by Donna Hill
“I’m glad that anyone was you.” He pushed out a breath and stood. “I need to find out if he’s in a room yet, then call the family and let them know he’s out of surgery. Hopefully I can see him. Then I’ll be back.” He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckle. “Try to get some rest, superwoman.”
She gave a faint smile and nodded, even as her eyes fluttered close.
* * *
Rafe walked down the hospital corridor that had become even more crowded with the injured. He didn’t see the doctor that he’d spoken with earlier so he found his way back to the nurse’s station outside of the emergency area.
“Excusez-moi,” Rafe said to the nurse.
“Oui?”
“I want to find out about my father. Branford Lawson. He had surgery.” He spoke slowly, no longer trusting his limited command of the French language.
She held up a finger indicating that he should wait. She turned to her computer, typed in some information. “Your father has been moved to a room on the sixth floor.” She peered at her screen. “Room 647.”
“Merci.” He headed for the elevators and checked his cell phone for any news on the attacks. So far no one had claimed responsibility according to the news reports. President Montblac vowed to bring the perpetrators to justice and return order to his city.
The elevator doors opened.
Rafe exited on the sixth floor and walked the corridor in search of his father’s room. He stopped in front of the door. A nurse was by his father’s bedside checking his pulse and pressure. Rafe stepped cautiously into the room.
“He’s my father,” Rafe said softly in response to the nurse’s inquiry.
She smiled. “He is resting. Only a few minutes, please.” She walked past Rafe and out of the door.
Rafe approached the bed and looked down at his father. His leg was in traction suspended by ties and metal. Rods and pins protruded from the white bandage that was wrapped around his leg.
He touched his father’s hand. “I’m here, Dad. It’s Rafe. You’re going to be okay. You have to be ’cause you owe me a lunch.” His throat tightened. “And I owe you a long overdue apology. You owe me one, too, but we’ll work out the details when you get home.”
“Monsieur Lawson.”
Rafe turned. “Doctor Pierre.”
The doctor approached the bed and checked the drip. “He will be asleep for a few more hours.”
“How long will he have to be here? Will he be able to fly to the States?”
The doctor murmured deep in his throat. “We will have to see how the bone sets. Once he is fully stable, then—” he gave a slight shrug “—he can be transferred home. At least two weeks and that is because the trip is very long.”
“I understand. Thank you.”
Rafe returned to his father’s bedside. “Looks like you might be here for a while. However long it takes I’ll be here.” He stroked his father’s smooth forehead. “I’m going to call the family and bring them up to speed. But I’ll be back.” He took a parting look then walked out into the hallway.
It took several tries before he was able to get through to Lee Ann who connected the rest of the family that had all descended upon the family home. Rafe explained about the surgery and that it would probably be about two weeks before Branford could even be released to fly back home. But he assured them that he intended to stay and promised to call with any updates.
He returned to Avery’s room. She was still asleep so he went in search of some food and coffee. He found a seat in the cafeteria by the window. The swirling lights of the police vans and searchlights splashed across the night sky.
He sipped on his coffee as the events of the day played out in his head. How ironic that it was Avery who saved his father. Months ago he’d intentionally put Avery in his father’s crosshairs with the belief that as par for the course his father would undermine the relationship, and Rafe could walk away guilt free. Yet it was Avery who’d saved them both.
Rafe went back to Avery’s room. She was sitting up in bed.
“They said I can go,” Avery said.
“Great.”
“Did you see your father?”
“Yes. The doctor said he will be asleep for a few more hours. I’ll take you back to the hotel.”
“No. I’m staying here with you until your father wakes up.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.” She looked into his eyes. “Don’t you get that yet?”
His eyes sparkled. “Yeah, darlin’, I get it.” He leaned down and kissed her. “When we get out of here, I’m taking you home, with me.”
“To Arlington?”
“No. Louisiana.”
“What?”
That slow grin moved across his mouth. “There’s some people I want you to meet.”
Chapter 24
Avery was granted a short medical leave from the agency, and her reassignment to the American Embassy in Paris was postponed indefinitely; however, her promotion was almost certain. There were also rumors that she would receive a commendation. In the meantime, she remained in Paris with Rafe until his father was ready to be transferred back to the States.
As promised, Rafe was at his father’s side every day and in the time they spent together, although under strained circumstances, Rafe and his father actually talked, shared meaningful conversation.
For the first time in their relationship, Rafe told his father about how he felt after his mother died and how his father might as well have been dead to him, as well.
