Someone squealed and Demi surfaced from her thoughts. She was so busy thinking about the future, she didn’t notice Chase was down on bended knee. He took her left hand in his and held it tight. Demi was shaking so hard her teeth were chattering, but she forced her lips to move. “Chase, what are you doing?” she whispered, noticing the wide-eyed expressions on the faces of their family and friends. “Everyone’s watching us.”
“I know. That’s why they’re here. To witness one of the greatest moments of my life.”
Demi looked down, saw the velvet box in his hand and gasped. Estelle did, too.
It was the most beautiful ring Demi had ever seen. The brilliant, oval-cut diamond was encircled by a row of pink sapphires that sparkled and twinkled under the bright lights. Demi tried to compose herself, but she was a blabbering, slobbering mess in Versace, who couldn’t speak in sentences.
“I knew you were the woman for me when you rejected Jonas and said I was the sexier twin.” Inclining his head, he popped his collar, then leveled a hand over the front of his shirt. “Of course, I’ve known that for years, but hearing it from you was an awesome feeling.”
Jonas spread his arms at his sides. “Oh, so Demi, it’s like that? For real?”
“Boy, hush,” Althea hissed, pressing a finger to her lips. “My future-son-in-law is about to propose to my beautiful daughter, so sit down and let Chase do his thing.”
Everyone laughed, including Jonas, and Mr. Crawford gave his son a one-armed hug.
Demi fanned her face. She tried to slow her breathing, but her pulse sped up.
“Meeting you in Ibiza on my birthday was the greatest gift I’ve ever received, and I want you and the babies to have my last name. I want us to be a family.”
Demi had no words, feared if she spoke, she’d trip over her tongue. Chase was a gentle, quiet soul, who loved her unconditionally, and she couldn’t have asked for a better boyfriend. They were a hundred percent committed to each other, and it didn’t matter what anyone else thought; they were soulmates and their love would stand the test of time.
“I know we agreed to take things slow, but you’re my better half, the woman God created specifically for me, and I want you to be my lawfully wedded wife.” Chase squeezed her hand. “Demi, will you marry me and become Mrs. Chase Crawford?”
Searching her heart, she racked her brain for the right words. Demi wanted Chase to know everything she was thinking and feeling inside, but when she parted her lips, the truth got stuck in her throat and her voice stalled.
“Girl,” Shante drawled, sucking her teeth. “You better hurry up and say yes or I will. Chase is a good man, and if you’re not ready to marry him, I’ll gladly switch places with you!”
Blocking out the noises in the room, Demi locked eyes with Chase and draped an arm around his neck, pulling him close. “Of course I’ll marry you,” she whispered against his mouth, stroking the back of his head. “I love you with all my heart, and I always will.”
The cheers and applause were deafening.
“Welcome to the family, Demi,” Vernon said, puffing on his cigar. “I’ve never seen Chase this happy and it does my heart good to know that my son found the woman of his dreams.”
Nodding, Estelle wore an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about the way I acted in the past, but I want you to know I’m overjoyed about the twins, and I’m going to be a great grandmother. I promise.”
Demi’s jaw dropped and she pinched her forearm to prove she wasn’t dreaming. “Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Crawford. We appreciate your support.”
“Now, for the moment you’ve all been waiting for.” Chase took the engagement ring out of the box and slid it onto Demi’s ring finger. For several seconds, Demi admired the diamond sparkler. It was perfect, just like her dreamy fiancé.
“Do you like it?” Chase asked, caressing her shoulders. “Geneviève helped me pick it out, and said you would.”
“Baby, I love it. And I love you, too.”
“Now you have a pink engagement ring to match your sports car. Pretty cool, huh?”
“You know what’s cool?” she asked, brushing her lips tenderly against his mouth. “Being with you. I’m excited to create more wonderful memories with you, and I can’t wait for our next trip to Ibiza. I’m going to make all your yacht fantasies come true.”
Chase shot to his feet. “Then we’re leaving for Ibiza tonight!”
They kissed and everyone in the room faded to the background, ceasing to exist. His lips were warm, soft and flavored with mint. His tongue explored her mouth and his hands caressed her skin, arousing her body. It was the happiest moment of Demi’s life and, as long as she lived, she’d never forget Chase’s romantic proposal in front of their family and friends. As they kissed and cuddled in each other’s arms, Demi cried tears of joy.
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from Love in New York by Shirley Hailstock.
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Love in New York
by Shirley Hailstock
Chapter 1
Starting over was harder than Susan Dewhurst had expected it to be. After two years in Europe, returning to her home country should have been a snap.
