by Susan Meier
“Oh. That’s so sweet.”
“It was.”
He said nothing else, just wrapped a strand of lights from the top of the tree, along the branches in circle after circle until he reached the bottom. Then he plugged them in. The tree glowed.
She sighed. “It’s beautiful.”
“And we’re just getting started.”
Her heart singing with happiness that would soon become sorrow when he left, she caught his hand. “I can’t do this. I can’t pretend nothing is wrong. I told you that I loved you and you told me you couldn’t love. I accepted that. If you stay, my heart will be broken all over again.”
“Even if I tell you that I love you too?”
Her breath froze.
“That’s why I’m here.” He reached for tinsel and looped it around the fat tree. “I thought I was finally ready to go home. I knew being with you had started to heal me. And I believed the logical next step was to be with my family.” He faced her and caught her gaze. “Turns out you had helped me heal. Enough, though, that it wasn’t my family I needed. It was you.”
“Oh.” Her chest had tightened so much that was all she could say.
He opened his arms. “Come here.”
She stepped into them.
“I’m so sorry I hurt you. But I had to go home to realize it was you I needed.”
She pulled back. “Say the part about loving me again and just kiss me.”
He laughed. “I love you. Seriously. I fell like a rock.”
She smiled, and he kissed her. His lips met hers unerringly, as if they’d found home, and every cell in her being rejoiced.
Just then his cell phone blasted the “Hallelujah Chorus.”
She would have laughed, except the kiss was too delicious. His lips skimmed across hers, nipped and sipped, stirring her blood. Her arms lifted slowly, almost as if unsure this was real. Her hands walked up his sweater-covered chest and finally linked behind his neck.
His arms wrapped around her, tightly, securely, as if he’d never let her go. For the first time in her life, she knew what it was to be genuinely wanted.
They broke apart slowly, their gazes connected. He smiled. She smiled.
His whispered words broke the silence. “I never thought I’d get over my son’s death. Then you taught me that you never get over it, you go on.”
She nodded. “It was what I had done with Wayne.”
His hand skimmed down her hair. “Have I told you lately that you’re beautiful?”
She laughed. “I don’t think you’ve ever told me I was beautiful. Your friends have, but you always focused on my clothes. A nice, safe way to compliment me.”
He sniffed a laugh. “No more playing it safe. I want to be in this for everything. The good times and bad.”
“That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
“You agree?”
She nodded.
“Well, since you basically just accepted my marriage proposal—” he took a step back, rummaged through one of the bags “—I guess you’ll need this.”
He produced a black velvet ring box. Her gaze flew to his. “This is it?”
“This is it.”
He got down on one knee, opened the ring box and displayed a huge diamond solitaire. “Will you marry me?”
Her eyes filled with tears. He was the answer to a thousand prayers said on long lonely nights, most of them on Christmases. “Yes!”
He rose and kissed her again. This time she melted. He was the kindest, most wonderful man in the world and now he was hers. She gave herself over to the kiss, opened her mouth, let their tongues twine and dance. As they should because it was the happiest day of her life.
When they finally broke apart, he shifted away. “And there’s one more thing.”
Through happy tears, Eloise glanced at the second black jeweler’s box he handed her. She caught his gaze. “What’s this?”
He nudged the box at her. “Open it.”
She lifted the lid and an array of diamonds winked at her. She glanced up sharply. “It’s a diamond necklace.”
“For your mom.”
Her brow furrowed. “For my mom?”
“You said the only way you’d ever be accepted into your family would be if you bought your mom a diamond necklace.”
She gasped. “I was kidding.”
“I thought it through. I think you’re right. We need to make a grand gesture to get back into your family.”
“If you remember that conversation correctly, I also told you I didn’t want to be back with my family.”
“Everybody needs family. You’ll just go back with new rules. You’ll accept what they can give you because you’ll have my love. You won’t ever go without love again. In fact, I’ll give you so much you’ll have enough left over to give your parents. And eventually, maybe they’ll come around. Or maybe they won’t. But it won’t matter.”
She blinked back tears and slid her arms around his neck again. “That’s sweet.”
“No. That’s real love. No family left behind.”
She smiled. “Nobody left behind.”
“Exactly.”
This time she kissed him. Long and deep and sweet. And he finally got the chance to do what he’d longed to do for their entire courtship. He let his hand slide from her shoulders, down her long sleek spine, to the swell of her bottom, then back up again.
She was his.
And he was hers.
Neither one of them would ever be alone again on Christmas.
All the dark places in Ricky’s heart suddenly lit with glorious light. He’d always miss his son. Always regret his mistakes. But he knew in his heart of hearts, even someone as young as Blake would know everyone deserved a second chance.
He broke the kiss and glanced at the window. Big, fluffy flakes billowed behind the glass. He smiled. “It’s snowing.”
