by Lara Hunter
This time, when she pushed me away, she was firm.
“Khabib, we can’t. Not here.”
So, there was nothing to do but take her home. Luckily, everyone had gone home for the day, so I could carry my Lucy through the hallways unseen.
Outside, it was a quick trip to my front parking space and my sports car. Once I’d plopped her in the front seat and made my way to the driver’s seat, Lucy shot me a look.
“What’s gotten into you?”
And, right there, looking at her—my beautiful, rosy-cheeked Lucy—I remembered.
“I have something to show you.”
First, however, was driving home and chatting, laughing over the intricacies of Lucy’s new position in the marketing department, over our accidental swapping of lunches.
Then, at home, we had to feed the howling masses—the insistent pug and wiener dog. As usual, their friendship was tested by the doling-out of food, as greedy Bruno jostled an infuriated Oscar for his bowl of kibble. We had a nice dinner of roasted chicken and vegetables with mashed potatoes on my balcony, looking over the city, and then, in bed, I told her.
“Lucy, I love you.”
She laughed, then poked me in the rib.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“What?”
She shot me a knowing look.
“You’ve been like a giddy little boy all day. Come on, spill.”
I heaved a mock sigh.
“Can’t a guy just love his girlfriend these days?”
Lucy shrugged, then rolled to the other side of the bed so that her back was facing me.
“Okay, have it your way. Goodnight, Khabib.”
“Hey, Lucy, hey…”
No response. Finally, I got up, took them out of my drawer, and poked her in the back with them.
“Fine. Here.”
She rolled around, her hands unfurling the papers excitedly.
“What is this?”
Squinting at the words on the paper, her confused gaze flicked to me.
“But Khabib, this is—”
“Two tickets to Al-Jembar.”
“But…”
“We leave in two days.”
She gaped at me, and I kissed her cheek.
“I know it’s short notice, but I wanted to surprise you. I want you to meet my whole family, Lucy, to see where I grew up, walk the beaches with me, explore the streets. Oh, you’ll love it there; it’s so hot and there’s so much to do.”
Now, Lucy was grinning.
“But…I have work…”
I leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “I heard the CEO is a pretty nice guy.”
She poked me again, grinning.
I sat back and shot her a cheeky grin.
“Shouldn’t you be getting packed or something?”
LUCY
The week was a whirl of sightseeing and family-meeting; everywhere we went there seemed to be another distant cousin of Khabib’s that I hadn’t met, another store or beach that I had to see.
Though, I wasn’t complaining; Al-Jembar was as close to paradise as possible. Warm days, cool nights, friendly people, and delicious food—there wasn’t much more to ask for, really. Other than Khabib acting a bit more normal.
For some reason, as we had the time of our lives, drinking and eating until we were dopily content, there was something off about him. Something anxious, nervous. I couldn’t put my finger on it until Friday, at his big family dinner.
At the long dining table of his grandfather’s house, it seemed like every member of Khabib’s family was there: his parents, his brother, along with two dozen other people. All of us ate the endless dishes placed before us—the kibbeh, hummus and pita, chicken and rice, tabbouleh—while we drank the fresh-squeezed juice and cucumber water. Only once we were all stuffed and quiet with happiness did Khabib rise.
“I want to make an announcement. It has been an honor and a pleasure to see you all; it’s been over four years now, and to say that seeing my beloved family again has delighted my heart would be an understatement. So, here’s to that.”
He raised his glass and we all clinked glasses.
“All of you have been more than generous with your kind hospitality and your warm advice. Being around such close and dear family has just reminded me just how precious family is. And, with that, I have something to say…or ask, really.”
Then, Khabib’s gaze was on me.
“I’ve talked to my father about this, and he has agreed that I am making the right choice—and, moreover, that if I don’t make it, he’ll smack me himself.”
Laughter sounded around the large wooden table.
“This amazing woman, Lucy Morrison, has been there for me this past year in ways no one else ever has, or ever will. But enough about that—I don’t have to convince all of you that this woman is worthy; I have to convince this woman that I’m worthy.”
Now, rising, Khabib came to a stop in front of me. My heartbeat was thrumming like that of a hummingbird’s.
“Lucy, even when I’d just met you, I knew there was something about you. I could never say what, could never put my finger on why I stopped to chat with the new receptionist each and every day. Sure, you were cute, but it was more than that—although, only how much more I didn’t realize until I got to know you better.
“Despite your best efforts, we grew closer, until our attraction was undeniable. And, one of the things that astounded me about you, all the while, from our first kiss to even now, my love, is how you’ve never demanded anything of me. How you’ve never expected me to be anyone other than who I am—a flawed but determined man. One who would do anything to make you happy, the woman who’s made me grown, and challenged me just by simply loving me and refusing to see anything but the best in me, time and time again.
