Drawing Me In: A New Zealand Secret Baby Second Chance Romance (Due South Series Book 7)

by Tracey Alvarez

  Finally, it was her turn to face the congregation. Bree tucked her hand into her father’s elbow, and they glided into the packed church. She couldn’t look toward the small sanctuary where Harley stood. Like hell would she ruin her makeup by getting weepy over him, though Shaye, in her wisdom, had laughingly insisted Bree use waterproof mascara.

  Her gaze swept over the pews as she and her father moved slowly down the aisle. Halfway down, she spotted Craig and his wife, Miriama. He smiled at Bree and gave her a little wave. While it was doubtful Harley and Ford would ever have a close relationship with their biological father, they’d called an amicable truce. Bree suspected that the twins had underestimated just where their determination had come from, and that Craig would win their trust again, eventually.

  And there, four rows from the front, was the good doctor, Joe. Thank God she and Harley had followed his advice and moved to the mainland for the last month of her pregnancy, in plenty of time for a safe, urban delivery at Invercargill hospital. Only Joe wasn’t looking at Bree. His gaze was fixed with the intensity of a hawk spotting a field mouse on the other side of the church—to where bridal shop owner and wedding planner MacKenna Jones in a beautiful periwinkle blue sheath dress beamed at Bree.

  And then in the first row, Bree’s mother, who had mellowed dramatically since she’d moved into her Christchurch apartment above another tiny gallery. And by mellowed, Bree meant Christine had once again become so caught up in churning out watercolors that she had little energy left to bitch at Bree and Amy.

  Finally, the bridal party in the sanctuary. Carter stood at the very end of the line as Harley’s youngest groomsman, looking devastatingly handsome in his first formal suit. His smile couldn’t have grown any wider as he met Bree’s gaze and pointed down at the carry-seat by his feet. As it did every time she looked at her tiny son, Bree’s heart melted.

  Today more than usual, since eight-week-old Tāne Robert Komeke was dressed by his daddy in a black-and-white onesie that looked like a mini tuxedo. Then next to Carter stood Ben, who smiled at Bree, but it was the smile of a man forced into a suit when he’d rather be wearing shorts and flip-flops. Then West and Del, both looking like James Bond wannabes, her brother-in-law Paul, who winked and gave her a sly thumbs-up, and Ford—who’d patiently laughed off a thousand jibes about him being beaten to the altar by his twin with good humor these last seven months.

  And Harley. Harley, who, if he’d worn mascara, would’ve had panda-rings under his eyes. He looked stunned, as if someone had whacked him over the head with a happy stick and left him reeling. And he looked like that because of the way he loved her—fully, completely, without holding anything of himself back. He’d thrown himself into loving her, loving their son, with the same abandonment he’d once thrown mud at her on the Rakiura Track, oh so long ago now.

  Bree’s father gently unhooked her hand from his elbow and with a smile placed her fingers in Harley’s.

  “Don’t you leave my girl behind again, Komeke,” her father said, only half-jokingly.

  Sudden heat flared on Bree’s cheeks under her veil, but Harley smiled.

  “Not a chance in hell of that, sir,” he said.

  Her father nodded and walked to an empty seat in the front row.

  Harley squeezed her fingers and drew her closer, murmuring by her ear, “How will I get through this without the guys forfeiting my man-card?” He swiped a quick finger under his eyes and smiled down at her. “The only time you’ve looked more beautiful is the night I proposed.”

  “We get through it together. Like we have every hurdle we’ve faced so far.”

  As they had during her twenty-two hour labor where Harley had barely left her side. As they had when their lives had felt like an out-of-control rollercoaster with no stops except for the two to three-hour blocks of sleep they got at night during their first weeks at home.

  The minister politely cleared his throat and Bree managed to drag her gaze from Harley’s face.

  “Shall we begin?” he said.

  She and Harley had agreed to keep the ceremony short and traditional—and it’d been going dreamily to plan until it was time for Harley to say his vows.

  “I know I agreed to keep things traditional,” he said with a grin. “But we’ve done a few things in our relationship that are a little untraditional, so I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind.”

  He turned to Carter. “Come up here, mate, and bring your baby brother.”

  Carter picked up the carry-seat and brought it over to Harley, who held it in one hand and took Carter’s in the other.

  “Now, take Auntie Bree’s hand.”

  Carter did, and Bree’s heart gave a little hippity-hop in her chest at the earnest expression on her son’s face.

  “Before I promise to love your auntie for better or for worse,” Harley said. “In sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, and to obey her every imperial command…”

  Carter giggled.

  “I have something to promise you and Tāne first,” Harley said.

  “Sure,” Carter said.

  Harley nodded and cleared his throat. “Here goes. Carter, you already have a dad who loves you and is raising you to be the kind of man we’ll both be proud of. I want you to know you also have a father who loves you. And my promise to you is that I will always be here for you, I will always love and support you no matter what path your life takes, and I will always—and don’t forget this bit—join with your dad and your uncles to kick your butt should you start heading down the wrong path. Okay?”

