One Week in Your Arms

by Patricia Preston

  “They’re asleep?” It was still early. Just a quarter past seven.

  “Worn out.” Estelle reached for another handful of beans.

  “Yep,” Henry continued. “We were out at the barn a little while ago.” He snapped the green beans into pieces as he spoke. “I was getting the feed out for the pony and looked around and there she was passed out on the hay asleep.”

  “I had Carson take her to the downstairs bedroom in the big house.” Estelle snapped beans, too. “I went back to check on them. He’d unpacked and fallen asleep beside her. I don’t think an earthquake would wake either one of them up.”

  Marla nodded. It had been a huge day for both of them and Carson probably hadn’t slept much last night at all. She took a seat on the picnic bench.

  “Need some help with the beans?”

  Chapter 26

  Carson shifted, his eyes opening as he awoke, his face buried in a pillow covered in a hand-quilted sham. He glanced through the windowpanes of the French doors. It was night and the bedroom was dark.

  Sophie slept soundly beside him, a cotton blanket thrown over her.

  He eased off the bed without disturbing her. He crossed a narrow hallway and went into the bathroom. Keeping up with a little kid was like running a marathon. It had exhausted him, but he’d had such a good time. The past few hours had been the best of his life.

  He walked into the entrance hallway where wall sconces burned. A portrait of his mother hung over a marble-topped table in the hall. She was a child. About ten years old. A girl with long black hair and bright blue eyes. Sophie was so much like her.

  He dug his phone out of his pants pocket. It was almost nine and he saw he had a text message from Marla.

  When you wake up, I’m waiting out front. We need to talk.

  He grimaced. He hated when a woman said that. It usually meant that he was screwed. Carson found Marla standing with her shoulder propped against one of the white Grecian columns that lined the veranda. She held a rose blossom in her hand. It had come from his grandmother’s heirloom rose bushes.

  Six spotlights provided rays of misty illumination. The yellow sundress, its full skirt draping over her bare legs, looked almost silver in the night and so did her blonde hair. He caught the faint musky scent of the French cologne that teased the animal in him.

  “The rose is nature’s most perfect creation.”

  “No,” he disagreed. “Sophie is.”

  “Nature didn’t create Sophie.” Marla touched the petals of a red rose. “We created Sophie.”

  “I guess I should be glad you said we.”

  She gently cradled the rose blossom. “So you and Sophie hit it off pretty well,” she said with a slight smile. “She seemed to take to you right away.”

  “There’s a connection between us. I think she felt it. I did.”

  “How do you feel about her?” she asked quietly. “Are you happy? Pleased?”

  “Marla, she’s my daughter. Of course, I’m pleased.” For the first time, his scowl vanished, replaced by a deep smile. “She is everything I would have asked for if I had the chance to choose a daughter,” he said quite proudly. “Besides her artistic talent, she’s going to have a knack with horses which comes from both sides of my family and tons of personality. She never runs out of something to say.”

  “That’s true.”

  Things grew quiet. A wind chime hanging from the limb of a dogwood jingled softly. Finally, she asked, “When are you going back to California?”

  He faced the front lawn where crickets hummed in the shadows beyond the spotlights. He had been standing on the veranda the day he first saw her, and maybe he should have stayed on the veranda.

  An owl landed on an oak limb as he spoke, “That’s what you want to talk about? When I’m leaving?”

  She shifted from the column and remained silent. He wished he couldn’t smell the cologne or remember her provocative kisses, her mouth open and eager.

  “Sophie and I are going with you.”

  Startled, he looked at her. “What?”

  “Sophie and I are going with you. When you go home, we’ll go with you. If you want us to,” she rushed out the words as if she feared losing her nerve.

  He did admire her courage, even though it was pointless. He shook his head. “No.”

  “Carson, if I could go back and change things, I would, but I can’t.”

  He recalled his father once saying the greatest mistakes in life are those realized too late. Was it too late? He braced his arm against the white column and looked at her.

  “There’s nothing I can do but tell you I love you.” She released the rose blossom, letting it fall into the darkness below the veranda. “I’ll try to make it up to you if you’ll give me a chance.”

  He hung his head for a moment. Then he squared his shoulders. “If you’re worried I’m going to haul Sophie off to California and lock her away from you, you’re wrong. I’m not going to do that,” he said. “I know what it’s like to lose your mother when you’re a kid. I would never do that to her.”

  Marla twisted her hands. “This is not about Sophie. It’s about us.”

  He watched fireflies dot the evening with tiny sparks. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen fireflies. “This morning when we reached Lafayette Falls, I saw the way you lit up. This is your home, Marla. This is where you’re happy.”

  She watched the fireflies, too. “Only a part of me is here. My heart has been missing for a long time.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yeah, I am.” Her voice grew stronger. “I don’t know what else to do or say except I want us to be together because I think we’re meant to be together. I always thought that. Even on the day I watched you drive away. But I couldn’t let myself believe what I felt or trust in it.”

  “I know,” he murmured. Her words reflected his feelings exactly.

