by Joss Wood
Speaking of, why didn’t she hear any chatter, why was the gallery so very silent?
Light flooded into the room and Sage blinked, her eyes needing a moment to refocus. Well, that was going to ruin the impact of the bioluminescence.
Sage immediately, instinctively, looked right to the spot where she first met Tyce and frowned at the massive blue abstract oil hanging on the wall. It held the outline of what looked like a woman’s back and bottom and to the right of where her head should be; she could clearly see a fist-size hole in the canvas.
Sage gasped, recognizing the painting as being the one Tyce pushed her against when he made love to her that night in his studio. Barely breathing, she slowly looked around the gallery and when she saw what was on the walls, the room started to spin.
All his portraits were hanging on the walls, a good portion of which were of her. There were some of his mom, some of Lachlyn, many of random New Yorkers—from street people to buskers and servers—and they were all fantastic. Only the big blue abstract painting and the portraits of her, and of Lachlyn and his mom, had not-for-sale stickers on them.
Sage held her face, in awe of his talent. It was a small exhibition, roughly and quickly tossed together but it was that much more powerful for it. This wasn’t slick and smooth, it was rough and tender and...open. This was Tyce allowing the world to look inside.
That type of vulnerability took courage and heart. So much heart. Pity that she had no claim on it.
Sage heard heavy footsteps behind her and slowly turned to watch Tyce walk across the room toward her, hands in the pockets of a pair of black dress slacks, his white dress shirt tucked in. God, he was so beautiful, Sage thought, in the most masculine way. Tough and tall, with his enigmatic eyes and strong face.
Sage’s first instinct was to throw herself into his arms, to gush over his art, to demand to know why he was holding this portrait exhibition. Why now? Why here, at this place from their past? Then she remembered that this was the man who’d tossed her love away, who’d rejected her heart. She didn’t know why she was here—her sisters-in-law were in big, big trouble.
Overwhelmed, Sage turned around and headed toward the door, tears burning her eyes.
“Please don’t cry. And please don’t go,” Tyce quietly said and she heard the longing and uncertainty in his voice. She stopped but kept her back to him, furiously brushing tears away with her fingertips.
Sage felt Tyce’s big hands on her shoulders before his hands moved down her arms and encircled her waist, holding her against him. “Please don’t go,” he whispered, his mouth against her temple.
“Why should I stay?”
“You should stay—” Tyce’s voice rumbled in her ear “—because I am the world’s biggest idiot for letting you go, then and now. You should stay because you make my world brighter, my thinking clearer, my world turn. You should stay because we have a baby to raise and I’d like us to do that together.”
Sage felt the first sparks of hope and ruthlessly smothered them. She pushed against his arm and he immediately released her. He looked tired, she thought, drawn, his face whiter than normal. His eyes glinted with uncertainty and worry and an emotion that went deeper than that, that might be, dare she think it, love?
“I’m sorry I wasn’t brave, before.” Tyce cradled her face in his hands and kissed her softly, his lips giving hers a quick caress. She wanted more and judging by his tense body, so did he but he drew back and lifted his mouth from hers. “I want us to stop hoping and dreaming and be more.”
Sage stared at him, uncomprehending.
“I want you in my bed and in my life, being the first person I see every morning and the last person I see at night. I want that for the rest of my life. I want our kid, or kids, to fly into our bedroom and jump on the bed, on us. I want us, Sage. You and me. I need you.”
God, she felt so humbled, so in awe of his courage to do this again, to open himself up to her again.
“I know that your instinct is to push me away, Sage, but I’m asking you not to. And I’m telling you that if you do, every time you do, I’m going to hold you tighter, love you more.” Tyce pushed her hair off her forehead and rested his head on hers. “One more time, Sage, please. Be brave, for us. Take a chance on me.”
“Tyce.” Sage gripped his arms, feeling dizzy.
“Is that another no?” Tyce asked, worry in his eyes. No, not worry, soul-deep fear.
“No, it’s not a no. I mean... God, yes. Please.” Sage knew that she was messing up her words and cursed her thick tongue.
“You’re going to have to be clearer than that, honey.”
Yes, she realized that. Holding his arms for balance, she looked up into his exotic, sexy face, the one she’d missed so much. “I’ll be brave—I’m not going to push you away, I promise.”
“And you don’t break your promises,” Tyce murmured as a spark returned to his eyes.
“I promise to love you, whether we have six weeks or sixty years.”
“I’m planning on sixty years,” Tyce told her.
Sage lifted her arms and wound them around Tyce’s neck.
Tyce kissed her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth as she murmured the words she so needed to say, that he needed to hear. “I love you. I miss you. I’m so, so sorry I hurt you.”
