by Francis Ray
“You think he wants you for more than a bed partner, you’re wrong,” her mother told her tightly. “Alex could have his pick of rich successful women. Why would he want you?”
The hateful words struck home just as her mother had intended. Dianne held her head high, refusing to let her mother know how those words echoed Dianne’s worst fear. “Just leave.”
“Dianne, don’t be foolish.” Her mother came to her. “Come with me and you don’t have to be dependent on any man. Once you’re back at Harrington, you will have the prestige, clout, and money to call the shots. What man wants a woman with nothing? You’re little more than a mistress.”
Alex had never made her feel that way. He’d made her feel loved, made her dig deep inside herself to be the woman she had always wanted to be, for herself, for him. “You have a car waiting.”
Her mother’s lips tight, she left. She didn’t stop until she was in the entry where her husband and Alex still stood like wary adversaries. “Let’s go,” she snapped to her husband.
Dianne’s father looked from his wife to his daughter. “What happened?”
“I finally stopped trying to do the impossible,” Dianne said. “Get you to love me. The price is too high.”
“But—” her father began.
“You heard her.” Alex opened the door.
Her mother brushed past him. Her husband slowly followed. Alex slammed the door. The vise that had been around his chest when Dianne went to pack slowly loosened its grip. “You all right?”
She lifted her troubled gaze to his. She looked fragile, vulnerable. He cursed under his breath. “What did she say to you?”
Dianne folded her arms. Swallowed. “A number of things actually. It made me realize that we can’t go on this way.”
Alex felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. He couldn’t lose her.
“I have a confession to make,” she said softly. “I’d hoped to be in a better position in a few weeks, but my mother made me realize that we need things in the open.”
“You’re scaring me, Dianne.”
She almost smiled. “I’m not at my best, either. My heart is beating like a drum, my knees are shaking.”
“Maybe we should both sit down,” he suggested.
“I’m not moving from this spot until I’m finished,” she said, staring at him intently.
“All right,” he said, trying to be patient when he wanted to take her in his arms, hold her, sweep away whatever doubts her mother had created.
She did smile then. “You’ve always been so patient with me. I could always depend on you. Perhaps, too much.”
“Never.”
“I shamelessly took advantage of our friendship, and your long habit of always being there when I propositioned you to be my lover,” she said.
“And I told you then, if I didn’t have feelings for you, I would have walked away,” he said, finally going to her. “I’d wanted you for a long time before then. You made a dream come true that I never thought possible. Loving you is what I was born to do.” Tears crested in her eyes. He tenderly brushed them away with his thumb. “Please, don’t cry. Forget about your parents and act as if they never were here.”
She sniffed and shook her head. “That’s not possible.”
His hands settled gently on her upper forearms. “All right, then. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
“My mother said you could have your pick of women so why would you want me, that I’m little more than your mistress,” she said under her breath. “She’s right.”
Alex cursed under his breath. “Any man breathing would want you, and we’re business partners.”
“I’m dependent on you, Alex. We both know if you hadn’t rescued me, there is no telling where I would have ended up.” She glanced away. “You helped me just like always, and like always, I let you.”
“Friends help each other,” he told her.
“And that’s where we might have a problem,” she said, stepping away from him to wrap her slim arms around her waist.
Unease washed over Alex. “I don’t understand.”
She turned, letting her arms fall to her sides. Her heart thudded in her chest. She was taking a giant risk. She’d finally gotten over her parents’ inability to love her; she didn’t think there was any hope of accepting Alex not loving her in her lifetime. He was her world. He made life better just with a smile.
“Dianne?” he questioned.
She bit her lip. Was it right of her to tell him her true feelings? If he didn’t feel the same, it would embarrass him. They’d be awkward where they’d been carefree and easy around each other. She didn’t think she could bear that. “Remember when we started this, you promised you’d always be my friend, no matter what?”
“I remember,” he said.
