“Ooh. Sounds painful.”
“Probably not as painful as eating an underwire.” Gid shot a glance in Charlie’s direction. The dog ducked his head at the mention of it. “How was your day?”
“Good. No emergencies unless you count Nina Hoover changing the flower choice for her bridesmaids again.”
“That makes, what, the third time?”
“Fifth, but who’s counting.” Mia chuckled but soon afterward was nibbling her bottom lip.
This time, Gid couldn’t resist commenting, “Something’s on your mind.”
She nodded.
“Something important, I take it.”
She nodded again before adding, “But it can wait till after dinner. We can talk over dessert.”
Was she blushing?
Intrigued, he followed her to the kitchen. The table was set, plates and cutlery perfectly arranged. Blue hydrangea interspersed with pink roses spilled from a squat vase in the center of the table. He knew she had arranged them herself and, as always, marveled at her skill. She experienced so much ugliness in her life, yet she was capable of creating beauty. A bottle of wine, their favorite brand, was open and breathing near the bouquet. She’d thought of everything, which made him more curious than ever about whatever it was she wanted to discuss over dessert.
To distract himself from dwelling on it, he asked, “Can I do anything to help?”
“Sure. You can pour the wine.”
He completed the task while she puttered at the stove. The scent of seasoned beef had his mouth watering. Beside her, Charlie rose on his hind legs as if drawn upward by the aroma. She shooed him away, but he retreated only as far as the table, where he staked out the real estate beneath it. Obviously, he was hoping something edible would wind up on the floor. Despite Gid’s professional position against feeding pets table scraps, he couldn’t help feeling sorry for the dog.
The skirt steak was perfectly seasoned and broiled to medium rare. She’d sliced it into thin ribbons, which were arranged on a bed of mixed greens drizzled with a tangy vinaigrette. She’d also made a cauliflower puree whose texture was so smooth it felt like silk on his tongue.
“You’ve outdone yourself,” he remarked.
Mia had never prepared a meal like this for him. The open cookbooks on the countertop and the kitchen’s overall disarray attested to the effort that had gone into this one.
“Thank you.” She pushed around the greens and nibbled a bite before saying, “How’s the packing going at your house?”
“It’s going. You don’t realize how much junk you’ve accumulated until you have to box it all up. I’ve got a couple of loads ready for Goodwill, and the garbage man’s back is liable to be bothering him after he stops at my house on his rounds this week.”
She cleared her throat. “And the house hunting? How’s that going?”
“So-so.” He waved his hand. “I’ve looked at a couple of places. One’s in town not far from Gabby’s studio. The other one is about five miles farther outside town than Marney’s McMansion.” He shrugged. “Both of them need a lot of work.”
“So you want something that’s move-in ready?” Mia speared a piece of meat with her fork, but instead of putting it in her mouth, she pushed it and more greens around her plate.
“Yeah. Small projects are fine, but I don’t feel like playing subcontractor for months on end this time around.”
Gid had put in a lot of work on the house he’d been living in, renovating nearly every room from floorboards to rafters by the time he was done. Mia had joined in on occasion, helping to sand down cabinets and paint trim. She’d even suggested the wall colors and had helped him pick out his couch. Even so, the house had never felt like home.
Mia cleared her throat. “I might know of a place.”
“In Chandler’s Cove?” That came as a surprise since his agent seemed to have run out of available listings that fit both Gid’s criteria and his price range. “Where?”
“It’s in a nice neighborhood on a quiet street. It’s not very large.”
“I don’t need a lot of room. Bigger isn’t always better. What’s the yard like?”
“Very nice. The back is fenced.” She smiled. “And the flowerbeds are gorgeous.”
“Oh. That’s not good.”
She blinked in alarm before sputtering, “Wh-why?”
“I don’t want to be responsible for killing plants. You know my thumb is black.”
“Oh.” Some of the tension left her shoulders. “Well, there’s no need to worry. I’ll tend them.”
“Thanks, but I can’t ask you to take care of my yard and yours.” In the house he’d just sold, Gid had refused her offer to put in more than a few shrubs and some low-maintenance day lilies for the same reason. She was a perfectionist who wouldn’t allow plants to languish from neglect.
She nibbled her bottom lip, her gaze glued to her plate. Had she eaten anything, he wondered? “It won’t be a problem, Gid.” She glanced up then. The smile she sent him wobbled a little before turning steady. “You see, the house I’m talking about is mine.”
“You want—”
“I want you to move in with me.” She exhaled sharply, but her smile was wide and sincere.
Gid grinned in return. It wasn’t marriage, but it was a huge step for Mia.
“On one condition?”
“And that is?”
“I get the left side of the bed.”
Chapter Eight
With only two days to go before Gid closed on his house, his move to Mia’s place was well under way. They’d spent the evenings of the past few weeks packing up his belongings and taking them over to Mia’s a few boxes at a time, unpacking as they went.
