First Loves: A Loveswept Contemporary Romance

by Stone, Jean

  Cheers roared again.

  She waved her arms. They silenced. “Unfortunately, our tickets have been sold out. If you would like to stay outside and watch our guests arrive, please be courteous.”

  There were a few jeers; then they ceased.

  “However, there is something I would like to address directly to members of the media.”

  More jeers.

  “Thank you for coming tonight. However, as chairperson of this event, I must ask you to remain outside. The media will not be allowed inside the foyer, or in the ballroom tonight.”

  Angry shouts arose.

  “Hey, lady, I’ve come all the way from Washington.”

  “Yeah, give us a break.”

  Alissa spoke into the mike again. “I’m sorry, but the decision is final. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to take your pictures out here. Again, I ask you to be courteous.”

  “But what about interviews?” came another shout as Alissa led Danny back inside. The doorman locked the doors behind them.

  Danny whistled. “No press inside? But I thought you wanted publicity.”

  Alissa shrugged. “My friends won’t be comfortable with it.”

  “But what about the people who paid a thousand bucks to see their picture on the front page of tomorrow’s edition?”

  “They’ll survive. And maybe they’ll learn there are more important things in the world than what other people think. It’s something I learned too late. And Robert learned too late.”

  They walked back into the ballroom.

  Danny shook his head and glanced around the room. “Does it seem strange not having Robert here?”

  “A little, I guess,” she answered honestly.

  Danny smiled and touched her cheek. “I’m proud of you. For what you just did,” he said. “Now I think I’ll go check on the birds.”

  Alissa laughed and wondered if Danny had any idea in how many ways he had saved her sanity, and saved her life. She watched as he strolled toward the bandstand. It was draped in white chiffon and adorned on either side by fifteen-foot-high white-and-gold bird cages filled with cooing white doves—the birds that would have presided over Michele’s wedding, had there been a wedding. Yes, she thought, it was strange to be there without Robert. But she had been so busy during the past weeks, so crazed with last-minute preparations, that she’d barely had time to put her life in perspective. No charges had been brought against Natalie. As Danny had predicted, tissue samples under Derek’s fingernails matched Natalie’s. The case was declared accidental. The following day Robert had flown off to Switzerland; their attorneys were drawing up the preliminary settlement for the divorce. Alissa knew they would see each other from time to time: the bond of twenty years was too strong for them not to remain friends. And besides, they had their daughters, though Michele had currently elected to forget that. She had flown off to Dallas without David and had made some noise about starting a new life. With the five-million-dollar trust fund Michele would inherit on her twenty-first birthday, Alissa knew her daughter would have no trouble finding a “new life.” She only hoped she’d learned something from her mother’s mistakes.

  And then there was Natalie. Alissa sighed now as she straightened a napkin on a table. Since the “accident,” Natalie had sequestered herself in her room, drapes pulled, remote control in hand, though she often watched television without turning up the volume. After several days Alissa had convinced Natalie to see Lou Gentile, a prominent psychologist who specialized in depression and who had agreed to come to the house four times a week. Surprisingly, money did not seem to be his motive. And he had come highly recommended as someone who actually cared.

  “What if the birds shit on somebody’s head?” Danny cried from the front of the room.

  Alissa laughed. She could think of a few people she would love to see that happen to. Grant Wentworth. Betty. Sue Ellen Jamison. She smiled and headed for the doors leading out of the ballroom. “I’ll be right back,” she called to Danny. “I need a last minute makeup check.” Then she walked down the hall toward the ladies’ lounge, hoping the concierge had remembered to station three attendants there and remove from the marble vanity counters those god-awful, tacky, shell-like bowls used for tips.

  “It’s a freaking monkey suit,” Jay said as he tried to adjust the black silk tie. His hair hung down, his shirt was over-starched, and he did, indeed, look out of his element.

  Zoe laughed. “You look marvelous. Come on, now, chin up. We’re doing this for Alissa, remember?”

  “I’ve only ever worn these damn things for Alissa,” he said. “I thought I paid my penance years ago. Besides, this all seems rather ridiculous. Alissa Page putting on a benefit for the homeless. You don’t suppose old age has finally turned her into a liberal, do you?”

