by M. Leighton
“Ohhhh, presents! And they’re numbered?”
“Yep. Had to keep ‘em straight.”
I rub my hands together. “Thank you, Dash. You’ve brought the joy back into Christmas for me.” I’m still hurt and angry at what my dad did all those years ago, and I still find it hard to understand why. But I’ve been able to separate the two events from one another. It’s not Christmas I despise anymore, it’s my dad’s sickness, his inability to deny his need for the high. I can finally love this time of year again. Dash has enabled me to find the childlike joy of the holiday. And he has presents. “Oh, I’m definitely loving Christmas now.”
He laughs and rolls smoothly from the driver’s seat to walk around to the hatch. I hop out and make my way to the cabin’s entrance, kicking snow off my boots as I cross the planks of the wide front porch.
Before I can even knock, the door swings open and a tall, radiant Carmella drags me into her arms, squeezing the breath out of me.
“Can’t breathe,” I squeak, smiling and patting her slender back.
“You can breathe after I’ve hugged you,” she says in her exotic accent. When she finally releases me, she smiles her dazzling smile down into my face. “I’ve missed you.”
She kisses both my cheeks and I tell her when she takes my hand to pull me inside, “I’ve missed you, too.”
After Dash explained the details of why the engagement rumor had been started, it was easy for me to like his gorgeous ex-girlfriend. It was a plan they’d devised in order to keep Carmella safe from a stalker until he could be found and brought to justice. The creep had broken into her apartment in L.A. and also left dead animals at two of her photo shoots. The fake engagement was a way to keep her safe in the short term. It was Dash’s idea to schedule the interview and stage the public appearances. He did it for me, but a fortunate side effect was that it also forced Carmella’s stalker out of hiding. Now she’s safe, happy with her husband and baby, and I have my man. Win-win.
Since learning all that, and since seeing the easy, almost brotherly way Dash has with Carmella, it wasn’t difficult to put their relationship into perspective and allow myself to really begin to like her. And once I saw how Dash didn’t look at her, but did look at me… Well, it left me with no doubts about where his loyalties lay. From there, a beautiful friendship was formed, and today I finally get to see my goddaughter, Thea.
I spot the portable crib the instant I walk into the room, and I make a beeline for it. I peer down into it, into the tiny face of a sleeping angel, and my heart does a funny little flip.
This…this is what I want with Dash. If my body is capable of creating and carrying such a miracle, I want it with Dash. Now more than ever.
“Can I hold her?” I ask, keeping my voice hushed.
“Of course you can hold her.”
I reach into the crib and take the baby into my arms, snugging her against my chest, feeling full and complete in a way that a woman only feels when she has a child in her arms.
Only this child isn’t mine.
But maybe I’ll have my own one day soon.
Maybe.
Tears prick my eyes, and, as though he can sense it from across the room, Dash comes to me. I feel his big, warm, comforting hand slide around my waist seconds before he rests his chin on my shoulder to look down at the baby. Oh, God, how right it feels. Dash, a baby and me.
A little family.
He raises his head long enough to kiss my temple before resuming his position of chin on my shoulder. I don’t know how long we stand like this, but it’s long enough for the baby to open her muddy-brown eyes and stare, unseeingly, up into my face.
We watch each other for countless seconds until, in slow motion, she screws up her face and lets out one garbled cry. Within a nanosecond, Carmella is by my side, crooning to her baby, who responds with another, gustier cry.
“I bet she’s hungry. We need to get going.”
I want to ask her to stay, but then again I don’t. In a way, it’s almost too painful to have Thea here, an angelic reminder of what I don’t have. What isn’t mine. That’s why I don’t argue.
“Will we see you again before you leave?” I ask, carefully handing the squirming little bundle into her mother’s arms.
“I’ll come by tomorrow afternoon. How’s that?”
I smile. “That’s perfect.”
I think.
I stand back as Carmella breaks down the crib with one hand, baby tucked safely in her other arm, and then slips Thea into what is now a baby carrier. She’s already an expert, and it’s only been a couple of months. Some women just take to motherhood. Carmella is one of them.
I hope I’ll be that way.
A lump the size of a Colorado boulder lodges in my throat, and I force those doubts aside. An act of sheer self-preservation. And weekend preservation as well. I’m sure Dash is tired of my crying jags, and I don’t want to spoil this trip with them.
I don’t move from my warm spot near the fire as our friend carries her baby out to her SUV. Dash steps away from me only long enough to help her.
When he returns, closing the door snugly on the cold winter wind, he makes his way back to me. Gently, he takes my arms and leads me to the sofa. I sit, but he doesn’t. Instead, he drops to one knee in front of me, his body outlined by the glow of the fire at his back.
Dash takes my hands in his, raising his gorgeous eyes until they’ve captured mine, which they do—effortlessly–like they have since the moment I met him.
