From Tropical Fling to Forever

by Nina Singh

  He ran his hand through his hair. Maybe they had a point. He at least owed Tori more of a conversation after all they’d shared together. “I’ll go talk to her now. She’s probably up.”

  “Too late,” Gemma quipped with no small amount of derision.

  “What? Why?”

  “She’s back in Boston. She took a red-eye last night. She’s already gone.”

  * * *

  “I could have done this cake in my sleep.”

  Tori set the simple sheet cake on the counter and grabbed a box from the cabinet below to begin packaging it. Hard to believe it had already been a week and a half since she’d returned from her fateful trip to the Bahamas. She wished she could say things were beginning to return to normal. But normal wasn’t what she wanted.

  The problem was, she wanted what she couldn’t have.

  “It’s what the customer ordered,” Shawna replied. “Who are we to tell him it’s boring.”

  Boring certainly was an apt description. Single-layer marble cake with buttercream frosting. Not even a request for fruit filling. “Are you sure we took down the order right? He didn’t even ask for some kind of custom-made figurine? Not even a flower?” Flowers made her think of tulips. Tulips made her think of Amsterdam. And that made her think of Clay.

  Almost everything made her think of Clay. If anything, she should be thanking her lucky stars that one of her cake orders was this simple. It had been hard to concentrate on much since she’d returned.

  Had he left yet? Was he even now riding a canal boat down one of Amsterdam’s waterways? How easily had he moved on?

  Did he even think of her?

  “The client’s exact words were, ‘I just need a plain old cake that’ll feed about twenty,’” Shawna said as she pulled a batch of homemade brownies from the oven.

  “Huh. He could have gone to a grocery store for this.”

  Shawna shrugged. “He could have. But he wanted an authentic Tori Preston creation.”

  Tori rolled her eyes. “I would hardly call this a creation.”

  She carefully lifted the cake and placed it in the box then folded and taped up the sides. “In any case, it’s ready for the delivery service.”

  Shawna swiveled in her direction. “Oh, bad news on that front. They said they’re not available today.”

  “What? That’s never happened before. Did they give you any kind of explanation?”

  “Some kind of emergency. Luckily that’s the only order that needs to get out this afternoon.”

  “Well, how are we supposed to get it there?”

  “Guess we have to deliver it ourselves.”

  “That’s just great. Not like we have a bakery to run.”

  “Do you mind doing it, Tori? My back’s been acting up and I don’t think I have it in me to handle that drive sitting so long.”

  “Long drive? Where is it going?”

  “Hyannis. Near the docks.”

  The Cape? She had to make her own delivery and it was all the way to the Cape.

  Tori sighed, resigned to the circumstances. Maybe a long drive wouldn’t be such a bad thing. It would give her some time to come to terms with all she’d have to accept about her life now that she’d had a chance to finally experience true love only to lose it within a span of mere days. It was so much worse to know exactly what you were missing out on.

  “All right. Guess I’ll be on my way.”

  She could have sworn she heard Shawna giggle as she walked out the kitchen door.

  * * *

  An hour and a half later, Tori parked and pulled her delivery out of the specialty cooler, rechecking the address. Something wasn’t quite right. When Shawna had said the docks, Tori had assumed the destination would be one of the houses across the water or a restaurant or café near the port authority.

  But the number didn’t match any of the buildings. Could it be a dock number? Was this cake supposed to go on a boat?

  Strange detail to leave out of the delivery instructions.

  She had taken several steps, studying slip numbers, when it came into view. The Ocean Nomad. A children’s cruise boat. Or more accurately, a modern-day replica pirate ship.

  Her pulse pounded through her veins as a strange kind of hope blossomed in her chest.

  * * *

  Clay leaned over the railing of the replica frigate and watched as Tori approached. For several moments, he simply allowed himself to take in the sight of her.

  A physical ache tugged at his heart. He’d missed her.

  The days spent without her had been miserable and lonely. He’d been a fool to think he’d be able to spend his life without her in it. He’d barely survived less than two weeks apart. Even before Gemma and Adria had barreled into his room that morning, his regret had started to ignite like the beginning spark of a wildfire.

  He couldn’t let the past rob him of his opportunity for a bright and love-filled future. It was high time he told all that to Tori.

  The look of confusion on her face just made her look all the more fetching. She held the cake box precariously as she glanced around, trying to determine where to go.

  Clay’s pulse beat hard through his veins, his muscles taut. It shocked him to realize he was nervous.

  What if it all goes wrong? What if she isn’t ready to forgive me?

  It would no doubt serve him right. He’d been a downright bastard to her the night of the wedding. All because she’d exposed a vulnerability in him he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge.

  So he’d pushed her away and might very well have lost the one woman who could serve as a light for the darkness he’d lived through.

  Hopefully, he wouldn’t be wearing that cake she carried by the time this was over.

