Seduced by Sunday

by Catherine Bybee

  Gabi watched Meg leave and was the last to return inside the house.

  Her new friends gathered to help Eliza unwrap her gifts and eat cake. They laughed, shared stories, and gave Gabi advice about the neighborhood. More importantly, over the last few hours, she didn’t think of Alonzo once.

  They were cleaning dishes when a knock sounded on the front door.

  Gabi heard the door open and someone say, “Oh, my.”

  “Sorry to interrupt.”

  Gabi dropped the soapy dish and grabbed a towel. She rounded the corner and smiled. “Val!”

  The women started to laugh.

  Gabi opened her arms and hugged her brother, his movements hampered by the roses he held in his hand. “You look lovely, tesoro.” He kissed both her cheeks.

  “What are you doing here?” As if she didn’t know.

  He looked over her head and frowned. “Looking for Margaret.”

  Judy started laughing first, then the infectious sound spread until the room filled with joy.

  “Stop,” Eliza giggled. “You’re going to make me pee.”

  They laughed harder.

  Sam glanced out the front window. “Is that your cab?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You might want to stop them,” Gwen told him.

  Judy pushed past the crush of people standing at the front door and outside to hail the cab.

  “What’s going on? Where’s Margaret?”

  “En route to you, actually,” Sam said.

  “Excuse me?”

  Gabi glanced at the clock on the wall. “Her flight leaves in an hour. You might make it in time if you leave now.”

  Judy stepped back into the house, patted Val on the back. “You know, Romeo, you might try calling before flying in. This is becoming a habit.”

  Val slapped the flowers against his leg, turned around to leave. “Nice to meet you all.”

  When the door shut, Sam said, “That’s your brother?”

  “Yes.”

  Eliza lifted one brow. “Go, Meg!”

  The last-minute flight was delayed. Still, Meg couldn’t stop smiling. She probably looked like she was on drugs, but she couldn’t help it. She picked up her cell phone and considered calling Val to tell him she was coming.

  Her screen blinked with a text she didn’t hear ring in.

  Don’t get on the plane. The text was from Val.

  “Now boarding, flight fifteen sixty-eight to Miami.”

  Meg glanced at the hordes of people lining up with their boarding passes in hand.

  Her hands shook. How do you know I’m at the airport?

  Gabi told me.

  She swallowed, hard. You don’t want me to come? Her heart started to crumble.

  No, bella. I want you to walk out of the terminal so I can hold you right now.

  She stood, dropped her purse, spilling its contents. You’re here?

  Yes.

  Meg scrambled to fill her purse, shoved the unused boarding pass into her pocket, and sprinted through the airport.

  He stood in a suit, of course, jacket wrinkled, tie loose around his neck. His ruffled hair evidence of his fingers running through it. The scruff on his chin made her mouth water, the flowers in his hand made her sigh.

  Their eyes caught and she slowed her pace as she walked closer.

  There were no words, just a hungry embrace and an indecent kiss that lasted much too long for a busy airport.

  When he let her up for air, she asked, “What are you doing here, Masini?”

  “Claiming you, mi amore.”

  “We almost passed in the air again.”

  He nipped at her lips, kissed her again as if he couldn’t help it.

  “I missed you,” he managed between kisses.

  “I missed you too, damn it.”

  His blistering smile lit the terminal.

  Val pushed the flowers he held into her hands. “These are for you.”

  They were battered, a little wilted, but the most precious flowers she’d ever seen. You’re a sap, Meg!

  “Thank you.”

  He lifted a finger, then patted his jacket pocket. “I have something else for you.”

  The smile on her face froze as he removed a small box from his pocket and dropped to his knee.

  Her heart kicked hard in her chest, her lungs squeezed.

  Breathe!

  Meg was vaguely aware that people around them stopped moving and started to stare. Was this really happening?

  Val locked his eyes on hers. “I met you on a Monday, you enchanted me by Wednesday, and seduced me by Sunday. You’ve stolen my heart, Margaret. For that, I want to selfishly steal yours. But I know I can’t take what you won’t give me, so I’m going to ask for it. Ti amo, bella.” He paused. “Do you know what that means?”

  She shook her head.

  “It means I love you.”

  Ti amo . . . an endearment that sounded beautiful, but held little meaning, now said so many things.

  Happy drops of sunshine fell from her eyes.

  “Marry me, cara. Give me your heart.” He opened the box. It held a vintage engagement ring, the round diamond sitting in a cluster of smaller stones that tapered down the side of the setting.

  She moved her gaze from the box to Val’s eyes.

  He held his breath, waiting.

  She dropped her purse, heard change rattle across the floor of the airport, and held out her left hand.

  Val smiled, removed the ring.