“Even though I’m disappointed that we don’t have a baby yet, I know it’s only a fraction of what you feel. I know how much you want this, and you have no idea how much I wish I could take the sadness and the frustration away. To see you hurting the way you have been…” He trails off, looking down at our joined hands for a few seconds before bringing them to his lips for a sweet kiss to each of my knuckles. “I can’t change that, but what I can do is offer you the hope of having that some day.” He looks up again, fixing me with that sparkling gaze of his. “With me.”
I swallow. My heart begins to thunder. Now I’m beginning to see what this speech, what this weekend has been about.
Images flit through my mind and I think about the chalet as I entered. I didn’t pay any attention to it at the time, so focused was I on the baby, but it’s decorated like a romantic Christmas getaway—sprays of roses in sterling silver vases scattered throughout, clumps of garland set here and there with two large silver rings intertwined atop them, a fuzzy red throw tossed artfully on the white rug at the fire’s edge. I barely paid any attention coming in, but I’m paying attention now.
“My life was cold and empty before I met you. I had no idea what I was missing until I found it. And now that I have, I never want it to end. I want to have a home with you, a family with you. I want to spend every Christmas with you, and I promise to make every one better than the last. But most of all, I want to make you happy. Every day. Marry me, Dilyn Hart. Say you’ll be mine. Forever. Say you’ll have our babies and grow old with me and spend Christmas with me always. Say yes and make me the happiest man in the world.”
Dash reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring, the most gorgeous square-cut diamond I’ve ever seen. He holds it between his fingers, fingers that have a slight tremble as he waits for my answer. Waits to be able to slip it on.
My lips curve, my eyes water. It’s been hard lately, seeing a negative result on pregnancy test after pregnancy test. But this…this moment, this question, this man pours love into the hole, filling all the empty spaces with the hope of tomorrow and the love of today. I wasn’t expecting this at all, but it was exactly what I needed.
And he knew that.
He waited, waited to give me the perfect moment when I needed it most.
Because that’s the kind of man Dash Grainger is.
“Yes,” I whisper, overcome with the deepest sense of rightness that I can ever remember feeling. In this moment, I know that everything will be okay
. That my life will be a good one, full of love and happiness and precious moments galore. And there will be babies. I feel it in my gut, in my heart. I know it.
Dash pushes the ring onto my finger and I lean up, forcing him to sit back. I slide down onto my knees in front of him, grabbing his face and kissing him with all the emotion, all the love, all the hope, all the contentment I feel. “Make love to me,” I tell him, reaching to pull my sweater over my head. When I meet my fiancé’s eyes again, they’re even blacker, even darker with the want that springs up so quickly between us. “Put a baby in me. Tonight. On the night we start our new life together. A piece of you and a piece of me. Will you do that, Dash?”
My voice is breathy with want, but deep with love.
His answer is a voracious smile as he tugs his own shirt off. “Some days, I can’t think of anything except putting a baby in you. Of sliding into this sweet, sweet body of yours. Of tasting the nipples that I love so much.”
With one arm clutching me around my waist, Dash jerks me close and bends me over his forearm, pulling my bra away from my breast as he lowers his head to suck one aching tip into his hot mouth. I groan, threading my fingers into his messy black hair.
“These are mine. All mine.”
“Just like me,” I tell him on a pant. “I’m all yours.”
His deep, rumbling laugh vibrates through my tingling flesh, bringing every inch of me alive. “Damn right you are.”
That’s the last thing he says to me for nearly an hour. The last thing I’d actually repeat in public, that is. Turns out my man has a very dirty mouth.
And when I’m lying sated in his arms, the fire heating my face from the front and Dash heating my body from behind, a warm glow starts to burn in my chest. We created a child tonight. A baby. Our baby. I know it. I can feel it, like a bone-deep certainty.
With a contented smile, I let my eyes drift shut, thinking that we should come back here every year for Christmas. We can make new happy memories, and maybe make some babies here for a few more years, too. Maybe we can make a family. Our family. Either way, our future is bright and beautiful with a little dash of perfect.
********
For Dash and Dilyn’s happily ever after, click here.
Read on for the first chapter of my full-length, stand alone romance, Levi’s Blue.
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BEFORE YOU GO
If were touched by this story, loved it, thought about it, smiled over it, swooned over it, please consider telling a friend and leaving a review. Your words, spoken and written, are more powerful than you know, and to an author, they’re like water and air and life. You may think you’re just one person, just one reader, but to me, you are much more than that. You are a person who helped change my life. You are a person who can make a difference every time you pick up a book, leave a review, or recommend that book to a friend. Each and every time you do this, you play a vital role in an author’s life. You play a vital role in MY life, and for that I am more grateful than I could ever express. So, from the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU.