  Only one way to find out. Uttering a silent prayer, he cupped his hands around his lips and called out to her.

  * * *

  A hauntingly familiar voice sounded through the air.

  “Ahoy there, matey.”

  Tori turned so fast on her heel she almost dropped the cake box.

  Standing on the deck, beneath a black-and-white skull and crossbones flag, was Clay.

  She knew she wasn’t imagining things. It was really him. Flesh and blood, and wearing a silly pirate’s hat. The one she’d left behind at the resort in her haste to leave. The toy cutlass hung loosely in his belt.

  The mystery of it all slowly began to unravel. Shawna had to have been in on it, which explained the giggle Tori had heard on her way out.

  Her jaw agape, Tori could only watch as Clay lowered the wooden ramp and walked down to where she stood frozen in shock.

  “Clay?”

  “Hey, sweetheart.”

  “Hey, yourself.” Again with the witty conversation, just like back in the Bahamas by the pool. She had to cut herself some slack, though. She was lucky she could find any words at all.

  He chuckled, wandering closer until she could see the golden specks of his eyes. He sported a smattering of dark stubble, adding an authenticity to the pirate getup. It was all so ridiculous and fantastic and hard to believe. She’d missed him so much, her body ached with the urge to touch him. But she seemed unable to move a muscle.

  “I thought you were in Amsterdam.”

  “Couldn’t bring myself to go.”

  “You couldn’t?”

  He shook his head. “No. Not worth what I might be leaving behind. My life is here. My family’s here. By the way, did you know I’ll be getting another little niece or nephew soon?”

  She had to come clean on that score. “I actually did know that.”

  He smiled that handsome smile of his, the one that made her insides go squishy. The smile she hadn’t been able to get out of her mind when she lay awake at night missing him with every fiber of her being.

  “I kind of figured you might
have,” he said, tapping her nose playfully. “And then there’s the most important thing I didn’t want to leave behind.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The woman I love.”

  “Oh, Clay.”

  “I behaved mutinously. Please forgive me.”

  It was so very tempting to simply throw herself into his arms. Her body ached to be held in his embrace, she longed to thrust her fingers through his hair and to pull his face to hers for a deep and lingering kiss. But she couldn’t make it that easy on him. He owed her more than that. He’d delivered quite a blow to her heart and to her spirit when he’d walked away from her so easily.

  “It’s not that simple...” she began. “I’m afraid I might need some convincing. How do I know you won’t be tempted by another job offer at some point?”

  He shook his head slowly. “I’m not going anywhere unless you agree to come with me. You have my word.”

  She sucked in a breath. She believed him; sincerity rang true and clear in his voice. “I have half a mind to throw this at you, you know.” With one hand, she raised the box that held the cake.

  He chuckled and took hold of her free hand. “I figured as much. It’s why I ordered such a plain one.”

  She resisted the urge to laugh. “You’re going to have to make it up to me somehow, Clay. The way you tried to run off before you came to your senses...”

  He lifted her chin, his gaze focused fully on her face. “I know, sweetheart. I vow to do just that. As long as it takes.”

  Tori felt her already flimsy resolve slowly start to drain away. How was she supposed to stand firm when he looked at her like that?

  Maybe she was weak, but she wanted him too much to pretend anymore. She longed for him to hold her, to kiss her. She needed his touch as much as her next breath.

  “Okay,” she said with a sniffle.

  “You have every right to tell me to go walk the plank. But I’m asking instead if you’ll walk to me down the aisle.” Before she could process exactly what was happening, he pulled out a small velvet box.

  “Victoria Preston, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

  The cake didn’t stand a chance. It slipped right out of her hand as she threw her arms around him.

  “Yes!” she called out with all the jubilation and joy flooding through her heart. “I would follow you across the seas, my love.”

  EPILOGUE

  VILARDO’S TRATTORIA WAS closed for the evening, a rare occurrence for a Saturday during the height of summer. There was a good and happy reason for the closure, though—a private event that just happened to be the wedding ceremony of the proprietors’ only daughter.

  It wasn’t a large gathering by many standards. But everyone Tori loved and cared about was in attendance. Most of them currently on the dance floor. Including Clay, who had Lilly on his shoulders as he danced across from Tori’s mom. The man apparently had impressive balancing skills. Rhythm? Not so much. Tori would have be sure to tease him about that later when they were finally alone.

  “I told you the dress was lucky.”

  Tori tore her gaze away from the man she loved—who, as of three hours ago, now happened to be her husband—at the sound of her sister’s voice.

  Eloise had helped her with every detail of her wedding day. Tori didn’t know what she would have done without her.

  “I think you’re the actual good luck charm,” she told her twin, running her hand over the silky material. Eloise had gifted Tori the dress after her own wedding, with instructions to go after the man of her dreams. “The dress is just an added bonus.”

