“Good dreams?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“About me?”
“Egotist! I’m not telling.” She grinned at him.
He had his answer. She’d been dreaming about him, and the glow of happiness in her eyes when she’d first opened them gave him hope. “Ready to eat?”
“You know it.”
He’d looked forward to offering her the gourmet food onboard his plane, and she was gratifyingly appreciative of the cheese soufflé, glazed fruit, and steamed veggies. The chocolate lava cake, though, sent her over the moon.
She leaned close. “It’s almost better than sex,” she murmured with a furtive glance at Suzanne, the cabin attendant.
“Almost.” He winked at her. “But not quite.”
“No, not quite.” Her smile flashed, but she looked away quickly, as if not wanting to meet his gaze.
Hm. He hadn’t considered this trip from her point of view, but now he realized it could seem like slow torture, a long, excruciating good-bye. That wasn’t fair, when he had a totally different scenario in mind. He put down his spoon. “It’s not over, Melanie.”
“You mean lunch? There’s more?” But then she met his gaze, and saw how serious he was. All merriment left her expression. “Yes, it is. We both know that, so you don’t have to pretend. I was happy to accept your offer of a ride home, but when we get there, we’ll each move back into our respective worlds. It’s okay. I completely understand.”
“No, you don’t. I—”
“I’m grateful for all we’ve shared. You’re a wonderful host. You showed me Paris as no one else could have, and I’ll never forget it.”
“You’re talking as if we’ll never see each other again!”
“I doubt that we will.” Her expression seemed absolutely blank. Was she protecting her feelings? Or was she actually as okay with that idea as she sounded?
He’d expected an argument, but not this solid wall of resistance. And his timing sucked. He’d started this discussion while they both sat, seat belts fastened, so they could eat a messy chocolate lava cake. Worse yet, Suzanne hovered within earshot.
He called over to the flight attendant. “Suzanne, would you please take our trays? Keep the deserts warm. We’ll finish them later. And please give us some privacy.”
Melanie glanced at him in alarm. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything.” Once the trays were gone he unbuckled his seat belt and got up. Then he crouched down in front of Melanie’s chair. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment to talk to you, but I didn’t stop to think that you’d spend the whole blessed flight anticipating the end of our relationship.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m not, either. I had a nice nap, and a wonderful meal. I promise you I’m not brooding about what happens after we land.”
“No, you wouldn’t do that.” He took both her hands in his. “You’re not a brooder. It’s one of the many things that I love about you.”
Her eyes grew wide and she began to tremble. “Drew . . .”
He forged on. Might as well lay all his cards on the table. “I love other things, too, like the way you really look at the world around you with wonder in your eyes, and your fierce independence, and your spirit of adventure, and your lack of concern about luxury, and the way you react to me in bed.”
She stared at him as her whole body quivered.
He gripped her hands more tightly. “I love you, Melanie Shaw. I never thought I’d fall in love with a cowgirl, but it looks like I have. I began to love you that first morning, and that love has grown stronger every hour of every day we’ve spent together. But I knew you wouldn’t believe me if I said that too soon, so I’ve been hoping to find a moment when this speech would make sense to you.” He searched her expression for some sign, some flicker of understanding. “I’m powerfully afraid this isn’t that moment.”
She blinked. “You love me?”
“Yes. I know it’s fast, darlin’, but I’m a fast mover. I don’t expect you to love me back, at least not yet. All I ask is a chance. Just . . .” His throat closed with fear as he realized how much was at stake. “Just give me a chance.”
She continued to gaze at him without speaking.
He waited, massaging her cold hands, letting her see the caring in his expression, and praying that she would accept that he was not a raving lunatic, just a man in love.
The light in her gray eyes was faint at first, and he almost missed it. Then it grew brighter, and he felt the pressure of her hands clutching his. Heart pounding, he watched her expression change from disbelief to tentative hope.
“I love you,” he murmured again.
Her smile began slowly, and as it widened, her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“Do you believe me?”
Still not speaking, she swallowed and nodded.
“Will you give me a chance?”
“Oh, Drew.” Her voice was hoarse with emotion. “You don’t need any more chances. You had me the minute you ran after those muggers.”
“I did?”
“Of course! Didn’t anyone ever tell you a woman loves a knight in shining armor?”
“I wasn’t trying to be—”
“I know.” She pulled her hands from his and cupped his face. “And that’s why I love you.”
She loved him. He felt the tightness in his chest give way as warmth flowed in. She hadn’t known about his money, and she hadn’t been looking to cash in on her relationship with him. She’d been taken by his effort to protect her not with his money but with his strength. She loved him.
She leaned closer. “Do you believe me?”
“Yes.” He was grinning like an idiot and couldn’t stop doing it. “You know this means we’re getting married, right?” Then he winced. What a boneheaded proposal. He was not bringing his A-game.
“My mama and daddy will like that.”
“What about you? Will you like that?”
“You mean will I like sleeping in your bed every night and making love whenever we feel like it?”
He chuckled. “Among other things. Listen, I can give you a much better proposal than this. You don’t have to say yes yet. Let me get the ring and do it up right.”
