by L. L. Muir
“Bullshit. You’re stalling. Suck it up and get in there.”
“Come with me,” Mallory begged.
“No. We’ve already been through this. Go. Now.”
Bennett’s heart beat so hard he missed whatever else might have been said. He also missed the sound of footsteps coming toward him and nearly jumped out of his shoes when London stopped three feet from him, her mouth and eyes equally wide.
“Uh. Shit,” she said.
“Precisely,” he answered.
Her face turned instantly fierce. “Listen.”
He held up a hand. “Not a word, London. She’s all mine now.” And with that, he spun on his heel and headed back the way he’d come, hoping the short distance around the corridors would give him time to think of a plan. But the truth of his words was too distracting.
She was all his now.
~ ~ ~
Everyone stood as he entered the room.
“Gentlemen.” Bennett walked to the head of the table to take his usual seat.
“My lord,” they all replied, then sat after he did.
“Tell me. What is so urgent that you needed me in London before my holiday is over?”
Parker inclined his head. “Pardon me, sir, but I didn’t realize you were still on holiday.”
“I am.” He looked around the room. “Well?” The lot of them looked a bit too cheerful. They were all in on it then.
Parker cleared his throat, barely able to suppress his smile, but he was likely the best actor among them. They’d chosen well.
“My lord,” he said. “We’ve been sent a copy of a contract and the other party insists that it is your signature. We’ve had the signature analyzed and we’re afraid they do have a case against us.”
“Us?”
“Well, you, sir.” Parker inclined his head again, probably smirking while he did so.
“Let me see this copy. With what type of contract are we dealing?”
“Ah… That is to say… A marriage contract.” Parker passed a paper along and it finally made its way to the head of the table. On it, Bennett found a photocopy of the napkin Ferguson had insisted he and Mallory sign, the napkin he’d wished a hundred times he would have tucked into his pocket before he’d left the island. The fact that she’d saved it sent a little thrill through his chest.
She’d saved the napkin, and he’d saved the cake.
“Yes. This is my signature,” he said with a straight face. “Is it binding?”
Parker frowned. “The suing party insists that it is. We’re not sure what a judge will think.”
“Suing party? Does this suing party want money?”
Parker blinked rapidly, unprepared for the question. “Possibly, my lord. If you do not wish to honor the contract, we can try to settle with them.”
“No.” He folded his arms and stared Parker down.
The man raised his eyebrows, no longer tempted to smile. “No? No to the contract? Or no to the settlement?”
“I will not be blackmailed, Parker. I would rather call their bluff.”
Parker flushed red and began shuffling papers around on the table. “Call their bluff?”
“I assume the suing party is this Mallory Mayhue?”
“It is, sir.” Parker looked thoroughly embarrassed, possibly assuming Mallory had duped him into playing out a prank that was not so innocent as the woman might have suggested.
Finally, Bennett decided to let the young lawyer off the hook. “Is she here, Parker?”
The man sighed, relieved. “Yes, sir. She’s waiting in my office.”
“One of you go fetch her then.”
Parker jumped to his feet and left. A moment later, still flushed, he returned with Bennett’s blushing bride. He was grateful the rest of the gentlemen got to their feet so it wouldn’t be so his excitement wasn’t so obvious. He couldn’t have remained seated if he had been tied to the chair.
Mallory swallowed hard. “Hullo, Bennett.”
He gave her a cool smile. “Please. Sit.” Once she was settled, he forced his knees to bend, sat, and tilted his head to one side. “But don’t you mean, Ass Hat?”
She grinned. “If the shoe fits.”
He gave a brief laugh. “How are you, Miss Mayhue?” He swung his chair nervously back and forth, then stopped before he gave his own excitement away.
“I’m fine, thanks.” Her hands were shaking. She noticed it too and put them in her lap.
“And your business? Did you relocate?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, we did. London decided she wasn’t ready to change careers.”
He couldn’t help but be disappointed. If Mallory was still in business, she would need to spend most of her time in Utah.
She shrugged again. “But since I didn’t feel the same way, I let her buy me out.”
He stood, no longer able to suppress the adrenaline prodding him to go to her, take her in his arms, and kiss the breath out of her. He walked to the windows, putting the entire table between them.
“Perhaps we should get down to business,” he said. “Since you no longer have a career in flowers, I suppose you thought you could get a living wage out of me, is that it? I suppose if I pay you enough, you will hand over the napkin and leave me in peace.” From the corner of his eye, he saw her already shaking her head.
“That’s not why I’m here.”
“Good. Because I’m calling your bluff. Go ahead and post this document on the internet. Send it to the papers. Create a scandal if you like. But believe me when I say, you’ll have to live with the consequences.”
Parker’s reflection in the window gave him a disapproving frown, and to keep his staff from quitting his employ, Bennett turned aside and gave the man a distinct wink.
Parker’s eyes bulged momentarily, then he got hold of himself and stood. “Come, gentlemen. Let us leave these two to their negotiations.”
Bennett inclined his head and turned to face the face he loved.
“Bennett, listen.” She didn’t wait for the room to clear. “I don’t want your money. In fact, here is a card with your fifteen thousand on it.” She pulled a MasterCard out of her purse and tossed it on the table. “What I want is that second chance. I don’t care if you have a policy against it or something. Give me one anyway. Forget the napkin. It was just a joke. I thought I might need an excuse to get past your guards or something.”
She reached in her purse again and pulled out the cream square he remembered so fondly. The way she placed it on the table and patted it told him she cherished that memory as well.
