The PA's Revenge (Book 1, The Mackenzie Brothers)

by Diana Fraser

  “Go, Dallas. Thank you for coming, for your forgiveness. But you need to go now. There’s nothing more to be said.”

  He shook his head, his eyes focused on the lone orchid.

  Her eyes followed his. “It was Danny’s favorite.” He nodded, suddenly understanding. “He’d always loved them. He couldn’t believe they grew wild, they looked so exotic. He used to dream of going to Bali to see the orchids we’d read about that grew wild there.”

  “I’m so sorry, Cassandra.”

  She shook her head jerkily and turned away from him. He could see the tension in her shoulders, her back, in the delicate line of her jaw that was tilted up defiantly as she waited for him to go.

  He turned away and opened the door, the jingle of the bells ringing only once because he couldn’t step through the threshold. As he gazed out at the trees opposite, their branches bare and stark under the winter sun, all he could see, all he could feel was emptiness. Life without Cassandra was untenable. It was no life. Six months ago, before Cassandra had entered his life, he’d looked out at the world and felt emptiness. Now there was no longer emptiness, so long as Cassandra was with him.

  The door jangled once more as the door closed.

  Cassandra felt the energy drain out of her body as the door rattled shut. He’d gone. She’d never see him again. She was filled with utter devastation as she slumped against the counter. She loved him but she refused to settle for anything less than love in return. Even if she didn’t deserve it, her baby did. Their child didn’t deserve a distant father, only doing his duty. She or he needed love—first and foremost. Her hands slid protectively around her stomach.

  Suddenly she stopped moving. Her skin prickled with awareness and she closed her eyes, gathering her strength before turning around. “You didn’t leave.” Her eyes swept his body, taking in the uncompromising lines of his face, the curls of his hair, now longer than she’d ever seen it.

  “No. I can’t.”

  He looked so distressed, she wanted to go to him. The anguish in his eyes revealed the fight that was raging inside him. He held up his hand as she started forward.

  “Don’t come any closer, Cassandra. If you do, I won’t be able to think at all.”

  She gripped the counter, willing herself to stay where she was, when all she wanted to do was to go to him. But she couldn’t go to him. He had to do this alone. She knew he had to dig deep to find the words that would open up a part of himself that he’d been denying for so long.

  He paced across the room and back to the door once more. “You know me,” his tone was almost angry. “You know I’ve fought all my life against my father, against the frustration and anger that I’ve held close for so long.” He thrust his hands into his pockets and looked at her under a lowering brow as if desperate to control the passions that she could see raged inside.

  “I know—”

  He held up his hand. “Let me say what I need to say, Cassandra. You’re right. Of course I’m scared to let it go and let myself love you. But it seems I have no choice. Because I can’t leave here without you. I can’t live without you.” He looked up into her eyes with an expression so intense, so full of vulnerability, that her heart ached. “I do love you, Cassandra. So much that it scares me.”

  She was with him an instant, her hands moving around his body, pulling him to her for comfort. Except it wasn’t Dallas that needed the comfort. It was her body that was shaking, it was her tears that soaked into his shirt. But it was his arms that curved around her body and supported her.

  She felt the touch of his lips on the top of her head, felt the power of his arms and body supporting her and felt his love for her, like never before.

  “Marry me, Cassandra?”

  He pulled away and kissed her forehead and brushed away her tears with his thumbs, his hands cradling her face as if it were the dearest thing in the world to him.

  The palm of his hands slid against her soft cheeks as she nodded, her heart too full to form the words, her lips to intent on finding his own lips to utter the words that would seal their future together. Instead, she let her body answer for her.

  Epilogue

  “You’ve got to let Lily do it by herself!”

  Cassandra laughed as Dallas only just managed to stop himself from taking the plump little toddler’s hand into his own as she stumbled unsteadily towards the swings at the centre of Mackenzie Square. He folded his arms and watched as Lily picked up speed, sensing freedom was close, until she finally fell onto the soft surface. He was beside her in a moment and swept her up in his arms until she was giggling uncontrollably.

  As Dallas brought Lily back to the bench where Cassandra sat, she considered, not for the first time, the similarity between them. Not in looks—she was the image of Cassandra—but in the direct gaze, the stubborn spirit and in her zest for life.

  “I hope the next one isn’t so feisty,” he said cupping Cassandra’s barely-showing stomach with one hand as he struggled to hold onto his young daughter with the other.

  “Probably will be, with parents like us.”

  It was his turn to laugh. He drew Lily to him and landed a kiss on her curly head. She twisted her head up and grabbed his hair and gave him a very juicy sounding kiss. “Dada.”

  Cassandra hadn’t known that someone could visibly melt before her eyes. But Dallas did. He allowed Lily to wriggle free of his grip and toddle off to the swings.

  “I will love them all, whatever they’re like, just as I love their mother.” He kissed Cassandra lightly with lips that now curved into an easy smile before he jumped up and followed Lily to help her into a swing.

