And what about himself? Brock sighed. Even if Pippa had survived, Fleur would still have died. He’d still be alone.
Would he have been a doctor? There was no doubt that Pippa’s passing had driven him into medicine, but he couldn’t imagine doing anything else now. He loved his job, loved helping people, so in that sense he had to be grateful that at least something positive had come out of her death.
Closing his eyes, he imagined what life would have been like if both Pippa and Fleur had survived. He would have had his sister and wife. But he’d never have met Erin.
A year ago, he would have given his whole fortune and everything he owned to have Fleur back. But now, the thought of being without Erin made his throat tighten.
He lifted his hands and sank them into his hair. You don’t have to choose, he told himself, swallowing hard to try to get his throat to relax. When Fleur had died, he’d gotten off one train and crossed the station to get on another. The first train had gone no further, whereas the second train had set off on another set of tracks. There had been no choice to make. He’d had to keep going, and he was extremely lucky in that he’d found another woman as beautiful in both body and spirit as his first wife.
He pictured Pippa in his mind. Please make her come to the party, he begged. I love her so much. Please make her come.
On the bed beside him, his phone pinged, announcing the arrival of a text. Opening his eyes, he picked the phone up and swiped the screen. It was from Erin.
I’m on the plane. See you soon! E xxxx
A smile spread across his face, the wave of emotion so strong it made tears prick his eyes. He sniffed, hit reply, and sent a message back. Have a safe journey. How are your parents?
They’re fine, thanks, she replied. Looking forward to the party.
And how’s the boy doing? Excited?
Super-excited. Did I mention I’m on the plane? I’m supposed to turn my phone off.
He grinned. One more minute. I miss you, sweetheart. Can’t wait to see you again.
Me too. Now Pat’s glaring at me. Stop texting me!
I’m lying on the bed and thinking about Saturday night.
OMG! Stop it! I’m turning my phone off now. xxxxxx
He laughed and put the phone down. Half of him wanted to run yelling through the apartment. The other half wanted to bawl like a toddler.
Deciding neither was the best bet, he blew out a long breath and sat up. Thanks, he said silently to Pippa.
Erin was on her way, and now it was time to get ready for the party. Whistling Jingle Bells, he walked over to his wardrobe and opened the door.
He stopped whistling when he saw the gift sitting on the shelf to the side. A tiny box with a red bow on top.
For a long moment, he perused it, then he turned his gaze away. He took out a pair of black jeans and pulled them on, and chose the new light gray dress shirt with the fine black velvet swirls on it he’d bought for the party.
His gaze returned to the box while he buttoned up his shirt. When he’d done, he pursed his lips and huffed a sigh, his hands on his hips.
Go on, Pippa said in his head.
Lips curving up, he took the box, slid it into the pocket of his jeans, and headed out of the room.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ryan pressed his nose against the wall of the elevator and breathed out, misting up the mirror.
“Don’t make a mess,” Karen Bloom said nervously, pulling him away and scrubbing at the steamy patch with her bag.
Erin smiled, knowing Brock wouldn’t give a damn about misted-up mirrors or sticky fingerprints. The thought gave her a little glow inside.
It was strange to see her mother on edge and nervous, for once. Usually Erin was the one who Karen had to comfort and reassure. Erin decided she rather liked it being this way around.
She hadn’t felt this confident all week. When she’d gone back to Kerikeri, she’d been full of conflicting emotions, from excitement that he’d asked her to move in with him, to sheer panic at the thought of what her mother and everyone else would say.
She’d kept the news to herself for a few days, hugging it to her like a cushion, knowing that all the while she didn’t tell anyone, she could pretend everything was going to be all right and it would all work out fabulously. Deep down, though, her mother’s words about Brock eventually accusing her of being after his money had continued to eat away at her, even though he’d promised he’d never say anything like that.
