Inside she screamed, but she swallowed it. It wasn’t as if this wasn’t what she expected. But the pain was fierce. She took in a shaky breath and tried for an unaffected smile. “I gathered that much. I can pack my stuff and go.”
He took a step back, his eyes widened. “I don’t want you to go.”
She frowned. “I’m confused.”
“Shayla, I just beat up a guy in the middle of the street to defend your honor. I bought a house on Johnston Street because you once said you wanted to live here. I want you to stay here . . . forever.” He spoke the last word softly.
She swallowed hard as her heart raced. “I’m still confused.”
He lowered himself onto the couch beside her and took a deep breath. “I know you hate Helena and you just got the job in Columbia. I know you’re used to a more fast paced life and you like excitement and parties. I know that trouble follows you around and most of the time it’s not your fault. But even though I know all that I still want you to . . . consider staying here. With me.” When his eyes met her they were filled with determination and love. “As my wife.”
It was the last thing she expected. In all of her wildest romantic fantasies she never even allowed herself to think he’d bring up marriage. Sure, sleep together off and on for awhile. Go out occasionally. Maybe even spend the weekend with him, but marry?
“You can’t be serious. I thought you were breaking up with me.”
A humorless laugh escaped his lips. “You would think that. Why would I?”
“Because drama follows me everywhere. You constantly have to defend my honor. That reporter’s probably going to write a story about what he saw tonight. The town thinks I’m a whore. I had an affair with a married man. I hurt you . . so badly . . . in high school. I don’t deserve you.” Her hand gripped the heart at her neck while her toe tapped frantically on the floor.
He reached over and pulled her hand away from the charm. She placed her hands over his swollen knuckles, before lifting them to her lips for a soft kiss. He cupped her face with his other hand. “Let it go. Stop trying to convince me that I don’t want you. Yes, you drive me crazy, but Shayla I haven’t loved another woman since the first time you braided my hair in high school. Even when you were away, I thought about you. A piece of my heart’s been missing for years and ever since you came back its felt whole.”
Her eyes flew up to meet his. “My heart’s been broken since that night I hurt you.”
A fierce scowl came over his features. “It wasn’t your fault. And believe me, if Tony so much as looks at you wrong, I’m going to kick his ass again.”
She shook her head. “Forget about Tony. Please, let’s not let him affect our lives anymore.”
He nodded, but the look in his eye didn’t convince her that he would keep his word. “I love you and if it hasn’t gone away after years of separation, I don’t see how it could possibly go away now. Let me love you. Let me be the one man to show you every day how wonderful you really are.”
She grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands away. Excitement set her nerve endings on fire, but he had to understand what he was asking. “I don’t make up my bed. I keep my room a mess, I hate cooking. You’ll get tired of me.”
He pulled her close. His full lips brushed against hers. “As if you’d let me. You’ll keep me on my toes until we’re ninety. Trust me. I want to marry you.” He cleared his throat, uncertainty clouding his eyes. “Do you think you could marry me?”
She took a deep breath and met his gaze. Even in the dim light, the fierceness of his love blazed. She looked for any signs of doubt. Any indication that he was unsure of what he was saying or may regret it in the morning. All she saw was love . . . and honesty, the same honesty that was the cement of their relationship.
“Yes. I want to marry you.”
He grinned. When he pulled her in for another kiss, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. She wanted to hold him forever. Let him know that there was no other man for her. Her past was filled with mistakes as she tried to find a guy who made her feel a smidgeon of the way Devin did. It took coming home and facing her demons to learn that no man would ever come close to comparing to him.
When they broke she couldn’t help but laugh and smile. “You’ve asked me, so you can’t get rid of me. I’ve wanted you since I was fifteen. I’m not letting you go.”
“Is that a threat?” he said with a sexy lift of his lips.
Her heart flipped in her chest. It was bruised, had gone through a fair share of heartbreaks, but something told her she was on the road to healing. With a smile, she sank her fingers in his hair and pulled him close. “It’s a promise.”
Acknowledgments
Thanks to my editor, Jennifer Lawler, for taking a chance on my first book. I cannot tell you how glad I am that you liked my novel. Thank you to my wonderful critique partners: Ester, M.J. Kane, Danita Reese, and Terry Newman. You ladies have helped make my novels shine. Much love to my beta readers: Ashley Harmon, Natoya Taylor, Nancy Nicholson, Jamelah Wright, and Tamara King. I appreciate all of the love and support you ladies have shown. A huge thank you to the new readers who’ve take the time out of their day to tell me via email, Facebook, or Twitter that you’ve read and enjoyed my stories. You guys have often made me smile on a dreary day. And finally, again, thank you to my wonderful husband. I couldn’t do this without you.
