Everything to Lose (Moonlight Dating Series #2)
Page 1
EVERYTHING TO LOSE
Moonlight Dating Series
by
Natalie G. Owens
Natalie G. Owens
Copyright 2008-2012, Natalie G. Owens.
All Rights Reserved Worldwide.
Amazon Kindle Edition
ASIN: B008TPXR6M
PUBLISHED BY
Rose of Atlantis Press/Natalie G. Owens
Cover Design and Editing by Zee Monodee
Formatting by Jeffrey Kosh
Cover Photos by Rino Fazzini (www.flickr.com/photos/rinofazzini) and Vladimir Surkov (Dreamstime)
License Notes
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be re-sold, given away, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author/publisher. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Natalie G. Owens
Website/Blog:
http://nataliegowens.blogspot.com
Facebook Profile: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=563297082
Facebook Author Page:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Natalie-G-Owens-Author/24911987111
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/#!/natalie_g_owens
Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/4527498-natalie-g-owens
Dedication
To all couples,
so they can remember how love is a wild animal
that can seldom be tamed.
Acknowledgements
Thank you, Laura Luzi, for refreshing my memories of your beautiful Ascoli Piceno.
Other books in the Moonlight Dating Series:
SOMETHING TO LIVE FOR
Fifteen years ago, one fateful day bound the lives of two perfect strangers...
Melita Saari-Quinn is living the consequences of a traumatizing psychic event that turned her adolescence upside down. Now, disillusioned with her job as a psychotherapist and desiring a change from her lackluster existence, she hopes that something out of her ordinary sphere of existence - something totally uninhibited and spontaneous - will renew her zest for life.
Alex Moncado seems to have it all - good looks, a successful business, and a fun life in "party central" of the Mediterranean: the island of Malta. Except for one day in the year when he can't help but remember a tragedy that never should have been. One day he'd rather forget, because if he doesn't, the guilt will consume him.
Can one passionate night together banish the ghosts of the past and give two lost souls a second chance?
Only Fate can tell…
Table of Contents
TITLE
DEDICATION
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
MOONLIGHT DATING SERIES
EVERYTHING TO LOSE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
BIOGRAPHY
EVERYTHING TO LOSE
A message from Jeanette Lagrange, founder of Moonlight Dating.
There were times in history when the sun was revered, its light a guide for travellers, a solace for the weak.
The moonlight, however, has always been a time for reflection, a time for yearning and indulging in a bit of philosophy. A time when lovers tryst and weary souls can finally find a place to rest. Kisses feel softer, a touch more electric, under the tender vigilance of our sister, the Moon.
Who knows what secrets simmer in the night? Even I cannot grasp the full dimension of their reach. The Moon, in all her understated radiance, has many answers to give, many riddles to solve, and many hearts to heal.
The Moon illuminates a path to redemption and happiness, and gives me visions of a different world. Sometimes they’re otherworldly visions, sometimes they’re as natural as the gentle ripple of the water left by the motion of an indolent oar, its handler unhurried, thoughtful. Because of this, I know that in the moonlight, the impossible can happen. Strong bonds are forged, and others are mended. Lives become whole.
We often hear of the bad, sordid deeds that happen at night time. Illicit sex, crime, cruelty – we thus fear the night. But I, a willing optimist, want to offer a different kind of reality, for my sake as well as yours. I want to give you a night that is radiant, beautiful, sensual, carnal. A night in which all the faces of love can be at arm’s reach, if you will them to.
Many are more apt to grasp life’s gifts from the shadows, because they are used to small expectations and are afraid of risk. They must allow themselves to slowly become acclimated to the change… because those who hesitate to abandon themselves in the blinding heat of the sun may feel newfound courage when the moon takes the reins of the skies and shines on infinity along with its shimmering cohorts, the stars.
I created Moonlight Dating to get you started on this journey to wanting more, expecting more, to give you all your heart’s desires. Nothing’s up to chance. If you don’t believe this is possible, I dare you to take the plunge. For every designed encounter, I need a man, a woman, a perfect match. If it’s there, I will find it for you. Give me one night, one chance, to wake your dreams in the moonlight…
Yours,
Jeanette Lagrange
CHAPTER 1
“Dane.”
Lisbeth Marsh, new divorcee, gaped at her ex-husband who stood uncertainly on her doorstep.
He showed up just as she was about to wind down and settle with a bowl of chicken and rice salad and a DVD. Standing there, on her doorstep, he looked about as out of place as a ghost at a gathering of skeptics.