  Carter grinned. “Okay.”

  “Now, Tāne.” Harley’s gaze went warm and liquid as it landed on his sleeping son. “You can’t hear me, so your mother will have to remind you when you’re older. I promise the same things as I promised your big brother, but I want to thank you, tama, for making me a better man and in turn a better father, and for teaching me the true meaning of whānau.”

  Bree’s eyes blurred as Harley led Carter back to his position in the line, placing a kiss on Tāne’s forehead before returning to her side. It took every ounce of concentration for Bree to repeat her vows to Harley when she couldn’t think of anything but hugging him until he couldn’t breathe. And kissing—she was definitely holding out for the kissing part.

  Finally, Harley peeled back her veil. “There you are, Queenie. I see you.”

  He cupped her face in both of his big hands. She placed her hands over his and prayed that every single drop of love swelling inside her heart for this man would show. That he’d know she saw him, too—his scars, his fears, his doubts, his strength and his mana—and that she’d never take for granted his forgiveness and patience.

  From beside Carter’s feet came a series of snuffles, and black-bootie-covered feet began to wriggle. Carter stroked the baby’s head, but nope, their boy would have none of it and let out an irritated grunt.

  Harley shot a glance at the minister. “Can we move this along?”

  The minister chuckled. “Absolutely. Before young Master Komeke demands his afternoon snack, I now pronounce you husband and wife—kiss your bride, man.”

  Harley didn’t need asking twice as he hauled her into his arms. He kissed her once, a brief peck that sent up a cheer through the congregation.

  Then he murmured against her lips, “We’ve got ten seconds, since our son is like me and won’t take no for an answer.”

  Bree rose up on tiptoe, pressing her mouth to his, sighing as his tongue flicked out to tease hers. She’d always be grateful that Harley wouldn’t take no for an answer. Pulling back far enough that his loving face filled her vision and blocked out the crowd, the smiling faces of their wedding party, even the rising wail of their baby, she said, “Let’s make every second count.”

  Then she kissed him…and every second did.

  ###

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  Maori Glossary

  These are simplified for the sake of brevity.

  aroha - love

  harere mai – come here! welcome! (A greeting.)

  hangi – traditional New Zealand Māori method of cooking food using heated rocks buried in a pit oven

  hongi – to press noses in greeting

  kai – food

  kaumātua – elder or elders, senior people in a kin group

  karanga – to call, call out, summon

  kereru – Native New Zealand wood pigeon.

  kia ora – greeting

  kōrero – to talk, speak or address

  kuia – elderly woman, grandmother, female elder

  matai – native tree often used as a flooring timber

  nono –backside, bum.

  pēpi – baby

  putiputi – flower

  puha – a plant like watercress

  tāku – my

  taonga – treasure

  tangi – rites for the dead, funeral

  tui – Native New Zealand bird.

  whakapapa – ancestry

  whānau – family

  whakaute – respect whāngai - fostered or adopted child

  wheku – carved face/mask

  To hear the pronunciation of some of these words, check out this online Maori Dictionary!

  And a few Down Under phrases you may not be familiar with:

  sweet (or sweet as) – cool, awesome

  smoko – break, rest from work. Often called morning or afternoon smoko.

  laughing gear – mouth

  sheila – woman

  fair dinkum – fair or true

  More from this Author

  The Due South series focuses on family, community, and of course, each book contains a scorching hot romance.

  Don’t miss out on any of the Due South series!

  In Too Deep (Book #1) FREE!!

  Melting Into You (Book #2)

  Ready To Burn (Book #3)

  Christmas With You (Book #4)

  My Forever Valentine (Book #5)

  Playing For Fun (Book #6)

  Drawing Me In (Book #7)

  Kissing The Bride (Book #7.5) Coming June 2016

  Saying I Do (Book #8) Coming later in 2016

  Kissing The Bride

  (Coming June 2016)

  WARNING: If you’re new to the Due South world, this fun and sexy short story of Del & Shaye’s wedding isn’t the book to start with. Lots of favorite characters join in the wedding craziness—and if you haven’t read the earlier Due South books it’ll just be crazy-confusing.

  The countdown is on to the Wedding of the Year, New Zealand!

  It’s seven days until Shaye Harland and Del Westlake finally tie the knot—and it’ll be the most awesomesauce wedding Stewart Island has ever seen if Shaye has anything to do with it. Her All Things Nuptial journal has the big day planned to perfection, but not everything runs like clockwork. While marrying the man of her dreams beats chocolate as an Easter treat, a few mini-catastrophes like Boris the obstinate sea lion threaten to ruin their special day.

  Turn the page for a free excerpt of Kissing The Bride!

  Excerpt from Kissing The Bride

  7 days before the Big Day and counting…

  Shaye had one up on Santa, a point she never failed to mention whenever her fiancé teased her about her list-making. While Santa had to check his list twice, she never did. Shaye Harland, a week away from becoming Mrs. Shaye Westlake, got it right the first time. Because she was organized—beyond organized.

  B-organized. Big time b-organized, thanks to her journal of All Things Nuptial.

