Becca’s tears flowed again, this time from laughter.
“That’s one of my favorite sounds in the world, baby—your laughter. I promise to work my hardest to make sure your laughter never fades, but only grows stronger and more frequent over the years. I love you, baby. I cherish you and I’m going to zip my lip now so I can get that ring on your finger. I can’t wait another minute to call you my wife.” I pressed my lips together and my heart practically exploded from a full-wattage Becca James (almost McNeil) smile.
Within the next few minutes, it was official. She was finally mine, after almost six years of waiting. I would’ve held her tighter during our kiss if it weren’t for her protruding belly. Poor thing, she was seven months pregnant. I was so worried the day would exhaust her beyond what would be deemed acceptable. She was a trooper, though. I like to think it was her happiness that supplied her with all that energy.
A month later, our sons were born via C-section at thirty-six weeks. She was mad that she and the doctors couldn’t keep her blood pressure under control. Thankfully, everything went all right—the boys healthy, mama healthy ... all was right with the world.
Since then, life has been chaotic, to say the least. I haven’t had Becca all to myself since our honeymoon—almost two years ago, damn it! She doesn’t know it, but this is basically a dry run. I’m getting her ready for what I have planned for our two-year anniversary—Paris!
Ah, nothing like springtime in Paris with your girl in your arms. A man can dream ... but how many men really have their dreams come true? I’m one lucky bastard! I lean in toward Becca and seal that affirmation with a kiss.
And they lived ... well ... you know!
I’d like to thank my family and friends who’ve supported and encouraged me since I wrote the first sentence of this series. Obviously, my biggest thanks are to my three children for cheering me on and trying to understand this work from home thing. :)
I started a street team a few months back. If you are not aware of what that is, it’s like an online fan club. Only, I talk to most of these women every day. They support me, encourage me, and pimp the hell out of me! They’ve become dear friends, and honestly, I don’t know if I would’ve followed through, publishing the series as quickly as I have without them. So a very special thanks to (in no particular order) Debbie Baardsen, Wendy Colby, Jennifer Inglehart, Tammy Becraft, Heather Routh, Natalie Jane, Nicola Spears and the rest of the beautiful ladies on The G-Team. I love you all so much. Your support has meant the world to me!
There are certain people that I would just really be lost without. Wendy Shatwell and Claire Allmendinger are two of them. They keep me in line, they keep me laughing, and they encourage my dreams. I couldn’t have asked for better friends. Thank you both so very much. I love you, ladies!
Jess Huckins has been with me on every project as my editor. I swear we could publish a book filled with our back and forth comments during the editing process and it would be a hit! I can’t sing your praises enough! Thank you a million times over for taking me on and coming back for more! Love you, lady!
Stacey Blake makes my books look so pretty. She also laughs at me when I’m stuck in three feet of snow while she prances around in flip flops! *blows raspberries* Thank you for all of the gorgeous work you do!
A big thank you to Robin Harper for making another gorgeous cover for me! You rock, chicky!
Thank you to Becky Carnahan, my friend and one of the first readers of this series. Your shared excitement over my books and love of my characters really helped fuel the fire to get this thing going. I am so grateful to you. Love you!
Jennifer Bedet, the final count is in! I’d like to thank you fifteen times! You have always been the Stacey to my Becca, the Ethel to my Lucy and Shirley to my LaVerne. I love you more than there are words capable of expressing. My life wouldn’t be the same without you.
Last, but not least! I would like to thank all of the readers who have followed Becca on her journey! I wasn’t sure what to expect. I can tell you right now, I did not expect so many of you to have such a strong love for Grayson after book one! I am still floored by this. I can’t tell you what it means to me to read a review, stating how my books have affected you in a positive way. It inspires me to keep going. Thank you all so much!
Want to see what I’m up to? You can stalk me here at these spots!
Twitter: @JacquelynAyres
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JacquelynAyresAuthor
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/jacquelynayres/
Spotify: Goodbye Uncertainty
Coming Summer 2014!