And then Ryan had suffered from his second asthma attack in as many weeks. Luckily she knew what to look for now, and they’d been at home so she’d been able to keep him relaxed enough to use his inhaler and spacer without panicking. By the time the ambulance arrived it was all under control, and they’d praised her on her level-headedness and ability to remain calm.
When they’d gone, though, and Ryan had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep, she’d allowed herself a few tears of relief, and it was then that Brock had rung her. She’d done her best to hide the fact that she was crying, but his words had grown clipped and curt as he’d demanded to know what had happened. For a moment, she’d thought he was angry with her for not going to the hospital, and she’d been prepared to announce hotly that she didn’t want him telling her what to do.
Then he’d said, “I don’t like that we’re two hundred miles away. I want you here, with me. I want to check Ryan and see for my own eyes that he’s okay. I can’t hold you and comfort you from down here.” His anger had come from the frustration of not being able to help, and from his love for her, and at that point it was all she could do to say goodbye and get him off the phone before she burst into great, gulping sobs.
He loved her, and he wanted her to move in with him. He was the nicest man she’d ever met, strong, capable, gorgeous, caring, and she was absolutely crazy about him. And at that moment, she knew she didn’t care what anyone else said—not her mother, her father, or any of her friends—about her being after his money, because it simply wasn’t true. She’d have loved him if he was penniless and lived in a hovel. It made no difference where they lived or what he spent on her or Ryan. She loved him, and that was all that mattered.
The elevator pinged, and the doors slid open. Before she could stop him, Ryan went running down the corridor—straight into the arms of the guy waiting at the end.
“Hey!” Brock swung the boy up into the air. “It’s my favorite dude!”
“Bwock!” Ryan flung his arms around the man’s neck and squeezed him tight enough to cut off his circulation. “I’ve come to your party.”
“Thank God you’ve arrived. It wouldn’t have been a party at all without you.”
Smiling, Erin beckoned to her parents to follow her and walked along the corridor to them. “Hey, you,” she said, lifting her face to Brock when she reached him.
“Hello gorgeous.” He dipped his head and touched his lips to hers for a long kiss. They were interrupted by Ryan, who pressed his face in between theirs to join in with the kiss.
Laughing, they broke apart. Erin turned and held her hand out to her parents. “Brock, you remember my mum, Karen.”
“Of course I do. I’m so glad you came.” He held out the hand not supporting Ryan to her, and she clasped it with a smile.
“Hello, Brock. Thank you so much for inviting us.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“This is an amazing apartment.”
“I’ll show you around in a moment.” Brock held out a hand to the man waiting beside her. “You must be Erin’s father. Nice to meet you.”
“It’s Pete, and likewise.” The two men shook hands. “Thanks for the trip in the jet,” Pete added. “I never want to fly with people again!”
Brock laughed and headed into the living room. “I know what you mean—once you fly private, the idea of standing in a queue and then sitting in a cabin with thirty others isn’t very appealing.”
Erin watched her mother’s eyes widen as they entered the living roo
m. It looked beautiful with all the tasteful decorations and lights, and the magnificent view beyond.
“Oh my God.” Karen pressed a hand to her heart. “Erin, it’s even better than you described.”
“Come on,” Brock said, lowering Ryan to the ground. “I’ll show you around.”
Erin followed behind, listening to Brock as he talked to her parents while they walked slowly through the apartment. He’d told her that he had a firm organizing the party, and she nodded as they passed the staff who were preparing trays of food, trying to look as if she went to a catered party every day.
Inside, though, in spite of a flutter of nerves, her heart was swelling. Seeing Brock banished any last dregs of doubt, and all she could think was how wonderful it was to see him, and how she didn’t want to leave him ever again. Ryan stuck like Velcro to his side, but Brock didn’t look annoyed, just delighted to see the boy, and whenever they stopped walking and Ryan put his arms around him, Brock ruffled his hair or patted his back, and once bent to kiss the top of his head.