“I could sit here and talk about all the wonderful dates and experiences we’ve shared—restaurants, volunteering, picnicking, that gondola ride, so long ago—but that’s only the start of it. It isn’t what we’ve done, it’s who I’ve had the honor of doing these things with. And, for me, Lucy Morrison, that’s you—the kindest, most fun, most surprising miracle of a woman I’ve ever met.
“I don’t know why, and I certainly don’t know how, but you get me, Lucy—you get me, through and through. You understand me and like me, even when I have trouble doing so myself. Yes, to say that I love you wouldn’t be doing this feeling pounding in my heart justice, to say that I’ll love you as long as I live would be low-balling the timeline.
“You, Lucy, are the making of me. Every day I wake up next to you, I’m the most ecstatic I can remember being. I’ve already asked so much of you, I know, but if you could do me one last honor, then I’d be the happiest man in the world.”
Khabib took out a little blue felt box from his pocket, the kind that held rings. Opening it revealed, sure enough, a gold beauty of a ring, with three hearts made of dazzling diamonds.
“Lucy Morrison, will you marry me?”
A hush has settled over the room. It took me a few seconds to realize just what everyone was in suspense for: my answer.
“Yes, of course, yes!”
Khabib slipped the ring onto my finger, then took me in his arms and swung me around, while his family applauded and roared their approval.
The rest of the night was a haze of joy. More food, more drinks. Everyone was dancing and laughing together. It was like that night when Khabib had coaxed me into dancing, into venturing out of my comfort zone.
So, here I was, grooving away with my husband-to-be and my family-to-be, shaking my hips and smiling so hard my face hurt. And the whole time, all I could think was: could it get any better than this?
The End
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The Sheikh’s Contract Bride
Holly Rayner
And now, as promised, here are the first few chapters of Holly’s previous book, The Shei
kh’s Contract Bride
We hope you enjoy!
Copyright 2017 by Holly Rayner
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.
All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.
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Chapter One
“Don’t move, or I’ll shoot!”
A man with grizzled hair and tattered clothing dashed down the dark streets of L.A., a recent rain casting a shining glow on the pavement beneath his feet as he sprinted toward a chain-link fence.
“I said I’ll shoot!” Kaye shouted, her voice breaking. She took a breath, prepared to do what she had to.
“Cut!”
Breathing hard, Kaye turned to look behind her, where a series of cameras and a whole crew of people stood watching the scene. The man who had shouted cut was the director, Barry, and Kaye looked at him expectantly as the extra who had been running jogged back to his starting position.
“What’s going on, Barry?”
The director held a cellphone in his hand, his eyes dark even in the obscurity of predawn. It was the only time they could reserve the street for shooting without having to pay to clear or close it.
“We’re through,” he announced, his eyes darting around to the shocked stares of his cast and crew. “The network just called; they’re pulling the show.”
“What?” Kaye asked, stunned. “Barry, this was supposed to be my big break. You can’t do this to me.”
“I’m not doing anything,” he reminded her, his tone defeated. “They said our pilot didn’t test well. Apparently it’s not original enough for a cop show. We’re finished.”
He turned and looked back at the crew.
“Well? What are you waiting for? Pack up. Find another gig. It’s time to move on.”
After a heavy pause, people began to move, folding up camera gear, chairs, and breaking everything down while Kaye continued to stare at Barry, as though waiting for him to look up and grin at how he had managed to fool everyone so effectively. When he didn’t, she approached him.
“I need this paycheck, Barry. I need to pay my rent.”
Barry shrugged her off, a far cry from his usual genial attitude.
“Sorry, kid. We all needed it; believe me. You’ve got a pretty face. You’ll find another gig.”
“Are you serious? In this town?”
“You landed the lead role in your own show. You have the talent. Others will see that.”
“My own show that got canceled before even airing!”
When she realized that she would get no satisfaction from Barry, she stormed off the set, packing the small bag she’d left in a trailer. For a few minutes, she sat in her ancient yellow Beetle, her gaze drifting toward the sun rising over the city.
What was she going to do now?
Her car stalled several times before the engine finally choked to life, sputtering as she drove off the set of the perfect, life-changing job that never was.
Kaye frowned.
She was exhausted. Fortunately, makeup had a way of making one look less haggard, but she felt about a hundred years older than her twenty-five years. In Hollywood, she might as well have been a hundred. She’d moved there years ago with stars in her eyes and hope in her heart, only to be judged and cast aside for any number of vague reasons. Her hair wasn’t the right color (couldn’t that be easily changed?), her nose was a little crooked (couldn’t that also be easily changed?), her voice was too deep or too high pitched…
The list went on and on. If Kaye hadn’t been raised with a strong sense of pride and stubbornness, she would have given up ages ago, but she knew in her heart that she was meant to be an actress. She just needed someone to give her a chance!
