved him enough to stay. No, Mr. Charles, I hate to tell you this. Rania took the job because I told her I’d pay double the wage she would have earned at her shop for babysitting my son. I wrote a check and that was it,” he finished, running a hand through his hair.
“You mean this check?” the older man asked, standing up and dropping a ball of crumpled paper on his desk. Walking past him toward the door, he stopped, placing a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Mr. Trenton, unless I am very much mistaken, I believe you love my daughter and I know she loves you. Life is too short to waste such a precious gift. Believe me, I know. Don’t worry, I’ll let myself out,” he said, leaving Nick standing in the middle of the room, eyes fixed on the ball on his desk.
Hearing the front door click shut, he walked across the room, snatched the crumpled ball up and unfurled it. The paper scraps floated softly to the table. She hadn’t taken it, and she’d ripped it up as well.
“Dad?” His son peered around the door. “That was the man from the picture, wasn’t it? Belle’s dad?”
Pocketing the bits of paper, he walked around the desk toward the couch. He patted it, motioning for his son to join him and moved aside as Theo bounded across, landing with a bump and curling his legs in front of him.
“How’d you know that, schmoo?” he asked, not bothering to deny it. Where his son had got his keen insight and vision from, he’d never know.
“I heard voices and then I heard someone in the corridor so I went to have a look,” Theo replied, his small brow puckering into a frown. “Does that mean Belle’s not coming back at all?” His eyes stared down steadily at his toes.
“I know you miss her, kid, but Rania’s got her own life. And you’re happy with Mrs. Stowe, right?” Not even slightly reassured by his nod.
“It’s just that, I kind of hoped … I mean, Will said … ” His voice trailed off as he looked up at his dad under his mussed hair.
“Will said … ”
“Will said that you two were going to get married,” he finished, biting his lip.
“What? Where did he hear that?” His heart was beating a mile a minute at the thought of having Rania as his wife.
“He said his mum and dad were talking about it.”
&nbs
p; Next time he saw Kirk, he’d owe him a knuckle sandwich.
“But I guess not, huh?” The sorrowful comment made him look closer at his son.
“How would you feel about that, Theo; I mean, if me and Rania did get married?” A boulder-sized lump formed in his throat as he waited for the answer.
The gigantic grin quickly appearing on his son’s face was all the answer he needed.
“C’mon, kid. Grab your coat and shoes, we need to go somewhere right now!”
• • •
Popping yet another aspirin, Rania rubbed her head. The damn banging had started up again. She sipped a glass of water, willing it to go away. Bang, bang, bang.
Wait; that wasn’t her head, that was the door. Sliding her feet into her slippers, she padded down the stairs, tightening her dressing gown around her.
Tanya had deliberately closed late today to try and get more business; the last customer had only left an hour ago. Unless someone had forgotten something, she had no clue who her visitor could be. Saving herself the hassle of lifting the grate and turning all the lights on, she slipped through the shop to use the side door, peering through the key hole and seeing no one.
Maybe it was just some kids playing “knock knock.” Turning to go back upstairs, she heard it again; a distinctive metal bang. Someone was knocking on the grate. Sick or not, she wasn’t having this nonsense.
Her hand froze midway to the doorknob as a familiar childish voice outside came through loud and clear. “Dad, try the other door.” She felt her stomach drop to the floor as she heard scuffling outside, followed by more knocking. She couldn’t breathe. There was only a piece of wood hiding her from the man and boy she loved more than anything.
Without thinking, she pulled the door open and was knocked sideways as a small pair of arms enveloped her, squeezing the breath right out of her. Winding her arms around the small form, she pressed her lips to the top of his head, breathing in the familiar smell of sweets and dirt.
He looked up, his brown eyes shining. “Belle! You’re alive! I missed you!”
Laughing through the tears which threatened to fall, she ruffled his hair. “Of course I’m alive, silly. And guess what? I missed you too. So very much,” she said, her voice breaking as she struggled to hold her emotions in check. “You know what, Theo? I’ve got some new stock in. Brand new flavors and I need an expert’s opinion if they’re any good. Mind helping me out?”
“Sure. Dad, can I?” The enthusiastic question was directed at the man still in the doorway. The small corridor didn’t leave much room for moving, especially with all three of them in it and she moved back against the wall, looking at him through her lashes, heart pounding. He looked tired; tired but amazing. The obligatory faded blue jeans accompanied with beat up tennis shoes and black sweater looked positively haute couture compared to her duck slippers, pajamas and baby blue dressing gown. As for her hair … too late to fuss about the braid now.
At his father’s nod, Theo turned back to her, grinning from ear to ear as he scampered through the door.
“The light is on the left side and the packets are behind the counter,” she called after the retreating figure.