She clutched the side of the front door, a conscious action that set tiny tingling fires on the underside of her fingers. Blood rushed to her hand as she pressed the tense digits on the rigid wood, wanting nothing more than to break it into splinters and crush them in her grip.
Wearing a worn gray jogging suit and holding a mini-vacuum in her right hand – she wasn’t exactly a poster child for femininity and elegance. Her elbow-length, copper-colored hair was haphazardly caught at the nape in a loose ponytail, and her cheeks were flushed from her housecleaning workout.
A complete mess, much like her marriage to Dane had been.
“What are you doing here? I thought you’d already started your new contract in Seattle.”
“Yeah, well. I thought I’d take a trip down here and…tie up some loose ends. Jeanette asked me to forward this to you.”
Dane handed her a shoebox. She opened it and peeked inside to see a stack of written notes about plants and gardening, as well as packets of seeds and a notebook.
The prized horticultural secrets of Jeanette Lagrange, the eccentric founder of Moonlight Dating .
“I—thanks,” she said, flustered. “Why did she inconvenience you? I live closer to her while you live on another continent altogether.”
Didn’t the woman know that she
and Dane had called it quits? True, over two hundred and fifty miles separated Richmond, London, from Market Drayton in Shropshire, where the older woman lived. Still, it would have been easier just to send it in the mail.
And Lisbeth wouldn’t have to relive the pain at the mere sight of his face…
“She emailed to ask about a website glitch and I mentioned that I had to come up to the UK to meet with a client. So, she asked me to stop over and collect the box.”
“You actually met her?”
“Nah, you know how she is. She sent her niece to hand me the package. We met by the downtown post office for five seconds. She seemed to be in a hurry,” he laughed.
Lisbeth moistened her lips. “You could have told Jeanette to contact me directly.” Cut it out. He’s here now, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
He hesitated. “I also wanted to see how you’re doin’. You know, it being near Christmas and all, I just wanted to say hello, make sure you’re okay. It’s been so long...”
His voice trailed away.
Did he mean that?
She shifted her weight on the right foot and looked up at him. Her petite stature was another disadvantage she resented as Dane Marsh towered ridiculously above her by a good head-and-a-half.
Dane, the love of her life. Or so she’d thought once upon a time.
Dane, the ex who’d finally signed the divorce papers two months ago. Everything had been sorted in such a civilized manner through their respective lawyers.
Tension sparked through her, made her head spin like a helicopter stuck in the vortex of a deadly tornado. Outside, as if in silent appreciation of her inner turmoil, the already weak London sun lay imprisoned by a smoky, cloud-filled sky and a persistent drizzle of icy rain.
He lowered his gaze to the straw mat that had “Welcome” printed across it.
Feeling self-conscious, she opened the door further. “I’m being rude. Please come in.”
It wasn’t easy to speak to him like she would a stranger, but she was lost for words.
“Lisbeth…” he started as he stepped inside.
“I’m doing fine, as you see. No need to worry. Sunday’s my only day to relax and do some chores. Hard to get anything done on other days…”
Forcing herself to stop babbling, she started to turn away, but something in his eyes stopped her.
“Please, may I stay a while? I won’t be long, and it’s cold out there.”
He made the last words sound like a joke but really, was he begging?
Every breath he took ended in a cloud of frost. She looked at his damp hair and visibly shivering hands, and the sight tugged at her traitorous heartstrings.
No, don’t.
“Let me get this. It’s warm inside,” she offered as she shut the door. “I was just finishing some cleaning up. Come, I’ll make coffee.”
Two minutes into this odd exchange and she was already acting like an idiot around him.
Around her husband.
Her devastatingly handsome ex-husband.
When she closed the door behind him, he sighed and blew into his hands then rubbed them together. He paused in the hallway and let his gaze drift to the living room alcove window.
“No tree?”
His tone was not accusatory, just matter-of-fact, but his simple statement wounded her.
Turning away, she held her breath and rummaged for composure. “Oh, I’ve been so busy lately. Haven’t had time.”
She’d never ever tell him the truth of how it reminded her of past Christmases, when they would spend long evenings skylarking and teasing each other as they hung decorations all over their house; sweet times followed by hot, romantic interludes on the plush oat-colored rug by the fire.
Their bodies slick, entwined, in flames; her fair, sensitive skin darkened with the imprint of his fevered touch. The soles of her feet sliding over the tense muscles of his calves as he took her in deep, measured thrusts. The hard plains of his chiseled face, the consuming hunger in his eyes. Her palms digging in his rippled back as he strained to love her slow and easy…
She wiped off a tiny trickle of sweat from her brow – wiped off that sensual image and clutched harder to the specter of disappointment. Better to lose faith than unearth those moments of ecstasy from the attic in her mind.
