“I know the bride is supposed to be the most beautiful woman here, but you’ll always hold that title for me,” Davis says, as he takes me in his arms for a spin on the dance floor. Strings of lights twinkle from the canopy above us. I can smell the saltwater from the lazy ocean waves, rocking the shores gently after twilight.
“As it should be.”
“And I suspect you’ll be equally stunning tomorrow night on the red carpet,” he says. “Have I told you how proud I am of you?”
“Only twenty million times,” I say playfully, moving closer to him, because I am unable to stay away. He’s been back from London for several weeks now, and I can’t get enough of him. Even though I saw him once a week while he was gone, it wasn’t nearly enough, and we’ve been making up for all that lost time. Tonight is my first Saturday evening off since I took over as Ava on opening night. But I have a good understudy in Shelby, and I’m sure she’s kicking ass and taking names right now back in Manhattan. The theater will be dark tomorrow night, but Davis and I will be walking the red carpet into Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center for the 68th Annual Tony Awards, since we were both nominated for Crash the Moon.
“And I’m proud of you. You’re still my favorite director,” I say as I play with his collar.
He laughs. “Your only director.”
“Hey! Just because I’m still working my first job, doesn’t mean I can’t have a favorite.” Then my hands stray to the buttons on his shirt and I start to fiddle with the top one. As I do, I flash back to our first kiss in his office, to how I couldn’t resist touching him then either.
The mood shifts between us as he grips my hand and tugs me tighter against him. His voice is rough and heated. “Jill, when you do that, it makes me want to undress you too.”
A ribbon of heat runs through me. “Then we should get out of here because that’s my favorite outfit to wear with you—nothing.”
After we say our goodbyes, we duck into a town car that will take us all the way back into Manhattan and down to Tribeca where we live. Davis hits the button for the partition. “Such a long ride back to the city. Whatever will we do?” he muses as he fingers the short hem on my black and white dress.
“I have no idea how we could pass the time,” I say, as he grabs my hips and shifts me on top of him so I’m straddling him in the car. He brushes his lips against my throat, trailing his tongue between my breasts as he hikes up my skirt.
“Take those off,” he tells me, and I quickly shed my panties as he unzips the crisp gray slacks he wore to the wedding. I inch them down his hips, licking my lips reflexively as the boxer briefs slide down too.
Then he grabs me and brings me down on him, and I moan loudly at the delicious feeling of him inside me. I move on him, slowly, taking my time because it’s a two-hour ride back to the city, but even so it doesn’t take me long because he knows what to do to bring me over the edge. He always has, he always will, and we come together one more time.
Once we reach Manhattan, the car heads down Columbus Avenue and Davis leans forward and lowers the partition to talk to the driver. “Can you make a stop at Lincoln Center?”
“Yes, sir.”
I give him a curious look.
“Getting a head start on tomorrow?”
“Perhaps,” he says evasively.
When we stop, he opens the door and reaches for my hand. I’m not quite sure what the plan is, but I go along with it, as we head up the steps of the plaza outside Lincoln Center. The fountain shoots sprays of water high above us in a majestic pattern, lit brightly on a summer night. We are surrounded by the ballet, the theater, the orchestra, the opera, and Juilliard. This is the heartbeat of the arts in New York City, and it’s always felt like a hamlet to me.
He stops at the fountain and pulls me in close. “I’ve always wanted to kiss you by the fountains at Lincoln Center. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all,” I say, as he brushes his lips against mine, kissing me slowly at first, tenderly, then claiming my mouth with his in the way I love, the way that makes me feel like I’m his, because that’s all I want to be.
When he breaks the kiss, I am still stunned. Because kisses from him only get better, and I can feel this one in my knees, in my toes, all the way in my fingertips. “You’re such a romantic,” I tell him.
“You don’t know the half of it, Jill,” he says with a note of mischief.
“What do you mean?”
“This is what I mean,” he says, as he bends down on one knee, reaching for my hand. I gasp when I realize what he’s doing. “I fall more madly in love with you every day and it’s never going to stop. I want to be with you always, to laugh with you, and work with you, and love you more than any man has ever loved a woman. And when we come here tomorrow night, and walk that red carpet, I don’t want to go in as the director and the actress. I want to go in there with you as the man you’re going to spend the rest of your life with. Will you marry me?”
I fall to my knees too, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him between happy tears and my reply. “Yes, yes, yes,” I say as I plant kisses all over his beautiful face. “I don’t think I can stop kissing you right now.”
“How about for ten seconds so you can let me put this ring on you, then?” he asks with a grin.
“I almost forgot about the ring,” I say because I am overcome. I hold out my hand and he slides a gorgeous diamond onto my ring finger. I don’t know anything about diamonds, and I can’t tell the cut or carats, but I don’t care because it’s from him, and it’s about us, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever worn. “I love it so much. I love you so much. I love being yours.”
“You are. Now, and always.”
THE END
Interested in Ryder’s story? Be sure to check out the smash hit THE KNOCKED UP PLAN! It’s an office romance meets baby making story and it’ll melt your heart and panties!
Acknowledgments
If you see someone struggling with depression, there are resources to turn to. The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention offers a range of resources on risk factors and warning signs, as well as strategies if you are worried about a friend. You can also find resources there on grieving if you’ve lost someone to suicide, as well as survivor support programs. If you are feeling in crisis yourself, here is the hotline number: 1-800-273-TALK (8255).
On another note, readers often ask about the names of characters in her book and whether any are real. Michael Cerveris and Audra McDonald are indeed two Tony-Award winning performers. Many of the Broadway shows in the story are fictional, created for this story. Wicked, The Lion King, Chicago, Phantom, Les Mis, and Fiddler on the Roof, are, of course, real shows.
I am grateful for the support of so many amazing people. First and foremost, I am in mad love with all my readers. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for making this possible. Abiding thanks to Rosemary, Helen, Lynn, Karen, Virginia, and Janice.
I also owe a thanks to my parents, who introduced me to the theater long ago. Like Jill, the first show I saw was Fiddler on the Roof and I fell in love with the theater. I have no talent for the stage, but Broadway remains my first love as a spectator. The inspiration for Patrick’s fictional two-day rehearsal for Wicked stemmed from Marcus Lovett, who learned the lead role in Carousel on Broadway in a similar time span back in 1994 when the star fell ill. I saw his performance in Carousel—he was magnificent.
Finally, thank you to my friends and family.
Also by Lauren Blakely
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Contact
I love hearing from readers! You can find me on Twitter at LaurenBlakely3, Instagram at LaurenBlakelyBooks, Facebook at LaurenBlakelyBooks, or online at LaurenBlakely.com. You can also email me at [email protected]
The Private Rehearsal (Caught Up In Love: The Swoony New Reboot of the Contemporary Romance Series Book 4) Page 24