About the Author
Synithia Williams has loved romance novels since reading her first one at the age of thirteen. It was only natural that she would begin penning her own romances soon after. It wasn’t until 2010 that she began to actively pursue her dream of becoming a published author. Her first novel, You Can’t Plan Love, was published by Crimson Romance in August 2012. When she isn’t writing, this Green Queen, as dubbed by the State Newspaper, works to improve air and water quality, while balancing the needs of her husband and two sons. You can find Synithia, online at www.synithiawilliams.com, on Facebook (www.facebook.com/synithiarwilliams), or Twitter (www.twitter.com/SynithiaW).
This edition published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
57 Littlefield Street
Avon, MA 02322
www.crimsonromance.com
Copyright © 2013 by Synithia Williams
ISBN 10: 1-4405-6659-3
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6659-2
eISBN 10: 1-4405-6660-7
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6660-8
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art © 123rf.com; istockphoto.com/Squaredpixels
Five of Hearts
A Scallop Shores novel
Jennifer DeCuir
Avon, Massachusetts
Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Acknowledgments
Copyright
To my parents:
Not a day goes by that I don’t miss you both and wish I could share this exciting new chapter in my life with you. Until we see each other again . . . I love you.
“Running away” was such a cowardly term. Dean preferred to think of it as “permanently relocating.” Lying back, he breathed in a gulp of fresh Maine air, laced with pine and beach roses and the sharp tang of the Atlantic Ocean. He felt his muscles relax, really relax, as he sank deeper into the hammock. He’d waited almost half his life for this.
At fourteen years old, Dean had willingly forfeited his anonymity—and the peace and quiet that went with it—for the chance to become an internationally revered pop star. He’d become Dino Valentine, lead singer of the boy band Five of Hearts. For the next six years, Dean’s life had been a whirlwind of recording sessions, hours of choreography, concert dates, and appearances.
Fame. Fortune. The perks that came with being a household name. It all sounded great in the beginning, but no one ever told him about the downside of being under the microscope. All the people who wanted their share of the pie, their moment in the spotlight, their chance to spend someone else’s hard earned money. And the devious ways they plotted to get it.
In the six years since the band had broken up, Dean had kept to himself as much as possible, and tried to stay out of the public eye. He didn’t leave his Malibu mansion except to go visit his band mates. He was content to spend his days writing music, swimming laps in the pool, and chasing off opportunistic photogs looking for the chance to catch Dean in a compromising position—the money shot that would set them up for life.
Now, in the midst of yet another groundless paternity suit, Dean knew he needed to go where the money-grubbing vultures couldn’t find him. He was done with the life of a celebrity. He was done with Southern California.
He swung from the hammock in his new backyard, a plate of cookies and an ice cold beer within reach. His baseball cap was pulled low over his eyes to block out the glare of the sun. A group of tall arborvitae bushes hid the next house from view, giving Dean the illusion that he was truly alone, something he’d been craving for so long. He opened the book in his lap but stared at the words, unseeing. He hoped all these changes, the cross-country move, and buying a new house, would bring him the sense of peace that had been missing.
Several years ago, Dean had had a tutor who came from Maine. He’d listen for hours while the man talked about what a beautiful state it was. He’d hailed from the coast and spent summers helping on his dad’s lobster boat. He had told Dean all about the snowmobiling, the ice fishing, bonfires, and parties in the woods. He’d described the crisp tang of autumn in the air and the riot of color from the trees, almost the entire month of October. There was something to do all year round.
Dean closed his eyes and breathed deeply of the fresh mown grass, ocean breezes, and a flowering shrub he couldn’t put a name to. He dug a toe into the lawn and set his hammock gently swinging. Smacking his lips, he grinned in drowsy happiness. He was falling asleep in the middle of the day. What a foreign concept that had become. Dean pillowed his head on his arm and snuggled into the hammock for some rest. Just as he was drifting off he thought he heard giggling.
Cracking one eye open, Dean scanned the yard. There, over by the blueberry bushes, was a carrot-topped little pixie. He shook his head, opening his other eye, and looked again. This time the tiny child was over by the willow tree, crouched down and grinning. Dean rubbed his eyes and leaned out of the hammock for a better look. Wait. Now the little thief was right beside him—stealing his cookies! How could he be everywhere at once?
Dean reached out to grab him by the collar but forgot he was in the hammock and lost his balance. The miniature con artist screeched as Dean nearly fell on top of him. He took off, a cookie in each hand. Dean landed with a thud on the lawn.
“Hey, get back here with my cookies!” Dean tried to get up to run after the child but tripped over his own feet and landed face first in the turf, knocking his ball cap off his head.
“Problems?” A soft, feminine voice, thickly laced with humor, called from the edge of the lawn.
Dean stood, brushing his clothes off. He was starting to think chasing off paparazzi was preferable to chasing after . . . was it only a child? So much for peace and quiet.
“That kid made off with my cookies.” He scanned the perimeter of the yard, unable to locate the cookie thief.
“That team works fast. I imagine your cookies have been gobbled up by now.” He could actually hear the amused smile in her voice.
