Hesitantly, she opened the box, expecting to find his usual yellow roses. She let out a gasp when she saw what was inside.
A yellow blown-glass flower. Her blown-glass flower ... the one she’d made with Matt. It was cradled in protective foam peanuts, the colors even deeper and more vibrant than she remembered. The stem twined in graceful curves, and the petals shimmered in the lights from the dressing room mirrors.
Tears blurred the color as she gently lifted the flower from the box. The glass was smooth and cool under her fingertips.
“Wow, that’s really neat,” Mariah said.
“Thanks. I made it,” Erin said with pride.
“You made it?” Mariah, sounded impressed. “How?”
But Erin wasn’t listening. Instead she carefully replaced the flower in its box and hurried to the door. “I’ll be right back.”
Ignoring Mariah’s cry of concern, she raced down the hallway and pounded back up the stairs, her boots ringing on the metal treads.
“Who brought the flowers for me?” she asked Vincent, the aging security guard at the stage door.
His overgrown eyebrows pulled into a frown as he studied the paperwork he kept on deliveries. “I’m not really sure,” he finally said. “It just says Morgantown Art Glass on my list.”
Erin threw the door open and raced outside. The cold took her breath away as she peered up and down the street, hoping to see Matt. Hoping to find him leaning against the building as he always did when he waited for her after a show.
But he wasn’t there.
Disappointment made her feet heavy as she went back inside.
“You’re going to catch cold.” Vincent gave her a disapproving look. “You shouldn’t be running around without a coat.”
Erin had to smile at his grandfatherly concern. “Sorry, I had to hurry.”
“Well, go get some coffee into you and warm up,” he growled. “We can’t have you missing the show.”
She went back to the dressing room with a sinking heart. Could Matt have sent her flower with a courier? Was it a signal he was here and wanted to see her, or a statement to show her he was getting rid of old baggage?
Erin pushed the thought away. He was here; he had to be here. She reached for her phone and her hands shook as she sent a text.
The flower is beautiful. Thank you! Are you here?
The wait seemed interminable. She began applying her makeup, all the while hardly daring to look away from the phone ... hoping.
Just when she’d begun to despair, a message popped up.
You’re welcome. Yes, I’m here. You ok?
She let out an explosive breath.
Yes, I’m fine. Will you wait for me after?
The reply came back faster this time.
Of course. Stage door?
Perfect.
It was the longest performance of her life. Jane didn’t have much stage time, so between her scenes, Erin paced in the wings, firmly resisting the urge to peek at the audience through a small hole she’d found in the curtain. When she was on stage, her skin seemed to tingle, every sense heightened by the knowledge Matt was out there beyond the glow of the lights, just for her.
After the curtain calls, she rushed to her dressing room and changed as quickly as she could. She scrubbed the heavy makeup from her face, pulled the wig cap off, and shook out her hair. It was a little kinked from being stuck under the wig all night and no amount of brushing would make it smooth. She pulled it into a messy bun and gave it a shot of hairspray.
She studied her reflection in the mirror. She was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes that no amount of concealer could completely erase. But her brown eyes were also sparkling with excitement, something she hadn’t seen in a while.
She grabbed her coat and purse and almost collided with a tall figure standing in the doorway of the dressing room.
“Whoa, speedy!” Brennan exclaimed, dodging out of her way. He was still in his costume, and as always, the sight of him made her heart twist a little bit. “Some of the cast is going to dinner. I was coming to see if you wanted to go.”
She’d thought Brennan was the daydream come alive—the perfect hero from the imagination of a teenager away at summer camp and fantasizing of happily ever after. But no matter how she’d tried to twist it, he was the prince without the passion. She’d never felt more than the warm glow of friendship.
It was Matt who sent her pulse spiraling out of control. It was Matt who made her stomach erupt in butterflies. Matt’s kiss was the one that filled her with fire—blazing as hot as the furnaces in his studio.
She reached out to squeeze Brennan’s arm. “Thanks for the offer. But I’m meeting someone.”
**
Chapter 29
The snow fell lightly on the line of people waiting outside the stage door. Clutching playbills and cameras, they were becoming more and more impatient with every passing minute. Matt knew exactly how they felt, only he wasn’t standing there hoping for an autograph—he was hoping for so much more.
He stood a little apart, heart pounding. The cool air washed over his overheated face, bringing with it the city smells of exhaust and wet pavement. Every time the stage door opened, his pulse jumped a little higher, but so far only a handful of people had come out—no one he recognized, and certainly not Erin.
One look at the glossy theater poster on the side of the concrete building was enough to temper his hope. Brennan Avery stared down from the poster with his movie star hair and haunted eyes. Perfect hero, perfect for Erin.
The door opened again and he caught his breath as she stepped through, looking every inch the Broadway star with her belted black coat and sequin scarf. Her hair was caught in a twist on the back of her head, but a few tendrils had escaped to curl down the side of her cheek.
A cry went up from the crowd and she blinked at the sudden onslaught of camera flashes.