She turned back slowly to face Nick, a twisting feeling in her gut. So many nights she’d dreamed of him and now he was here in the flesh.
The March wind blew in and she shivered under her robe. Seeing her movement, he frowned, moving further into the corridor, closer to her as he closed the door behind him.
His scent, so familiar, wrapped around her senses and she leaned back against the wall for support as her legs turned to jelly.
“You returned the check.” His voice was gruff as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ball of paper.
She gasped. She’d given that to her dad, saying she didn’t even want it in her home. Wait, did that mean …
“He came to see you?” she croaked out, mortification flooding through her. So that was why he was here, because her dad had ordered him to come. How embarrassing.
Growing up, she’d always wanted a dad like her friends had; the type of dad who’d give your boyfriend “the talk,” who stayed awake waiting for you to come back from parties. But this was ridiculous. Not to mention, at her age, she was a little past that stage.
“Oh God Nick, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Look, if he’s said anything, threatened your career to make you come here, I’ll … ”
She was cut off as his mouth descended on hers. The gentle pressure of his lips pushed her senses into overdrive as his hands pulled her against him. Stepping up onto her tiptoes, she threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling his head further down, moaning in protest as he started to pull away.
Mentally, she chastised herself; you idiot, you spend the last three weeks cursing the day he was born, then the first moment you see him you throw yourself at him. Good going. Pulling her hands down, she tried to step back and found herself unable to move as his arms locked around her.
“Your dad did come to see me. He informed me you were ill,” he told her, leaning back slightly, taking in her disheveled appearance.
“I am. I have the flu.” She sniffled loudly so he would have no doubt as to her state.
“And he gave me back the check. The torn-up check.” His gaze was quizzical as he looked down at her.
“I … I don’t want your money,” she stammered, giving up the attempt to push away from him. “And I’ll pay you back for the Lee Harrow chocolate thing.”
“Forget Lee Harrow! So, you don’t want the money that, may I point out, is rightfully yours anyway and you turned down the nanny post. My question to you, Rania George, is what do you want?”
“You!” her mind screamed. Licking her suddenly dry lips, she lowered her eyes, staring at the black wool of his sweater.
She shook her head, tears burning behind her eyes.
“Before you tell me, I’d like to ask you something. Your dad seemed to think it was a good idea,” he said, his voice hoarse. She didn’t trust herself to look at him, scared that if she did, then the thin dam holding back her tears would burst.
“The thing is, I’m looking for someone to fill another post. Well, two posts really. You see Theo’s in need of a mum and I’m looking for a wife. Know anyone who’d be interested?”
“Depends. What’s the criteria?” Her voice was shaky as she smiled shyly up at him.
“Well, she’d have to be good with kids. Enjoy body boarding. Know how to flip a pancake” he replied, smiling broadly down at her.
“That’s quite a list. Any other requirements?” She was grinning so widely now, she just knew her face would hurt in the morning.
“Oh, definitely. She must have brown hair, and eyes the color of caramel. Be about so high … ” His hand released her for a second to hover above her head.
“Mmmm, I may know someone. What are the perks of the job?” Her breath caught in her throat as his gaze held hers steadily.
“The lifelong devotion of an adorable little boy and … ” He paused, hesitancy flooding his face.
“And … ” she pushed, her heart pounding like a jackhammer in her chest.
“And the eternal love and devotion of a man who knows he’s nowhere good enough for you, but if you give him a chance, will strive to make you the happiest woman on this planet. I love you, Rania George, and if you didn’t guess already, this is my clumsy attempt to ask you to marry me.”
Giggling like a child on Christmas morning, she leaned into him. “Yes. Yes, I will marry you,” she breathed, standing on tiptoe and winding her fingers through his hair, bringing his face mere inches from hers.
“I love you Nicholas Trenton.”
His answering smile made her heart soar and she felt herself floating as he lifted her off the ground, swinging her around, lips meshed together in the pr
omise of forever.
The End
About the Author
Olivia Logan lives in the ever sunny UK where, if she’s not writing her latest romance, she’s planning the next one.
Olivia loves to hear from her readers. Contact her on:
www.olivialoganromance.com
Or follow her on twitter @Olivia_Logan_
A Sneak Peek from Crimson Romance
Valentine Vote by Susan Blexrud
Special Angel
Nancy Loyan
Avon, Massachusetts
This edition published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, Ohio 45242
www.crimsonromance.com
Copyright © 2013 by Nancy Loyan Schuemann
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 10: 1-4405-6555-4
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6555-7
eISBN 10: 1-4405-6556-2
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6556-4
Cover art © istock.com/jgroup and 123rf.com
The creative free spirits: the writers, the dancers, the artists, the photographers, the musicians, the singers, and all of the creative people who add entertainment, color, and joy to life.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11