She swallowed. “I’m holding you to that promise.”
“Friends no matter what,” he said. “I’ve never broken a promise to you, and I never will.”
His reassurance didn’t settle her nerves, but it was the best she was going to get. “I want you to know that I didn’t mean for this to happen. It came as a surprise, but I wouldn’t change it even if I could.”
He nodded. “Go on.”
She swallowed hard, and pushed the words out. “I love you.”
He simply stared at her.
She felt her body began to tremble. “Please don’t be mad at me. We can forget what I—”
“Not on your life.” Grinning, he came to her. Tenderly his hand cupped her face. “I loved you first with the love of a young boy, then that of a man. I love you, Dianne, with all my heart. With all I am, with all I hope to be.”
Tears of joy streamed down her cheeks. Happiness sang in her heart. “Alex, I know I’m not the woman you deserve, but—”
“If you don’t want to make me angry, you’ll never even think those words again.” He stared down into her tearstained eyes. “You’re everything that I want. You’re loving, bright, caring. You were down, but you got up fighting.”
“Because I didn’t want to disappoint you. Because I wanted to be worthy of you,” she confessed.
“Maybe at first, but I’ve watched you since you decided what you wanted to do. You’re your own woman, you want to succeed on your own,” he told her. “You take nothing for granted. You push yourself to succeed.” His forehead rested against hers. “Tonight, when you were working on your blog, I was so afraid I was losing you to the business—afraid that you would leave me.”
“Never,” she said adamantly. Her hands lifted his head. “I could never leave my heart. That’s what stopped me. Mother and Father wanted me for their own gain. You want me to be the best I can be for me, and because of that faith, I can be.”
“I want to protect you, love you. Luke found out about Boswell’s connection to the woman who had replaced you and I notified the board,” he told her. “I knew with all the bad press they’d fire him, and your parents might come.”
“And you did it anyway?” she asked.
“You’ll always come first. I love you, Dianne, with all my heart.” He dropped to his knees. “Will you marry me?”
Dianna furiously blinked away the tears in her eyes. She wanted to cherish and remember this moment always. “Yes.”
Standing, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her long and hard. “I know women like big weddings that take a lot of time to plan, but I’d like to marry you as soon as possible.”
“I can’t wait to be your wife.”
“You’ll never be sorry.” He picked her up in his arms. “I’ll love you forever.”
“I know,” she whispered, kissing him on the lips. “Just as I’ll always love you. Now take me to bed.”
“My pleasure.”
Epilogue
Another Bachelor Is Off the Market was the headline for the Fashionista Diva’s tweet just before Cicely dragged her tired body off to bed—but not before her avocado facial of course.
Finished with her faci
al, she looked at all the tweets she’d received asking for more information. Then she switched to the blog.
This afternoon, I was honored to be one of the hundred or so guests for the lavish wedding of designer Dianne Harrington and her business partner and prominent lawyer, Alex Stewart. The ravishing bride wore an off-white long gown with yards of tulle and lace she’d designed for the garden wedding at the beautiful Santa Monica estate of the groom’s parents.
The wedding list read like a Who’s Who of the business, art, racing, and entertainment worlds. Dianne hit the jackpot with a man who loves her, and an extended family that was warm and personable despite their status.
The official photographs were taken by renowned photographer Dominique Falcon-Masters. The caterers were overseen by the head chef of the five-star Casa de Serenidad Hotel in Santa Fe, and billionaire Blade and Sierra Navarone’s personal chef. Sierra’s brother Luke is the groom’s brother-in-law.
I’m told only the soothing words of Faith McBride-Grayson, owner of the hotel, and Sierra kept the two highly competitive men from going to war in the kitchen. Noted restaurateur Summer Radcliffe might have been in the kitchen as well if she hadn’t been in the wedding party. The food—salmon and châteaubriand—was delicious. The five-foot strawberry-and-lemon wedding cake made me eyes pop, then I moaned with pleasure with my first bite. And, yes, I had another piece. I might have to up my exercise regime for the next month. Although I certainly danced off some of the calories. A certain groomsman might be a bit caveman in his thoughts about his bar, but he was certainly light on his feet.