Matt waited, shifting his weight impatiently as she worked her way down the line of fans. She signed autographs and posed for photos, her warm smile never faltering, but he saw her eyes scanning the crowd. When she finally found him, her face lit up in the way he loved so much. The familiar turmoil began to build in his chest.
Finally she broke off from the fans and came toward him, her mahogany eyes sparkling.
“Great show,” he managed.
“Thank you for coming. And thank you for the flower; it’s amazing.”
“You made it.” He shrugged.
She laughed, sending his pulse spiraling. “Sure I did.”
“Well, I owe you big time, because you gave me a great idea.” Quickly, he told her about the glass-blowing lessons at the studio.
When he’d finished, Erin’s face broke into a huge smile. “That’s fantastic! I’m so excited for you.”
“All thanks to you.”
“No. All thanks to you,” she corrected softly.
The urge to hold her was almost unbearable, but he folded his arms across his chest and looked back at the poster of Brennan on the wall. “Where’s your boyfriend?” he asked, dreading the answer.
Erin waited until he met her eyes. “I’m looking at him ... hopefully?”
His heart felt like a glass bubble on the end of a pipe, expanding ... “What do you—”
“Matt, I’m sorry for everything,” Erin said in a rush. “I’m sorry for always making you rescue me, I’m sorry for using you, and mostly ... ” she took a deep breath, “I’m sorry I didn’t see it before. I didn’t realize and I ... well, you know how silly and dramatic I can be. If it didn’t look exactly like what I pictured, I guess I didn’t recognize it.”
Now he was confused. “Recognize what?”
“Love,” she said quietly. “I think ... I think we’re perfect for each other. Only I didn’t know it until it was almost too late.” Her eyes welled with tears. “Matt, you’re my best friend and I ... I love you. Please ... give me another chance?”
He stepped forward, one hand cupping
her jaw, his fingers coming to rest in the nape of her neck. Gently, he pulled her toward him and she raised her face to his. Breathless.
His thumb brushed along her cheekbone as he touched his forehead to hers, then his nose, and finally, his lips.
Erin’s lips molded perfectly to his, her arms going around his neck as if they were meant to be there—as they were. His hands slid down her back as they kissed, clutching her hips, pulling her closer. He was never going to let her go.
When they finally broke apart, Erin burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Matt asked. He remembered the autumn leaves she’d shoved down his back, and wondered if this was another trick.
But those fears were immediately put to rest. Erin’s eyes were totally sincere and sparkling with mirth as she replied, “The Billionaire Bride Pact. I’m going to have to sing the Camp Wallakee song at our wedding reception. And I don’t even care.”
Happiness flooded through him. “I’ll sing it with you,” he promised, pulling her close again.
The End
About the Author
Jeanette Lewis is an Amazon best-selling author of clean romance and a dedicated chocoholic. Dreaming up stories has always been one of Jeanette’s favorite things. Other favorites include family, friends, crisp Autumn days, having adventures, and frozen gummy bears.
Visit Jeanette’s website for more information, to join her newsletter, and enter contests for special prizes: authorjeanettelewis.wordpress.com
Other Works
Feels Like Love: A Snow Valley Romance
Tin Foil Tiaras: A Snow Valley Romance
A message from Jeanette
Dear Readers,
Thank you so much for your interest in my books. If you liked this one, would you please take a few moments to leave a review on Amazon? Your feedback means a great deal to me.
Thank you and all the best,
Jeanette Lewis
Acknowledgements
Very special thank yous to:
My family – for putting up with me and making do with Ramen on the nights mom has a deadline;
Cami Checketts – for cheerfully jumping into this series with both feet;
Vicente del Campo and the staff at Holdman Studios – for going above and beyond to teach me the beautiful art of glassblowing. Visit my website to see what I made when I tried my hand at Matt’s craft!
Cami, Christina, Cindy, and Taryn – for being willing to plow through this manuscript in its roughest form and give me honest feedback;
Jenna Roundy – for editing; and
Christina Dymock – for the wonderful cover.
Author’s Note: Portions of Erin’s lines are inspired by letters written by Charlotte Bronte to Constantin Heger.
Coming Next: The Rebellious One
The Rebellious One
The Billionaire Bride Pact
By: Jeanette Lewis
Holly Clarke is all set to marry the man of her dreams. Or rather, the man of her parents’ dreams. Whoever heard of a girl in 2016 America being betrothed? Holly knows she has to find a way out of the engagement – especially when she meets handsome, sexy Jordan Fischler. There’s no way she’s letting him go without a fight.
Visit Jeanette’s website for release information.
Bonus Chapter: The Resilient One
By Cami Checketts
Alyssa’s uneven gait pounded through the miles as she enjoyed the running path along Ka’anapali Beach. She had to cut away from the water line and up to the road because of the rocky shoreline next to the Hilton, but within half a mile she could see the ocean again. Life was just better when she could see the ocean.
A loud trumpet blasted through her earbuds. Alyssa jumped. Her heart hammered as she forced her legs out of their rhythm and slowed to a walk. She pulled her earbuds out and retrieved the phone from the pouch in her running pants, cursing her best friend, Maryn, for putting the annoying trumpet as her ringtone and cursing herself for not changing it.
“Why haven’t you answered my calls?”