“Look. I know it’s sudden. I know we haven’t really spent much time together, but if you count all the hours you’ve been in my dreams, we have been dating for a good two months.” Her hands began to fidget. “I would have come sooner, but it took a while to get a passport—”
“Enough.” He faced the window and tried to get his adrenaline under control. He tugged on his cuffs. Shrugged his shoulders. Tugged on his cuffs again, trying to think of the perfect thing to say—something she might always remember. “I’m calling your bluff, Mallory. I don’t want out of the contract.” He swung around to savor all the emotion he read clearly on her face. “I can’t get you out of my mind. No matter where I am or what I’m supposed to be doing, I think of you. Every flower smells like you. Every arrangement looks a little lacking without your touch. My life is lacking without your touch, darling Mallory. And I may well go mad if I don’t kiss you very soon.”
She smiled sweetly and beckoned him to her with her finger.
He walked purposefully around the table, tapping a finger along the edge as he went, drawing out the exquisite anticipation. When he’d risen that morning and braced himself for the journey into the city, he’d had no idea his life was about to fall into alignment, that all his direst wishes were about to come true.
He pulled her to her feet, then leaned down until their lips fell into each other.
“Like magnets,” she murmured aga
inst his lips.
“Exactly.”
The second kiss was less tame. They ended up pressed against the wall again.
After he caught his breath, he leaned his forehead against hers and looked into her eyes. “Of course, if I turn out to be a true ass hat, if you find you don’t care for me as much as you have in these dreams of yours, I will understand. At any time, you can simply tell me to…kiss your arse…and I will at least attempt to let you go.”
“I have a better idea,” she said and pointed to her mouth. “Why don’t you kiss this instead?”
EPILOGUE
Bennett threw an anniversary party for Pemberly and her husband, Jordan, at Harmony Lodge the following December. The weather was fine with no need for snow plows. No sleighs or helicopters filled the parking lot, and the causeway was clear. The tables were graced with simple, tasteful arrangements created by London. The food was sublime. And for dessert, the young couple ate stale, slightly frozen wedding cake that had, once upon a time, sat eight feet in the air. The rest of the guests were served the fresh stuff.
Well, all but two.
Bennett and Mallory St. John enjoyed a layer of slightly frozen wedding cake of their own. In the competition to eat the most of it, the wife won, but only because she was four months pregnant and had been dreaming of that very layer of cake for all of those four months.
“I promise you,” Bennett told Mallory, “you may have more cake in March, darling.”
“What?” She looked positively horrified. “I have to wait three months to have cake again? You’re already putting me on a diet?”
Bennett laughed. “No, silly.” He kissed her on the tip of her nose. “We will eat the top layer of our own wedding cake then.”
She looked a little disappointed. “Ours was much smaller.”
Bennett laughed again, knowing Mal didn’t care about the size. It was only her appetite talking. Or maybe their son’s appetite.
Pem’s head came between them, just as he leaned over to kiss Mal’s neck. “Oops. Sorry.” She laughed. “First of all, I’m to tell you that London would like her own English gentleman when you get around to thinking about someone other than yourselves —her words, not mine. And I was wondering if you two ever figured out what happened to that old man, the one who was here on the island with you during my wedding reception.” She placed a photo album on the table between the plates and flipped it open. “The photographer found these in his digital files last week and sent them on to me. I can’t find a picture of an old man in a livery costume.”
Bennett scanned through the small collection, pleased to see proof of one of the most memorable nights of his life. When they weren’t looking, Ferguson must have made free with the photographer’s equipment as he had with the harp. There were pictures of Mallory and himself standing before the grand fireplace, dancing along the line of arched windows, and feeding each other cake from the partially dissembled cake. If memory served, however, the old man had disappeared from the island before they’d eaten the cake.
He looked sharply at Mallory. She seemed to be realizing the same detail. Her eyes were round and alarmed. “Who?” She swallowed her latest bite of cake. “Who took this picture?”
Bennett laughed, knowing his answer was going to thrill her.
“I think old Ferguson must have been…a ghost.”
THE END
Excerpt from Christmas Kiss
The enemy, he thought. Remember, she is the enemy.
But still, his heart tripped. Tripped again. A deep breath in, then out. It made little difference. He could not hold another thought in his head. His only purpose now, was to kiss her.
And what harm would a kiss cause?
He could think of nothing.
“Fine. I confess,” she whispered. “I'd rather have a kiss for my reward. Okay? Are you happy now?”
Was he happy? He was in hell. And her speaking aloud of the kiss he was determined to take? It should sober him. He should turn and put space between them. He should walk about in the snow outside, perhaps with his feet bare, to remember his purpose. And still, he advanced.
She hid her shaking hands behind her back and waited. When the toes of his stockinged feet mingled with hers, he leaned down, breathing her in. He measured the moment, tucking each rise of her chest into his memory, to relive later.
How sad, that it would all be relegated to memory.
With his mouth an inch from hers, he murmured, “There was no date on the letter lass. I win. I claim my prize.”
Their lips brushed past, then returned, hers pressing forward as much as his. But he wanted to ensure she would remember it, this one and only kiss between them. He teased, sipped the taste of her, his lips a whisper against her own, then he pressed in again, renewing the heat they'd begun with, stealing her breath away.
Then he stepped back and did the only thing that would ensure it would never happen again...
Click here to purchase CHRISTMAS KISS
(Another Christmas story involving a certain character named Ferguson)
TABLE OF CONTENTS
ALSO BY L.L. Muir
DEDICATION
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EPILOGUE
Excerpt from Christmas Kiss
TABLE OF CONTENTS
About the Author
About the Author
L.L. Muir lives in the shadows of the Rocky Mountains with a charming husband who makes her laugh, but does not make her do pans. Like most authors, she is constantly searching for, or borrowing pens. The best ideas always begin on a napkin.
If you like her books, please consider leaving a review. You can reach her through her website— www.llmuir.weebly.com , or on Facebook at L.L. Muir.
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