EPILOGUE
THEY MARRIED A few months later, on a sunny spring day in New York City. Crisp air filled Eloise’s lungs as she and Ricky ran out the door of St. Patrick’s Cathedral into a sea of bubbles being blown by their guests.
Standing to the right, her mother dabbed tears as her dad straightened to his full six-foot-three, as proud as any father she’d ever seen. Her older brother grinned at her, happy as a clam to be an entrepreneur himself, thanks to an investment by Ricky.
No family left behind.
She still wasn’t convinced her parents were as glad to have her back as they were that she was marrying someone with more money than most banks, but as Ricky said, they wouldn’t care. Family was family.
With Ricky two steps ahead of her, holding her fingers, she navigated the stairs to the sidewalk in the slim satin gown designed by her boss, Artie Best.
Ricky kissed her knuckles and they ran to the limo, where Norman, in dress blues, awaited them.
He grinned as he opened the door. “I can take you to a hotel for a few hours before the reception.”
“Or we can go get the pictures,” Eloise said with a laugh.
“Yes, ma’am.”
They slid inside, Norman closed the door and Ricky reached for her, giving her a long, slow kiss.
“So, Mrs. Langley, how’s it going?”
She laughed. “You just wanted to be the first to call me that.”
“I like the sound of it.”
“I do too.”
“And we’re going to be happy together.”
“Yes.”
She knew it was true because she’d been down this road before. She was smarter now. She hadn’t given away her heart willy-nilly, and Ricky hadn’t accepted it without thought. This passion would last forever.
Hours later, at the end of the reception, she prepared t
o toss her bouquet into a throng of hopeful single women. Two seconds before she threw it, she noticed Laura Beth wasn’t in the group. She sat at a chair at one of the round tables beside the dance floor.
Seeing this, Eloise was a bit confused as she threw her bouquet, and the bundle of flowers didn’t just go too high, it also went too far...
And fell in Laura Beth Matthews’s lap.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from AT THE CHATEAU FOR CHRISTMAS by Rebecca Winters.
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CHAPTER ONE
THE FINANCIAL DISTRICT of San Francisco was known as the Wall Street of the West. Nic got out of the limo into sunny, fifty-eight-degree weather and entered the high-rise that housed the headquarters of Holden Hotels on Montgomery.
There might be no snow in this city by the bay, but Americans were big on Christmas trees. The tall one in the foyer decorated with pink bows, pink angels and pink lights was dazzling. The hotel chain started by Richard Holden had become one of California’s finest.
Nic had checked in to one near the airport upon his arrival at 3:00 p.m., a half hour ago. A smaller tree decorated the same way with a giant Santa Claus in the corner had illuminated its foyer. He was impressed by its unmatched American ambience that would enchant children of all ages and nationalities. Once it might have enchanted him, but no longer. These days Christmas was a painful holiday he had to get through.
A security guard at reception in the lounge of the foyer looked up at him. “May I help you, sir?”
“I hope so. I’m here to see Ms. Laura Holden Tate. I understand she’s manager of the marketing department.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No. I’m here on urgent business and must speak to her as soon as possible.”
“Your name?”
“Monsieur Valfort. She’ll recognize the name.”
“One moment, please, and I’ll ring her secretary.”
Nic had to wait a few minutes for an answer. The man gave him a speculative glance before he said, “If you’ll take a seat, she’ll be down shortly.”
So she was in...that was good. Saved him from having to hunt her down.
The name Valfort had probably given Ms. Tate a heart attack. He’d purposely left off his first name to keep her guessing. But Nic wasn’t surprised she was willing to drop everything in order to investigate this undesirable intrusion away from the eyes and ears of her staff. He had to admit he’d been curious about a woman who’d shown no interest or love, let alone curiosity, over her grandmother’s welfare all these years. It demonstrated a coldness he couldn’t comprehend.
“Please help yourself to coffee while you wait.”
“Thank you.” Except that Nic didn’t want coffee and didn’t feel like sitting. He’d done enough of both on the flight from Nice, France, which, being on the Côte d’Azur, showed no signs of snow and coincidentally had been fifty-eight degrees and sunny when he’d left.
The errand his grandfather Maurice had sent him on was one he wanted over. He wasn’t looking forward to this meeting, let alone the other business his grandfather had asked him to carry out.
There would be fireworks, but with so many people coming in and out of the building, he planned to convince Ms. Tate to talk to him away from everyone. If this woman was as bitter and unforgiving as her mother, then he had his work cut out.
He looked in the direction of the bank of elevators, braced for a confrontation. Every time he heard the ding, he watched another group of well-dressed people step out. Though he didn’t have a picture of Ms. Tate, he knew she was a midlevel executive, twenty-seven years old and had been born with blond hair. Not a great deal to go on. At this point all he could do was wait until she approached him.
