by Dara Girard
He took a step forward and shook his head, but his hard gaze slowly heated, holding her still. “No.”
“Was I tempted?”
He took another step forward and again shook his head. “No.”
“Do I have any more family secrets that—?”
He stopped a foot away from her and pressed a finger against her mouth. “No. Am I looking at my first wife?”
First wife. The relief that washed over her nearly made her knees buckle. He still wanted her. He still loved her and for the first time she realized how much she’d been afraid to accept his love and love him back. As she gazed at him, she saw that he’d never worn a mask, that it had only been her perception. His feelings had always been clear in his gaze.
She’d been the one to keep him at a distance. She had changed more than he had. He was the same man she’d hated that first day--the one whose cool demeanor she’d confused for cruelty because that was what she was used to. But he’d always been generous and loving even when no one noticed. She remembered one evening when she couldn’t sleep, seeing him at her dining room table, gluing together the ugly little vase that Morris had broken. The following day he’d set the vase on the table with a bouquet of lavender roses, hot pink lilies, red spray roses surrounded by lush greens that all probably cost more than the vase was worth. He said he’d gotten the vase fixed, but she’d never told him she knew the truth.
That was the man she saw now. The man she’d fallen in love with in spite of herself. And loving him had made her a new woman, giving her strength and a bottomless joy. First wife. His words made life feel fresh and new and the past completely melted away.
“Carissa?” Kenric asked.
She saw a look of uneasiness enter his gaze and saw her own past fear mirrored in his gaze. She never wanted him to doubt her love for him. She never wanted him to fear losing her again. She wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him close, her heart hammering in her chest. “Mr. Riverton?”
“Yes?” he said with a note of caution.
“York Incorporated is ready to negotiate a possible merger.”
Kenric’s mouth softened into a smile. “That’s good to hear, Ms. York. Riverton International is prepared to make a very good offer.”
Carissa placed a feather light kiss on his lips then whispered, “I’m listening.”
***
Six months later
Carissa watched the red garter belt fly in the air. Making it part of the garter toss on her wedding day had been her final assignment for the Black Stockings Society. It soared into the eager crowd of bachelors, landing on Joshua’s head. He was trying to chat up one of the bridesmaid. He tore the item off his head to the sound of laughter and sent his brother a sharp look, before tossing it away to another lucky bachelor who grabbed it and waved it in the air as a trophy.
Third time definitely was the charm. She’d had a magical wedding day. Carissa danced with her new husband amazed by all that had happened. He’d relocated to be with her, starting his own consulting firm. Lina changed her ways and let Carissa see her nephew as often as she wanted and never called when she didn’t have to. Glenn kept his secret past from Lina and Kenric and Carissa agreed to do the same, as long as he volunteered once a week at a detox clinic and gave generously to a designated charity every year.
Carissa finished her dance with Kenric then mingled with the crowd. She looked over and saw Ashley pushing her mother’s wheelchair back over to one of the tables. She was glad she’d been able to come. She walked over to her and saw tears in her eyes. “I’m so glad you could make it,” Carissa said taking the older woman’s hand. She remembered how vibrant she had been when Ashley was growing up and remembered how much she enjoyed babysitting at their house.
“Beautiful,” was all she could manage.
“Thank you,” Carissa said grabbing a napkin and wiping the woman’s tears.
“Hap-py?”
Carissa looked over at Kenric as he laughed with Malcolm, who had been their ring bearer and looked smart dressed in a suit; her heart filled with joy. “Yes, I’m very happy,” she said turning back to her.
But this time Mrs. Torville didn’t reply. Instead, she held her gaze as if trying to silently communicate something to her, then she lowered her gaze.
Carissa looked down, wondering what she wanted. “Did you drop something?”
The older woman shook her head then lowered her gaze again.
Carissa again looked down and saw the woman’s lovely cream dress and expensive black lace stockings. Carissa glanced up at her, with a silent question. The older woman blinked, then slowly managed a smile.
The End
***
Also Available
If you enjoyed A Private Affair don't miss Dara's other works...
Novels
Playing for Keeps (Return of the Black Stockings Society, Book 1)
After Hours (Return of the Black Stockings Society, Book 2)
Illusive Flame
Honest Betrayal
The Sapphire Pendant (Book 1 in the Clifton Sisters Series)
Table for Two (Book 1 in the Henson Series)
Gaining Interest (Book 2 in the Henson Series)
Careless Rapture (Book 3 in the Henson Series)
Familiar Stranger (an extra Henson Series book)
The Daughters of Winston Barnett
The Henson Brothers (Includes the novels Table for Two and Gaining Interest)
Out of the Past (Includes the novels Careless Rapture and Familiar Stranger)
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Or Collections...
Lost and Found
Five Holiday Tales
The Lady Next Door and Other Stories
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Or Stories...
A Gift for Philomena
A Home for Adam
Miss Lana Wilson
A Thousand Words
Lola's Decision
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Discover these books and more at www.iloripressbooks.com
About the Author
Dara Girard is an award-winning, national bestselling author of more than twenty novels. Dara loves to travel, eat French pastries and hear from readers.
Visit daragirard.com to join her newsletter and be the first to find out about current and upcoming releases.
Copyright Information
A Private Affair
Copyright 2015 Sade Odubiyi
Published by ILORI PRESS BOOKS LLC
Cover and Layout Copyright ILORI PRESS BOOKS LLC
Cover Photo couple © tobkatrina/123rf
Cover Photo background ©Jon Bilous/123rf
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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