“Good grief. Never mind all that drama. My answer is yes, I will like being married to you. I will like it very much.”
“Good. I’ll slip the ring under your pillow some night after we’ve had lots of good sex. How about that?”
“Sure. Whatever.”
“You don’t care about the ring?” He should have known that, too.
“I only care about you.” She met his gaze.
“And that’s why I’m the luckiest man on Earth.”
“And I’m the luckiest woman. I guess that takes care of everything, huh?”
“Almost.” He reached for her seat belt and unbuckled it. “Except for the kissing part. Please stand up. My knees are killing me.”
Laughing, she let him pull her up and into his arms. Their kiss was long and heartfelt, punctuated by more murmured words of love. It lasted until the plane lurched and Suzanne came back to advise them of turbulence.
Drew held Melanie close for one second more and gazed into her eyes. “There’s so much to talk about—whether we want kids, where we’ll live, the size of the wedding, where we should go on our honeymoon . . .”
“We have a long plane ride. We’ll figure it out. But I know where I want to go on our honeymoon.”
“Bali? Tahiti?”
She shook her head. “Paris. There’s this small hotel there, and—”
“I can’t think of anything better.” He supposed at some point in his life he’d been this happy, but if so, he couldn’t remember when.
Epilogue
It was a three-margarita night when Melanie met her friends Astrid L
indberg and Valerie Wolitzky at Stetsons & Golden Spurs, their favorite watering hole in downtown Dallas. Two weeks earlier, Drew had joined them so Val could meet the paragon Melanie planned to marry, and Astrid could get reacquainted with the childhood friend she hadn’t seen in years. But tonight was just for the girls. Melanie wanted to show them the antique ring Drew had given her, which was perfect and so much better than a huge rock. And meanwhile, Astrid said she needed some advice on her own love life.
The three friends went back a long way. They’d met and bonded their freshman year at a small college in east Texas. They’d joined the same sorority, and because they were all only children, they’d cherished the sense of sisterhood more than most. After graduation, they’d stayed close. Val, the only one who wasn’t from the Dallas area, had deliberately taken a job with a Dallas law firm so she wouldn’t lose touch with her buddies.
Melanie’s wedding plans took up most of the first round of drinks. They discussed dress designs, venues, and the bachelorette party. Because Melanie was the first to get engaged, they spent part of the time on their phones doing internet research on current wedding fashions.
By the second round of margaritas, Astrid began to open up about her problems. Blonde and petite, she didn’t look like anyone’s idea of a large-animal vet, but she loved the work. She also came from money and was expected to marry a wealthy man. She was currently dating Edward, who had all the right credentials.
“My mother loves him,” Astrid said. “So does my father. Edward fits into my family beautifully. And he’s a nice guy. I just . . .”
“What?” Val, a redhead with an eccentric sense of style, leaned forward. “Is he terrible in bed?”
Astrid shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Melanie stared at her. “You’re practically engaged to the guy. You haven’t kicked the tires?”
“He hasn’t pushed for that, and neither have I. I don’t . . . like how he kisses.”
Val threw up her hands. “Don’t you dare marry him. Mark my words, a bad kisser is going to be a nightmare between the sheets. Somebody needs to educate this guy, but not you. And some men are tone-deaf when it comes to these things. Edward could be one of those.”
“But my parents are wild to have him as their son-in-law.”
Melanie laughed. “Yeah, but they don’t have to go to bed with him. Val’s right. Back in the Dark Ages, women had to make a bad match for the good of the family. Those days are gone.”
“Maybe it’s me.” Astrid polished off her drink. “Maybe I’m a cold fish.”
“You are not.” Val smirked. “We remember what you were like in college. You have the soul of a seductress, chica. You just need the right Zorro to light your fire.”
“Like Fletch.” Astrid gazed dreamily into her empty glass.
“Who?” Melanie leaned forward. “Who’s Fletch?”
Astrid glanced up, startled. “Oh, nobody. Just a client. He’s the one with the mare who’s having a rough time.”
“A client.” Val nodded wisely. “Methinks he’s a sexy client. Tell us more.”
“He’s a rancher. Like all ranchers, his money is tied up in land and livestock.”
Melanie studied her friend. Astrid moved in the same circles as Drew, so Melanie understood the issues more than she might have otherwise. “A cash-strapped rancher wouldn’t make your parents very happy, right?”
“No.” Astrid looked at Melanie. “He wouldn’t. My mother has warned me for years to marry someone with money so I’d never have to worry about his motives. But Fletch is not like that. I know he’s not.”
Their third round arrived, and they all drank a toast to true love.
Val was the one who asked the critical question. “How does this Fletch guy feel about you?”
“Ah, there’s the big question.” Astrid sipped her drink. “Sometimes I think he’s interested, but other times he acts as if I’m simply a vet he’s hired to take care of his pregnant mare. And he is a client, so I can’t very well make a move.”
Val cradled her goblet in both hands. “Sticky situation. But promise me you won’t go to bed with Edward until you’ve had a chance to find out if Fletch is on the market.”