When he decided something must have detained her, he suddenly noticed an ash-blond woman with silky hair to the shoulders of her chic navy suit walking in his direction from the stairway door on long, shapely legs.
Out of nowhere Nic felt an unbidden rush of physical attraction. Not in years had that kind of powerful reaction to a woman happened to him.
This was the woman he’d flown all these miles to talk to?
Maybe he was wrong and she was meeting someone else, but no one else was standing by him. On closer inspection he noticed that her coloring and five-foot-seven-inch height could have been the way her grandmother Irene Holden would have looked at the same age. Irene had been an exceptionally beautiful woman.
Nic stood there stunned by the strong family resemblance. That had to explain why he’d been so taken with the woman’s looks. She had a certain elegance, like her grandmother, and wore white pearls around her neck as he’d seen Irene do many times. Their sheen was reflected in her hair.
The similarity of the two women’s classic features was uncanny, though the granddaughter’s mouth was a little fuller. Her mouth...and her eyes... They were a lighter blue than her grandmother’s.
But instead of the hint of wistfulness that was Irene’s trademark, he saw guarded hostility as her granddaughter’s gaze swept over him with patent disdain.
“I’m Laura Tate. Which of the Valfort men are you?”
Nothing like coming straight to the point with such an acerbic question, but he was prepared.
“Nicholas. My grandfather Maurice married your grandmother Irene.”
He heard her take a quick extra breath. Much to his chagrin, it drew his attention to the voluptuous figure no expensive, classy business suit could hide. She was Irene’s granddaughter, all right.
“Paul told me your business was urgent. It must be a life-and-death situation for you to make the long flight into the enemy camp.”
Nic changed his mind. This woman wasn’t anything like her delightful grandmother, which made him more irritated with himself than ever over his unexpected physical reaction to her.
“I’d rather talk to you outside in the limo, where we won’t have an audience.” He sensed her hesitation. “I’m not here to abduct you,” he asserted. “That isn’t the Valfort way, despite the rumors in your family.”
He noticed how her jaw hardened, but ignored the grimace and got down to the business of why he’d come. “I’m here to inform you that your grandmother passed away day before yesterday, at St. Luc’s Hospital in Nice.”
The second the news left his lips, Laura’s facade crumbled for a moment. In that instant her whole demeanor changed, like a flower that had lost its moisture. He knew he’d delivered a message that had rocked her world. For no reason he could understand, he felt a trace of compassion for her. Tears sprang to those crystalline eyes, bringing out his protective instincts despite his initial resentment of her lack of feeling for her own grandmother.
“My grandfather wanted you and your mother to hear the news in person. Since he knew he wouldn’t be welcome here, he asked me to come in his place. If you’ll walk out to the limo—the most convenient meeting place I could devise—I’ll tell you everything.”
Irene Holden had been his grandfather’s raison d’être. Nic was still trying to deal with the recent loss himself. He’d loved Irene, who’d been a big part of his life. Her death had left a huge void, one this unfee
ling granddaughter couldn’t possibly comprehend.
* * *
Was it true? The grandmother she’d hardly known was dead?
If Laura were the type, she would have fainted. This tall, striking Frenchman dressed in an expensive charcoal-colored silk suit and tie had just delivered unexpected news that shook her to the very foundation.
He had to be in his early thirties and wore a wedding ring. She’d noticed something else—Nicholas Valfort spoke excellent English with a seductive French accent, no doubt just like the rogue grandfather who’d beguiled her grandmother. A man like this had no right to be so...appealing.
Is that what had happened to Irene—she’d felt an overwhelming attraction to Maurice the moment she’d met him? Like granddaughter, like grandmother?
The surreal moment made it difficult for Laura to function, let alone breathe, but she had to.
Without further urging on Nicholas’s part, she followed him to the front of the building. Once he’d helped her into the back of the limousine, he sat across from her.
She had an impression of vibrant black hair and hard-boned features, but all she could focus on were the moody gray eyes beneath black brows, studying her as if she were an unpleasant riddle he couldn’t solve and frankly didn’t want to.
“I brought these pictures of her with me. Please feel free to keep them. They were taken in the last year before she became so ill with pneumonia.”
Laura groaned. Pneumonia?
He opened an envelope on the seat and handed her half a dozen five-by-seven color photos. Five of them showed her grandmother alone in different outdoor settings. The last one had caught her standing in a garden with a man who had to be her second husband, Maurice.
The same Valfort characteristics of height and musculature in the photo had been bequeathed to the arresting male seated across from Laura. But unlike him, the man’s hair in the picture had turned silver.
She studied the photos for a long time. Her grandmother had still been beautiful at eighty. Pain caused her throat to constrict.
“I brought her body on the Valfort corporate jet. Maurice called the Sunset Mortuary here in San Francisco to meet the plane. Here’s their business card.” She took it from him, cognizant of their fingers touching. Something was wrong with her to be this aware of him when she was in so much turmoil.