UNDER CONTRACT
The GEG Series #1
~ Unedited ~
Chapter One
Retrieving a compact out of my small clutch purse, I finally bring my eyes up for one last good look in the mirror. I told myself—convinced myself, really—that I was just popping into the bathroom to give one last final check on my appearance. As I stare into my green eyes (my first qualification for this job), I now realize I’m in here to have a conference call with my sanity. Clearly it went bankrupt and closed up shop like most of the country because there’s no answer. My sanity is gone ... replaced by desperation and a mother’s instinctive need to provide for her children.
I lay my palms on the cool marble counter top and take in a few cleansing Yoga breaths like my friend Ava always recommends. Apparently—I freak out too much—so she says.
“Ok, Charley ... put your big girl pants on. You can do this.” Sometimes you need to just act brave so well, you convince yourself that you are. Of course, I have to push off the thought of my big girl pants being pulled off later. I sweep a few whispers of hair off my temple. Thank God Ava was able to do my hair. Must be sophisticated looking, yet, approachable. One of many qualifications needed for this job. Ava had parted my long brown hair on the left side. She then crowned the sides with tight French braids till all of my hair was pulled to the back. There, it is involved in a mass production of neat pin curls at the top of my neck. It looks great for the office or a night out on the town. “Sophisticated, yet approachable.” Good job, Ava!
I step back for one final look to make sure everything is in place. I’m wearing a black silk draped dress by Alice + Olivia. I would’ve never randomly spent this much on a designer dress, but luckily my Aunt Clara has more money than sense. She loves her some Saks Fifth Avenue! However, Aunt Clara shops for people blindly. I don’t know about my cousins, but my sisters and I always end up with a store credit of anywhere from three hundred to fifteen hundred dollars, depending on the occasion for the gift we received.
The last big “occasion” was my husband leaving me six months ago with three kids and no pot to piss in. Said he was tired of society and government. He didn’t want this—any of this. He was going to live off the land. I’ve since learned that in Europe, they call this going for “A Walk About”. To this day, I have no idea about where he’s been walking. Asshole!
Aunt Clara, out of the goodness of her heart, sent me an Armani silk jumpsuit for my hardship; only cost her $1700.00. Problem solved! I now had something special to wear to all my “special” appointments, you know, W.I.C., fuel assistance, food stamps, and TANF. What would I possibly do with $1700.00 in my pocket—pay the mortgage? More money than sense, that one!
Punctuality is a must! Shit! I look at my phone—phew! Two minutes to spare. One more deep breath before I walk out of the bathroom and head to the bar in the Ames Hotel. Funny, until a few days ago, I never even knew this hotel existed. Then again, I don’t usually have a reason to stay overnight in Boston’s financial district. “Please don’t be old and bald ... or creepy ... or ... eck ...” I try to chant to myself. “Please have kind eyes and a kind heart.” I lower the bar—small steps.
I head over to the table in the far left corner as instructed and take a seat. So much for “punctuality”—where the hell is he?
MITCH
“Scotch on the rocks and a gl
ass of your best Merlot,” I sigh, looking up from my phone. The bartender nods and goes about my order. I throw my phone into the inside pocket of my jacket and glance at my watch, impatiently. She better be punctual! Biggest pet peeve—one minute late and I’m out of here! I grab my scotch from the guy before he can place it down, swirl it around, and take a good swig.
“Waiting on a girl?” he asks.
“Aren’t we all?” I smirk.
“Pretty much,” he laughs. “Well this one must be special ... you seem nervous.”
“It’s complicated.” I offer.
“When isn’t it, dude?” He shakes his head wiping the bar down.
“True.” I smile partly because he has no idea about my type of complicated.
“Damn,” he sighs. I look up at him. His mouth is open in disbelief and his eyes are wild with desire. I follow his eyes and my breath hitches. Holy shit ... please be Charlotte. I think to myself as I watch her make her way through the lounge. I feel my lips curve up at the corners with satisfaction before the information really hits my brain.