  Zoe smiled and turned back to the mirror. “People change, Jay. I have.” She clipped on her large onyx-and-diamond earrings, then slipped the matching pendant around her throat. Jay stepped up behind her and fastened the clasp. He put his hands on her shoulders.

  Zoe looked at their reflections. It seemed so right to have Jay standing behind her; it seemed so natural. They were a picture with balance, a picture that fit together in every way. Then she touched the corner of her mouth and, for the first time, noticed that it no longer drooped. She smiled as another thought came into her mind: It had been weeks since she’d craved a Twinkie.

  “God,” Jay said, “you look radiant. It’s worth putting on this monkey suit just to see you so beautiful.” He reached around and slid his hands over the bare tops of her breasts, where they swelled from her low-cut black gown. She sighed.

  “Better move those hands,” she said softly, “or we’ll never make it downstairs.”

  “In which case,” he said as he turned her around and kissed her throat. “It would probably be an understatement to say that Princess Alissa would be royally pissed.”

  “I’d better get dressed, or Alissa will never speak to me again,” Meg said as she traced her finger down the narrow strip of soft hair on Steven’s stomach.

  “Senators and their wives are allowed to be fashionably late,” he whispered. He reached down and moved his hand between her legs.

  “I’m not your wife,” Meg answered.

  “You will be. As soon as my divorce is final. I want us to have a life together. I want us to have children.”

  Meg closed her eyes and felt his touch, so warm, so loving. This was the man who wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. And yet …

  When she’d left Atlanta three weeks ago, she’d gone to him. She’d told him she still loved him, had never stopped loving him. He’d moved into her hotel room for a week. While he’d worked each day, Meg had scouted the area for office space—a place where she could set up a practice, specializing in family law. When she had returned to New York to check on Raggedy Man, Steven had gone with her. And yet she still hadn’t told him.

  “Steven,” she said quietly now, “there’s something you don’t know.” The room was still, its silence painted only with the soft sounds of their breath, breathing together, life as one. “When we were at Harvard, I had an abortion, Steven,” Meg said. “I killed our child.” The words, at last, were out. And yet, surprisingly, they hadn’t been difficult to say. Maybe, she thought, it’s because I finally trust him. Maybe it’s because I finally trust myself. She closed her eyes and wondered what had taken her so long.

  Steven watched her for a moment, a long, slow, aching moment. Then he took her hand in his. “How hard that must have been for you.”

  She wanted to keep her eyes closed. She didn’t want to see if the hurt was there, if there was pain. She didn’t want to feel the guilt. Yet this time she opened her eyes. She made herself look at his face, into his cobalt eyes. And this time what she saw was love.

  “I love you, Meg,” he said. “I want to make this up to you. Today is a new day. Everything else is in the past.”

  And then his lips met hers. Lightl
y, gently, fully. And Meg knew that from the past, at last, had come her future.

  There was hardly any room on the dance floor, which gave Alissa all the more reason to hold Danny as tightly as she possibly could. Tonight, she knew, she would go to his room. Tonight they would make love for the first time. The first time, she thought, and it will be magical.

  She rested her head against his shoulder and looked around. Grant Wentworth was dancing with a woman Alissa didn’t recognize—probably his new Tuesday-afternoon tryst; at the opposite end of the room Betty, dressed in dowdy beige organdy, was holding court at the bar. Sue Ellen sat at a table with her bored husband. Alissa wondered how long, and why, that marriage had lasted. Money, most likely. Hers. His. Theirs. She knew the story well.

  She looked back to the crowded dance floor. There were, though, smiling couples, happy couples, like her and Danny: women in sequins and chiffons and silks, adorned with their safe-deposit-box jewels, gliding over the dance floor with glittering ease; men with power-made postures and manicured nails, as impressed with the evening as the women they held. And then there were Meg and Steven, so in love, dancing slowly, their eyes lost in one another’s. Not far from them danced Zoe and … Jay. God, Alissa thought, they’re laughing. He’s making faces, but they’re having a good time. She noticed his limp, then wondered if his leg was bothering him, or if Jay Stockwell simply still hated to dance.