  Sitting crossed-legged on their bed, Shaye ran a fingernail over the love heart doodled on the journal’s inside cover.

  Shaye & Del tying the knot on Easter Saturday. Yay us!

  The sparkly, swirly doodling was the only frivolity she allowed herself on the color-coded, alphabetized, daily—and on the last pages before their wedding day, hourly—planning contained in All Things Nuptial.

  She slipped off the cap on her gold gel-ink pen and placed a check mark beside the first entry on Day 7’s page: Wake up and remember how damn lucky you are to be marrying your Mr. Perfect-For-You in a week’s time!

  Out in the kitchen came the rattling sounds of Del making coffee, and the tap-tap-tap against the glass door as a kaka, which Del had nicknamed Birdbrain, let it known he expected his breakfast pronto. While Del gave a handful of peanuts to the feathered hooligan disguised as a native New Zealand parrot, Shaye continued to scan her to-do list.

  Everything was under control. Everything would be perfect.

  “Seriously?” Del said from their bedroom doorway, a steaming I Heart NY mug in each hand. “I make my woman a morning caffeine fix, and instead of finding her naked and waiting for it, she’s pawing through that damn notebook again?”

  “Planning makes perfect,” Shaye said.

  Though looking at the smooth, ripped expanse of Del’s chest above his boxer shorts made her rearrange today’s list to include a new number one to-do priority: Jump my hot fiance’s bones.

  “Come back to bed, and I’ll paw all over you.” She patted the sheet beside her.

  She caught a flash of white teeth as Del cut her a wicked grin and handed her a mug.

  “I’ll hold you to that, cupcake.”

  Shaye took a sip of coffee then set the mug and her journal on her nightstand. She slid down under the covers and snuggled into Del’s side, placing a row of soft kisses along his collarbone. “You do that, Hollywood.”

  Outside their little house, the wind howled, whipping the water of Shearwater Bay into a frenzy, rustling furiously through the miles of native bush behind them. But nothing could touch the two of them while they were together in Del’s big bed—constructed by him and his mates before he’d followed her to New York and proposed sixteen months ago.

  Del ran a palm over her hair, selecting a strand and tickling her jaw with it. “One week ‘til you make an honest man out of me, huh?”

  “One hundred and seventy-six hours.” Shaye pressed her nose against one hard pec and snuffled up—just a little bit—the delicious scent of warm male with an undertone of his cedar wood and basil-scented cologne. Of all the delicious things she’d smelled over the course of her career as Due South’s sous chef, nothing smelled as good as being tucked up with her man, naked and all hers, on a blustery April morning. Not quite naked, she thought, her wandering hands finding the waistband of his boxers.

  “These need to come off.” She snapped the elastic waistband.

  Del laughed. “In due course.”

  Suddenly, Shaye was no longer curled up against her man but rolled onto her back and trapped beneath his big body. His big, hard body. She hooked her ankles behind his butt and arched, rubbing her hips against him. Heat flared in his blue eyes as he gazed down. He dipped his head, teasing a kiss from her that transformed her breaths from sleepy relaxation to choppy with anticipation.

  “Think I can make you scream before your coffee goes cold?” he asked, wriggling down the bed a little so his mouth was level with her bare breasts. His warm breath had her nipples singing the Hallelujah Chorus, tightening into unbearably pleasurable buds.

  “Pretty sure you could.” And probably more than once, since her body was already sizzling like butter on a hot plate.

  “Damn right.” Del flicked his tongue over her nipple on his way down to nuzzle at her belly button.

  Shaye gripped the edge of her pillow as Del proceeded to drive her out of her
mind with damp kisses. By the time he’d shifted lower, the orgasm countdown had begun, and she could only hold on for the ride. And what a ride. Del brought her to the precipice in record time as he returned to her very favorite spot, and she flung out her hand—clunk!

  Del froze. Shaye froze.

  Sounds of a liquid pitter-pattered on her nightstand and onto the floor. Light-headed from the feel-so-damn-amazing endorphins flooding her brain, it took Shaye two beats to connect the action of her fingers bumping something hot to the clunk and splashy-sound that followed.

  Coffee-spill—journal!

  Shaye squeaked, but before she could even roll to the side Del had reached over her and snatched the sopping journal off the nightstand. He swore, shaking the pages as Shaye squirmed out from under him, trying to see past his wide shoulders to evaluate the damage.

  Oh God. It looked bad. The cream pages with their embossed gold edges clumped together—no longer cream but stained brown. Really, really bad.

  Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, and she blinked them away. She scooted to the far side of the bed and dived over to their laundry basket, grabbing out a towel. Tossing it to Del, who caught it one-handed, she headed to the dresser where she kept her hair dryer.

  “Baby, I’m sorry.”

  Del patted the journal’s cover with the tenderness her sister Piper patted down her little treasure, Michaela, after a bath.

  As sick as the sight of sopping paper and running ink made Shaye, her heart still gave a little somersault. Del loved her enough to care about her feelings, even though her to-do-list journal had probably driven him insane these last few months.