One Night for Love

by Maggie Marr

  Anxiety crashed through her belly. She hadn’t seen Tristan. She slipped out the doors and onto the terrace. Cool air caressed her face. She walked to a quiet corner and pressed her fingertips to her cheeks. She’d felt certain that she would see Tristan tonight. What would she say to him? Would she tell him that she knew he loved her whether or not he had yet realized his feelings for her?

  “I miss you.”

  A tremble rushed through her body. Her fingertips tingled and want clutched her. His voice was warmth. She turned. Her hand flew to her mouth and she pressed her lips together in an attempt to stifle the giggles that pulsed in her chest.

  “Funny, right?” A smile burst across Tristan’s face.

  “I’m sorry,” Prim said. “I just never pictured you in hose.”

  “Neither did I,” Tristan said. He took a step closer.

  He wore a black mask. A mask that was so similar to the mask he’d worn the first night she saw him. The night that began their crazy affair, their agreement, their working together, her heartbreak. He was so close to her now that the heat she couldn’t deny arced between them. Her belly fluttered. How could she have ever believed that a mere twelve weeks would end their attraction?

  “I’m keeping Metro,” he said.

  Her eyes widened and she tilted her head to the side. Had she heard him right? Was he going to keep the company she loved in one piece and not butcher off parts to the highest bidder?

  “You were right—Metro has more value whole. The work and the people and what they do?” He shook his head. “I can’t sell it off piece by piece. I simply can’t do it.”

  His voice was firm, and yet his eyes held a near-pleading look as though he begged her to understand that his decision wasn’t just about a company, not only about Metro Media. There was so much more behind his words.

  “Metro wasn’t the only thing I was wrong about,” he said. His voice was rough. He was closer to her now and his hands grasped her shoulders.

  Heat thrummed through her. She’d missed his hands on her body, his scent, the sound of his voice. She’d missed everything that was Tristan.

  “What else were you wrong about?”

  “Twelve weeks is not nearly enough time with you.”

  Could it be that he’d figured out what she’d only just realized? That the impenetrable Tristan Rhodes was in love? His lips were so close to hers.

  “A lifetime wouldn’t be enough for me,” he said.

  Her heart burst open and his lips were on hers. Her body pressed against his.

  “That is a happy ending.”

  They pulled apart and both turned toward the deep male voice. Cole stood on the terrace, his arm wrapped around Meg.

  “Good thing they figured it out,” Cole said. “By the way, I think I won our bet.”

  “What bet?” Prim asked. Her eyes flicked from Meg to Cole.

  Meg glanced at her watch. “No, darling, it’s not yet midnight. I believe it’s you who owe me.”

  “What bet?” Prim asked again.

  “I said you two would find each other and confess your love before midnight, but my husband expected it would take more than just one evening.”

  Prim looked at Tristan. “Is that what you’ve done?” she asked. “Confessed your love for me?”

  “I confess, Primrose Baxter, I love you and always will.”

  “I love you too,” Prim said.

  And she did and knew that she would for the rest of her life.

  Chapter Twenty

  “This is how you spent all that money I paid you for Metro Media?”

  A smile split Ryan Murphy’s face. “What? I hear you two really enjoyed Mesquale the first time you were here.”

  Tristan’s arm was around Prim’s waist and each of them had a giant smile. Ryan’s eyes flicked away from them. Still, even after nearly eighteen months, witnessing that light of true love was difficult. He’d been lucky enough to have that same look on his face once upon a time when the fairy tale was his, but he would never look like that again.

  Prim sat on a barstool and leaned forward. “You own the place, so why are you wearing a uniform and working behind the bar?”

  “A smart businessman knows every job,” Ryan said. He poured Prim a glass of wine. “Keep it down—no one but the general manager knows who I really am. I’m moving up. Last week I was in housekeeping.” Ryan poured Tristan a scotch, the best one at Mesquale. “I hear my fabulous executive vice president convinced you to keep my Metro Media family intact?”

  “She did. And I then convinced her to run Metro and marry me.”