Sleepy, so I’m signing off. No cameras or cell phones were allowed, but the bride and groom promised I’d have exclusive photos to share within a few days. They wanted to keep the wedding private and intimate—considering the guest list, I can see why.
Until next time, remember: Make fashion your own, don’t let fashion own you.
—Diva
Read on for an excerpt from Francis Ray’s next book
WITH JUST ONE KISS
Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
Chapter 1
In less than twelve hours C. J. Callahan’s life would be over, and there was nothing he could do about it.
His long-fingered hand loosely wrapped around a long neck, C. J. sat in the back booth of his bar, Callahan’s, on the west side of New York and contemplated his life … or what was left of it.
At 9:00 AM sharp he’d take over running Callahan’s Software Company. C. J. tucked his dark head, then lifted it to stare around the neighborhood bar that he’d first helped his uncle operate for four years, then owned outright after his uncle’s death four years ago. The bar was as much a part of him as his hands. His uncle, Robert Callahan, the older and only brother of C. J.’s father, had felt the same attachment.
Because of C. J.’s love of Callahan’s, his uncle had willed the bar to C. J. and asked him to make sure Callahan’s reached the twenty-five-year mark. C. J. had accomplished that last year and looked forward to twenty-five more and beyond … until fate said differently.
As much as he didn’t want to run the family-owned software company, he didn’t have a choice. His father’s and brother’s health no longer allowed them to keep the grueling schedule and frantic pace and that left C. J., his parents’ only other son.
The mournful sound of Wynton Marsalis’s sax caused C. J.’s usually erect broad shoulders to sag. His unflappable sunny disposition was long gone. He felt as if every unhappy note had been written just for him. Life had done a number on him this time. It had taken him years to finally find what he wanted to do with his life and, now that he had, it was going to be snatched away from him.
“It’s not that bad.”
C. J. twisted his dark head to see Alex Stewart, one of his two best friends, standing beside the booth. “Why aren’t you still on your honeymoon?”
“Because I’m here.” Alex tucked his six-foot trim frame into the booth’s other side.
C. J. grunted. Alex, a lawyer and a darn good one, had an irritating way with words. He was also crazy in love with his new bride, Dianne. They’d had a big lavish wedding a little over a week ago at his parents’ palatial estate in California, and were supposed to still be in Paris. When they weren’t working, they were inseparable. “Where’s Dianne?”
“She had a stop to make,” Alex answered, bracing his arms on the wooden table. “Sin should be here any minute.”
“And it won’t change a thing.” Sin was C. J.’s other best friend. They had always been there for each other no matter what. Sin had a way with women, thus the nickname.
C. J.’s hands closed around the bottle, then he cocked his head as he saw Sin, tall and in as good shape physically as the athletes he matched with his corporate clients, making his way toward them. His bearded face was serious for once; he was casually dressed in a polo shirt and slacks, the same as Alex. C. J. preferred T-shirts and jeans. Callahan’s Software employees might dress casually, but his grandfather, the founder, C. J.’s father, and his brother, always wore a suit to work.
“Can you get me on a private jet to parts unknown?” he asked as soon as Sin neared.
Sin was a phenomenally successful sports consultant with his own Gulf Stream. Payton “Sin” Sinclair moved in some very wealthy circles, but you’d never know it. He was as laid-back and down-to-earth as they came.
“If I thought it would help, you’d already be gone,” Sin answered in his straightforward way. He sat beside Alex when he slid over.
“We’re here for you, man,” Alex said.
C. J. knew it, but at the moment it wasn’t much help. He and Sin had been best friends since they were freshmen in high school. Alex hadn’t become a part of the strong bond until he’d moved into the same apartment building where C. J. and Sin lived eight years ago. They were as close as you could get.