“That, my friend, would be my complication.” I turn back to him.
“I will gladly release you, sir, from such a burden. It’s all part of the great customer service I like to give around here.” He tries to remain serious.
“Thank you ... eh, Jim ... I appreciate your thoughtfulness. But, alas, this is a burden I must carry alone. Try not to feel sorry for me.” I lift my glass to him and nod before I head over to her.
“I can’t—I’m too busy feeling sorry for myself,” he mutters.
“Charlotte?” I ask softly. She turns her neck and looks up at me.
“Mitch?” She smiles.
“Mitchell.” I correct her.
“Mitchell. Hi.” She nods.
“Merlot?” I place her wine in front of her before taking my seat.
“Oh ... thank you.” She picks it up to take a sip.
“Very punctual—that’s good,” I say as I take in the sight of her. I was very specific in my ad about the type of woman I wanted to “employ”. So far, she’s a vision more perfect than what my own imagination could conjure up.
“I try to be. I’m not always successful, I must admit.” I watch as her smile hits her eyes with ease after she speaks. “Mitch? Everything alright?” She leans her head to the side.
“Yes. Why?” I sit up a little straighter and take another sip of my scotch.
“You were just staring at me ... for a while.” She breaks eye contact and plays with the charm on the stem of her glass.
“Sorry. You’re just ... you’re a very beautiful woman.” I swirl the cubes around and take my last swig.
“Um—thank you,” she says hesitantly while now fidgeting with a napkin. I place my hand on top of hers to stop said fidgeting. Her eyes fly up quickly to meet mine. Shit—did she just feel that, too? No. What am I thinking? She’s a professional. Then again, I’m not quite sure why I felt a flutter of electricity—this isn’t my first time around, either.
“Please call me Mitchell, Charlotte.” I pull my hand away.
“Isn’t that what I called you?”
“You called me Mitch a moment ago; only close friends and family call me that.” I sigh half expecting her to roll her eyes at me.
“Well, I’m a little less formal; you can call me Charley.” She smiles. There’s something playful about her smile; as if she’s teasing me.
“Charlotte is such a beautiful name, why do you go by Charley?” I sit back, studying her again.
“Oh, that’s my dad’s doing.” She takes another sip of her wine and leans back in her chair, as well. “I’m the youngest of five girls. My dad, like most men, really wanted a son. My mom told him she was done. No more after me. So he asked if he could name me Charlotte. Of course, she didn’t know it was so he could call me Charley. But it stuck. Everyone calls me Charley.” She takes another sip.
“Did he ever get over not having a son?”
“Oh yeah. Turns out, he named me perfectly. I was quite the tomboy and his constant sidekick.” She shakes her head, seemingly laughing at herself.
“Is he still alive?” I set my empty glass down.
“Oh yeah; healthy as a horse, that guy! I think he’ll out live me!” I watch how her face lights up, thinking about him. I wonder if “Dear old Dad’s” health would be so good if he knew what his precious sidekick did for a living.
“The waitress is right over there. Do you want me to wave her down for another drink?” she asks just before she opens her purse. “Excuse me,” she says and quickly texts. “Sorry.” She puts the phone back.
“Turn it off.”
“Sorry?” She looks up.
“No phone when you’re with me,” I say calmly.
“Ok, well, I uh ... put it on vibrate. I will not turn it off, but I can assure you that we won’t be interrupted again unless there is an emergency. I only answered to let my friend know that I arrived safely.” She seems a bit perturbed. “Why are you smiling like that?” Now she’s just plain irritated and I think my smug smile just got a little bigger.
“Finish your wine, Charlotte. I want to go upstairs and go over my contract with you.” I push her glass forward.
“Contract? What sort of contract?” Her eyes go ridiculously wide. I can’t help but laugh.
“Don’t worry; it’s not that sort of contract.” I open my eyes wide to match hers and she laughs again.