  “Nice.” Ryan looked down at the ring on Prim’s hand. “Good job, my man. You caught the uncatchable Prim.”

  “Not so uncatchable,” Prim said.

  “Pretty uncatchable,” Ryan said. “I’m happy for you both.” He walked out from behind the bar. “How’s your stay been so far?”

  “What you’ve done to this place in the eight months since we were here is amazing,” Prim said. “I mean, the place was luxe before, but now? Love the spa. And our favorite masseuse is still here.”

  “Layla?” Ryan asked.

  “Amazing hands,” Tristan said.

  “And she’s psychic,” Ryan said. “Or I think she is. Tells me things I would never believe and then they come true.”

  Tristan and Prim exchanged a look.

  “What?” Ryan asked.

  “The last time we were here, Layla told us that we would meet someone,” Prim said.

  “And that the person would be in our life for the rest of our lives.”

  Prim shook her head. “Of course neither one of us believed her.”

  “But she was right,” Tristan said.

  “What’d she tell you this time?” Ryan asked.

  “That we’d have four children and travel the world together.” Tristan reached out and clasped Prim’s hand. “This time I can only pray that she got it right.”

  Prim and Tristan’s eyes locked and Ryan looked away. His throat tightened and he worked his chest to draw in deep breaths. When would these feelings ever end? Would they ever end? He swallowed and forced down the pain. He and Paloma would have been married nearly two years by now. Their child would have been one.

  He put his hands on his hips and surveyed the bar that sat on one of the many outside decks of Mesquale. This one overlooked the ocean.

  “How is your beach house?” he asked. He turned back to Tristan and Prim.

  They leaned toward each other, their gazes locked and their foreheads touching. He was happy for them, but damn, he felt bad for himself.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Oh no.”

  “What is it?” Prim asked.

  “Something in the kitchen,” Ryan said and held up his phone. “Listen, you two, enjoy dinner and let’s plan on breakfast in the morning. I’m sorry, but I really need to go check this out.”

  “No problem,” Tristan said. His gaze once again locked on his soon-to-be bride. “Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow,” Ryan called as he retreated to the far side of the deck and toward the doors that led to the back of the house and the kitchen beyond. He looked over his shoulder and bounced into something soft and round.

  “Hey!”

  He jerked his head back. Pink ice and strawberries dripped down the front of what had been a white dress.

  “Shit!” He reached for a stack of clean linen at the server station to his left.

  The woman’s face crumpled. She stood there stunned. Ryan took her now-empty cocktail glass from her hand and started dabbing at her dress. Until … he realized … that even with the white dress and the red, fruity drink all over her, this woman … this woman … was amazing to look at.

  “Uhm.” He pulled his hand away from her and glanced up into her eyes. They were very pretty eyes. “I’m sorry.” He handed her a fresh napkin. He hadn’t thought anyone had pretty eyes since Paloma.

  Her lips crumpled and then her eyebrows tightened and t
hen there was a tear …

  “No, no, no,” Ryan said. “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. We can have it cleaned. We can get you a new dress. We can—”

  “It’s not about the dress.” She pressed her fingers under her eyes and sniffed. “It’s just this … this vacation hasn’t turned out the way I hoped.” She looked up at the ceiling and took a long breath. “I’m sorry,” she said and forced a smile onto her face. A dimple decorated her left cheek even through her sad smile. “I’d kind of hoped that I’d maybe meet someone while I was here. My roommate met someone, but I haven’t.” She plopped down onto a chair and grabbed a napkin and started wiping blended strawberries off her legs. “I just don’t have that kind of luck.”

  Ryan couldn’t imagine this girl having trouble finding a date. She had short, curly blond hair and beautiful blue eyes. Her heart-shaped face looked like it could contain joy when somebody wasn’t spilling a drink down her front. While she wasn’t his type, not that he had a type anymore—not since Paloma, not since the accident—but when he did have a type, he went for dark and exotic. This girl was an all-American blonde. But she was pretty and sweet-faced and there had to be a guy here at Mesquale who would adore her.