“It’s the only way I knew how to be, son,” his father said from his hospital bed. “After I lost your mother it was like the light went out in my world. I was angry and lonely and I turned to my work.”
“But what about us? We still needed you. I know I did.”
Branford looked into the eyes of his son, eyes that were identical to Louisa’s. “You kids were all reflections of your mother. Being with you all was a constant reminder that she was gone. It was selfish. I know that, but it was the only way I could wake up in the morning and put one foot in front of the other. I’m sorry, son.”
“I get it, Dad,” Rafe said quietly. “And I don’t blame you.”
Branford gripped his son’s hand and for the first time in his life he saw his father weep.
Chapter 25
Branford sat up in bed, back at the Lawson mansion, surrounded by his sister, his children and his son-in-law, holding court like the king of the castle. It would be a while before he’d be able to get around but that didn’t stop him from trying to run the committees he headed from his bed.
With grudging appreciation, Rafe watched his father in action, making calls, cajoling deals, moving pieces. Funny, his father was as much of a musician as he was. They simply used different instruments.
His sisters had pretty much kidnapped Avery since they’d gotten back, took her all over town and introduced her to the haunts of Louisiana. Rafe was sure his sisters took great pleasure in revealing whatever little childhood secrets that they could remember about their big brother. He figured as much because he’d hear them laughing and chatting until he stepped in the room and guilty grins were on everyone’s face. He couldn’t get much help from his brother, who only had eyes for his new lady, Bailey Sinclair, who seemed to fit right in with the Lawson mayhem. And Avery, who’d grown up as an only child, had found the sisters and family she’d always wanted.
In the interim she made peace with her father and got him to understand and accept that she was her own woman and he couldn’t run her life any longer. She was in love with Rafe and if he couldn’t accept that, then he couldn’t accept her. She also told him that she knew it was him who’d set her up to be redeployed for the post at the Embassy.
“Even if it had worke
d out the way you planned, Dad,” she said to him over the long painful phone call, “Rafe and I would still be together. We would have found a way to make it work. Because that’s what people do for the people that they love. They make sacrifices. They don’t try to keep the ones they claim to love from being happy.”
“Sweetheart...when I thought I’d lost you...”
“But you didn’t, Dad.”
“Can you ever forgive me?”
“Did you ever love Mom?” she asked instead of answering.
“What?”
“Did you ever love Mom?” she demanded.
“Yes.” His voice shook. “I did. Not in the beginning. But I grew to love her more than I’d thought that I could. And I held on to you so tight because I didn’t want to lose you, too.”
Avery wiped the tears from her eyes. “You couldn’t lose me. Both of us are too stubborn to let go.”
A beat of silence hung between them.
“When are you coming home, sweetheart?” Horace finally said.
“You promise not to have me followed or get me reassigned?”
“Promise.”
“I’ll call you in a few days and let you know.”
“Good. And...bring Rafe with you. Looks like I’m going to have to get to know him.”
Avery grinned. “I will.”
“Um, how’s Branford coming along?”
“Maybe you should call him, find out for yourself,” she said softly.
“I might just do that.”
“Talk to you soon, Dad.”
“Soon.”
Avery set down the phone on the nightstand. She turned and Rafe was leaning in the doorway, looking dangerously sexy.
“Folks are all downstairs,” he drawled. His dark eyes sparkled in the light as he slowly strode toward her.
Her heart thumped.
“Heard some of what you said to your daddy.” He set his drink down next to her phone.
She looked up at him, angled her head to the side. “What part?”
“All of it, mostly,” he said with a smile. “But there was one part that hit me, right here.” He poked his finger at his chest.
“What part was that?”
“That you loved me.”
She teased her bottom lip with her teeth and slowly stood. She slipped her arms around his neck. “Really? Is that what you heard?” She brushed her lips against his.
“Hmm, sounded like it to me.” He tugged her against him.
Avery gasped.
He threaded his fingers through her hair. “I hope that’s what I heard.” He slid the strap to her dress off her shoulder, and placed a kiss on her collarbone.
“It was,” she said on a breath.
Rafe kissed her again. “Say it.”
“I love you.”
He lowered his head and captured her mouth and as always he was transported away from everything that held him to the ground. He had no idea how they were going to make this thing work—between her job and his career—but they would. He looked forward to it, the excitement and the challenge of it.
Rafe lifted Avery off her feet and plopped her on the bed. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor.
She slipped the other strap from her shoulder.