“Sprinting makes the palms a bit slick.” Better not to admit she didn’t answer last night because she was editing photos and didn’t want to be interrupted.
“Well, stop sprinting and answer the blasted phone.” Maryn huffed. “The best friend should have priority over everything else. You know I’m just jealous because you can outrun me even with your nubbin of a foot, but it always stresses me out when you sprint. What if you fell?”
Alyssa stopped, breathing deeply and focusing on the picturesque Airport Beach, loving the taste of salt in the air. The water lapped onto the beige sand from an ocean as dark blue as midnight. She loved Maui early in the morning in January. The weather was beautiful as always, but the tourists were scarce. She leaned forward to stretch tight hamstrings. Her dark ponytail fell over her shoulder and obscured the view. She pushed it away. She wasn’t offended by Maryn’s reference to her misshapen foot. It did make running more difficult, but she wasn’t going to let a deformity she’d dealt with since birth dictate her life.
“You do realize it’s six a.m.?” Alyssa asked. Maryn usually wasn’t an early riser, unless she had inspiration to write an article on a celebrity or some other sensational story that would make her money. Six a.m. in Maui would mean eight a.m. in Los Angeles. Still too early for her night owl of a friend.
“Who cares? I need a favor.”
“No. You?” Alyssa hoped she laid the sarcasm on thick enough. Maryn was forever in need of favors to boost her freelance career. It used to work well when Alyssa was developing her portfolio as a photographer, but her brand of capturing candid human interaction had taken off and she was now sold in studios throughout America as well as a prosperous internet business. “I’m not taking any pictures of celebrities for scum-bag magazines.” It was humiliating that she’d ever done that for Maryn, but it had paid the bills when they were living on Top Ramen and showering at the local recreation center because their utilities were shut off.
“No. I’m way past that. This new magazine is on the up and up.”
Alyssa hoped that was true. Maryn worked for so many different magazines it was difficult to know which were smut and which were respectable. Alyssa started walking the beach trail. Might as well get in more mileage, even if it was at a slower pace. With the special orthotics in her shoe, she barely limped. Thank heavens for modern medicine.
“So…” Maryn continued when Alyssa didn’t reply. “All I need you to do is meet a guy and get him to ask you out.”
“What?” Alyssa stopped walking again.
“Hey, I understand the life of a recluse is oh so appealing and good-looking men are oh so scary, but this is going to be easy as a chocolate truffle. He’s filthy rich, hot, and he’s coming to you. Plus, if you land him you could be number three of the twelve to keep The Pact. Can’t wait to trap my own hot Richie.” Maryn laughed, obviously pleased with herself, but Alyssa knew her friend would never marry a wealthy man. She had too many issues from being half-starved most of her life.
“I am so confused right now.” Alyssa tried to breathe slowly and watch the waves to bring some sense of calm. She did not need to be reminded of a pact she should never have made at girl’s camp when she was too young and stupid to understand the influence of peer pressure. A pact she had no desire to fulfill. Her dad had pushed plenty of “Richies” on her and she would never consent to being sold to the highest bidder. She focused back on her friend. How exactly was Maryn arranging for some billionaire to come to her?
“Thanks to Nikki, Holly, and Taylor’s exclusive interviews, and Erin’s ideas for how to sniff out the men with money, my article on how to pick up billionaires went viral.” Maryn squealed happily. “Of course I didn’t share that Taylor is already divorced, would’ve put a damper on the situation. Now I’ve got several magazines begging me for a follow-up so I thought, hey, let’s do something on how to meet those reclusive Richies. The humble, sweet ones that everyone wants
to get their hands on.”
It was much too easy to imagine Maryn rubbing her hands together in anticipation.
“I’m happy for Nikki and Holly, but honestly they can keep their billionaire husbands.” Nikki had been the picture of bridal bliss at her wedding a couple of months ago. Holly on the other hand didn’t look thrilled with life. Hopefully she was happy. “But remember,” Alyssa said to Maryn. “I’m the ‘prude’. I’ll never marry a rich man.” She was perfectly content with her career and no man controlling her like her father had attempted to do.
“Would you forget about that jerk? I swear, if I could cut his parts off I would. You are not a prude just because you wouldn’t give Hugh what he wanted. That man thought he was Hugh Hefner and you were a Playboy Bunny. Nasty a-hole!”
Alyssa winced. She shouldn’t have said anything that brought Hugh into the conversation. It never failed to rile Maryn. A cool breeze made her shiver. “So how am I supposed to help you with your article?” Alyssa asked, more than ready to forget about Hugh.
“The magazine gave me a few leads and when I got the portfolio on this one, I knew, he was your guy.”
“My guy?” Sweat dripped down her back and Alyssa was afraid very little of it had to do with the physical exertion of a few minutes ago.
“Don’t interrupt. He loves photography, children, and charity. Ka-bam. He’s like your soul mate.”
“Ka-bam?” Alyssa exhaled slowly. “He’s probably lying that he loves those things to make himself look good for the press.” She lifted her long hair and fanned her neck.
The Passionate One: A Billionaire Bride Pact Romance Page 14