  “Hey, just so you know …” Ryan leaned forward. “Guys? Sometimes we’re not very bright.”

  Her face cracked into a giant smile and a giggle escaped her lips. “Oh, I know,” she said. “Four brothers.”

  “Wow!” Ryan said. “And you still speak to men?”

  She laughed again. “They all got smart once they got married.”

  “I’ve heard that,” Ryan said. He pulled out his phone. “So, what’s your name and what room are you in?”

  Her eyebrows pulled tight. “That’s kind of presumptuous.”

  He looked at her. “Uh, no. I was going to have housekeeping come by. Pick up your dress, have it cleaned and brought back to your room. Just sending the order down to the desk.”

  “Oh, oh right,” she said. A blush crept up her neck and into her cheeks. “I’ve just met some of the strangest people since I got here. I can’t seem to get my mind wrapped around all this.”

  Ryan tilted his head.

  She leaned forward. “Look, since you and I are similar, I can tell you, right?”

  Ryan nodded. What could she tell him?

  “I’m not one of these people.”

  “These people?” he asked.

  “The people who come to Mesquale?” She leaned in closer to him. “The rich people.”

  “Ohhhh,” Ryan said. “Right. Got it.”

  “I’m here with a girlfriend, and her boss is one of those people and he couldn’t come so he let us have his place. She wants to find a husband while she’s here. Doing the complete pretend-I-am-an-executive thing when really she’s a personal assistant.” She leaned her head on her hand. “I just don’t get it. I totally could never fit in with this crowd. I can’t seem to figure out anyone at this place. Except the staff. The staff I get.” She slipped off a high-heel sandal and wiped a squashed strawberry from the arch of her foot. “I work a bar back home.”

  Ryan smiled. “I work a bar right now,” he said. “So, what room?”

  “Five forty-seven.”

  He tapped it into his phone. He looked back at her and she raised one eyebrow.

  “Once you get off, you wouldn’t want to have a drink, would you? Just hang out? I can’t stand another conversation about mergers and acquisitions or whatever the hell these people call it.”

  She looked so sad and yet so hopeful. And very, very alone. A feeling in his chest unraveled. He knew from the last year what it felt like to be alone and adrift, to feel as though no one around you understood what was going on. Why couldn’t he be kind and bring a smile to her face? He’d ruined her dress, and she was offering to have a drink with him. Why not?

  “Sure,” he said. “Come by at ten. I’ll be done by then.”

  “Great, we can have a beer and talk about what real folks understand.” She hopped up and grabbed her sandals off the floor. “What’s your name?”

  “Ryan.”

  She stuck out her hand. “I’m Charla,” she said. “Charla Duvall.”

  The End

  About This Series

  Thanks for reading One Night For Love. I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews help other readers find books and I appreciate all reviews, whether positive or negative. Please take a moment and write a review for One Night For Love.

  You’ve just read the second book in the Eligible Billionaires Series. The third book is Last Call For Love, which is coming soon.

  I hope you enjoy it as well!

  Would you like to know when my next book is available? You can sign up for my new release e-mail list at http://maggiemarr.blogspot.com/p/maggies-newsletter.html.

  Follow me on Twitter at : http://twitter.com/maggiemarr, or like my Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Maggie-Marr-Books/168071873226783?ref=ts.

  Visit my Website at http://www.maggiemarr.blogspot.com.

  You may also enjoy my New Adult Glamour Series.

  Hard Glamour

  Broken Glamour

  Fast Glamour

  Easy Glamour – coming soon

  Luxe Glamour – coming soon

  Just click the link if you'd like to read an excerpt from Hard Glamour.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to Kristin Nelson. She continues to amaze me with her business savvy and dedication to her clients. Thank you to everyone at NLA and NLA DLP. Lori Bennett and Angie Hodapp, thank you for all your amazing work. My editor Anne Victory and my proofreaders Jennifer Brown and Crystalle Berry make my words look so beautiful. Julie Brazeal at AToMR. Thank you to Kim Killion, my cover designer, who came up with the look for the Eligible Billionaires Series.