Now, that chance had passed, and she was back to being unemployed in Tinseltown. Kaye sighed heavily as she pulled into her small apartment complex just as the sun crested the city skyline. It was clearly going to be another beautiful day. What a shame that she would be spending it inside looking for work.
Kaye shuffled into her cramped one-bedroom apartment, looking around dejectedly. She had enough rent money for one more month, thanks to her initial paycheck for the cop show, but it wouldn’t last long. She had to think of something, fast.
Flipping the switch on her coffee maker, she stared out the window at the building next door. It wasn’t exactly a Hollywood kind of view, but it was a tiny little space in the one place in the world she wanted to be. To Kaye, that was worth more than any number of sprawling mansions back in Indiana.
The coffee slurped and gurgled as it poured into her stained old pot, and she rinsed out a mug before pouring herself a cup, deciding on having it black and bitter to match her current mood. As she stared at her sink full of dirty dishes, a new wave of resentment filled her chest.
Kaye had spent so much of her time on that project. For a month, she had followed around female members of the force, researching their mannerisms, how they handled themselves under pressure. It had been an amazing experience, and she could feel it coming through as she’d ran through her lines, her scenes impeccable.
And it had all been for nothing.
Taking a sip of coffee, Kaye sat at her desk and turned on her computer—a graduation gift from her parents when she finished her degree in theater only three years before. She had run straight to L.A. afterwards, knowing that it would be hard, but hopeful that she would be the exception to the rule.
Boy, had she been wrong.
She opened the job ad pages for local actors, skimming through. She was a natural brunette, but based on what she was seeing, the trend was now heading back in the direction of blondes. She was in the middle of a thought about whether or not she should dye her hair again when her phone rang.
Curious, she took a peek at the caller ID before answering.
“You’re up early,” she said.
“I know. I have a friend on the crew of your show and he texted me and woke me up. I’m so sorry, Kaye.”
Kaye repressed another sigh—something she had been doing far too much of over the past three years. Then again, years of soul-crushing disappointment had a way of making the struggling actress sigh more often than not—at least, when it didn’t bring her to tears. Her friend Jessa had always found a way to cheer her up. It was the only reason to answer the call.
“Thanks,” Kaye said. “I really thought we had a good thing going there.”
“Everyone did,” Jessa replied. “Whoever tested that audience was clearly an idiot. That show would have been the highest rated on television, because you are a star Kaye. Never forget that.”
Kaye laughed, and the bitterness leaked through.
“You might be the only person in the world that knows it. Haven’t you heard? There’s enough brunettes with brown eyes in the industry. I’m not bringing anything new.”
“Don’t get defeatist, Kaye. There are plenty of jobs in this town, and someday, you and I are going to be on the red carpet, telling our sad origin story about all the struggles we went through to get there. You’ll see.”
Kaye stared out at her miniscule, dirty apartment, and she doubted her friend’s words for the first time.
“I don’t know, Jessa. Maybe it’s time to call a spade a spade.”
“Don’t you talk like that! You are going to make it, Kaye! You are an amazing actress! You’re just exhausted and disappointed. I get that. It’s been a long night of shooting and you need some rest. You’ll feel better about your prospects in the morning.”
> “I can’t even afford to pay my rent, Jessa! It’s not a matter of whether or not I’m good enough; if I don’t land a job, I have no choice but to pack my bags and go home a failure,” she said, choking on the last word.
The tears came then, and Kaye wiped them away, her stage makeup staying perfectly in place. They used some pretty amazing magic in the film industry; she had to admit that.
“Kaye, after we’re done talking, I want you to shut your computer off, because I’m sure the first thing you did was start looking for another job, and I want you to get some sleep. You’ll be able to face the world again once you’re well rested.”
“I’m pretty sure I haven’t been facing the world very well with or without sleep.”
Jessa hesitated, as if she didn’t know what to say. Kaye would have felt bad about it if she wasn’t so caught up in her own misery.
“Look, I wasn’t going to bring this up, but there’s an audition happening tomorrow.”
Kaye’s head lifted and she held the phone a little closer to her ear.
“What audition?” she asked, trying not to sound too desperate.
“It’s nothing big…I don’t think. The truth is, I haven’t been getting many bites either, so the other day, I took a risk…and I went on Craigslist to see if they might have something there.”
“Seriously, Jessa?” Kaye asked.
“We all have to pay our rent, Kaye. Anyway, the ad seemed a little sketchy. They didn’t say what the position is for, only that they’re looking for actresses in our age range… I don’t know, I thought it might be worth checking out. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“We could be murdered?” Kaye offered.
“Or we could be discovered! Worth the risk? Will you come with me? You don’t have to audition, but even just having you there as support would mean the world.”
Kaye thought about going to a dead-end audition instead of spending more time looking for lucrative work. Then, she glanced at her computer screen and the pages and pages of ads looking for blondes, and she reconsidered.