My job provides me with a great excuse to put my personal life on hold. Our biggest event of the year, a black-tie gala attended by city dignitaries and the press, is approaching, and attending to its details fills most of my waking moments.
Many of our events are cocktail and hors d'oeuvre type functions, but this one includes not only a cocktail reception, but dinner, video presentations, multiple speeches, dancing, jam-packed swag bags, and more.
When the big night arrives, I'm feeling confident but vigilant. I know everything's been well-planned, but you never know when there'll be a glitch. For the majority of the night I'm busy, making sure things stay on schedule and go smoothly. Midway through dinner, I check to make sure the band is set up and ready. After dessert, it's time for dancing, and I finally allow myself to relax a little. At this point in the evening, replenishing bar supplies is typically all I really have to worry about.
I stand to the side of the action, where I watch couples head to the dance floor, admire gowns, and think about how the night has gone and what my boss will have to say about it on Monday morning. Toward the front of the room I see her dancing with her husband, and I take it as a good sign that she appears to be enjoying herself.
I'm about to make rounds of the room when someone is suddenly at my side, a broad-shouldered man in a black tuxedo.
"Hello, I'm William Taylor," he says, extending his hand.
"Hi. Kate Randall." I take in the man's strong jaw, tanned skin, and closely clipped hair. My hand is already in his before I realize who I'm looking at. It's Billy. I quickly scan the length of his body to take him all in, from his polished shoes, to his expertly fitted formal wear, to the haircut that seems to change the angles of his face and make him almost unrecognizable.
"Billy?" I know it's him, but his name pops out of my mouth like a question. He has the slightest hint of a smile on his face, as if he knows how good he looks. And he does look good. "What are you doing here?" I ask.
We stop shaking hands, but he keeps hold of mine for an extra few seconds. "I'm here to apologize, and to prove you wrong."
"Apologize? What could you possibly have to apologize for?" I'm still staring at him in disbelief. He doesn't look like Billy, but he looks perfectly in place at this gala.
"Dance with me," he says, holding out his hand again in invitation.
I scan the room, almost out of habit, as if to make sure no emergencies require my attention. When I look back at Billy, I see that his slight smirk has been replaced by an earnest expression.
I put my palm in his and he squeezes my hand in a way that fills me with comfort. My thoughts of him have been so filled with pain and regret, but somehow the warm pressure of his hand surrounding mine makes me feel like everything is going to be okay.
He leads me to an uncrowded section of the dance floor, and when we stop he puts his other hand on the small of my back and gently pulls me close.
He smells wonderful, like my very best memory, and I sink into the pleasure of being surrounded by his strong arms once again. We dance in silence for a few minutes, though the heat of his hand on my back and the way he continues to squeeze my hand in his, communicate a lot.
"Billy, I'm so sorry—" I start.
"No, Kate. I'm sorry. I got upset the last time we were together, and I shouldn't have run out without letting you talk."
"I never, ever, meant to make you feel like you were anything less than a wonderful man," I say.
"I know you weren't trying to put me down. I realized afterward that I have my own insecurities, and I put those on you. I'm sorry for getting angry."
Just then the music picks up tempo and Billy spins me away from him, and then pulls me in even closer. The country boy has a little Fred Astaire in him!
"Now for the part where I prove you wrong,” he says.
I'm cradled in his strong arms as we dance, and I realize how much I've been missing this.
"I don't believe you know me well enough yet to say that we're so different from one another. But I think we have something special going on between us, and it would be dumb for us not to find out how right we could be together."
He spins me again, and I have to admit I'm dazzled by his dancing skills.
"And though I know you weren't putting me down, I do believe you judged me by appearances. We all do that. Hell, men judge women by how they look all the time."
"But you didn't need to change for me," I say, again taking in his altered appearance.
"I haven't changed for you, Kate. I just got cleaned up for tonight."
"You clean up gorgeously," I say, reaching up to touch the close-trimmed hair by his ear. "But I like you dirty too. Muddy even." I run my fingers over his cheek, remembering our mud fight at the farm.
He grabs my hand and brings my fingers to his lips, kissing them briefly.
"I also believe that if we give it a try and find out we're perfect for each other, our parents would want us to be happy. They found happiness together. Why wouldn't they want that for us too?"
I think about all this while we continue to dance. The band plays a slower song; Billy pulls me close and it's hard to think about anything except how my body feels against his. There is something here, something between us. I've tried to deny it so many times, but it's real. I've tried to forget him, I've tried to date other guys, but deep inside I've always known that it was different with Billy.
"I'll admit you're making a good case, Mr. Taylor. But how do you see us carrying on a long distance relationship?"
"Oh, I think we can handle that," he says. "It's only about a ten-minute drive from my apartment to yours."
When I voice my surprise, he quickly continues, "And before you go thinking I’ve changed for you, and moved for you, I need to tell you that this is something I've been thinking about for a long time. I never intended to stay at my dad's place for so long, and now that Rebecca— your mom, is there with him and Tommy, I finally feel okay about leaving."