Their kisses were softer, gentler, simply tasting their new beginning, testing out how love felt in sunlight instead of shadows. Passion rumbled but they both pushed it away; passion was for later. This was something new, something that needed a little attention, a bit of nurturing.
Five, ten or twenty minutes could have passed when Tyce pulled his mouth and hands off her but was keeping her plastered against his long frame. Sage rested her cheek against his chest and nodded. This was where she belonged.
Tyce’s hand stroked her hair. “We still need to talk, sweetheart.”
Sage wrinkled her nose. “Do we have to? I’m kind of liking this.”
Tyce smiled, pure sunshine in his eyes. Yeah, those shadows were gone and it was about time.
“I am too but we have a bunch of people in the back room and they are getting anxious.”
“What? Who? Carol and her assistants?” Sage asked, thinking of the gallery owner and her staff. She gestured to his art. “And is this a real exhibition? Are you going to sell your portraits?”
Tyce looked around. “Yeah, I think so. Should I keep it low-key like this or give it to a high-end gallery?”
“I like this,” Sage replied, walking into the middle of the room but keeping her hand in his. “I think the portraits need a smaller, more intimate space. I think you should keep it as it is but—” she pointed to the ruined abstract in that prominent position “—that goes.” She sent him an amused look. “I thought we had an agreement about you not exhibiting anything that had any connection to our love life.”
Tyce wrapped his arm around her waist. “It stays. It makes me laugh.”
“It’s awful, Tyce,” Sage protested.
“Yeah, but everyone will wonder why it’s there and will concoct all sorts of crazy ideas about it and only you and I will know the truth.”
For him to leave that awful painting hanging on the wall was his way of telling her, and the world, that he was finally secure about his talent as an artist, his place in the world. “But why does it have a hole in it?” Sage asked.
“I was standing in front of it, thinking about you, and I was so pissed off that I punched it.”
“Talking about punches, why do you have a bruise on your jaw?” Sage asked, her eyes narrowing.
“Oh, that’s courtesy of your brother,” Tyce replied, his tone blasé.
“Jaeger punched you?” Sage shrieked.
“Linc, and it happened five minutes before he told me that you Ballantynes are repaying me for Lachlyn’s shares. Was that your idea?”
Sage wrinkled her nose. “If Connor had known about Lachlyn then that’s what would have happened. The money should be with you in a month or two—did Linc explain that?”
Tyce’s hand caressed her back. “Some of the money will be in my back account. Not much but more than I had before.”
Sage stepped away from him and put her hands on her hips. “What do you mean by that? I know that we all signed papers to transfer our share of the assets, to liquidate the cash.”
Tyce’s hands slid into the pockets of his pants. “Yep, but I’m diverting some of that money back into the Ballantyne coffers. Well, Linc and I are still arguing about this. He says that the object in question belongs to you, that it’s right for you to own it, but I’d still like to pay for it.”
Object? What object? What on earth was he talking about? Tyce opened his hand and Sage looked at a small square of white tissue paper resting in his palm.
“Trying to buy a ring for a jewelry designer is a bitch so I thought that I’d try something else.”
“A ring?” Sage asked, knowing that she sounded stupid but not quite believing what she was hearing.
Tyce flipped open the tissue paper to reveal the brilliance of the red diamond flower ring. “Like this stone, you are rare and precious and you take my breath away. Will you please, please marry me?”
Sage stared at the ring, tears burning her eyes. “My mom’s ring. Oh my God, Tyce, that’s my mom’s red diamond!” Sage reached out to pick up the ring but Tyce snapped his fist closed. Sage jerked her head up and saw the mischief in his eyes.
“You Ballantynes... You see gemstones and everything instantly goes out your head.” Tyce waved his closed fist in front of her face. “Say yes and you can have the ring.”
“Are you bribing me?” Sage demanded, smiling, her hand holding his fist.
“Apparently so,” Tyce said. “So, are you going to marry me for your mom’s ring?”
Sage reached up to hold his face. “I am going to marry you because I am stupidly in love with you and I intend to stay that way for the rest of my life. Because I can’t imagine myself being with anyone else but you.” She smiled, teasing him. “But I can’t lie, the ring is a factor.”
Tyce kissed her, his lips curving against her mouth. “I’ll take it. Love you, babe.”
“And it’s about damn time!”
Sage whipped around to see her brothers, their wives, Amy, Reame and Lachlyn walking from the storeroom at the back, the men carrying bottles of champagne and the women carrying glasses.
After kissing Lachlyn—she had another sister, yay!—Sage narrowed her eyes and looked at Tyce. “Why are they here?”
“I needed their help to set this all up, to get you here,” Tyce said, shrugging. “Apparently they have their uses.”
