by Faver, JD
“Yes, I’ll marry you as soon as possible.”
She lay awake long after he had fallen asleep. He looked peaceful and relaxed. She realized she’d hurt him, far more than she’d hurt herself. Losing Jon was the worst thing she’d ever experienced.
He was the love of her life and the father of the life growing within her. She knew there was a lifetime’s worth of love between them and all she had to do was be honest and love him back.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Housewarming
Merrick manned the grill. Jon and J.C. offered grilling advice and Mitch acted as bartender.
“Here’s a lemonade for the pregnant woman.” Mitch handed an iced drink to Willa. “And one for the woman holding my grandson.” He gave one to Max.
The two friends reclined in lawn chairs as their accumulated family made preparations for dinner.
Max stroked her fingers over her infant son’s halo of dark curls. He slept soundly on her shoulder, unaware of the activity around him.
“Here’s a little snack for you girls.” Carla sat a tray of veggies and dip on the table between them.
“And some cheese cubes to tide you over until dinner time. You need calcium for strong bones.” Lissa added her contribution. “Do you want anything else?”
Max smiled up at her. “We’re fine, Mom.”
“Do you want me to take Trey?” Carla hovered anxiously.
“He just went to sleep.” Max smiled at her. “I’ll pass him to you when he wakes up.”
Willa gave a derisive snort as the grandmothers returned to the kitchen of the new house. “I swear, Max. Giving birth to a child in the Foster-Donnell family could mean that Trey’s feet will never touch the ground. How do you deal with it?”
“It’s not that often that they’re all here at the same time.” Max laughed. “This family housewarming was Jon’s idea. At least they’re not fighting over him.”
“Do my feet look swollen?” Willa asked. “I think they look swollen.”
“Maybe a little,” Max said. “Look, they’re talking about us.” Jon and Merrick glanced their way from behind the grill. Max blew a kiss to Jon who raised his drink to her. He was grinning, something he hadn’t stopped doing since their hurried wedding. There was a special warmth in his gaze whenever it fell upon her, or later, upon their son, Jon Claude Donnell, III.
“How did you know?” Willa asked.
“It’s like a radar thing,” Max said. “I can feel him.”
Willa nodded. “I know what you mean. Merrick tries to anticipate anything I could need. It’s like we stopped being two people. He keeps asking me if I think I should quit working soon.” She giggled. “As if.”
Max adjusted her hold on Trey. “Merrick’s just concerned about you, Willa. You’ll be glad to take a little break when the baby’s here.”
“You didn’t take a break,” Willa countered.
“We’d just opened the gallery, and Jon and I were still living upstairs in the loft. It was easy to lug Trey around with us.”
“You’re lucky that Jon moved his personal office of Claremont Design studio into the space next to our gallery. You can drop Trey off with his daddy whenever you go up to the loft to paint.”
“He still goes into the main office in the Design Center but he likes to work in a less hectic environment.”
Willa chortled. “That’s not it. He likes to work where he can keep an eye on you and Trey.”
Max swept her with an amused gaze. “You could be right. For whatever reason, I love having him so close to me everyday. And I’m glad Courtney stayed on with him. She’s a bright girl and really talented. She thinks Jon is a rock star.”
Willa laughed. “No, you think Jon is a rock star.”
“He rocks my world.” Max looked across the yard to meet his gaze yet again. “Anyway, you married Superman.”
Willa grazed Merrick with a proprietary eye. “Indeed I did.”
Merrick closed the grill and winked at her through the smoke.
Willa grinned and gave him a little finger wave. “Do you ever miss the beard?”
“Sometimes,” Max said. “He lets it grow when we spend a few days at the ranch. He knows I think it’s sexy.”
“Jon looked like a bad boy with the beard,” Willa said. “Like he should be straddling a Harley instead of changing diapers.”
Max laughed softly, careful not to waken Trey.
Willa took a sip of her lemonade and set the glass on the table between them. “I shipped three of your little abstracts to a gallery in Soho. They’re really excited about showing your work. And I signed a new tenant for the third floor. Merrick said the space will be finished by the end of the month.”
“I hope they’re quiet. Sometimes we sleep over in the loft.” Max gave Willa a dimpled smile. “It’s so romantic when the full moon spills down on the swan bed.”
“Be careful. You know what they call girls who don’t plan ahead?”
Max grinned. “Look who’s talking. You’re going to be called Mommy in a couple of months.”
“This baby was a deliberate act of procreation. It was my wedding that was a surprise.” Willa took a long sip of her lemonade. “I really love the mural you’re painting on the walls of Trey’s room.”
“Are you hinting for a mural in new baby Foster’s room?” Max asked. “Don’t worry. I planned to design one when you deliver him or her.”
Willa reached out and squeezed Max’s hand. “It should be against the law to be this happy. I married my best girlfriend’s big brother and we have beautiful homes side-by-side, designed and built by our collaborative husbands and our children will grow up together. We own an art gallery. You paint and I sell. I have the most spectacular life on the planet. What could be better?”
