“This house is a great place to recover in peace,” Randi jumped in again. “We thought they’d enjoy the scenery, and we’d get to know each other at the same time. We gave them the room on this floor so it’s easier on your father.”
Meilin’s mouth moved like a fish out of water and Drew rubbed her back. “They’ve been here a week and they’re having a great time from what I’ve heard.” Her father looked less pale and more relaxed than the one time Drew had met her parents in San Francisco. Her mother looked happier too with a pale pink blush on her cheeks. Both were responding well to the English countryside.
“Come, let’s make introductions.” Drew guided her from one person to the next. “My grandmother Robinson, who I believe has taken over the cottage in the garden this week. You may have met her at the graduation party.”
“Of course I remember you, young lady,” his grandmother said. “You made a wise choice joining this den of thieves.”
Drew laughed and Meilin smiled.
“Next we have my aunt and uncle and their sons…” Drew continued around the room, pleased and somewhat surprised Bea’s parents were there, and ended with the vicar who set aside his sherry long enough to shake Meilin’s hand. Each one had something nice to say. Even Larry, while Oswald kept watch from one side of the room and Birdie hovered near their grandmother. Both Birdie and Oswald carefully ignored each other. No change there.
Drew managed to keep Meilin busy enough mingling that she had no chance to ask him why her parents and Jack were there. She wasn’t buying the meet and greet story Randi had dished out. But she was noticing her parents getting along quite well with his father and grandmother. Randi flitted about keeping everyone’s drinks fresh.
Still, his woman had questions in her eyes every time she glanced at him. He merely smiled. There were traditions to uphold. Protocols to follow. He had a plan and he wasn’t going to deviate from it. Martin saved the day by announcing dinner just as Meilin had him cornered. Would have to send the man something special from China for that.
In the dining room they found Randi and his grandmother having a quiet discussion. When his grandmother told everyone to look for their place cards, Drew caught the exasperation on Randi’s face and the resignation on his father’s as he escorted his wife to her seat at the foot of the table. Far, far away from her usual seat next to him.
Drew seated Meilin on his father’s left, then drifted down the table to find his seat. Of course, on Randi’s left, while she directed Meilin’s father to her right. He held back his chuckle as he seated his grandmother on his left, then took his own chair.
“Giving up the hostess spot,” he said to his grandmother.
She answered with a harrumph and a nod of satisfaction, and turned her attention to his Catchpole grandparents.
Despite the new seating arrangement, Randi handled dinner well and the courses flowed as smoothly as ever. Conversations were bright and he exchanged many glances with Meilin who seemed quite bemused. Just a little longer and then he’d answer her biggest question—exactly why this dinner was being held.
Once dessert was served, Drew looked across the table at Meilin’s father. The solemn man gave him a nod. Okay then. Show time.
Pushing back his chair, Drew picked up his champagne glass and a fork. Carefully tapping it against the crystal—his grandmother’s eyes narrowed on him to make sure he didn’t break it—he called the dining room to order as the last server slipped back into the kitchen. Only Martin remained beside a table with bottles of wine and pitchers of water at hand.
“I suppose you’re all wondering why we’re gathered here tonight.” Chuckles met his statement. “All right, most of you know, but Meilin does not.” He set down the fork and started toward the head of the table.
“It’s been a wild ride since the night I met Meilin. I knew immediately there was something special between us, but it took a lot of fast talking and fancy dancing to reach this point. The fact is, I’ve never been happier.” He rounded the table behind his father’s chair, his gaze locked securely on his target. “There’s a new road ahead of me and while the people in this room will be a part of it, there’s only one person I want by my side.”
Meilin’s eyes widened as he reached her seat and set his champagne on the table.
“Tonight I carry on a long standing family tradition. There’s always been one place where the Robinsons make these grand gestures. The grander the better. And while it’s tough to beat my father and his grand gesture last Christmas Eve, made in this very room”—the family thumped their fists on the table with mutters of “hear, hear”—“I have my own grand gesture to make.”
Meilin raised her napkin to her mouth and moisture twinkled in her eyes.
“I want the world to know how very much I love you, Meilin. I want them all to be a part of this, but the honor is reserved for this small crowd.”
He put a hand back and his father slapped a velvet box into Drew’s palm. He dropped to one knee and held the box out to Meilin.
“I know it’s been fast, but I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I don’t want to go a step further without knowing you’ll be my love, my partner, my wife. Please, accept this token of my intention to make you the happiest woman on earth, as you’ve made me the happiest of men.”
Meilin dropped the napkin in her lap and covered her mouth with both hands. The tears shimmered in her eyes and he could see her trembling.
Nerves hit him then, and praying with all his might she wouldn’t turn him down, he opened the box and thrust it at her. “Please say you’ll marry me.”
Her gaze never left his as she reached out. She bypassed the jeweler’s box and touched his cheek. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes,” she said louder. “I love you so much, Drew.” She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him close.