  “I understand if your answer is no.” Now she was trying to be rational about the situation. “I can accept that, and it won’t make any difference when it comes to Sophie. I want you to be a part of her life, and I’ll work with you to make sure you get to be the father you want to be.”

  “Marla, you’re not the only one at fault.” He tapped the old white column with his fingers. “I took advantage of you,” he confessed, as he faced the demons of his past.

  “I was barely twenty when I met this woman named Angela,” he began and he told her everything. How much he had loved Angela. How what had happened not only broke his heart but also his trust in people. How he was always on guard. Careful. Like a hunter in a jungle who could never relax. He always had to protect himself, or risk getting fed to the wolves.

  “Maybe it was an overreaction on my part,” he admitted. “But I’d been living like that for ten years when I met you. I remember standing on this veranda, watching everyone. The people from this community. My grandmother.

  “They were enjoying themselves. Everyone seemed at ease and friendly while I watched from afar,” he said. “Then I saw you. I wondered what it would be like not to have to worry about your motives or what your endgame was. That’s why I never mentioned my net worth or the restrictions I had placed on my home and my life.

  “I wanted to loosen up and have a good time without worrying about the wolves. It turned out to be a very special time. You turned out to be very special, and I regret that I misled you.”

  After a couple of moments of silence, she approached him and reached for his hand. She clasped it tightly, securing her fingers between his. “You’re safe from the wolves now.”

  He pulled her close and said something he had not said to a woman in so long that he had almost forgotten the feel and flow of the words. “I love you.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a hungry kiss. One filled with excitement and desire. “Wait here,” he told her as their lips parted.

  Marla stood on the veranda, feeling as if she had used a scalpel on her soul. She had cut a
way all her defenses, and the sacrifice had been both terrifying and liberating.

  Yes, she did love Lafayette Falls and she was happy here. But she loved him so much more. She’d go live behind walls, gates, and even a moat if he were there. None of it would matter as long as he was there to hold her hand.

  He walked back outside on the veranda, and she asked him about Sophie.

  “She’s still sleeping.” He stood with his hands in his pockets. “Do you know the worst thing you did?”

  She tented her fingers against her chin. “I’m sure you have quite a list.”

  “You ruined my marriage proposal. You have no idea of all the planning and effort I had put into it.”

  “Your marriage proposal?”

  “I planned to hide the ring in a seashell. I had noticed how you were always looking for them, so I bought a conch shell while I was in Honolulu. Along with a ring.”

  “You did that?” she asked, amazed. She was surprised that he had come up with something so creative.

  “I was going to take you for an evening stroll on the beach and pretend I found the shell. Give it to you and tell you to see if there was anything inside it. Surprise.”

  “That’s so romantic and very original,” she added.

  “Yes, I was so proud of myself. But then everything went to hell after that.”

  “I love you.” She clutched his face and smothered his mouth with a quick kiss.

  He grinned as he withdrew his hand from his pocket and held up a glittering diamond ring that made her jaw drop. “Too bad we’re not on the beach.”

  “This is better than the beach.” She kissed him again. “This is the perfect place, Carson. Royal Oaks. The place we met. And it’s summer. Just like before.”

  Was this not the sweetest moment of her life?

  “Do I have to get down on bended knee?” he asked.

  She stepped back. “Of course.”

  “I’m only doing this because I love you.” He attempted to drop down on one knee. “Oh, shit!”

  “It’s not your back, is it?”

  “No, hell, I dropped the damn ring.”

  On all fours, they both crawled about the shadowy veranda, searching in vain.

  “I don’t see it,” Marla said. “We need flashlights.”

  “I give up.” Carson seated himself on the plank floor. “It probably bounced off the edge of the porch. We can find it in the morning.”

  He reached for Marla’s hand as they sat side-by-side. “Will you marry me and live here at Royal Oaks until death do us part?”

  The last part of his proposal stunned her. “I thought you were going to sell Royal Oaks.”

  “That was just when I was pissed off at you.” He laid his arm across his bent knee. “I’m not going to uproot you and Sophie. Both of you are bonded to this community and that’s important. Especially for Sophie.

  “I have no family in California. Just a company and I wouldn’t mind selling off most of it. I’d like to focus on the architectural division, which is what I love. I can build a studio and office here. And move the corporate offices to Nashville. That way I can come and go on the same day.”

  “Are you sure? I know I’ve been bitchy about the house in California, but it’s okay really. It’s a beautiful place.”

  “I’ve made my decision.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Well, you know, I think it was when you told me you could play the banjo. I was thinking a banjo-playing doctor. How lucky could a guy get?”

  “Shut. Up.” She slapped his knee.

  “Seriously, I’m going to rethink the location of the art center. Since this is going to be our home, I’d like to keep the property as is.” He smiled. “My mother and my grandmother would be thrilled to know I’m going to raise my children at Royal Oaks. It’s a way to pass on their legacy.”

  She clasped his face with her hands and their lips met in an affectionate kiss. “You can’t imagine how much I love you.”

  “Since I can’t imagine it, maybe you need to show me.” He groaned as he pushed to his feet and offered his hand to assist her standing. She hopped up with ease. “I should have known you’d be springy.” He reached for the handle on the antique screen door and the hinges creaked as he opened it.