“I agree.” Melanie raised her glass. “To talented lovers, which we all deserve.”
“Yeah.” Astrid touched her glass to Melanie’s. “May we all find a guy who floats our boat the way Drew does Melanie’s.” Then she glanced at Val. “Gonna toast with us?”
“I’ll toast the two of you. As for me, I’m on hiatus. No boat floating going on over here.”
Melanie met Astrid’s gaze. Now was not the time to confront Val about her issues. Melanie amended the toast. “To each of us finding what we need.”
Val looked relieved. “I’ll drink to that.”
The three woman clicked their glasses together. As Melanie drank her margarita, she counted her blessings. She never would have expected that a down-home cowgirl would end up with a Prince Charming like Drew. But she’d learned that love could come along when a person least expected it. She hoped her friends would find that out soon, too.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This story, and the series itself, wouldn’t exist without the vision and patience of my editor, Claire Zion. I’m grateful to her and to everyone on the InterMix team at Penguin for their enthusiastic support of the project. And many thanks, as always, to my assistant, Audrey Sharpe, and my agent, Robert Gottlieb.
Keep reading for a preview of the second installment in Vicki Lewis Thompson’s Perfect Man trilogy
TEMPTED BY A COWBOY
Available June 2013 from InterMix
“I can’t lose her.” Fletcher Grayson crouched beside the bay mare and stroked her sweat-dampened neck as she lay on her side in the foaling stall, her breath labored.
“We’re not going to lose her.” Astrid Lindberg was determined that both mare and foal would survive this night. Fletch had called her emergency line at ten pm. It was a testimony to her lack of a social life that she’d been home on a Saturday night.
She’d rushed out to the Rocking G, driving through a summer downpour. It was what locals called a trash mover of a rain, falling in endless sheets of water. Four hours later, the rain continued to pound the roof of the barn, and Janis still hadn’t foaled.
Astrid had monitored the pregnant mare for weeks, ever since the first signs of edema. Because of the swelling, Janis’s abdomen was far more distended than it would be in a normal pregnancy. The condition was worrisome, and recently Fletch had kept her confined to the barn and a small paddock to restrict her movements.
Some vets might have performed a C-section by now. Astrid preferred to see if Janis could deliver naturally, which would mean a better start for both mother and baby. Luckily Fletch agreed with her.
Fletch tended to agree with her on most things, which made her job as his vet much easier. It also made her life as a woman frustrating as hell. From her first glimpse of the broad-shouldered rancher, she’d been in trouble. Fletch Grayson was hot. And single. And a client. He was definitely off-limits.
“I think she wants to get up.” Fletch stood and backed away. Concern shone in his brown eyes. “I wish she’d just have that foal and be done with it.”
“Me, too.” Astrid rose and edged back as Janis lumbered to her feet. “Let’s move out of the stall and give her room to pace if she needs to.”
“Sure.” He followed her out and they leaned side-by-side against the front of the stall so they could observe the mare as she walked the perimeter of her enclosure.
Standing close together in this cozy barn watching Janis as the rain came down outside was the most natural thing in the world for them to be doing. Yet stormy nights always made Astrid long to be held, and it drove her crazy to be within touching distance of the yummy Mr. Grayson. She imagined the feel of all those mu
scles under his blue denim shirt and barely controlled a shiver.
He’d named his ranch the Rocking G because he had a fondness for classic rock and roll. This horse honored Janis Joplin, and the stable was filled with namesakes of other famous rockers. In Astrid’s opinion, Fletch was the one who rocked.
He’d hung his Stetson on a peg outside the stall. When he was nervous, he had a habit of running his fingers through his chocolate brown hair, which only made that wavy hair sexier. No one should look this good at two in the morning. Or smell this good. Fletch’s woodsy aftershave was one of the many things about him that made her pulse race.
He possessed a killer combo of square-jawed masculinity and a heart of gold. The same passionate love of animals that had propelled her into the field of veterinary medicine had caused him to sink all his savings into a horse-breeding operation. Although he was finally turning a profit, he did so only by carefully managing his budget.
They’d become so comfortable with each other during the six months she’d tended his horses that he’d shared major decisions, such as when he’d postponed the purchase of a new truck so he could install more efficient heating in the horse barn. She treasured those long conversations, even though they stirred up inappropriate thoughts. Would he be even better at pillow talk?
But she also treasured her professional standing in the Dallas area, so she wouldn’t be sharing a pillow with gorgeous Fletch Grayson. It was hard enough for a girl to be taken seriously as a vet in Texas, even harder for someone like Astrid, the daughter of a rich family. Besides, she didn’t know if he would welcome that idea. Sometimes she imagined him looking at her with interest, but that might be wishful thinking on her part.
“One thing’s for sure,” he said. “I won’t breed her again. She deserves a rest.”
“Yes, she does.” Although he didn’t know it, Astrid could offer to invest in his ranch and eliminate most of his money problems. She constantly battled the urge to do exactly that. But giving him money would change their relationship forever, and she selfishly wanted to keep that relationship as it was, even if friendship was all she’d ever have.
One Night With a Billionaire (Novella): The Perfect Man Page 9