Trey squirmed and opened his denim blue eyes for a moment before going back to sleep.
Max pressed her lips against the little fist clasped around her thumb. “I couldn’t paint a prettier picture than all this if I tried.”
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~
About the author:
J.D. Faver lives near Houston, Texas with two spoiled, rotten cats and a rescue dog, affectionately called Heart of Darkness, Horrible/Adorable, or Minx for short. She writes humorous contemporary romance and romantic suspense, both seasoned with plenty of steamy passion. Even the darkest murder/suspense is riddled with numerous snarky sentiments. She is actively involved in several writers’ organizations, including National RWA and three of its local chapters. She loves to spend time with family and friends. She writes daily but actively pursues other interests including sailing, painting, cooking and gardening.
She Tweets. http://twitter.com/#!/JDFaverauthor
She FaceBooks. https://www.facebook.com/pages/JD-Faver-Author/
She loves to hear from reader: www.jdfaver.com
~*~
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A TWIST OF FATE:
Worlds collide when a Sex in the City girl meets a little House on the Prairie guy.
5***** “Romantic and sexy. I love character-driven romances, and this one was awesome! It's a classic "opposites attract" story.”
Mel Hannigan is a slick, savvy New York City commercial photographer who knows what she’s doing and where she’s going…that is, until she heads upstate for a little drive time and ends up with her sports car in a ditch.
That’s where Helmut Engle finds her. He's a solid, down to earth farmer. In spite of their differences, Mel and Helmut give in to an irresistible magnetic attraction and share an exciting, intimate interlude. She returns to the city but can’t get him out of her mind. She attempts to drag him into her world by the scruff of his red neck and he tries to remodel his world to suit her.
This sexy romance will keep a grin on your face.
Start reading now:
CHAPTER ONE
Mel Hannigan was hanging around wondering how she could have been so stupid. Actually, she was hanging precariously by her seatbelt in her Porsche Boxter after missing th
e curve.
She’d been admiring the picturesque rural upstate New York countryside and had missed the posted signage announcing the sharp curve and advising reduced speed. Ordinarily, the Porsche could run a slalom course and cling like Velcro, but the driver had to be paying attention.
Now her shiny red two-seater was leaning on its side into a ditch filled with rank, smelly water. The ditch, not the car.
“Here, lady. Reach for my hand. I will help you.” The deep, masculine voice held a trace of an accent, but Mel couldn’t place it.
She espied a large calloused hand sticking over the side of the car. “My seatbelt is stuck,” she called.
Her unseen Good Samaritan made a guttural noise of understanding. “I will be back to pull you out. Do not move.”
“Okay. No probs...I’ll be right here.” She sighed and swatted the mosquito that lit on her thigh. Her yellow shorts glowed like neon in the bright sunlight.
After what seemed like an eon, she began to think that she’d been abandoned. In the distance, she heard the distinct sound of a coffee-grinder motor chugging toward her. She tried to open her seat belt and found it still jammed.
If I could just slide out of here. She struggled with the seatbelt again and it abruptly released her, sending her plummeting to the other side of the car. She hit the door and plunged into the unknown terrors of the ditch.
She splash-landed on her hands and knees in a foot of dank water. A cold ooze of mud squished through her fingers. Her thunderous heartbeat pulsed her whole body.
After the initial panic subsided, she realized she wasn’t injured. She released a deep sigh of relief. She glanced back over her shoulder when the car creaked and groaned.
With a strangled shriek, she scrambled out of the ditch just as her precious automobile slid into the swampy water on its side.
Howling in anguish, she stamped her squishy sandaled foot on the pavement. This car was her rolling trophy. She had paid cash for it out of the proceeds of her first big coffee table book of photographs published in New York City.
The fire-engine red color made her feel daring. It made her feel beautiful. It made her feel powerful... well, not so powerful now.
Mel whimpered as she stared at the undercarriage of her prized vehicle.
“I told you not to move.”
She whirled around to find herself face to face with a giant. A blonde Adonis in boots and overalls.
The tall, broad-shouldered man climbed down from his tractor and strolled toward her, dragging a heavy chain behind him.
Mel drew in a sharp breath as the man neared, glaring down at her from under the brim of a slightly crumpled straw cowboy hat, his eyes the color of the deepest part of the Caribbean. “Oh, my...”
“Stand back, lady.” He wore no shirt under his overalls and the tanned muscles rippling in his arms and chest would make a personal trainer die of envy.
Mel stepped out of the way as he attached a chain to her tiny bumper. “Are you sure that will hold?”
The tall man turned and smirked down at her. “Are you so sure it will not?” He cast a look of disgust over her slovenly appearance and reached in the pocket of his overalls. He drew forth an immaculate white handkerchief and flapped it in the breeze to unfurl it before extending it in her direction.
Mel bit her lip and reached for the handkerchief. She wiped ineffectually at the grime on her face before scrubbing at her hands and knees. When she straightened, she realized that the giant was staring at her cleavage.