“I don’t have to call you sir?” she asks playfully.
“Hmm ... nope. No.” I shake my head.
“Do I need a safeword?”
“Nope.” Jesus, she’s cute. She’s perfect. Just what I wanted. I hope she’ll agree to my terms.
“Any chains, whips, floggers, canes or paddles involved?” She rattles off as she pushes back on a finger for each thing she thinks of.
“Jesus—I may need a safeword!” I give her a playful, horrified look. She laughs again and I think it’s the loveliest sound I’ve heard in a long time. Charlotte takes the last sip of her wine. I stand up and hold my hand out to her. She smiles up at me and takes my offer. I pull her up to me. I’m caught a little off guard by her nervousness. Is she always like this with clients or is it me? I tilt my head slightly as I lean in and sweep her lips with a kiss. Mm ... soft. “Let’s go.” I nudge her nose with mine.
CHARLOTTE
Mitch hits the button for the ninth floor as I try to collect my wits about me. Mitchell ... that’s going to be hard for me. He looks like a Mitch, but not a Mitchell, if that makes any sense.
He’s a handsome man. Not drop dead gorgeous, but definitely handsome. I’d peg him to be in his early forties and just under six feet tall. He has dark dirty blond hair. His eyes are hazel, and they are kind eyes. His smile hits them and like magic, I can see him as a little boy. I have to keep reminding myself that this isn’t a regular first date. Although, if I was my friend Julie, the end result would be a regular first date. AND ... he’s taking me upstairs to sign a contract amongst other things. What did his ad say? If upon initial interview I feel that you are right for the position, you will fill out all necessary paperwork and begin immediately. Length of employment, as well as salary, will be discussed at that time. So, I’m guaranteed a phone call after our first “date”. Definitely a step up from Julie’s regular first dates. That, coupled with the fact that I instinctively like him, makes me feel a smidge better.
“What’s going on in there?” he asks, pulling me out of my thoughts as his left index finger softly taps at my right temple.
“Well, I was trying to find that out myself but ...” I trail off.
“But what?” Smiling eyes. Not a regular date, Charley—stop it!
“I was rudely interrupted by someone knocking and asking me ‘what was going on in there?’ before I could even find out.” I state in a matter of fact tone.
“Rudely, huh?” He bites back his smile.
“Hmm ... yes. Probably not the last rude thing y
ou will do to me tonight.” I sigh playfully and watch as the numbers light up in the elevator. It stops but it’s only the seventh floor.
“You think I’m going to do rude things to you tonight?” His voice full of mirth. I open my mouth to say something but am distracted by the door opening. Mitch yanks my hand, pulling me to the back of the elevator as two older couples get on. The door closes.
“Frank! This is going up!” The one lady hits her husband’s arm as her utter irritation pierces his ear drums, I’m sure.
“So what?” He shrugs.
“Charlotte,” Mitch nips at my right ear. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“That’s because Frank got on the wrong elevator.” I whisper and hold an accusatory hand out in the direction of poor Frank.
“Charlotte.” He raises an eyebrow.
“Charley.” I correct him. He places his hands on my hips.
“Charlotte.” He says insistently as he squeezes my hips and pulls me back against him aggressively. I gasp—Christ, I’m such a girl! Frank’s wife shoots me a look—Christ, she’s such a bitch!
“Do you think I’m going to do rude things to you?” he asks again in a whisper.
“Well, I guess it depends,” I say.
“Depends on what?” He crooks his neck to look at me. I turn my neck and look up at him.
“If our definition of what is rude is the same.” I smirk.
“Christ ... I think I’m going to enjoy the hell out of finding out!” he says in his regular volume. “Excuse us, please,” he says just as everybody turns to look at us. Luckily, we don’t have to endure their stares; Mitch leads the way through the older couples, holding my hand. “Good luck, Frank!” Mitch says loudly as we head down the hall. We hear Frank’s friend laughing.
Goodbye Uncertainty Page 27