But it wasn’t.
Pushing aside the sheer curtains of her Manhattan bedroom, she took in the breathtaking skyline of the city that never sleeps. Susan wasn’t a native New Yorker. She wasn’t even Susan Dewhurst. Until a couple of years ago, she’d been Marcia Atherton, who had been content running her own art-and-photo-framing business. But that had all changed on a warm summer evening, when the lottery results had been displayed on the flat-screen television in her small apartment above her store.
Propelled from her seat, she’d danced around the living room, shouting at the top of her lungs, as if there was no one in the building who’d be disturbed. She’d felt like a kid who was allowing the thrill of getting her desired Christmas present to burst forward.
She was a millionaire. Even after the government had taken its tax cut, she’d walked away with over fifteen million dollars. Her life was set, right?
Wrong.
Susan panned the skyline. From the sixteenth floor, she was too high to hear the street noise. A smile tugged at her lips, even though she remembered the reason she was in Manhattan and not in Mountainview, Montana, where she’d once had a business. Susan wouldn’t say she had been happily poor. That would be an oxymoron.
A few years ago she’d had a struggling framing company. The economy had taken a lot of her business, but she had been covering the bills by constantly changing the due dates and using creative methods she hadn’t learned in her finance classes, back in college. Then the fire had happened. That was the end. Even after the insurance settlement, she couldn’t rebuild.
But life, or rather the lottery drawing, had saved her from bankruptcy. On the downside, all of that money had forced her to flee the country. She was back now and living in a city where she could be both rich and anonymous.
* * *
The five Thorn brothers stood next to each other, according to age, watching the white water churn behind the huge cruise ship heading out of New York Harbor. Their parents could no longer be seen on board, yet the brothers remained at the guardrail. André wondered what the others were thinking. Their parents were the anchors of the family, and they were sailing out of sight.
“What now?” David asked.
“It’s all up to us,” André replied. His words were braver than he felt. Doubt clenched his heart. Was he good enough to manage it alone? He had the flagship store. The entire reputation of the House of Thorn rested with him. And he had sole responsibility. In a day or two the others would leave and return to their stores. Their parents had always been there for advice, but they were officially on vacation, and he now held the keys to the largest and most successful store of the House of Thorn.
Blake clamped a hand on André’s shoulder.
“We can handle it,” David said. “We have to.”
André looked left and right from his place at the center of the group. His two cousins, whom they thought of as brothers, stood to his left. Carter and Christian, who were twins, had come to live with them after their parents had died, and they were now going to head stores in Montana and Washington, DC. David and Blake, André’s brothers, had already experienced the growing pains the Logan Beach and San Francisco stores required. André didn’t know what his challenges would be, but he planned to be vigilant about keeping track of any change in the store’s status. He didn’t want his parents returning in a year to find the anchor store in less stellar condition than it was when they’d left.
“You’re not alone,” Rose said from behind them. The five men turned, with all eyes trained on David’s wife. David moved to her and slipped his arm around her waist.
“You need a plan,” Ellie Thorn, Blake’s wife, said. Blake mimicked David’s action by slipping his arms around Ellie and kissing her on the temple.
“And you’ve got us,” Carter said.
André raised one eyebrow. “I’m not sure that’s a positive thing.”
“And you two are going to have your hands full with your own stores,” David said.
“We’ve always had our parents behind us, there to reply to or discuss any issues that came up. Now we’re on our own.”
“It’s sink-or-swim time,” David said.
“You should talk,” André replied. “You have Rose to back you up.”
“Yep,” he agreed. “She’s a wonder.”
David’s wife wasn’t just a wonder; she was running the Logan Beach store, while David managed a community law practice. André wished he was lucky enough to find someone who could love him and be a partner in the business. But most of the women he met saw his bank account before they saw him.
Turning from the pier, André took in the huge buildings that defined New York. Despite his brother’s comments, he knew he was in this alone. Sure, he had their support, but they were scattered about the country, managing their own businesses and relationships. The twins were the youngest, just out of college, and likely to need the most help. And even though the four other Thorn brothers would be there for André in case of any emergencies, the flagship store was his responsibility, and he had to make sure it still maintained its high status when his parents returned to this port, a year from now.
* * *
André was late and it was Blake’s fault. The two had been talking, and André had lost track of time. After checking his watch, André took the stairs two by two. The new-employee orientation was on the mezzanine level, and he was late. The store felt different now that his parents were no longer available for impromptu discussions on store issues.