OTHER BOOKS BY M. LEIGHTON
All the Pretty Lies
All the Pretty Poses
All Things Pretty
Down to You
Up to Me
Everything for Us
Always with You
Levi’s Blue
Pocketful of Sand
The Empty Jar
Dashing Through the Snow
Strong Enough
Tough Enough
Brave Enough
The Wild Ones
Wild Child
Some Like It Wild
There’s Wild, Then There’s You
YA and PARANORMAL
Fragile
Madly
Madly & Wolfhardt
Madly & the Jackal
Blood Like Poison: For the Love of a Vampire
Blood Like Poison: Destined for a Vampire
Blood Like Poison: To Kill an Angel
The Reaping
The Reckoning
New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author, M. Leighton, is a rarely ever comfortable speaking about herself in the third person, but here goes. Michelle is a former nurse who has always harbored a passion for the written word, a weakness for alpha males, and a profound love of all things romantic. Never in her wildest dreams did this Yankee-turned-Southerner imagine her life as it is today. She has the best job in the world, a husband who treats her like a princess, and a dog that's so smart she may one day write a novel, too. You can often find Michelle hidden away in her cave, crafting a new story, or out in the sunshine enjoying some quiet time with her man. Movies, wine, and good food are frequently thrown into the mix, and exercise on days that start with Q. She loves laughter, chocolate, the color red, and you can find out more about her at www.mleightonbooks.com. Sign up for her newsletter here: http://smarturl.it/MLeightonNews. She promises not to spam your inbox:)
Levi’s Blue
Levi’s Blue Four beautiful days. Three steamy nights. One breathtaking love.
Levi Michaelson. He wanted four dates. Four opportunities to prove I could trust him. Four chances to change my mind about him.
I agreed.
Probably not my smartest decision. He was everything I knew to avoid—gorgeous, charming, sexy as hell—but I couldn’t help myself. When he touched me, the whole world disappeared. I should’ve known I could lose myself to him, that he could be the one man to destroy me.
I guess it’s true what they say—some things are too good to be true. And Levi Michaelson might just be one of them.
CHAPTER 1
EVIE
I STOP in the doorway and reach for the wall. The plaster feels good against my damp palms. Cool, refreshing. Stable.
I’m nervous.
It’s hot in there, in the next room. I can tell because the humid air gushes through the opening and caresses my face like the kiss of summer, warm and moist.
I take a steadying breath and reach out with all my senses. It’s second nature to me now.
I hear the shuffle of feet, the rustle of movement. I smell the scent of a dozen colognes and perfumes, mixing with the faint aroma of alcohol. And I feel the presence of people nearby, their charge, their…static. They change the air around them, the way it sounds and smells, but also the way it feels as it washes over me. It feels heavier. More electric.
And what does all that mean? People. Lots of them.
A crowd is waiting for me. I know they’re there, even though I can’t see them. I haven’t seen a face, a color, a sunset, or a star in thirteen years. These days, all of my mental pictures are made from what I can hear, taste, smell and feel. The only things I see are memories that are locked away inside my head, in a palace with a thousand rooms, each filled with sights from the first half of my life.
When I could see.
I pull in a single deep breath, drawing in all the concrete and certain elements I can detect. They are my sight now. They are the things that soothe me. Ground me. Comfort me.
Well, sometimes. When I’m not a jumbled mass of nerves, all twisted and tangled around each other.
For the most part, I’ve learned to take comfort in different things since the accident, to find peace in different ways. And tonight, braving a crowd of people who have come to see my work, my art… Well, I’ll need all the comfort I can get, wherever I can get it.
I hear the delicate click of footsteps, stilettoes on polished marble, as someone—Cherelyn, I presume—walks toward me. It’s a purposeful gait, a completely different sound than the casual meandering of those walking around the room next to the one I’m in, looking at the walls, at all the squares and rectangles that colorfully display little bits and pieces of my soul.
“Not even a little bit,” I admit, my innards knotted like a clutch of angry snakes, hissing and spitting.
“Too bad. This is your night and you’re going to enjoy it if I have to hog-tie you and drag you out there.”
I smile. “Hog-tie me? What the hell is that?”
“It’s a Texas thing. Now come on.” She tugs gently at my arm, but I resist.
“We aren’t in Texas, though. We’re in Shreveport, Louisiana.”
“I realize that, dingus.” Her answer is droll. I imagine her expression is, too, but I can’t see her, so I wouldn’t know. I’ve felt her pointed chin and high cheekbones, her pert nose and broad forehead, though, so I can conjure up what expression I think she might be wearing—a wry one. “You brought all that ’80s shit with you to school in New York. I brought Texas with me to Louisiana. Get over it and move your ass.”
“The ’80s were great for movies and music, and I’m offended that—”
“Stop right there. You’re stalling, and I can’t let you stall, because if you stall I might lose my nerve, and then I’ll stall and—”
“If you say ‘stall’ one more time, I’m gonna gag you and throw you in the closet.” I lay my hand over hers where she’s gripping my arm. Her fingers are digging in like someone who’s falling off a cliff that has no visible bottom. “Hey, it’s going to be fine. You know that, right?”
She sighs. I feel her minty breath breeze over the skin of my temple. “I know. I’m just nervous.”
Cherelyn is not only my best friend, she’s my biggest fan. She’s also the person who organized this showing, which is taking place in the gallery of a friend of her father’s. She has a lot to prove tonight, too.