By the time they’d finished looking around and had returned to the living room, Erin knew it wouldn’t be long before the rest of the guests started arriving.
“Mum,” she said, “would you mind looking after Ryan? I want to talk to Brock for a moment.”
Karen met her eyes and smiled. Erin had finally plucked up the courage to tell her what she’d decided, and to her pleasure Karen hadn’t queried her decision, but had just nodded and said she’d known that was coming, because she’d not seen Erin as happy as this for many years.
“Come on Ryan, Brock’s left you some coloring pencils on the coffee table,” Karen told him, and she and Pete led the boy to the table by the Christmas tree, where Brock had thoughtfully placed several Ward Seven coloring books next to some tiny crust-free sandwiches and crisps for the boy.
Erin watched them go, then turned to find Brock where he was in a discussion with the party planner. For a moment, Erin just looked at him, enjoying the view. His black jeans were tight on his bum and emphasized his long legs, while the dress shirt looked smart and summery at the same time. He’d rolled up his shirt sleeves a little, and in true Kiwi style he had bare feet, which made her smile.
At that moment he turned, catching her smile, and his lips curved in response. After finishing off his conversation, he walked across to her. “What are you smiling at?”
“You.” She held out a hand and, when he grasped it, led him out through the open sliding doors onto the deck. It was a gorgeous, warm evening, the beautiful red of the sky caused by the sinking sun a Christmas decoration all of its own.
“How are you doing?” he asked, turning her to face him and sliding his arms around her.
“I’m good.” She placed her hands on his chest, enjoying the feel of firm muscles beneath her fingertips.
“And how’s Ryan?”
“Better, thanks.”
“I’m glad. I’ve worried myself sick all week.”
She kissed his cheek. “You’re so sweet.”
“And you’re so sexy.” He nuzzled her ear. “You look gorgeous tonight.”
“Thank you.” Her cheeks glowed with the compliment. Karen had given her some money for Christmas and told her to go out and buy herself something. Caitlin had accompanied her, and helped her to choose a flowing light blue skirt that reached to just above her knees, with a pretty blue-and-pink vest to wear with it. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
“It shows off your breasts nicely,” he agreed.
She laughed. “Thank you for noticing.”
“Oh, I can safely say I can always be relied upon to notice what your breasts look like.”
Smiling, she kissed him briefly, then moved back and lifted a hand to cup his cheek. “I have something to say to you.”
He took a deep breath in and then let it out slowly, as if he was preparing himself for bad news. “Okay.”
She looked into his lovely brown eyes. “I love you.”
His eyes widened. “Oh.”
“I should have said it last weekend, Brock, and I’m so sorry I didn’t. I’ve been scared and worried and concerned about everything except what really matters—that you love me, and I love you. I’ve missed you all week, and what you said on the phone, about wanting to be near me so you could look after me—”
“I thought I’d overdone it,” he said hoarsely. “I didn’t mean to sound overbearing and controlling.”
“It’s okay.” She stroked his cheek. “I love that you care, and that you want to look after us. And I’m not going to feel bad because that makes me feel good, you know? I’m not going to feel guilty for looking at the bigger picture, and for feeling grateful that I’ve found a guy who’s not only gorgeous and sexy and great in bed, but who wants to care for me. I can look after myself, I’ve proved that, but I love the idea of being able to share everything with someone for a change.”
His eyes glistened. “Me too.”
“I’ve told my parents. And if the offer’s still there, I’d love to move in with you.”
“Of course the offer’s still there,” he said softly, tightening his arms around her.
“I love the sound of the job too, and I’d like to interview for it.”
“Do you want to live here, in this apartment?”
“I don’t care, Brock. I really don’t. I just want to be with you, and so does Ryan. All he’s done is talk about you. He’s almost as crazy about you as I am.”
He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, and she pressed her nose into his shirt, inhaling the scent of spicy body wash and warm male. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive, do you know that?”