  Thank you to my Beta Readers! You guys ROCK!

  Thank you to RWA, LARA, Girlfriends Book Club, and WFWA. These four professional organizations have taught me so much about my craft and publishing as well as providing me with the most fabulous group of friends a writer could have.

  Speaking of friends… Thank you to my friends and family: Margaret Marr, Nancy Veskerna, Nealie Harrison, Lauren Harrison, Gavin White, Eloise and Dixie Marr, Paula and David Glasscock, Joyce and Tom Leahy, Linda and Bill Henderson, Lindsy and Mark Henderson, Dolores Henderson, Tom and Nancy Henderson, Garrett Marr, Janet L’Huellier, Peg Cafferty, Amy and Brent Zacky, PEG and the entire PEG Family, Melissa Lamoureaux, Victoria and Karl Makinen, Arlene and Frank Balkin, Tonya Barnett, Christine Ashworth, Maria Seager, Cami Bright, Sylvia Fox, Sarah Vance-Tompkins, Molly Donna Ware WR, Sarah and Mike McCafferty, Laura Drake, Orly Konig-Lopez, Kari and Craig Smith, Megan Crane, Jane Porter, E. Lockhart, Lauren Myracle, Tara Altebando, Alan Gratz, Maryrose Woods, Ally Carter, Jennifer Barnes, Sarah Mylnowski, and BOB.

  Thank you to Chad and the kidlets. You make my world turn.

  About the Author

  Maggie Marr is an attorney, author, and producer. She began her career in the entertainment industry pushing the mail cart but rose to the position of motion picture literary agent. She has written for TV, film, and celebrities. Maggie has been featured on KCRW's The Business and reviewed by Publishers Weekly, Kirkus, and Romantic Times. She lives in LA with her family.

  Maggie is eternally grateful for the graciousness and support of her readers.

  Please visit her Website at: http://www.maggiemarr.blogspot.com.

  Twitter: http://twitter.com/maggiemarr

  Facebook:

  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Maggie-Marr-Books/168071873226783?ref=ts

  Also by Maggie Marr

  The Hollywood Girls Club Series

  Hollywood Girls Club

  Secrets of the Hollywood Girls Club

  Hollywood Hit

  Box Office Bomb – coming soon

  Hollywood Girls Club the Series

  The Eligible Billionaires Series

  Can’t Buy Me Love

  One Night For Love
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  Last Call For Love – coming soon

  Contemporary Romance

  Courting Trouble

  The Glamour Series

  Hard Glamour

  Broken Glamour

  Fast Glamour

  Easy Glamour – coming soon

  Luxe Glamour – coming soon

  An Excerpt from Hard Glamour

  Chapter 1

  Lane

  I wasn’t supposed to be in Los Angeles. I wasn’t supposed to drive halfway across the country for a job in entertainment and live in a city where I knew absolutely no one. This wasn’t supposed to be my summer. No, I was supposed to take the summer corporate job in Kansas City. A summer job that would pay enough for my tuition and books for the next year, a job that nearly guaranteed me a permanent gig when I graduated college. A job I should have been thankful to get, a job that any responsible, Midwestern girl from Brokesville, with no backup plan, would get down on her knees and thank the good Lord above for providing.

  I didn’t take that summer job. In fact, I’d burned a gargantuan bridge by declining, but getting into my Jeep and driving to an adventure was the first time I’d felt alive in months. The first time I didn’t feel numb. I pressed the accelerator down and whipped around a curve on Oak Canyon Road. The guy at the front desk of my motel had told me I’d get a great view of the city if I wound up this road. I hit the brakes and made a quick right onto a turnout. I jumped from my black Jeep and felt the familiar crunch of gravel under my boots. A breeze whipped my hair and I pulled a caramel-colored strand behind my ear. I settled my hands on my hips and looked at this giant monster of a city. L.A. Out there… way out there, but not too far, where the sky merged with the sea, was the Pacific. I was a landlocked girl from the middle of the country and this was a helluva sight.