"You live here now?" This is even harder to wrap my head around than his new look.
"I do, and I could sure use someone to show me around."
My mouth is open to say something, but I close it. We dance, and I process all he's told me. I savor the feeling of his body against mine as I think about spending nights and weekends with him. I think about walks in the parks, restaurants I'd like him to try, things I want to show him at the museum. I think of more private activities we'll be able to frequently enjoy. I think about buying bigger living room furniture, and definitely, a bigger, sturdier bed.
Epilogue
One Year Later
We sit beside each other at the big farm table now when we visit my mom and George. Billy still antagonizes me, touching my leg or whatever else he can reach under the table, while I pretend there’s nothing going on. Sometimes I do the touching, and do my best to make him squirm.
Telling my mom that we were dating didn’t turn out to be as scary as I’d thought. She and George were surprised, but they were not at all displeased. In a private conversation, she asked me to be careful not to hurt Billy, and that if things didn’t work out between us, we needed to remember to treat each other with respect and do our best to remain friends. Billy later told me that his dad had a similar conversation with him.
A few months after moving into his apartment, Billy got a job at the city equestrian center. I’d never even known there was such a place! He gives riding lessons to kids and helps to care for the horses that are boarded there. He’s adapted to city living quite well, but we talk about moving to the suburbs someday, where we could still have access to downtown entertainment, but also have a yard and some space to call our own.
We visit my mom and George every couple of months, and our trips to the country are always fun. We usually stop at the roadhouse on our way, and enjoy a reenactment of the night we met.
We were just there last night, actually, and I still have a smile on my face.
I’ll never get tired of b
eing pressed up close to Billy’s perfect body.
Right now, I’m keeping a close eye on that very same model of physical perfection as he cares for Buck and Gracie.
Taking a long, peaceful trail ride is another ritual during our visits and today’s was one of the best. Fluffy, white clouds decorate the blue sky, and the softest hint of a breeze carries the scent of flowers on the air.
“You should really know how to do this by yourself by now, Kate,” Billy says as he unsaddles Gracie.
I step forward and rub the mare’s ears, something I’ve learned that she loves. “It’s much more fun watching you while you do it.”
He waggles his eyebrows in mock flirtation and flexes a bicep for my benefit. I consider the possibility of us having an actual roll in the hay, but I decide to be good.
I tear my eyes away from Billy’s muscles and help him groom the horses. He leads them to their stalls, and then we start for the house.
I step cautiously, as always, around the perpetually muddy ruts just outside the barn.
At my side, Billy stops suddenly and looks toward the ground. “Did you drop something, Kate?”
I immediately take two big steps away from him. “Very funny! I’m not falling for your dirty tricks today, Billy Taylor!” I’m ready to run if he lunges at me with mud.
He bends down briefly and then turns toward me with something in his hands. But it’s not mud; he actually is holding something shiny.
I watch him, trying to figure out what he’s playing at. He quickly closes the space between us and then drops down on one knee in front of me.
I see that the very shiny object in his hand is a diamond on a platinum band.
My mouth opens but nothing comes out.
I look down and see Billy looking up at me. His playfulness is gone. He’s gazing deep into my eyes as though he’s looking for the answer to a question he hasn’t asked yet.
I can’t believe this is happening. We’d talked about marriage, but only in abstract terms; a “someday” kind of thing. I was not expecting this. I can feel my hands shaking and my lip trembling in surprise.
Billy takes one of my hands in his and smiles at me. As my mind tries to catch up with what’s happening, I notice distractedly that he’s kneeling in mud.
I smile back at him, and my expression seems to give him the encouragement he needs to speak. “Kate?”
I nod and feel tears well up.
“I love you, Kate Randall, and I can’t imagine ever being without you.” He focuses on my hand in his and squeezes it tighter before looking back into my eyes with his gorgeous brown ones. “Will you marry me?”
I nod my head quickly several times, and then finally manage to vocalize my “yes.” It comes out as a cry of happiness. I don’t wait for the ring; I pull at his hand to try to bring him closer, while at the same time I lean down to meet him and throw my arms around his broad shoulders.
“Absolutely, yes!” I cry as I hold him tight. “I love you so much.”
We kiss, and it’s full of love and new meaning brought by the commitment we’ve just made to each other. His lips are soft and warm on mine as he folds me into his strong embrace. When we finally part, Billy takes my hand again and brings my attention back to the ring. It’s beautiful — an emerald cut diamond surrounded by smaller stones — but it could be a loop of aluminum foil and I would be thrilled with it, as long as it came with the promise of spending the rest of my life with Billy, the perfect man for me.
He slips the ring onto my finger, and then I hear clapping and calls of celebration nearby. My mom, George, and Tommy are gathered together a short distance away, and they’ve apparently just witnessed our engagement.
“She said ‘yes!’” Billy yells with a loud whoop. He gives me another kiss, and then he scoops me up in his arms and carries me toward our future.