  The sight of this powerful man, putty in the hands of his little girl, filled Cassandra with love.

  Her hands instinctively found the small orchid that she’d pinned to her top and caressed its luscious petals. Dallas bought her an orchid every day.

  Danny’s flower.

  He’d always be with her. Never forgotten. A part of their family, always.

  The End

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  If you enjoyed this book it would be great if you could write a brief review and post it on Facebook, or your own blog, with a link to the purchase site. Many thanks!

  Coming Soon:

  Books 2 and 3 of The Mackenzie Brothers Series

  —exploring the loves and lives of Callum Mackenzie and James Mackenzie.

  Other Books by Diana Fraser

  The Italian’s Perfect Lover

  http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/97283

  Falling for the perfectly handsome Alessandro Cavour, Count di Montecorvio Rovella, is the last thing archaeologist Emily Carlyle needs as she recovers from the physical and emotional scars inflicted by an ex-boyfriend. But she can't avoid him when she finds out he now owns the estate where she's discovered an ancient Roman site.

  Restoring one particular mosaic on the site has become an obsession with Emily – one which Alessandro can't understand. He has no interest in digging up the past because, despite appearances, he bears his own scars. Consumed by guilt over the death of his wife and son, commitment-shy Alessandro lives only for the pleasures of the present. But he hadn’t reckoned on falling in love. And love, he discovers, forces difficult choices...

  — Excerpt —

  …She shivered as he sat down beside her and turned to look at her closely, questioningly, his hand trailing slowly up her leg.

  “You looked lost in your thoughts, Emily. Tell me what you were thinking about?”

  “You can’t expect me to think as you run your hand up my leg.”

  “Umm. That’s tricky. Do I want your mind, in which case I should stop distracting you or do I want your body?”

  “Better choose my mind. In case you hadn’t noticed we’re in a plane with people working just the other side of that door.”

  “True. It is a beautiful mind and an interesting mind—a rare combination—but one mustn’t forget the body. It can have a profound effect on one’s mi
nd.” His hand didn’t stop moving up towards her thigh.

  She clamped her hand on top of his. “It’s having one on mine. It’s telling me that we’ll be landing soon. There’s no time.”

  “We have half an hour yet before we land.”

  He pushed his hand further up her thigh and she felt her hand slip away from his, allowing him freer access. Her body melted under his touch, her mind ceased to function as she felt the soft drag of his nails climbing further up her inner thigh. She felt herself quiver with anticipation and longing.

  She swallowed hard. The light was too bright up here. She just couldn’t. Not yet.

  “I’ve got, well, reading to do.”

  He laughed. “Reading? Are you mad?” He kissed her long and slow on her lips, his finger now sliding between the elastic of her panties and her super-sensitive skin.

  She gasped. “Alessandro! Someone might come in.”

  “No, they won’t. It would be more than their life or their job is worth. But we can go to the bedroom if you like. I’ll take off your clothes one by one and make love to you under the brilliant sun of the Alps.”

  She shook her head. “No. I’ll stay here if you don’t—”

  “That’s fine with me.” With one swift movement he yanked down her panties. “Don’t move an inch. I promise not to rumple your beautiful new clothes.” He flicked back her seat and she landed on her back on the cushions with a yelp, that turned into a sigh, that turned into a small cry of ecstasy that was drowned by the thrum of the jet as it flew high across Europe...

  <<<<>>>>

  The Passionate Italian

  by Diana Fraser

  http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/113484

  Passion wasn’t high on Rose’s agenda growing up in poverty: survival was, independence was, but not the crazy, elemental passion that she’d found with Giovanni Visconti. But, after a year together, the passion had twisted into jealousy and control and Rose had disappeared—seemingly unable to deal with her husband’s passionate nature.

  But, two years later, Giovanni tracks Rose down. He’s discovered something that makes him realize that there was more to Rose’s departure than he’d first thought, and he’s determined to control his jealous passions in order to prove to his wife that she can trust him. But Rose is keeping secrets from him—secrets with the potential to destroy more than just their relationship…

  — Excerpt —

  …“So you don’t want me to work. How exactly do you propose we spend the next 20 hours or so?”

  He dropped his hand and she released her breath, not realizing that she’d been holding it.

  “I need to know you again.”

  His voice sent chills down her spine. There was an uncertainty evident in the rougher tone that she’d never heard before.

  Her pulse raced at the implications of his words, their ambiguity, their potential.

  “Why?”

  He shook his head. “No more questions.”

  “It can’t all be on your terms. Tell me. What do you need to know about me, that you don’t already?”

  His brow dipped into a brief frown, his dark eyes darkening even further as if a shadow had passed over them.

  “Consider it an interview—a prolonged interview. There are things I wish to know and which I will discover. We’ll begin now but it won’t end tonight.”

  “When then?”