That slow smile eased across his mouth as he moved above her, bracing his weight on his arms.
She cupped his face in her hands. “Surrender to me,” she whispered.
“I already have, darlin’. I already have.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from
IN THE MARKET FOR LOVE by Joy Avery
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In the Market for Love
by Joy Avery
Chapter 1
Vivian Moore stood at the nurses’ station inside Raleigh’s Tender Hearts Memorial Hospital, where she’d worked for the past six years, pecking away at the tablet she’d been issued. The newly implemented “convenience” hadn’t turned out to be the inconvenience she’d originally assumed it would be, after all. A point for the home team.
Tuning out the beeping, chiming and chatter swirling around her, she focused on entering the vitals for her last patient of the day. The last patient of the day. The thought made her smile. Unfortunately, instead of going home, climbing into bed and sleeping for three days straight, she had to meet with a persistent real estate developer who couldn’t seem to take no for an answer over the phone. Hopefully, face-to-face will do the trick.
“Vi?”
Only one person ever addressed her by the shortened name—her best friend and fellow ER nurse, Tressa. Vivian turned to see Tressa hurrying toward her, jet-black locks bouncing with each step the petite woman took.
By the expression on Tressa’s soft brown face, she’d experienced the unexplainable. Vivian grew concerned. The last time Tressa donned such a look, she’d been socked in the jaw by a disgruntled patient. Well, she wasn’t crying. That was a good sign, right?
Vivian pushed her tablet aside. “What’s wrong?”
For a second or two, Tressa stood speechless but finally snapped out of her stupor. “I just saw him. And he is fine. I mean, capital-F fine.” Her eyes did a dreamy flutter. “And chocolate. Deliciously chocolate. Mmm.”
By him, Vivian had no doubt she referred to the drop-dead gorgeous man rumored to be roaming the halls earlier. Uninterested had been Vivian’s feeling, but if the man’s looks had the ability to render Tressa speechless—a task not easily accomplished—then maybe he just might be worthy of all the whispers that had burned through the halls like a wildfire.
Though initially apathetic, she had to admit she was a little curious, until an image of her trifling ex flashed in her head. Her jaw tightened at the mere thought of the man—dog—no-good bastard. If he’d taught her anything, it’d been to never trust a handsome face.
Adopting her previous state of disinterest, Vivian returned her attention to the tablet. But Tressa had other plans for her attention, hooking her arm around Vivian’s and venturing down the brightly lit corridor. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“I have work to do, Tress.”
“Trust me, this will be well worth the brief distraction.”<
br />
“I don’t—” Vivian stopped abruptly with Tressa directing her attention to the statue of a man several feet away, a cell phone pinned to his ear.
Vivian’s eyes raked over his well-put-together body. Six-three, two twenty-five. A calculated guess, but she would wager she was spot-on. His skin was as smooth and dark as the tempered chocolate used on a sinful-desserts show she’d watched earlier that week. Both stirred her hunger, but for totally different reasons.
“You were saying?”
If Vivian had to guess, Tressa was standing with her arms folded across her chest and a smirk on her face. Unfortunately gravity, the universe, lust—she didn’t know which—wouldn’t allow her to pull her eyes away from him to verify.
The way the navy blue suit pants fit his toned lower half, there could be no disputing they’d been custom tailored just for him. Allowing her eyes to roam a bit higher, she fixed on the mound that bulged at his biceps when he bent his arm to massage his neatly groomed beard with two long fingers.
Even with an obstructed view of what lay beneath the crisp blue-and-white pin-striped shirt, she had a good idea it could make her knees knock. Her gaze trailed over his wide shoulders. Never again would she look at suspenders as an old man’s accessory.
If by some foolish chance she’d forgotten it’d been close to a year since she’d had sex, the way her body was currently responding would have instantly reminded her. A searing heat—having nothing to do with the June temperature—blossomed in her cheeks, flowed down her body and settled right between her legs.
“Oh, my God, did you just moan?”
Tressa’s words snapped Vivian out of her trancelike stare. Vivian shifted toward Tressa. “No—” She cleared her throat. “No, I didn’t moan.” Had she? With her arms across her chest—just as Vivian had guessed—Tressa flashed her a do-I-look-dumb-to-you expression.
Vivian sighed and rolled her eyes away, inadvertently—or intentionally, at this point, she didn’t know—landing back on him again. God, you are one good-looking man. I bet you are all types of trouble. Had Tressa really labeled him a brief distraction? There was nothing brief about this man. His entire presence screamed prolonged.