“I’m so glad.” She couldn’t explain how safe she felt in his arms, and how much she wished she could stay there all night. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said, holding her so tightly she felt quite breathless.
She wriggled, feeling something pressed against her hip. “Have you got something in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?”
“Oh. I… ah…” He moved back and looked down at her, but at that moment the sound of a bell announced the arrival of someone in the elevator. “Damn it. It’ll have to wait.”
“What will?”
“Nothing. I expect it’s Charlie. He’s always first and has no idea about being fashionably late. Or fashionably anything, in fact.”
She laughed. “I’ll get Ryan.” Glowing inside, she crossed the room to retrieve her son.
*
Brock watched her go, pausing on the edge of the room and sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. His fingers closed around the little velvet box, and he squeezed it tight.
There was no rush. He’d welcome his guests and wait until the party was in full swing. Then he’d take her somewhere quiet, pop the question, and hope Christmas had a little magic left for him.
Smiling, he held out his hand as she rejoined him with Ryan, and they walked across the room to welcome their guests.
Continue the story of the Three Wise Men in Charlie and Ophelia’s story, An Ideal Present (Three Wise Men Book 2)
Buy on Kindle
Sneak Peek at Chapter One of An Ideal Present
“I feel as if I’ve stepped into Invasion of the Body Snatchers,” Ophelia said with a smile.
The doctor in the white coat paused in the process of paying for his muffin and looked over the top of his dark-framed glasses at her. His frown suggested confusion rather than amused interest, as she’d hoped.
In the background, someone was playing Eartha Kitt’s Santa Baby in their office. She fought the urge to sing it to him, not sure it would help her situation, and tapped the paper bag in his hand. “Since when have you ever bought a savory muffin? You always pick sweet. Blueberry or chocolate usually. Clearly, you’re a duplicate from an alien seed pod.”
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the funniest joke in the world, but she’d expected a polite smile if nothing else. The frown remain
ed in place, however. Either he thought her sense of humor severely lacking, or she’d weirded him out with her observation of his baked goods.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, admitting defeat. Grimacing, she turned on her heel and walked back through the corridors to the wing of the hospital where she worked.
Once inside, she tossed her bagel onto her desk, flopped into her chair, and stared at the clock. Ten thirty. Far too early to admit the day was doomed and go home.
She blew out a long breath. Was she really surprised the cute doctor hadn’t laughed at her joke? How long had they been meeting at the snack cart—nearly a year? And he’d barely said two words to her in all that time that didn’t involve food or the weather. Clearly, he wasn’t interested, and it was about time she took the hint.
She leaned forward and covered her face with her hands. It was irrelevant anyway. She was hardly in the right place to start seeing someone. She might have been separated from her husband since June, but it had proved surprisingly difficult to extricate herself from the emotional ties to her ex.
It didn’t help that even though Dillon had moved out, he was always at the house. She felt as if she couldn’t object—he was either seeing their daughter, which of course he had every right to do, or carrying out the occasional bit of building work to improve the house for when they put it up for sale. But she knew it was all a pretense, because he’d made it quite clear that although he was willing to let her have some time apart, he didn’t want the marriage to end.
“You’ll always be my girl,” he’d said to her only a few weeks ago when he’d tried to persuade her to go out to dinner with him for his birthday. She’d declined, but she’d felt bad about it. When he’d moved out, she’d thought it would draw a line under their marriage, and her emotions might finally be able to level out after the rollercoaster ride she’d been on for well over a year. But six months later, she still felt torn in two every time she saw him. He represented comfort and security, which were not to be sniffed at. She knew every little thing about him and in many ways that was reassuring in a relationship. He was Summer’s father, and of course Summer would prefer the two of them to stay together. And it wasn’t as if he had some immense flaw that had forced them apart—he wasn’t an alcoholic or a gambler, he was a good looking guy, and he was decent in bed.
The Perfect Gift: A Christmas Billionaire Sexy Romance (Three Wise Men Book 1) Page 19