  “When I discover what I need to know.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “It is my question I wish answered. Now get back into bed again.”

  She shivered, confused and doubtful.

  “Ask me whatever it is. Let’s get this over with.”

  “There is no rush.” He moved to the phone and ordered some drinks. “We have all the time in the world.”

  She sat down before her legs gave way beneath her.

  “That time is gone, Giovanni, don’t you understand? The time for talking, for listening, for understanding—it’s gone.”

  “You refused to do talk to me before, you gave us no time. Now, here is your chance.”

  “A chance I don’t wish to take.”

  “You have no choice.”

  A discrete knock at the door was followed by the steward bringing in drinks and snacks. He laid them out on the coffee table and left without raising his eyes or talking. He was too well trained and well paid—too used to attending to his boss in a bedroom with sundry women—to make small talk, Rose supposed. Besides, the tension in the air was palpable.

  “Drink?”

  She shook her head. “One question then. Just one for tonight.”

  He laughed, “You’ve misunderstood. There will be no questions. I can get my answers without questions.”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “I wouldn’t what? Touch you?” He pushed the cover back off her. “Yes, Rose, I would.”

  “What can you hope to gain by violence?”

  “Have I ever been violent with you?”

  “No. Of course not—”

  “Then I suggest it’s unlikely I ever will be.”

  “Then what question are you trying to answer? Tell me that.”

  “A question that only your body can answer. Not your mind, not your voice, nothing else.”

  Heat simmered deep inside. She gasped at the intimation, the suggestion of what he was about to do to her.

  “You would not take me by force.”

  “You are not listening to me. I am interested only in your body’s responses to me, not in satisfying any physical needs of my own. No matter how pressing.” He didn’t smile, didn’t move, simply held her gaze, watching, assessing, alert.

  He put down the cup of untouched espresso and brushed her hand briefly, with the palm of his hand. The gesture had an simplicity that took her breath away. Then he withdrew his hand, leaving her own hand sensitive, aware of the lingering sense of warmth of his touch. He stood over her, watching, his gaze traveled the length of her, from her chest that, she knew, betrayed her increased heart rate and rapid breathing, to her jean-clad legs.

  He walked away and flicked off the light, leaving on only the reading light beside the bed. Its light pooled on and around only her, leaving darkness and all its unknowable potential beyond her.

  There was only this moment in time, with him and her. That sense of timelessness caught and held her, stemming the questions, the things she knew she should say, the things she knew she couldn’t say. He was right. Her body held her in control now. And he was, had always been, master of that…

  <<<<>>>>

  The Sheikh’s Bargain Bride

  by Diana Fraser

  http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/112794

  Being trapped in a marriage of convenience in a desert kingdom, where duty and tradition reign as supreme as the sheikh, is the worst thing that could happen to freedom-loving Anna Whitman. However she has no choice but to agree to Sheikh Zahir Al-Zaman’s demands when he kidnaps her son.

  Duty, loyalty and tradition are the driving forces in Zahir’s life. He’s fought for them all his life and now finds himself obsessed with a woman who appears to be the opposite of everything he values. In order to control his obsession with Anna he believes he needs to possess her. And he’s prepared to go to any lengths to do so—even using Anna’s child to blackmail her into marriage.

  But Zahir will not force her into his bed; he has his strategies for seduction. Despite an intense attraction, Anna is not going to make it easy for him. Even when she begins to understand him, and his culture that seemed so restrictive at first, she won’t have a relationship with him based on lies. But how can she reveal her secrets when they will shatter the beliefs he holds most dear?

  — Excerpt —

  …“I mean it, Anna. You’ve performed a miracle on me. Without me knowing how you’ve done it, you’ve robbed me of my anger. That, is a miracle.”

  “And what has replaced your anger?”

  He reached out hi
s hand then and gently touched her cheek with the tip of his index finger.

  Anna closed her eyes involuntarily at his touch. It was the merest of brushes but it held the strength of a match lighting her skin and body with fire.

  She pressed her eyes more firmly closed as his finger whispered a caress, tracing the line of her cheekbone and round beneath her ear, before the back of his fingers brushed lightly beneath her jaw. Time seemed to have slowed, allowing her mind and body to register each tiny movement against her skin. Physically it was as soft as a puff of warm wind against warm skin: no contrasts, scarcely any contact. But sensually his touch was like the caress of fire on ice that had kept itself frozen for too long.

  It was only when she no longer felt the heat of his touch that she could gather enough control over her emotions to open her eyes. She didn’t want him to see what she was feeling. Not yet.

  What she saw when she opened her eyes was an unexpected tenderness in those exquisitely lashed dark, dark eyes.

  “Tell me Anna, why won’t you let me make love to you?”

  She didn’t reply immediately. Answers formed in her mind: bright, quick, facile ones that had always been part of her mask and sharp, defensive ones that she’d turned to when she’d felt her mask slipping. But neither could help her now. Only the truth.