For the first time, she regretted her wardrobe choice that particular day. She’d opted to wear shorts and a knit tank top that clung to her curves. It was a good choice for driving with the top down. She’d gotten a little sun on her shoulders and the tops of her thighs.
But she hadn’t counted on crawling around in a swampy ditch and she hadn’t counted on those deep blue eyes caressing her breasts as though she were naked.
She raised her gaze to meet his and felt her lower lip jutting out.
The giant grinned, not even embarrassed by his gawking, then returned to the tractor and climbed up on the seat. He glanced back at her before grinding it into gear, the muscles in his broad shoulders working as he propelled the machine forward.
The Porsche groaned.
Mel felt herself cringing all over. My poor baby. She closed her eyes and tried all the prayers from her years at St. Cecelia’s School. She heard a sickening crash and opened her eyes in time to see the Porsche bounce as it righted itself on the road.
Mud and muck covered the entire passenger side. The giant stopped his tractor and unhooked the chain from the undercarriage.
“Komen zie mir mit me.”
“What?”
He looked at her as though she didn’t understand plain speech. “Come with me...to the house. You can get cleaned up.”
“I can’t leave the car. It cost over sixty thousand dollars. I can’t just abandon it by the side of the road.”
The giant took another look at the car and emitted a low whistle. “That is a lot of money to pay for a thing that rusts.”
Mel pulled herself to her full height. “It’s a fine German automobile. A precision instrument.”
He made a scornful growl in the back of his throat. “Well, in that case...” He started to climb back on the tractor.
“Wait!” she shrieked. “You can’t just leave me here.”
“Lady, I offered to take you with me to my home, but you wanted to stay with your expensive car. What more do you want me to do?”
“Wait! Just wait while I call the Porsche dealer.” She turned around twice. “Where is my iPod?”
The giant walked back to her side, all the while glaring down at her as though she had just popped out of her space ship.
“Oh, no!” She pointed to her phone, sitting atop a patch of mashed reeds in the foul and putrid ditch.
“Is that what you are looking for? That little red thing?”
“My life is in that phone.” She leaned over the side of the ditch, reaching toward the object of her desires. Her sandals slipped and she started a slow slide into the mud and muck. Waving her arms wildly, she was brought up short when the giant wrapped his sinewy fingers around her forearm and jerked her back up to the pavement.
“Just stay here. I will get it.”
A muscle in the side of his jaw twitched as he began his descent. Somehow the ditch didn’t look so deep with the giant standing in it. He stomped through the quagmire and retrieved her phone, picking it up gingerly between finger and thumb.
“Here is your telephone instrument.”
Mel bent down to accept it, flashing him another shot of her boobs. She grasped the phone before glancing up to catch him gazing, transfixed at her breasts.
“Please stop gawking at my boobs,” she snapped. “I’m not that well-endowed.”
He ducked his head.
Mel took a bit of satisfaction in the tinge of red that appeared on the tips of his ears. He climbed out of the ditch, scaling it as a regular-sized person would take a step.
“Not true,” he said gruffly, not meeting her eyes. “You are endowed.” He stomped over to where his tractor idled and climbed up onto the seat.
Mel sighed. “Mister. Please wait while I try to reach my dealership.”
He glared at her and nodded, leaning against the tractor. He raised one powerful arm and rubbed the back of his neck as though she had somehow stressed him.
She tried several times to make the call and finally reached someone who promised to send a tow truck the next day. Her face crumpled and her lower lip quivered.
The giant emitted a loud sigh and backed his tractor close to where she stood. He climbed down, squatting beside the small car and attached the chain to the front axle. “We go now. Come with me.” He pointed to the tractor and she fell into step beside him. He climbed up and held his arms out to her.
Mel looked at him uncertainly, and he waggled his fingers in encouragement. She reached f
or his hands and he swung her up onto a small platform and seated her on one of his rock hard thighs.
A flush rose from her core. The giant put both hands on the large steering wheel, and in doing so, he brought his arm around her in a seeming embrace. Mel swallowed, butterflies flying relay races in her chest.
He shifted the tractor into gear and pulled Mel’s vehicle slowly down the road. Something had come loose underneath and scraped along the pavement, the metallic sound grating her nerves.
Mel cleared her throat. “Thank you.” Her voice came out thick anyway.
He stared straight ahead. “I did not mean to stare at your...your chest. I do not see many women around here with so little clothing. It’s unseemly.”
“You don’t watch much television, do you?”
“I do not have television.”
Mel swallowed. That explains so much. They drove slowly for what seemed like miles before the giant turned the tractor onto a straight, well-maintained dirt road. The road cut through fields, lush with corn and sorghum on either side. Mel smelled the dark, rich earth...really smelled it.
She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes and lifted her nose in the air. When she opened her eyes, the giant was staring at her. At that moment the tractor hit a rut and she bounced from her perch, almost falling. She reached out to grab the giant’s arm, but he scooped her back onto his thigh and held her there, his hand at her waist. A warm glow radiated through her knit top, spreading throughout her body. She was afraid to breathe, afraid to lift her gaze. This felt entirely too comfortable.