Millionaires' Destinies

by Sherryl Woods

  “Don’t you dare start in on me, too. I got enough of this from my nephews last night. It’s not as if there’s another option,” Destiny said, giving Beth’s hand a squeeze. She looked at her nephew. “I’ve known for months now that our lives were going to be forever intertwined. I think Mack finally understands the significance of that, too, don’t you, darling?”

  Mack gave her one of his irrepressible grins. “Stop trying to propose for me, Destiny. I’ll handle that part myself, and I won’t be doing it with you lying here on a hospital bed listening to every word.”

  Beth’s head snapped around to stare at him. “What is she talking about?”

  “We’ll discuss it a little later,” he said. “Let’s get Tony well again, okay?”

  “Some things are too important to wait,” Destiny scolded.

  Mack gave her an impatient look, seemed to reach some conclusion, then reached in his pocket. “I suppose I might as well get on with this,” he told Beth, looking vaguely apologetic. “She’s not going into that operating room until she sees this on your finger.”

  Beth stared at him, not comprehending the sudden turn the conversation had taken. Or maybe she was just a little terrified that she understood it too well and wasn’t ready to hear it.

  “Mack, what’s going on?” she asked warily.

  He looked into her eyes, holding her gaze until the room, Destiny, everything else seemed to fade into the background. It was as if they were completely alone.

  “Finding out that we could lose Tony made me realize that life is far too short to waste a single minute on what-ifs,” Mack told her quietly. “We don’t know what’s going to happen next year, next month or even tomorrow.”

  Beth’s heart began to pound erratically. Surely he wasn’t really going to do this, not here, not now. A part of her wanted him to get on with it so badly it terrified her. Another part was screaming that she wasn’t ready.

  “I do know that I want you at my side whatever happens. I love you, Beth. And I always will,” Mack said, then waited.

  “Well?” Destiny prodded, giving Beth an unsubtle poke. “He’s waiting, Beth. Answer the man.”

  Beth’s mouth gaped, her gaze never leaving Mack’s face. “You’re asking me to marry you?”

  Destiny chuckled. “Maybe I’m biased, but I, for one, thought he was pretty clear about that. Don’t make him ask twice. He could get cold feet.”

  “Not a chance,” Mack said. “Not when it’s this important. I’ll ask as often as I have to.”

  Beth studied Mack intently and saw the certainty in his eyes. Instantly her heart was filled with the same conviction. If he could take this leap of faith, then she certainly could. “Yes,” she whispered, choking back tears of joy. She shouldn’t feel this happy when so much about this day was filled with uncertainty. “Yes.”

  “Put the ring on her finger, Mack,” Destiny coached.

  He gave her an irritated look. “I think I can take it from here. I got her to say yes, didn’t I?”

  “But time’s awasting,” Destiny retorted. “They’re about to wheel me out of here, and I want this deal closed before I leave.”

  Mack took Beth’s hand in his, then slid the simple diamond on her finger. “Now it’s official, Doc.”

  Beth stared at the ring, then met his gaze. “You never back out of a deal, do you?”

  “Never,” he said solemnly. “Carltons are men of integrity and honor.”

  Beth beamed at him. “I think I knew that all along.”

  “Maybe not all along,” Mack reminded her. “But you got the message when it counted.” He winked at her. “I think I’ll go give Tony the good news before he goes into the operating room. I promised him if you said yes, he could be best man at our wedding.”

  “You told him about this?” Beth asked incredulously.

  “Hey, Destiny might have kicked off this relationship, but Tony was a critical player. He deserved to know it was all paying off.”

  “You could have told him after surgery,” Beth reminded him quietly.

  Mack nodded, his expression suddenly sad. “I know, but just in case…”

  Beth went to him. “No doubts, Mack. Tony’s a fighter. He’ll dance at our wedding. I’m counting on it.”

  Slowly Mack’s expression brightened. “Okay, Doc. That’s good enough for me.”