No.
She’d never tell him, not in a thousand years, how their separation had killed her inside, like a festering, gangrenous wound that whittled away at her flesh.
But the sound of his rich voice was a mean traitor to her resolve.
“I can help you if you want me to. Can get it done lickety-split.”
Right. They were still going on about that bloody tree.
She mustered the courage to look at him directly. “No, that’s fine. I’ll just keep the thing in the closet downstairs anyway. No use to bring it out just to take it back down to the basement in a couple of weeks. Too much work.”
And you’re not mine anymore.
Something else flashed in his bottomless light blue eyes—that same hint of vulnerability she had glimpsed a few moments ago—but it vanished so quickly, skittish like a sparrow among humans.
Silence.
Uncomfortable seconds ticked by until he finally took mercy on both of them.
“’Kay, Lissy, let’s get that coffee brewin’ then.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Only he had ever called her Lissy; everyone else she knew used her full given name. How dare he still address her that way? She fairly stomped into the kitchen, dragging on puffs of cheap anger like a compulsive chain smoker.
He has no right.
But she checked herself. Anger wasn’t the way. In any divorce, no one side is the only cause, right?
As she walked before him, she briefly contemplated how the crude reality of Dane and Lisbeth Marsh splitting up wasn’t something she’d ever have betted on. But trying to make sense of things was much like trying to herd hissing wildcats. An exercise in futility.
She stepped behind the countertop and switched on the electric kettle.
“Instant cappuccino? I never got around to getting the machine.”
“Works for me.”
“Have a seat over there then.” She indicated the round dining table behind the bar area like she would to a new guest. It was like he’d never lived here or owned this place.
He took off his jacket and sat down to contemplate Jeanette’s package that she’d set on the table.
The last day she’d seen him before he left they’d sat in the kitchen just like this and argued while the coffee and syrupy breakfast pancakes went cold. It had been a dreary October day, the eighteenth to be precise, one of those unremarkable mid-week dates, which would otherwise have passed unnoticed on her calendar.
“So what if I want to take this position in Seattle?”
“I’m sick and tired of living like a nomad. We’ve been married six years and I followed you everywhere you wanted to go—Bristol, Atlanta, Charleston, Dallas—no complaints ever, and now I want to hold a baby in my arms. I want to get to know the neighbors and invite them to summer barbeques and Christmas parties! I want everything my parents had…”
Her voice trailed off, broken. Shattered like her stupid dreams.
“Millions of people live in Seattle and babies are born there, too. More so, what’s all the damn hurry?” he said defensively, predictably.
“So that’s the deal. You don’t want children.”
“You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”
“Am I? My career’s also shot. I’d like to see you apply for a position with a firm and then explain to a potential boss you’d be gone within a few months!”
“You agreed to that when you married a well-paid freelance web consultant,” he spat out, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “I remember you bragging about me to your friends. Not proud any more, honey?”
She balled her hands into fists as she quelled an overpowering urge to punch him in the face. “H
ow could you be such a self-centered bastard?”
“Honey, you’re not the first to call me that,” he said coldly.
He was obviously hurt by her comment. She had never called him anything like that before, and it shocked her that she could be so callous. With her own husband, no less. What had they come to?
This hard, unbending Dane was a stranger to her. Her heart was breaking, but she knew she had to put a stop to this madness.
In as calm a voice as she could muster, she said, “If you want to go to Seattle, that’s fine. But I’m staying here in dreary old England.”
“What the fuck do you mean by that?” He wasn’t even pretending anymore that he hadn’t lost his cool.
“I’m British, after all, and this is where I want to be. You knew that eight years ago when you married me.” She thoroughly enjoyed throwing his own reasoning back at him. “I like it very much here. The neighbors are wonderful and I have a good chance of getting a position with a firm.”
Indeed, she’d lived in the London suburbs for most of her life—grew up in St. Albans, went to Catholic school there—and worked damnably hard to build a name in a thriving architectural practice when she met Dane. At the time, he had just moved to England after winning his fourth consultancy contract at barely twenty-nine, and he proceeded to turn her world upside down and back around. She was only four years younger but his adventurous life was a magnet she couldn’t resist.
Within nine months they said their vows amid Aunt Maggie’s mammoth flower arrangements, which had required the sequestration of all the yellow roses and daisies in the entire county of Hertfordshire.
An arrow bore a hole in her heart like a highway carved through a mountain. She’d been happy to follow her heart wherever it took her, at least for a while. She just couldn’t do it anymore.