That team? There was more than one? Dean was starting to get a headache.
“How’d you all get into my yard anyway?” Rubbing his temples, he tried to work out how he’d thought there was one kid darting through his shrubs only to find there were more. How many more? This was confusing.
“There is a break in the hedge. I have a finely tuned radar when it comes to this bunch. I had a feeling they were up to no good.”
Frowning, Dean snatched up the empty plate. He turned, finally prepared to square off with this latest intruder. His words stuck to his tongue. His gaze was drawn to a pair of startlingly blue eyes. A light breeze picked up a strand of her long red hair, tossing it around playfully. Red hair and freckles. Suddenly, he was back in grade school remembering his first crush. Oh, he was a goner.
She smiled, shrugging her shoulders in apology. The twinkle in her eyes called the sincerity of the apology into question, yet somehow Dean didn’t mind.
“My name is Shannon. I live next door with those . . . cookie thieves.”
“I, um, I’m Dean.” His brain was working overtime, trying to catch up. “Just how many kids are running around here?”
“Brady, Brenna, and Brian, you march those little butts out here right this second!”
Dean watched in horror as not one, but three little children peered out from behind the tall hedge and proceeded to line up in front of Shannon for inspection. He didn’t know much about kids, but he’d guess them to be about four or five years old. Their heads were bowed but Dean could tell they weren’t the least bit repentant. There were cookie crumbs on their cheeks and they looked to be trying very hard not to giggle.
Grudgingly, he had to admit they were cute—for thieving little cookie heathens. The little girl, Brenna, looked him right in the eye and winked. Dean focused on his sneakers, trying not to let the munchkin charm him.
“What do you have to say for yourselves?” Shannon eyed them all, her face stern, and her features grim.
“We’re sorry, mister,” they offered in unison. Dean doubted that was the first time they’d had to apologize for something like this.
“It’s okay, I guess. You owe me some new cookies, though.” He folded his arms across his chest and cast a forlorn glance at the empty plate. He really had been looking forward to those cookies.
“That’s right, kiddos. You are going to spend tomorrow afternoon in the kitchen with me. No outdoors time until we get a nice batch of . . . ” She offered him an opening.
“Chocolate chip—no nuts.”
“Right. You all will be baking chocolate chip cookies, with no nuts, for Mr. Dean. You will not cut through the gap in the bushes to deliver them, but will instead use the walkway, like civilized neighbors.”
Shannon silenced the groans of disappointment with a single look. Dean was impressed. She sent the children on their way back to their own yard and turned to him. He stood still while she gave him the once over, his nerves on edge as he waited to see if she’d recognize him. He panicked, reaching up to his bare head, when he realized he wasn’t wearing his hat. He always wore a hat.
Shannon looked like she was in her mid-twenties, just the right age to have been a fan when Five of Hearts was at the top of their fame. If she recognized him, it would blow any chance of his hiding out in blessed anonymity in this quaint seaside town. Instead, she merely ducked her head shyly and played with the hem of her shirt. Whew. Maybe he was in the clear.
“Sorry about that heathen crack. They’re cute kids. Are they triplets? You must be the older sister, then.”
“Thank
you . . . to the cute kids and to the older sister bit. That wasn’t necessary. Totally welcome, mind you, but not necessary. Nope, they’re all mine.” She blushed.
“Wow. I can’t even imagine one kid, but three at once? What did your husband say when you guys found out you were having triplets?”
“In a word? Goodbye.” Shannon shrugged, feigning indifference. “Let’s just say he didn’t find himself up to the challenge.”
“What a slimeball!” Dean clapped a hand over his mouth, embarrassed that he’d let that judgment be voiced aloud.
What kind of man would abandon his children? It was something Dean had been accused of many times—but something he would never do, if a child were actually his.
Dean hadn’t been quite seventeen years old when he was named in his first paternity suit. He hadn’t been an angel, but he’d been careful. His manager had drilled it into all of them just how important it was to use protection. Dean had known the girl was lying. And yet he’d been advised to settle out of court, pay the girl what she wanted, and keep it out of the news.
But when this latest paternity suit surfaced, he knew he couldn’t keep paying off these women and hoping the problem would just go away. He needed to take a stand, and stop the madness once and for all.
Shannon’s trill of laughter was music to his ears.
“Eh, I like to look at it as him doing us a favor.” Shannon turned toward the opening in the hedge. “Listen, I’m really sorry the kids invaded your space like this. It’s just that they were used to playing over here. The house has been on the market for years. This just kind of became an extension of our backyard. I’ll try to keep them out of here in the future.”
“Yeah, okay.” Dean watched her duck her head and pass through the tight space in the bushes.
This new life was not shaping up to be the tranquil escape he’d been looking for. He’d sworn off women—especially women that showed up on his doorstep with a child. Triplets! Screw the Arborvitae. He was going to have to build a fence. A really tall one.
Hearts Are Wild Page 24