Sage heard the affection under his sarcasm and thought that he and her brothers would be just fine. She, however, was not. Sage walked up to Linc and poked her finger in his chest. “What the hell were you thinking, punching Tyce? Seriously, what is wrong with you?”
Linc brushed her hand away. “He deserved it.” Linc kissed her cheek and gave her a quick hug. Sage hugged him back and felt him stiffen in her arms. She pulled away and found him looking at the destroyed canvas. “What the hell is that?” he demanded.
Jaeger also tipped his head to the side and sent Tyce a look of pure confusion. “I don’t get it, Latimore. They pay you for this garbage?”
Tyce and Sage exchanged a long look filled with everything they were going to spend the rest of their lives saying. I love you. You’re gorgeous. Can’t wait to get you naked.
Tyce laughed and shrugged. “Yep. Strange but true.”
“What’s it called?” Jaeger asked, moving closer to the wall.
Sage’s eyes didn’t waver from Tyce’s face. “It’s called Love, Lost and Found.”
Tyce’s eyes warmed and softened at her answer and he wore his love and devotion for her like a coat of armor. She’d finally found her warrior and damn, it felt amazing.
“You Ballantynes are so weird,” Reame said, popping the cork on a bottle of champagne. He looked at Lachlyn and raised his brows. “Their madness is contagious. Run... Run now.”
Tyce grinned at Reame. “It’s not madness—it’s love.” He looked from Reame to Lachlyn and smiled. “You two should try it—it’s not so bad.”
Reame and Lachlyn looked equally horrified and Sage smiled at their expression. Actually, come to think of it, her new sister and the man Sage considered her fourth brother looked really good together...
* * * * *
If you liked Sage’s story,
pick up these other
BALLANTYNE BILLIONAIRES books from
Joss Wood!
HIS EX’S WELL-KEPT SECRET
REUNITED...AND PREGNANT
THE CEO’S NANNY AFFAIR
as well as reader favorite
MARRIED TO THE MAVERICK MILLIONAIRE
Available now from Harlequin Desire!
***
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Claiming His Secret Heir
by Joanne Rock
One
Steeling herself against the January chill, Caroline Degraff stood outside the gates of the Los Altos Hills mansion that would have been hers and wondered how to get in.
Her grip tightened on the wrought iron fence separating her from the French château-style home she’d helped to design but never lived in. Caroline guessed that she would already be visible on the property’s security footage. Too late to turn back now from this crazy idea to show up unannounced.
Prepared to deceive the husband she’d once loved.
But she had to know the truth about the powerful man on the other side of this imposing enclosure dotted with motion-detecting cameras. The man she’d married eleven months ago but hadn’t seen since their honeymoon, tech company mogul Damon McNeill. Her father, a well-known investor in Silicon Valley projects, had hated Damon even before the marriage. He’d sent Caroline into Damon’s California-based social media software business, Transparent, as an entrepreneur in residence—a common practice in tech start-ups that could benefit from an outside business perspective—in the hope she’d find weaknesses Damon’s investors could use to ou
st him from the CEO position. Except Caroline had fallen in love with Damon rather than give her father the scathing scouting report he’d craved.
She hadn’t known until that time in her life how cold and manipulative her father could be. He’d called Caroline a traitor and refused to attend the wedding, preventing anyone else in her family from doing so, as well. That had hurt her deeply, but she’d been so in love with Damon, it hadn’t mattered. The weeks they’d spent together in Italy for their honeymoon had been the happiest days of her life.
Then she’d travelled briefly to London on her own after the honeymoon. From there things got fuzzy in her mind. She remembered she’d argued with Damon on the phone because she’d seen her father while she was in London. But she also remembered returning to this very house overlooking San Francisco Bay. She’d never even seen Damon that day, and she’d been trying not to notice too many details of their new, custom-built home so they could enjoy it together when he got home from work. Then, while she’d been staring out over the Bay, she’d heard him enter the house.
Only it hadn’t been him. After that, her memories of the ordeal were totally blurry. But she knew that day had been the beginning of a months-long nightmare. She’d been kidnapped and held for a ransom Damon never paid. He’d never informed her father at all. He hadn’t even reported her as missing; the story was absent from all the news sites she’d scoured online.
Grinding her teeth together, she felt the old signs of fear and claustrophobia, the racing heart and cold sweats. These were the physical symptoms of panic attacks she’d been working for weeks to overcome with the help of a good therapist. She still wasn’t able to shake the effect of weeks spent scared and alone, captive in a remote village somewhere on the Baja Peninsula, with guards who treated her humanely enough, but never let her forget that they would kidnap one of her younger siblings, too, if she didn’t do as she was told.
Thoughts of Damon rescuing her had gotten her through the nights. Along with the comforting knowledge of their child growing inside her. A child she hadn’t even been able to tell him about before the