About Stephanie Brother
Stephanie Brother writes scintillating stories with bad boys and stepbrothers as their main romantic focus. She's always been curious about complicated relationships, and this is her way of exploring the situations that bring couples together and threaten to keep them apart. As she writes her way to her dream job, Ms. Brother hopes that her readers will enjoy the full emotional and romantic experience of her books as much as she's enjoyed writing them.
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Also by Stephanie Brother
SPARKED: A Scorching Rockstar Romance
"The ride this story takes you on is incredibly sexy, incredibly hot and intense, and a lot of fun to read” - Amazon reviewer
Amber Paulson plays by the rules: work hard, get good grades, and stay out of trouble. She’s not looking for a boyfriend; her top priority is passing chemistry so she doesn’t lose her scholarship.
Aidan Holt doesn’t care if people call him a manwhore. He’s the lead singer for the hottest band in town, and if women fall all over themselves to sleep with him, who is he to say no? He doesn’t do relationships, but he knows how to show his many willing fans a good time.
When Amber goes to the campus learning center for help, she’s shocked to see that her chemistry tutor is the impossibly sexy guy she’d just met that weekend. The one who got her hot and bothered within ten minutes of meeting him -- right before he went onstage and seduced an adoring crowd with his voice.
A guy who takes home a different girl every night is the last person Amber wants to share her first time with. But the spark between them is hard to resist -- and Aidan isn't one to give up easily.
The last thing either of them expects to do is fall in love ...
Sparked is a novel-length rockstar romance with no cheating and a happy ending!
PREVIEW
My story begins like all the truly classic romances. It’s Saturday night and I’m being dragged by my overbearing roommate to a dive bar crammed full of obnoxiously drunk losers.
Thrilling, right? I really should be studying, but Megan is nothing if not persistent. So I squeezed into a short skirt and took time to put on makeup, though now I wish I hadn’t bothered.
It’s not very late when we get there, but the crowd already seems half wasted. People are yelling, jostling for space at the bar; it feels like a fight could break out any moment. I’m not looking for romance, but if I was in the market for a guy this is the last place I’d choose.
I pull Megan close and yell into her ear, “This is where you hang out on the weekends?”
“Stay right here,” she yells back. “I’ll get us some drinks!”
She starts pushing her way through the crowd. I stay near the wall, trying to hold onto a little personal space. There’s a band playing on a small stage on the other side of the room, though no one’s paying them much attention. I listen for a few moments and realize everyone else is right to ignore them.
Maybe I can get away with leaving after one drink ... but that won’t satisfy Megan. She thinks I’m missing out on the full college experience. Honestly, with all the time I’ve been spending at the library, this rowdy place is a shock to my system. If this is the full college experience, I’m okay with being a little bit deprived.
I don’t expect the hand on my shoulder. Megan’s back already?
I turn, and instead of my roommate I’m faced with a stunning man. Dark hair, sexy as hell, with eyes that I can’t look away from. I blink, not certain my imagination hasn’t conjured him up. He’s not much taller than me, but broad and solid — and standing squarely inside my personal space.
Even though he has my attention — boy, does he have it — he doesn’t move his
hand from my arm. “Do you need a drink?” he asks. He’s holding a beer bottle, and I can smell it on his breath when he leans close to make himself heard.
I shake my head and give him a half smile to thank him for his offer. His dark eyes penetrate mine and I’m mesmerized, unable to look away.
He doesn’t return my smile. I’m not even sure he blinks. And he’s still touching my shoulder.
“Are you here alone?” He leans in closer still, and I finally manage to break eye contact. Aside from his undeniably beautiful face, he’s really not my type. His hair is messy, his jeans are torn, and his shirt is open halfway down his chest.
I shake my head, then add, “With a friend.” I turn my head to look at his hand, which hasn’t moved, the heat of him burning through the thin fabric of my sleeve. I would typically be telling a guy to get his hands off me at this point, but for some reason the words don’t come out of my mouth.
A tiny corner of my brain wonders what’s going on. I’m not the kind of girl guys hit on, usually. So what is this stud doing paying attention to me?
He follows the direction of my gaze and one corner of his mouth turns up. A subtle lift of an eyebrow adds to his smirk as his hand leaves my shoulder to reach for my hair. He tangles it slowly around his finger, pulls gently, then rests his hand against my arm again, fingers still playing with the lock of hair he’s claimed as his. He steps in closer, his foot against mine, our hips nearly touching. A shiver runs down my back as my whole body seems to come to attention.
His actions are entirely inappropriate, but instead of telling him to get lost, I’m staring at his lips, noticing how thick they are, how they’re curled into a slight smile. It’s clear that he knows what kind of effect he’s having on me, and his cocky expression pisses me off. But it also turns me on. I can’t ever remember having a reaction like this to someone I’d just met. Or really anyone, ever. Whatever reaction he’s sparking in me, I’m not sure I like it.
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