“Yeah, I know, it’s just—” C. J. began, but he was interrupted by a loud whistle. His head came up and around. Marsalis’s sax shut off. C. J. came out of the booth to see what was happening, then he couldn’t believe his eyes.
Sitting on the bar, mic in hand, was none other than Maya, a six-time Grammy-winning blues singer from New Orleans. Throwing him a kiss, she opened her mouth and moaned, low and deep, and then began to sing about love lost and never regained in her haunting voice.
For a moment he was transfixed by the sight and sound of his favorite singer being in his bar in a red satin dress that showed off every generous curve to perfection. Maya had a breathy, whisky-coated voice that grabbed a man by the throat, and tugged at the emotions. She also had the homeliest face on the planet, but he loved her music. No pretense, just jaw-dropping power. Not many things were that way today.
A picture of a beautiful woman in a lavender dress tied at the shoulders flashed before C. J. Her full skirt had shown a tantalizing glimpse of black netting underneath each time she’d moved in stiletto black heels. She’d smiled up at him as he held her to him on the dance floor. He pushed the image away before he could wrap his mind around why he was thinking of her again.
Ever since that slow dance with her at Alex and Dianne’s wedding, he’d been thinking of Cicely St. John more and more, of what would have happened if he had taken her to his room and untied that dress. There was a reason why he hadn’t. At best they tolerated the other because she was Dianne’s friend.
She was stuck-up and had slammed his bar, not once but twice. Once to his face, the other on her irritating blog. He might have bent to be cordial for the sake of Alex and Dianne, but if he never saw her again, it wouldn’t bother him in the least.
“Be back in a moment,” Sin said, scooting out of the booth. Alex was right behind him.
C. J. was still trying to figure out why Maya was there, when he saw Dianne at the door beckoning Alex. Caught between listening to Maya and finding out what was going on, C. J. folded his arms and chose to listen to Maya. He was past due for something good.
The last t
ime he’d seen Maya was at Mardi Gras a couple of years ago when he, Alex, and Sin had gone to New Orleans. They’d had a ball. The only time they had had more fun was when they’d gone to Vegas for a championship boxing match. They hadn’t slept for three days. Even now, the memory made him grin. What happened in Vegas definitely stayed in Vegas.
There was a commotion at the door. C. J. jerked around and frowned. Alex and Sin were coming through the door with four other men carrying a long table. Even as C. J. moved to help them and finally find out what was going on, he saw the top. Green felt. A craps table. Behind them, another man carried a roulette table, while two croupiers and three men carried slot machines.
It hit C. J. at once and made him throw back his head and laugh for the first time that day. Alex and Sin were throwing him a casino party. Seemed they remembered the vacation and the Mardi Gras and were combining it into one fabulous night. Still grinning, he watched them place the craps table over the top of the pool table, push back chairs for the roulette table, and place the three slot machines on the tables pushed against the wall.
“I can’t believe you did this,” C. J. said, chuckling.
“Let’s have some fun.” Sin slapped a pair of dice into C. J.’s hand. “This time I plan to walk away the winner.”
“In your dreams.” C. J. turned and with an agile flick of his wrist sent the dice tumbling. Seven.
Sin folded his arms and shook his dark head. “At least the food will be better.” He inclined his head toward the bar.
C. J. spun in that direction to see his cousin, Summer Radcliffe, owner of the famed five-star Radcliffe’s restaurant, setting up food on the other end of the bar. Dianne, Alex’s wife, was passing out tickets to the patrons. At the end of Maya’s song, Dianne accepted the mic and beckoned Sin and Alex.
Alex curved his arm around Dianne’s waist and took the mic. “We figured a lot of regulars would be at Callahan’s on a Sunday night so Sin and the two beautiful women beside us and I thought it would be the perfect time to throw C. J. a little good-luck party for his new job as CEO of Callahan Software.”