She’d discovered it wasn’t hard to make room for him in her home, especially since other than a few key pieces of furniture, he’d sold off or donated much of his. Her sanctuary didn’t feel invaded so much as fortified with him there.
She was boxing up his home office when she spied the email. She wasn’t trying to snoop but he’d left his laptop on and the file was open. The subject line read: An offer too good to refuse. She recognized the sender as the man who had offered Gid the job in California.
The note read:
I know you’ve said no several times now, but I speak on behalf of the department of veterinary medicine when I say we are hoping you will reconsider when you learn about the most recent development. A wealthy alumna recently died and has bequeathed the university nearly thirty million dollars to be used for research along with endowing a position. That position would be yours. Better still, you would be able to hire a full-time assistant. We look forward to hearing from you.
-- Norman Fleisher
Mia wilted onto the chair behind the desk. Gid’s dream job had just gotten, well, dreamier. How could she possibly compete with this? How could he possibly turn it down? The old panic bubbled up inside along with a voice telling her she wasn’t worthy of his love, and that the love she felt for him, as well as the home they were making together, weren’t enough to make him stay with her for keeps. The voice grew louder, more insistent. It urged her to cut and run. For a moment, she almost listened to it, just as she had at Christmas. In the end, she decided to do what Gabby and Marney had done and trust her heart. Not only was she going to trust her heart. She was going to trust Gid.
“My Jeep is almost full,” he said as he entered the office. “I’ve got room for maybe a box or two. Do you have anything ready?”
“No. Sorry. I got…distracted.”
“What’s wrong?”
She smiled, touched by the concern she saw in his eyes. This was Gid, always putting her first. It was time to return the favor. That’s what love was about. Give and take. Unless one counted her invitation for him to move in, he’d done all of the giving so far. And, if she were being honest with herself, the only reason Gid had sold his home was because he’d planned to move after she’d turned down his proposal and broken off their relationship.
“Nothing is wrong. Actually, you might say something is right.”
“Okaaaay,” he said slowly and settled one hip on the edge of the desk. “And what might that be?”
“Well, you know I love you.”
“I do, but I’ll never get tired of hearing you say it.” He grinned and leaned down to kiss her.
She felt a little dizzy afterward, but more determined than ever. “And you know I’m happy we’re going to be living together.”
“I’m happy about that, too. I like seeing you last thing at night and the first thing in the morning.”
“Me, too.” She inhaled. “But we’re going to be doing that in California.”
He blinked. The grin of a moment ago was gone. “What? What are you talking about?”
She motioned to the laptop. “I wasn’t prying, honest, but it was open, and I read it. This is an opportunity of a lifetime, Gid. I can’t let you pass it up. I won’t.”
She’d expected him to burst into a smile, maybe whoop with joy. He studied her in silence instead.
“Would you say something?” she pleaded when she couldn’t stand it any longer.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“How about, yes? And maybe that you’re happy?”
“I am happy, Mia.” He rose, pulled her to her feet. “I’m happy right here in Chandler’s Cove, with you.”
“But, the job—”
He bracketed her face in his hands. “Is incredible. But this is home.”
Her heart tripped. “You were going to take it before,” she pointed out.
“Only because I couldn’t stand living in Chandler’s Cove without you.”
“Gid, it’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”
But he shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. You are the opportunity of a lifetime, Mia. You’re what I want, and this is where I want to live, close to both of our families.”
She loved him all the more for understanding that Gabby, Jenny and Marney were her kin, not made so by blood but by choice. Still she needed to make it clear that sacrifices went both ways.
“If you ever change your mind, I’ll support you. I’ll go wherever you go. You’re my home.”
“Mia.”
His kiss was gentle, even as the arms encircling her tightened.
“You’re my home, too,” he said when it ended.
Epilogue
They got married in Mia’s back yard on a warm fall day. As expected, Mia’s friends acted as her bridesmaids. Charlie, meanwhile, got tapped as ring bearer. Right on cue, carrying a little satin pillow in his mouth, he dashed up the white runner to the arbor that Loretta had helped Mia decorate with bittersweet vine, globe thistles, and rust-colored nasturtium.
The guests laughed when the dog dropped the pillow at Gid’s feet and then barked.
A moment later, Mia was handing her bouquet of autumn orchids to Jenny so that Gid could slip the gold band on her finger.
“With power vested in me by the State of Illinois, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the minister said. “You may kiss your—”
Before he got to bride, Gid had hauled her into his arms and kissed her with a flourish that had their guests clapping.
Afterward, he whispered, “This is for keeps, Mia. I’ll never leave you. I’ll never stop loving you.”
He didn’t need to say it. She already knew.
About the Author
Jackie Braun is a three-time RITA finalist, a four-time National Readers’ Choice Award finalist, and a past winner of the Rising Star Award in traditional romantic fiction. She has written more than thirty books that have been translated into more than two dozen languages and sold in countries around the globe. She lives in Michigan with her husband, two sons, and the little dog they adopted from a shelter while she was writing this story.