  It was an eternity before Beth and Peyton finally emerged and pronounced the bone marrow transplant complete. Until then Mack, his brothers and Melanie huddled in the waiting room with Maria Vitale, passing the time with lousy coffee and prayers.

  “They’re both okay?” Mack asked, his gaze locked with Beth’s. If there had been any unexpected twists, he would see it at once in her eyes, but they were clear and filled with an optimistic glint.

  “Perfect,” she assured him.

  “How long will it be before we know if it was a success and that Tony’s out of the woods?” he asked her.

  “A while,” she confessed. “But there’s every reason for optimism.”

  Mack thought about his promise to Tony that he could be best man at their wedding. He pulled Beth aside and regarded her closely. “Do we need to set a wedding date soon?”

  She studied him with surprise. “Are you anxious to get married for some reason?”

  “You know what I’m asking, Beth.”

  “And I’ve told you, we have every reason to be optimistic. I’m not covering anything up, Mack. I swear it.”

  He nodded slowly and finally allowed himself to feel the first faint stirring of relief. He grinned then. “Maybe we shouldn’t put the wedding off, anyway.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’d hate to have you change your mind once the crisis is over.”

  “No chance of that,” she assured him. “If anything, I’m the one who ought to be worried.”

  Mack pulled her into his arms and held her tight. For the first time in his life, he genuinely felt complete. “Sweetheart, you have nothing to be worried about. I told you earlier that I’ve never reneged on a major deal in my life.”

  “The Carlton integrity,” she said.

  “That,” he agreed, then tilted her chin up until he could look directly into her eyes. “And the fact that this is the most important deal I ever closed.”

  A smile tugged at her lips. “Better than that defensive player you hired a couple of weeks ago?” she asked.

  He stared at her in shock. “You know about that?”

  “Hey, I read the sports pages.”

  Mack laughed. “Since when?”

  “Since I fell in love with this celebrity jock, whose name is in there nearly every day. I can’t have the entire world knowing more about you than I do.”

  “Never happen, darlin’. Never happen.”

  Epilogue

  It was the first Friday in October when Dr. Beth Browning married Mighty Mack Carlton before a crowd of dedicated doctors, somber scientists, raucous football players, loving family and still-stunned friends. Outside the church a throng of well-wishers had turned out, tipped off to the occasion by Pete Forsythe’s column. Naturally he’d learned all of the supposedly secret details, though for once Destiny claimed total innocence.

  Tony Vitale was the best man. His hair had grown back, his skin had a healthy glow and his smile was huge as he waited in front of the altar with Mack by his side.

  When Tony whispered something, Mack leaned down to listen, then his gaze shot to the back of the candlelit church where Beth was waiting. A smile spread across his face, as well.

  Beth heard the start of the organ music, but before she took her first step, she took a good, long look at her two guys, her heart in her throat. If Tony had a hopeful prognosis for a long and healthy life, it was thanks to Mack, as well as Destiny. This family she was marrying into was a remarkable one.

  Destiny sat beside Maria Vitale in the front of the church. The two had become fast friends since the transplant. Destiny was now dedicated to mothering both Maria and To
ny to ensure their lives were a bit easier.

  Richard and Ben stood next to Mack and Tony, looking handsome in their tuxes, though Ben had a slightly wary expression, as if he were all too aware that his days as a bachelor were likely to be short-lived now that Mack was about to be married.

  Only a brief ceremony stood between Beth and the future she’d never anticipated on that long-ago day in the hospital cafeteria when Mack Carlton had walked into her life. A ceremony and a honeymoon, she thought, her blood suddenly humming.

  The honeymoon had required a major concession on her part. Because neither of them had wanted to delay getting married until after the official football season ended in January, the honeymoon was built around the team’s upcoming road trip, a week in San Francisco, followed by a week in St. Louis. Beth had bought a book on the finer points of football and ten scientific journals to read during the games.