He was alone.
The weight of the store was on his shoulders. André shrugged it off as he slowly opened the door and slipped inside. He stood against the back wall. Emily Sheffield, the human-resources director, nodded to him without missing a word of her practiced speech.
“Let me introduce our store president,” Emily said a moment later.
André only needed to say hello, welcome them to the store, ask for questions—of which there were rarely any—and then leave to return to his office.
Emily called his name and extended her arm toward him, as if he was a rock star and she was the mistress of ceremony.
He came forward, to a smattering of applause, and gave his customary welcome message. Before he’d finished his first sentence, he saw her. He had been sure the two of them would never meet again, so what was she doing at the new-employee orientation meeting?
André hoped his presentation was as flawless as Emily’s when it came to dealing with distractions during the session. Their routine was that André would come into the room just as the meeting started. André was taken by surprise when he saw the woman who’d upended a tray of champagne glasses and covered him with the bubbly wine at a wedding a few months ago.
“Any questions?” he asked. His glance went to Emily. She was an efficient employee, and after conducting these meetings once a month for the last ten years, she’d already answered almost everything new employees would need to know.
Today was no different. There were no hands in the air. André made eye contact with the woman from the wedding. She looked directly at him, but he detected no questioning glance in her eyes. He wondered what department she was in.
“Then welcome to the House of Thorn.” After he had finished his standard address, he would usually exit the room. There was always something pressing in the office that needed his attention. Taking another moment, he looked around. Emily’s raised eyebrow told him she noticed that his actions were different from usual.
The two worked like a team. Emily’s expression told him he’d gone off the script. He was ad-libbing, and she did not approve.
André smiled and, with a second glance at the woman, left the room. What was she doing here? Why would she need a job? She’d been wearing a Christian Siriano gown at the wedding. The classic royal blue sequined gown had showed off every curve of her body. André had noticed, and not just because he was in retail. His hands had come out when she had upended the tray, in hopes of preventing the spillage, but the worst of the champagne had soaked into his tuxedo.
The dress could have been borrowed, he thought, or even rented. After all, she hadn’t offered to pay for the cleaning of the tux, as people usually did when they stained something. His parents had instilled that in him during one of his many childhood antics. Still, the way she had carried herself spoke of someone used to having a lot of money. He didn’t mean that she seemed conceited or entitled, just that there was a certain aura to women like her. Then his mind came back to the orientation. If she was what he’d initially thought her to be, why would she need a job?
André was still thinking of it when he entered his office. His desk was littered with reports, letters and catalogues that required his attention. After sitting down, he accessed his personnel file and looked up employees who’d been hired within the last month. Thankfully, photos were a requirement on personnel files. He found her photo quickly and read the name under it. Susan Dewhurst worked in the furniture department and had been employed for three weeks.
André sighed. He hadn’t thought of her since the incident at the wedding, yet in the conference room, he’d
singled her out. He knew what that meant. Even though she had the aura of class and privilege, that didn’t mean it was true. She could be just another gold digger out for a meal ticket. His mouth twisted unconsciously. Why else would someone who wore a gown that cost more than some people’s annual salaries take a job in the furniture department?
Sitting back in his chair, André laced his fingers. He stared at the computer screen, but his mind saw Susan Dewhurst walking toward him in a blue sequined Christian Siriano. He knew he should leave it alone, but he wasn’t that kind of man. He needed to know what her story was. But no matter how well he remembered the shape of her body in that gown, he’d keep an emotional distance. He could do that. Hadn’t he been doing it since his former fiancée, Gail Collins, had ripped the rose-colored glasses from his face and showed him the real reason she wanted to be the next Mrs. Thorn?
* * *
He had recognized her, Susan thought as the meeting broke up and people began angling toward the exit doors. The conference room was tucked behind one of the departments. It had huge windows that looked out on Fifth Avenue, but the inside doors were concealed. Susan hung back from the group, not really needing to speak to anyone. She didn’t want to find André Thorn on the outside. He was known for being friendly, for knowing his employees, and for remembering names and faces.
He’d looked directly into her face. And she had no doubt that he knew who she was. Though, maybe not her name. They hadn’t gotten as far as exchanging names, although everyone at the wedding had been aware of the young playboy heir to the famous department stores. That he remembered with vivid clarity how she’d spilled champagne all over his suit, then escaped the wedding as if fearing a fire, was in no doubt.
Southern Seduction ; Pleasure in His Arms Page 35