Love in the Shadows
Barbara Wallace
To Peter – my real-life hero who never stops encouraging me.
And to Shirley, Susan and Jackie. Working with these three talented women forced me to bring my A-game to the table. Being included in this anthology was an honor.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 by Barbara Wallace. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
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Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.
Edited by Shannon Godwin and Libby Murphy
Cover design by Libby Murphy
Ebook ISBN 978-1-62266-217-3
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition October 2013
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Phantom of the Opera
Chapter One
“You could at least look guilty.”
Jenny Travolini scowled her best glare, the one that usually made even the wisest of high school asses think twice. Big brown eyes and a tongue-lolling grin looked back.
No remorse whatsoever.
“Let’s hope your owner has a bigger conscience.”
Fat chance, seeing how Nicholas Bonaparte left his dog in the care of strangers for nearly a year. Nine months since the mysterious “Mr. B.” dropped Charlie into the lap of her friend Gabby Wilson without a word. Until yesterday, when an email announced his return. What kind of man adopted a pet only to ignore its existence?
A man who didn’t care, that’s who. With that thought, Jenny’s annoyance with the Jack Russell softened. “You were just looking for love, weren’t you fella?” Who was she to lay blame for him trying to find comfort any way he could? After all, people in glass houses…
Squatting, she gave the dog a scratch behind the ears. “Unfortunately, now it’s time to face the consequences.”
Because, she thought ruefully, there were always consequences. Warm beds turned cold, promises made in the dark proved empty, in the harsh light of day. Charlie nudged her hand seeking more attention. The little pooch didn’t realize his good fortune. Forgetting his mistakes as quickly as he made them, a fresh start for him was a simple as taking a nap. No need to pull up stakes and reinvent himself in order to face his reflection every morning.
Just then the door opened, and she found herself staring at a man whose scowl could best hers.
“You’ve come back,” he said, looking down on her and Charlie. His unenthusiastic reception didn’t faze the dog, who greeted him like old friend, barking and tugging on his leash.
“And you,” he said, turning his attention to Jenny, “are not Ms. Wilson.”
Jenny pushed aside the upwelling of insecurity his tone provoked. Rising, she wiped her palms on the front of her khaki skirt before extending her hand. “I’m Jenny Travolini,” she replied. “I volunteered to watch Charlie while Gabby settled in after her honeymoon.” No need mentioning the two previous volunteers were also settling in following their weddings. Somehow she doubted the man cared about the chain of love and marriage that brought Charlie to her doorstep. “Is Mr. Bonaparte available? I’d like to speak with him.”
“Mr. Bonaparte is a very busy man. He doesn’t meet with anyone without an appointment.”
How much did she want to bet those appointments weren’t so easy to get? “I promise this will only take a few minutes.”
She didn’t think it possible, but the man’s scowl grew more humorless. “As I said, Mr. Bonaparte does not meet with unscheduled visitors. I’ll let him know you brought St. Clair Osgood Charles back.” He reached for the leash.
Jenny moved the leash out of his reach. She had a bad feeling that if she relinquished custody, she’d never get an appointment to see the man, and since Nicholas Bonaparte’s carelessness was going to cost her a small fortune—at least it was a fortune to her—she wasn’t backing down without trying. “I am a scheduled visitor, aren’t I? Mr. Bonaparte did ask me to bring Charlie back.” Okay, technically, he asked Gabby, and he didn’t specify a date and time, but surely her arrival wasn’t completely unexpected.
A few bark-filled beats passed. Long enough for the hair to start rising on the back of her neck. Still, she held her ground. She was, after all, a high school teacher. One, if her students were to be believed, capable of being a humorless bitch. Surely she could handle a Mexican standoff.
To her vast relief, the butler blinked first. “Very well, I’ll see if he can squeeze you in. You can wait in the foyer.” He punctuated the words with a sigh, as though to say she hadn’t won so much as he was doing her a favor.
Either way, Jenny was inside the Bonaparte mansion.
The “foyer” as the butler called it, was a space the size of Jenny’s living room. As she surveyed the room’s looming collection of marble sculptures and antiques, Jenny couldn’t help but think of winter. Even the air felt colder. Goose bumps trailed up her sweater-covered arms. Meanwhile, Charlie was desperate to get free. “Being home doesn’t mean you’re off the hook,” she said, as she unhooked his leash. “Someone still has to pay for your indiscretion.” She swore Charlie grinned at her right before digging at the thick maroon carpet, the room’s lone contribution to color.
Being surrounded by opulence made her feel self-conscious, so while Charlie waged his war on the carpet, she made her way to a large gilt mirror that hung on the sidewall. For the first time since moving to Chandler’s Cove, she regretted her newly adapted disinterest in her appearance. Back in Chicago she wouldn’t be caught dead without full makeup. Now, her straight blond hair hung lifelessly around her face and her makeup, if you could call the little concealer and blush she wore that, had long worn off.
The Billionaire's Matchmaker: An Indulgence Anthology (Entangled Indulgence) Page 17