  “It’s a wonderful evening,” Danny whispered in her ear. “No one even seems to miss the media.”

  Alissa nodded. “Especially my friends.”

  He hugged her and pulled her closer. “You’ve changed, Alissa. Or maybe you’re just becoming who you really always were.”

  “Well, I’ve learned something in these past few months, that’s for sure.”

  “Like …?” Danny stopped dancing and followed her gaze across the dance floor, toward Zoe and Jay.

  “I’ve learned that our first loves,” Alissa said with a smile, “may not always be our best.”

  Danny nodded toward Meg and Steven. “Sometimes they are.”

  “I think it’s rare,” Alissa answered.

  Danny touched her chin and turned her face toward him. “I’ve learned something, too,” he said.

  “Like …?”

  “I’ve learned that Atlanta is a wonderful climate for growing orchids.”

  Alissa smiled and started dancing again, being careful not to step on his boots.

  About the Author

  JEAN STONE ran her own award-winning advertising agency for fifteen years before becoming a full-time writer. Her first novel was Sins of Innocence, inspired by the baby she had in 1968 whom she gave up for adoption. Jean Stone lives in West Springfield, Massachusetts, where she is at work on her next novel.

  THE EDITOR’S CORNER

  Welcome to Loveswept!

  With April showers fast approaching, we have some wonderful books for you to cozy up with. One of our most exciting releases is Megan Frampton’s e-original, HERO OF MY HEART, an emotional and powerfully erotic tale of love and redemption, where a tender vicar’s daughter and a tortured war hero discover that sin may be their only salvation. I love this story and I can’t wait for everyone else to enjoy it!

  We’re also excited by these fantastic classic releases:

  Sandra Chastain’s NIGHT DREAMS, a tender and seductive tale about a man with a tortured soul and the one woman who can heal him … and her sizzling PENTHOUSE SUITE, where a free-spirited beauty teaches a tight-laced businessman to listen to his heart.

  RELUCTANT LARK, the classic novel of love and loss by beloved bestselling author Iris Johansen.

  Karen Leabo’s thrilling HELL ON WHEELS, about two people chasing tornadoes — and flirting with danger.

  And two positively sizzling books from Linda Cajio: HE’S SO SHY, a charming tale where a love for the ages leaps off the silver screen … and DESPERATE MEASURES, where love creates the perfect recipe for success.

  If you love romance … then you’re ready to be Loveswept!

  Gina Wachtel

  Associate Publisher

  P.S. Watch for these terrific Loveswept titles coming soon: May brings

  Elisabeth Barrett’s scorching third Star Harbor book LONG SIMMERING SPRING, Toni Aleo’s exhilarating Loveswept debut TAKING SHOTS, Iris Johansen’s captivating LADY AND THE UNICORN, Sandra Chastain’s wickedly sensual stories, RUN WILD WITH ME and SCARLET BUTTERFLY, and Linda Cajio’s searing books, HOT AND BOTHERED and DANCING IN THE DARK…and ARRESTED BY LOVE, a special treat from Virna DePaul. In June, we’re excited about Ruthie Knox’s utterly fantastic FLIRTING WITH DISASTER, Toni Aleo’s blazing TRYING TO SCORE, Linda Cajio’s superb DOUBLE DEALING, Iris Johansen’s magnificent FOREVER DREAM and three more red-hot books from Sandra Chastain SINNER AND SAINT, SHOWDOWN AT LIZARD ROCK, and SCARLET LADY. Don’t miss any of these extraordinary reads. I promise that you’ll fall in love and treasure these stories for years to come.…

  Read on for excerpts from more Loveswept titles …

  Read on for an excerpt from Sharon Cullen’s

  The Notorious Lady Anne

  Chapter One

  London, 1749

  Nicholas Addison tossed back a mouthful of flat champagne and watched the swirling mass of people on the dance floor with a jaded eye. If he didn’t have an important meeting in a few moments he would have left already. Hell, he wouldn’t have attended in the first place.

  “We’ve only just arrived. You can’t leave yet.”