  The rest of the time she had other plans for Mack. It hardly mattered what city they were in. She didn’t intend to leave the hotel suite until an hour before game time.

  She met Mack’s gaze and held back a smug grin. Something told her if she played her cards right, they might even miss the kickoff.

  Treasured

  by

  Sherryl Woods

  Chapter One

  It had been one of those Friday-night gallery receptions that made Kathleen Dugan wonder if she’d been wrong not to take a job teaching art in the local school system. Maybe putting finger paints in the hands of five-year-old kids would be more rewarding than trying to introduce the bold, vibrant works of an amazingly talented young artist to people who preferred bland and insipid.

  Of course, it hadn’t helped that Boris Ostronovich spoke little English and took the temperamental-artist stereotype to new heights. He’d been sulking in a corner for the last two hours, a glass of vodka in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The cigarette had remained unlit only because Kathleen had threatened to close the show if he lit it up in direct defiance of fire codes, no-smoking policies and a whole list of personal objections.

  All in all, the evening had pretty much been a disaster. Kathleen was willing to take responsibility for that. She hadn’t gauged correctly just how important it was for the artist to mingle and make small talk. She’d thought Boris’s work would sell itself. She’d discovered, instead, that people on the fence about a purchase were inclined to pass when they hadn’t exchanged so much as a civil word with the artist. In another minute or two, when the few remaining guests had cleared out of her gallery, Kathleen was inclined to join Boris in a good, old-fashioned, well-deserved funk. She might even have a couple of burning shots of straight vodka, assuming there was any left by then.

  “Bad night, dear?”

  Kathleen turned to find Destiny Carlton regarding her with sympathy. Destiny was not only an artist herself, she was a regular at Kathleen’s gallery in historic Old Town Alexandria, Virginia. Kathleen had been trying to wheedle a few of Destiny’s more recent paintings from her to sell, but so far Destiny had resisted all of her overtures.

  Destiny considered herself a patron of the arts these days, not a painter. She said she merely dabbled on those increasingly rare occasions when she picked up a brush at all. She was adamant that she hadn’t done any work worthy of a showing since she’d closed her studio in the south of France over two decades ago.

  Despite her disappointment, Kathleen considered Destiny to be a good friend. She could always be counted on to attend a show, if not to buy. And her understanding of the art world and her contacts had proven invaluable time and again as Kathleen worked to get her galley established.

  “The worst,” Kathleen said, something she would never have admitted to anyone else.

  “Don’t be discouraged. It happens that way sometimes. Not everyone appreciates genius when they first see it.”

  Kathleen immediately brightened. “Then it isn’t just me? Boris’s work really is incredible?”

  “Of course,” Destiny said with convincing enthusiasm. “It’s just not to everyone’s taste. He’ll find his audience and do rather well, I suspect. In fact, I was speaking to the paper’s art critic before he left. I think he plans to write something quite positive. You’ll be inundated with sales by this time next week. At the first whiff of a major new discovery, collectors will jump on the bandwagon, including some of those who left here tonight without buying anything.”

  Kathleen sighed. “Thank you so much for saying that. I thought for a minute I’d completely lost my touch. Tonight was every gallery owner’s worst nightmare.”

  “Only a momentary blip,” Destiny assured her. She glanced toward Boris. “How is he taking it?”

  “Since he’s barely said two words all evening, even before the night was officially declared a disaster, it’s hard to tell,” Kathleen said. “Either he’s pining for his homeland or he had a lousy disposition even before the show. My guess is the latter. Until tonight I had no idea how important the artist’s charm could be.”

  Destiny gave her a consoling look. “In the end it won’t matter. In fact, the instant the critics declare Boris a true modern-art genius, all those people he put off tonight will brag to their friends about the night they met the sullen, eccentric artist.”

  Kathleen gave Destiny a warm hug. “Thank you so much for staying behind to tell me that.”