  Eloise didn’t get a chance to answer. Her husband swooped up behind her and spun her around with a mischievous grin until she started dancing with him. Josh had gotten even more playful since becoming a husband. He and Eloise were made for each other.

  Just as Clay was made for her.

  Tori watched as he gently set his niece down and bowed to her mother before turning away. Their eyes met over the crowd of dancers and the love that shone in his nearly knocked the breath out of her. How had she gotten so fortunate?

  He approached her now from across the dance floor doing a silly version of the electric slide. Taking her by the waist, he dipped her and wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Dance with me,” he said with a laugh as he brought her back to him.

  She answered by pressing herself against his length and swaying slowly to the music despite the fast tempo of the song.

  “I love the way you dance,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Even to kiddie reggae?” she asked.

  He chuckled at the reminder of the time they’d “danced” together by the pool all those weeks ago in the Bahamas. “As long as you’re in my arms.”

  Tears of joy filled her eyes. Everyone around them may as well have disappeared. Even the sound of the loud music seemed to dull in her ears. Her focus narrowed completely on the man she’d be spending the rest of her life with.

  “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

  * * *

  If you missed the previous story in the How to Make a Wedding duet, then check out

  From Bridal Designer to Bride

  by Kandy Shepherd

  And if you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Nina Singh

  Her Inconvenient Christmas Reunion

  Spanish Tycoon’s Convenient Bride

  Her Billionaire Protector

  All available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Tuscan Summer with the Billionaire by Susan Meier.

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  Tuscan Summer with the Billionaire

  by Susan Meier

  CHAPTER ONE

  TRACE JACKSON SLOWED his red Maserati and made the turn at the sign announcing Giordano Vineyards, the property for which he’d assumed ownership that morning. He kept his speed low as he took in the grounds, awestruck by the long rows of grapes, the hills and valleys covered in green grass and trees, and the blue, blue sky.

  He was now Trace Jackson, Tuscan vintner. Soon he would be the guy who laughed with tourists at wine-tasting events and the guy who relaxed on the back patio of his villa as evening descended. Holding a glass of red, he would gaze at his beautiful property, not haunted by the past or pushed toward the future, just being himself.

  Nothing else.

  No more ghosts. No more memories.

  The three-story ivory stucco house with dark brown shutters came into view. The vineyard was closed to guests that day while it left the hands of the Giordano family and passed into his. The entire property shimmered with stillness.

  He finished the drive down the lane and got out of his car. Taking a long, satisfied breath, he admired the new winemaking facility complete with gift shop and two tasting bars, then the manicured lawn and the multicar garage.

  A warm June breeze ruffled his short hair, as he retrieved his bag from the trunk, then half jogged to the villa door. But he stopped and took one more look around the grounds, unable to believe this place was his, that he was about to become a vintner, that he was starting a whole new life. Then he pressed in the numbers for the lock and pushed on the thick wood door.

  Glancing around the echoing foyer, he set his bag on a bench in front of the stairway that curled to the second-floor hall. Three tall windows gracefully ascended the wall beside it. The sconce lights between the windows added elegance to the polished space with marble floors and dark-stained steps that complemented the embellished black wrought-iron railing.

  A sound in the back had his head jerking to the left. Knowing
the house was supposed to be empty, he walked through the bare living room and the almost bare dining room—which still had the long table and chairs that had been negotiated in the sale—toward the great room, where he stopped.

  A short, shapely woman stood in front of the wall of windows, staring out at the rows of grapes on a hillside just beyond the manicured lawn. Her hunched shoulders and the way her hands gripped her elbows as if she were hugging herself spoke of sadness or maybe defeat. The room suddenly filled with it. All the joy he’d experienced as he’d gotten out of his car and entered his new home evaporated. Cast away by her sorrow.

  Not happy with that or the intruder, he said, “Excuse me?”

  His voice echoed around him in the hollow, high-ceilinged room.

  The woman slowly turned. Long black corkscrew curls framed a face with delicate features that looked to have been fashioned by the gods. A lightweight pink sweater outlined the kind of curves a man itched to get his fingers on.

  His heart jolted and he almost laughed at himself. After his divorce, he’d vowed never to marry again, so he only dated tall, leggy redheads. Women who looked nothing like his blonde ex-wife. He’d never given much thought to brunettes. But this brunette was stunning.

  “Signor Jackson?”

  When she said his name, he realized she was probably an employee of the vineyard there to greet him, and he extended his hand to her.

  “Yes. But you can call me Trace.”

  She shook his hand. “I’m Marcia. General manager.”

  “Oh!” He took a second to process that. He wasn’t sure why he’d thought the general manager was a man. But...whatever. They’d had plenty of female executives at the holding company he and his partners had owned until a few months ago. He had no bias. He could work with anybody.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for agreeing to stay on and teach me the ropes.”

  She snorted. “I did not agree.”