  She stepped into the main hall of Royal Oaks where antique benches with needlepoint cushions enhanced the classic appeal of the entrance. A Waterford crystal chandelier twinkled overhead, casting a glow of light over the curving, red-carpeted staircase.

  “I want to have our wedding here,” she said, admiring the romantic staircase. “Is that okay?” She turned to him as he walked inside.

  The wooden screen door closed with a quiet whisper behind him. He smiled. “I think that’s a great idea.”

  She took his hand and laced her fingers in his. She hoped they would always be holding hands. “You know what? I’d love to go back to Kauai someday,” she told him. Their week in paradise had ended well. “We’ll take Sophie with us. She would love it.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “You’re so agreeable,” she gushed as she led him toward the staircase. She draped herself over the mahogany banister in a glamorous stance straight out of an old movie. “You know, Rhett carried Scarlett up the stairs.”

  Carson gave her a loving peck on the cheek. “Frankly, my dear, don’t even think about it.”

  Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of

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  Love Heals All Contemporary Romance

  EVERYTHING HIS HEART DESIRES

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  Chapter 1

  Brett Harris swung his 1969 Plymouth Road Runner into the physicians’ parking bay at Lafayette Falls Medical Center. In mint condition, Rhonda the Road Runner was one of five muscle cars that Brett owned. With great affection, he called them his girls. They were fast and fun and they never let him down.

  Since it was Friday, the parking lot was almost empty. Over half of the medical staff, including him, took Friday as their day off. He lived for three day weekends.

  “It’s all about heaven on earth, Rhonda.” He patted Rhonda’s shiny blue fender and headed toward the catwalk that would take him to the physicians’ entrance.

  The brown leather bomber jacket he wore over jeans and a black t-shirt warded off the crisp chill of the November morning. Of course, by midday it would be in the seventies. Great weather for picking up a chick and heading to Covington Lake.

  He tapped in his code on the keypad and walked into the physicians’ lounge, which was as deserted as the parking lot. Brett followed the scent of freshly-brewed coffee into the kitchenette where his friend, pediatrician Dr. Aaron Kendall, was sitting on a stool, eating a bowl of corn flakes.

  “Hey,” Aaron said. Dressed in blue scrubs, the former college baseball player still had the lean build of an athlete and still played ball when he got a chance. “I’ve asked around and no one knows anything about a meeting this morning.”

  Brett frowned. “I can’t imagine what Sheldon wants.” An hour ago he had received a cryptic message from the chief of staff, Dr. Neal Sheldon.

  Meet me at the hospital. 9:00. Executive Conference Room.

  It was a simple command with no explanation. Sheldon, being who he was, didn’t have to explain his orders. His commands were not questioned. But ever since Brett had received Sheldon’s message, he had been considering all the possibilities and come up with nothing.

  Aaron gave him a thoughtful glance. “What about the chief of cardiology position?”

  “You know I don’t have a chance.” It wasn’t that he didn’t want it. He would give anything for it. He might even give up one of his girls for it.

  “You’re trained in interventional cardiology. That’s a huge plus.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s all politics.” More than once the politics had gone against him. He was from the wrong side of town. He’d grown up on Trinity Road,
a strip of worn asphalt that snaked through the hills outside the city limits. Trinity Road had once been home to a branch of the Dixie Mafia and it was known for its roadhouses and violence. By all rights he should have never even made it to college, much less through medical school and a cardiology fellowship.

  “Lockett will never endorse me and he has enough clout with the hospital board to make certain they’ll go against me, too.”

  Aaron scooped up a spoonful of cornflakes. “You haven’t had words with Lockett again, have you?”

  “I haven’t spoken to him in three months,” Brett answered.

  Lockett was the Ivy League prick who headed up administration at the hospital. He and Brett had clashed since day one. Lockett had said Brett needed to look more like a doctor than a felon, and more than once Brett had been reprimanded for his heated arguments with the administrator.

  But, lately, there hadn’t been any big blowups between him and the administrator because Lockett was dealing with cash flow deficits at the hospital and the interventional cardiac procedures Brett performed brought in sizable insurance payments. From what Brett had heard, Lockett was holed up in his office, trying to save his job.

  “I don’t know,” Brett said, still mystified as he got a small cup of coffee. “I don’t have any patient complaints against me that I know of.” He took his work seriously and he was good at what he did.

  Aaron finished his cereal. “If you get the chance, you should mention the chief of cardiology position to Sheldon. You’d do a great job.”

  “The only way I will get it is if everyone else turns it down.”

  The position did mean extra work. All the other cardiologists on staff were older than Brett and they had families on top of large practices. They all balked at more responsibility.

  “I think Foster will step up and take it,” Brett said. Dr. Roy Foster had been on the staff for more than twenty years. He was well-liked, well-connected and a better politician than Brett.

  “Still, you should say something to Sheldon,” Aaron suggested. “Just see what his thoughts are.”

  “He’d probably flatten me like a cockroach.” Brett glanced at the wall clock that read 8:45. It never hurt to be early. He tossed the foam coffee cup in the trash. “I’ll let you know what happens.”