  “Actually, I lingered till the others had gone because I wanted a moment alone with you.”

  “Oh?”

  “What are your plans for Thanksgiving, Kathleen? Are you going to Providence to visit your family?”

  Kathleen frowned. She’d had a very tense conversation with her wealthy, socialite mother on that very topic earlier in the day, when she’d announced her intention to stay right here in Alexandria. She’d been reminded that all three current generations of Dugans gathered religiously for all major holidays. She’d been told that her absence was an affront to the family, a precursor to the breakdown of tradition. And on and on and on. It had been incredibly tedious and totally expected, which was why she’d put off making the call until this morning. Prudence Dugan was not put off easily, but Kathleen had held her ground for once.

  “Actually I’m staying in town,” she told Destiny. “I have a lot of work to catch up on. And I don’t really want to close the gallery for the holiday weekend. I think business could be brisk on Friday and Saturday.”

  Destiny beamed at her. “Then I would love it if you would spend Thanksgiving day with my family. We’ll all be at Ben’s farm. It’s lovely in Middleburg this time of year.”

  Kathleen regarded her friend suspiciously. While they had become rather well acquainted in recent years, this was the first time Destiny had sought to include her in a family gathering.

  “Won’t I be intruding?” she asked.

  “Absolutely not. It will be a very low-key dinner for family and a few close friends. And it will give you a chance to see my nephew’s paintings and give me a professional opinion.”

  Kathleen’s suspicions mounted. She knew for a fact that Destiny’s eye for art was every bit as good as her own. She also knew that Ben Carlton considered his painting to be little more than a hobby, something he loved to do. In fact, as far as she knew, he’d never sold his work. She suspected there was a good reason for that, that even he knew it wasn’t of the caliber needed to make a splash in the art world.

  Every article she’d ever read about the three Carlton men had said very little about the reclusive youngest brother. Ben stayed out of the spotlight, which shone on businessman and politician Richard Carlton and football great Mack Carlton. There were rumors of a tragic love affair that had sent Ben into hiding, but none of those rumors had ever been publicly confirmed. However, brooding was the adjective that was most often applied whenever his name was mentioned.

  “Is he thinking of selling his works?” Kathleen asked carefully, trying to figure out just what her friend was up to. Being first in line for a chance to show them would,
indeed, be a major coup. There was bound to be a lot of curiosity about the Carlton who chose to stay out of the public eye, whether his paintings were any good or not.

  “Heavens, no,” Destiny said, though there was a hint of dismay in her voice. “He’s very stubborn on that point, but I’d like to persuade him that a talent like his shouldn’t be hidden away in that drafty old barn of a studio out there.”

  “And you think I might be able to change his mind when you haven’t succeeded?” Kathleen asked, her skepticism plain. Destiny had lots of practice wheedling million-dollar donations to her pet charities. Surely she could persuade her own nephew that he was talented.

  “Perhaps. At the very least, you’ll give him another perspective. He thinks I’m totally biased.”

  Never able to resist the chance that she might discover an exciting new talent, Kathleen finally nodded. She assured herself it was because she wanted a glimpse of the work, not the mysterious man. “I’d love to come for Thanksgiving. Where and when?”

  Destiny beamed at her. “I’ll send over directions and the details first thing in the morning.” She headed for the door, looking oddly smug. “Oh, and wear that bright red silk tunic of yours, the one you had on at the Carlucci show. You looked stunning that night.”

  Destiny was gone before Kathleen could think of a response, but the comment had set off alarm bells. Everyone in certain social circles in the Washington Metropolitan region knew about Destiny’s matchmaking schemes. While her behind-the-scenes plots had never made their way into the engagement or wedding announcements for Richard or Mack, they were hot gossip among the well-connected. And everyone was waiting to see what she would do to see Ben take the walk down the aisle.

  Kathleen stared after her. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she whispered to Destiny’s retreating back. “I am not looking for a husband, especially not some wounded, artistic type.”