  She clenched her fist at the last second, made him look at her. “Fair warning, Masini. That goes on, it doesn’t come off.”

  He tossed the tiny black box over his shoulder and slid the ring home.

  Meg fell to her knees, stared at her future. “I love you.”

  The sound of clapping didn’t stop her from kissing him over and over again.

  Epilogue

  The simple silk dress for an island wedding proved perfect for the warm winter day. Sapore di Amore held only family and friends.

  Meg’s parents flew in the day before and were all too happy to welcome a son-in-law to their family. However, in the words of her mother, “You don’t have to marry him to stay committed.”

  That was when Meg learned that her parents, the throwbacks from the sixties flower children that they were, apparently never signed on the dotted line. Crazy how weddings and funerals brought out family secrets. Not that it mattered. Her parents adored each other.

  Val and Meg spoke their vows overlooking the Caribbean, Judy stood beside her, and Lou stood beside Val.

  A nondenominational minister performed the ceremony, because what else could it be and keep all sides of the family happy?

  When he pronounced them husband and wife, Meg heard her grandmother say mazel tov, and Mrs. Masini say amen. When Val kissed her, she sang her own praises.

  Hand in hand, Val led her into the reception, where the party was in full swing. The first to intercept them was Jim. He pulled her away from her husband and sighed. “I guess this means I have to look for a new woman,” he teased.

  Meg flashed her ring and a smile. “’Fraid so. I’m taken.”

  Then Jim kissed her. Full-on kiss on the lips.

  “Hey!” Val said from the side.

  “Just kissing the bride, Val.” Jim winked and walked away, his eyes already on wife number six.

  Meg stopped Val from going after the man. “You have nothing to worry about, Masini.”

  He removed two flute glasses filled with champagne from a passing waiter’s tray and moved to the mic, pulling her alongside him.

  He tapped a spoon on the side of his glass, captured the attention of their guests.

  “Thank you all for coming.”

  Some of the guests mumbled, lifted their glasses in the air, and drank.

  “I’ve heard it said that a man takes a wife . . . but those of you who know Margaret, know that it’s she who has taken me.”

  A collective sigh went over the crowd.
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  “I built Sapore di Amore without realizing exactly why. Over the past few months, I figured it out. I built it for my family, yes, but I built it for you.” Val stared into Meg’s eyes, lowered his voice. “The short time we were apart, I knew Sapore di Amore meant nothing without you here.” He kissed her fingertips. “Thank you for saying yes, bella.”

  “Thank you for asking.”

  Val lifted his glass in a toast. “To my beautiful wife, Margaret Masini.”

  She sipped from her glass and took his lips.

  When cheers ensued, she pulled away and whispered, “I think you can call me Meg now.”

  Acknowledgments

  Thousands of preventable asthma-related deaths happen every year. Having seen some of those tragic moments with my own eyes, I wanted to create a heroine who suffered with the disease. While Meg is fictional, her lack of care for her health is not. Many ignore their symptoms until it is too late. If you have asthma, don’t disregard your symptoms. Changes in medicine happen every day. Stay on top of your medication and see your doctor.

  Now, it’s time for me to line up all the handshakes and heartfelt thanks.

  Sandra aka Angel Martinez aka my amazing critique partner. You’ve put up with Michael’s story dragging through many books . . . but as you can see, he does get his HEA. Know that you inspire my every Michael. Thanks for pushing me.

  Jane Dystel, for always having my back.

  Again, Kelli Martin, for getting just as excited about another Bybee book as I do.

  For JoVon Sotak, who doesn’t force a synopsis, aka suck-nopsis, of my books . . . believing I can deliver something readers will want to read is an awesome thing.

  For the Montlake team and everything you do to help my work sing. Thank you all.

  Now let’s get back to Meg . . . when I told you I wanted to write a character with short blonde hair and a sassy mouth, I asked you to come up with a name. When you failed to deliver one, I used yours. And why not? You sing like an angel, cuss like a sailor, and are married to an Italian. Now if only you had a Jewish grandmother and lived on a private island in the Keys . . .

  Love ya, darlin’.

  Catherine

  About the Author

  Photo © 2012 Lindsey Meyer

  New York Times bestselling author Catherine Bybee was raised in Washington State, but after graduating high school, she moved to Southern California in hopes of becoming a movie star. After growing bored with waiting tables, she returned to school and became a registered nurse, spending most of her career in urban emergency rooms. She now writes full time and has penned the novels Wife by Wednesday, Married by Monday, Fiancé by Friday, Single by Saturday, and Taken by Tuesday in her Weekday Brides series and Not Quite Dating, Not Quite Mine, Not Quite Enough, and Not Quite Forever in her Not Quite series. Bybee lives in Southern California.