  Nicholas switched his gaze from the dizzying dancers to his brother, Sebastian, Earl of Claybrook.

  Sebastian grinned but the amusement didn’t reach his tired eyes. “So what did Kenmar have to say?” he asked, referring to Nicholas’s earlier appointment with the marquess.

  Nicholas shrugged and looked around one more time. You never knew who could be lurking in the shadows. Listening. And he wasn’t taking chances. Not tonight.

  He took another swig of champagne and frowned when the alcohol hit his stomach like a round from a twenty-two-pounder. “He’s offering me a captain’s position on one of Hamilton’s ships. I haven’t given him an answer yet.”

  “So will you do it?” Sebastian asked quietly, looking around as well. If someone was lurking, Sebastian and Nicholas’s strange behavior would surely tip him off.

  Nicholas swirled another swallow of champagne around in his mouth but it didn’t wash away the indecision. The anxiety. “I’m to give him my answer in a few minutes.” He looked around for the marquess but the crush of people made it impossible to see even a few feet beyond him.

  “Don’t leave a chap in suspense, Nicholas. What will you tell him?”

  “I haven’t made my decision yet.”

  When the summons arrived to report to the marquess’s residence, Nicholas’s curiosity had been piqued. Bored, he accepted the somewhat terse invitation even though he knew he couldn’t not accept it. What Kenmar had proposed was the last thing Nicholas had expected and the one thing he wanted most—to command his own ship, to be out on the ocean where he belonged.

  But, as with anything in life that seemed too good to be true, it came with provisions. The shipping company had recently been under attack. Some suspected pirates. But not Kenmar. Kenmar suspected the owner of the company, a man named Daniel Blackwell, was purposely sabotaging the ships to gain the insurance money.

  Nicholas had inwardly winced when he read the insurance papers. The names scrawled at the bottom were some of the most highly placed noblemen in the country. A few even had the advantage of the king’s ear. If Blackwell was fleecing them of their money, the man was an imbecile.

  Nicholas leaned against the wall, desperate to escape the cloying perfume of the ladies, the boisterous boasts of the gentlemen, and the swirling couples on the dance floor. He’d never been a decent dancer, not even an adequate dancer, and with his barely healed leg, adequacy wasn’t a possibility. Not that he wanted to dance. No, what he wanted was to climb those sta
irs and exit the stifling house. But first he had to speak to Kenmar. First he had to make a decision.

  Sebastian slapped Nicholas on the back. “I’m certain you’ll make the right decision, brother.” He made to move away, hailing a friend across the room.

  “Sebastian.”

  His brother turned and raised a brow in inquiry. Nicholas was taken aback by the fatigue on Sebastian’s face. Small lines etched the corners of his eyes and deep grooves creased the sides of his mouth. A mouth that smiled little lately.

  “Thank you,” Nicholas said quietly.

  Sebastian smiled, erasing the serious expression that seemed to be a constant lately. “That’s what families are for, Nick.” His gaze flickered behind Nicholas. “Kenmar’s approaching.” Then he disappeared into the crowd, giving Nicholas only a few moments to prepare himself.

  “Addison.” Kenmar stopped beside him. An older gentleman who clung to the tradition of wearing a white wig in public, the man was well respected and a close acquaintance of the king.

  Nicholas nodded. “Kenmar.”

  “Have you given my proposal any thought?”

  “I have.”

  Kenmar took a sip from his glass. “Before you give me your answer, I’ll have you know I received more information after you left this afternoon. Inside sources tell me Blackwell is launching a shipment of gold that’s to leave the colonies in a month or so. If you choose to accept this mission, I’ll need you to discover more about the gold. Where it’s headed and what it’s being used for.”

  “You don’t believe Lady Anne is behind the attacks?” According to Blackwell, the notorious female pirate, Lady Anne, was behind them.

  “I don’t believe Lady Anne exists.” Kenmar swirled the wine in his glass.

  The London papers were full of the lady pirate’s exploits. Young girls wanted to be like her. Men claimed to have bedded her. The elite whispered about her in their ballrooms and she was the major source of entertainment in what would otherwise have been an ordinary season of soirees and balls.