His arms wrapped around her waist and he clung to her, his heart so light he feared he’d drift into the rafters with the ghosts if she didn’t hold on.
“So let’s see the ring,” Grandmother Robinson called out. “How’d you do? Does it fit?”
Meilin lifted her head laughing and wiping at the tears spilling down her cheeks. “Yeah, Drew, how’d you do?”
Once more he held out the ring with a three carat diamond surrounded by the finest rubies to be had in Beijing. More were set into the carved gold band. “I learned red is the color of good luck in China.”
Meilin lifted the ring from the box and slipped it on her finger. “Indeed it is. I love it. I love you.”
Exaggerating his sigh of relief, Drew stood and pulled her into his arms. “I’m the lucky one here.” He tilted her backward in his arms, just as he had for the photos in June. This time he kissed her with everything in his heart and soul. Meilin kissed him back without reserve.
Behind him his father stood. “Lift up your glasses, ladies and gents. The lady said yes!”
By the time they came up for air, they were surrounded, but it didn’t matter. Meilin was the only one he saw, the only one he could hear as she whispered, “The day I met you was the luckiest one of my life.”
“To date,” he said and kissed her again.
The End
Keep reading for an excerpt from the first novel in the series
HER FOREIGN AFFAIR
Twenty-two years ago, she ran out on the love of her life—and took a secret with her.
When Randi Jean Ferguson fell for Courtland Robinson while studying abroad in London, she was ready for a life of tea and crumpets. But when she discovered Court was being forced into a shotgun wedding, there was no way she could stay—or tell him she was also pregnant with his child. Now widowed, Randi is just starting to consider finding Court—when he shows up at her door. With his son. Randi’s not ready to reveal everything to Court, but if she doesn’t, will both their children end up scarred?
The best thing to come out of Court’s unhappy marriage was his son. But he’s spent t
he last twenty-two years thinking about Randi, his California girl, his first—and only—love. Now a widower, he takes a chance he’s only fantasized about and seeks her out. At last he’ll solve his heart’s greatest mystery—but that won’t be the only surprise in store for him.
A Lyrical e-book on sale now.
Learn more about Shea at http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/29498
Prologue
London, England
Mid-late 1980s
A soft spring breeze tugged a long curl from Randi Jean Dailey’s carefully styled up-do. She paid the cabbie his quid, stepped from the car with the help of the hotel doorman, and gave him a smile. The cabbie let out a satisfactory wolf-whistle before zipping back into London traffic.
Jean’s heart pounded with excitement. Instead of climbing on the plane to go home after her semester abroad, she’d primped and polished and put on her perfect little black dress accented with proper pearls and sexy stilettos. The ones Court had bought for her two weeks prior. The ones that made her short legs look a mile long, he said. The black shoes she’d worn to seduce him last night. The ones that had driven him so mad with lust he’d made love to her all night long.
With a long bittersweet kiss, they’d parted at noon. His promise to follow her to California as soon as he possibly could were the last words spoken between them.
She adjusted the lace shawl around her shoulders and headed into the hotel where the Lynford International Importers new hire reception was being held. As an only-just-hired summer intern, she’d received her job acceptance and invitation to the reception shortly after Court had left her studio flat. The afternoon had been spent madly running around making arrangements to stay in England another three months. To start.
But that wasn’t all the good news she had for Court. Instead of only the summer, she’d be extending her stay indefinitely. Forever. The thought made her dizzy with delight.
Upon reaching the doors to the reception hall, Jean stopped and rested a hand over her abdomen. She had one more surprise for Court. One she prayed would thrill him to his bones. One that would give him the leverage to work around his father’s manipulations. Like the song from a few years before, their future was so bright, they’d both have to wear shades. A silly grin crossed her face as she started through the wide open doors.
Soft string ensemble music drifted across the room. The event was exactly as Court had predicted. Proper Englishmen and their ladies talking quietly, mingling, as much to see as to be seen. For a week, he’d bemoaned the fact that instead of seeing her off at the airport, he had to attend this stuffy reception put on by his father’s company. Not interested in the décor, she searched the sea of bodies in semi-formal wear, looking for one particular blond head. The men wore sharp suits of worsted wool with silk ties, the women cocktail gowns in various levels of fashion and expense. The student interns and freshly graduated new hires were easy to pick out, by not only their youth, but by the less expensive clothing and the nervous smiles on their faces. Because Court’s family owned the company, she looked beyond the students and concentrated on the older attendees. The people Court had known since the day he’d been born.
One bright head stood out. Danielle Richards, the hiring contact. If not for Danielle’s call hours before, Jean would have been boarding a plane just then. Jean headed for Danielle, who certainly knew Court and could help Jean find him. She merely had to work her way through to the other side of the large ballroom.
Descending the steps into the crowd, she plowed ahead, exchanging nervous smiles with the three or four people she recognized from classes.
Among the glittering bodies, various scents perfumed the air and queasiness assaulted Jean for a moment. Something that had never bothered her before the past week. She and Court figured she had a mild touch of flu, or possibly food poisoning like she’d had right after arriving in January. The call from the student clinic this afternoon had negated that theory.
A glint of Danielle’s bright copper hair through the crowd assured Jean she was still on the right path. A few more steps and her gaze briefly met Danielle’s. Someone stepped in and cut off the line of sight before Jean could take a second look at what appeared to be mild alarm on the other woman’s face. Jean glanced behind her to see what might be happening that would cause the hiring director’s reaction. No, nothing unusual there. Jean pressed forward once again.
Like the sun prying back a thick layer of dark clouds, she saw his golden blond hair through a parting of bodies. His back to her, he stood near Danielle, part of a circle of immaculately groomed men and women, a mix of older and younger.
Finally, she eased past a knot of distinguished men and stood directly behind Court. On a deep breath, she assessed the situation. The group he stood with contained two older couples, important looking men and their society wives, all perfectly dressed and bejeweled. A younger woman with a sleek blond bob stood at Court’s left. Too close, but he came from people who knew people and had friends he’d been raised with. This could be one such. Across the small circle, Danielle was the only other person Jean recognized. A person who’d been friendly. Although the expression on Danielle’s face wasn’t exactly comforting.
Court began to speak, and Jean was able to hear him clearly, see clearly as his left arm came up to encircle the waist of the blond woman at his side, the action surprising her. If his shoulders looked a bit stiff, the movement a tad forced, she seemed to be the only one who noticed.
“Danielle, I’d like you to be among the first to know, Bea and I will be married next weekend. There isn’t time for formal invitations,”—his chuckle was forced—“we’re expecting, however, we’d love you to attend.”
The timbre was Court’s, but the tone and the words couldn’t be his. Dizziness surged in Jean’s head. She took a step back and clamped both hands over her now roiling stomach. The air had evaporated from the room and darkness framed the edges of her vision.
“Court…” Danielle said, doing her best to keep her face clear of emotion. Jean could see it, could hear the strain, as the other woman’s electric blue gaze locked on her.
Jean swallowed against rising nausea and took another step back, bumping into someone’s chilled glass of something. The shock of cold liquid dribbling down her back froze her in place.
In an almost dreamlike parody of slow motion, Court’s arm dropped from the woman, and he slowly turned. Jean’s gaze flew to his face as it came into view. His skin took on an ashen cast, as his eyes widened above his slackening jaw. For a long moment, it was all she could see.
“Courtland?” The sharply spoken word from the blond woman broke the spell. “What is it, darling?”
Jean’s breath rushed back into her starved lungs, and her heart jolted into triple time, rushing adrenalin into her system. It was the spark she needed to turn on her heel and push through the crowd.
“Jean!”
She heard him call after her. Heard Danielle call after her, but didn’t stop. Escape was the one thought in her head. Later she’d think about Court’s announcement. But now there was room for only one instinct pounding through her veins. Run.
Snippets of his history came to her as she forced her way past people now expressing their shock at her rudeness. The girl he’d practically been engaged to since they’d been in nappies. The horrible break up days before Jean had tripped him in the library. The stories of his family and how he was expected to take over the business one day, like generations of Lynfords and Robinsons before.
Above all, the vision she couldn’t reconcile with the words he’d just said, Court’s face smiling down at her. His voice saying, “I love you. I’ll come for you. We’ll have a wonderful life.”
As she broke through the edge of the crowd and rushed into the lobby, she thought she heard Court call out her name one more time, but from a distance. She didn’t look back. Couldn’t look back. Adrenalin pounding through her veins powered her forward. A door
man opened the heavy outer door.
“Miss?”
His enquiry went unacknowledged as she rushed by, headed for the cab parked at the curb.
“Taxi!” she called out.
Surprised, the doorman who’d recently helped her from a cab, leaped to open the door for her.
“Miss? Everything all right?”
She shook her head and climbed into the cab.
“Where to, miss?”
“Home.” It was all she could think of. She could be at Heathrow in a few hours where she’d wait until a seat opened on a plane headed for New York. From New York she’d get a plane to San Francisco. There, she’d figure it all out.
“Where’s home, miss?”
“Away from here.” Tears blurring her vision, she met the cabbie’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Just drive.” No one had followed her out the door. Especially not Court. His words echoing in her head tore her heart to shreds. The cabbie turned around and slowly eased into traffic.
Unable to stand it, she gave into temptation and looked back through the tears welling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. The sidewalk remained empty of anyone she recognized. Only the doorman looked after her.
The image of Court’s face rose in her mind. Merry blue eyes, laughing at her driven need to experience everything Anglo, jokes about her attempts to learn the Brit accent, the little presents of Earl Grey tea, crumpets and flowers he brought her. The rose petals he’d scattered on her bed last night where they made love pretending to be in an English garden. The flower pressed between the pages of her favorite novel, a sweetly scented bookmark and reminder of his promise they’d be together.
Her Unexpected Affair (The Robinsons) Page 29