Never Too Late

by Alyssia Leon

  They reached the greying headstones that marked Molly’s parents’ and grandfather’s graves. Bending, Nan cleared old flowers from the stone vase and Molly carefully placed her bouquet there. The roses shone red against the grey-white stone, with the small flowers that had been plucked from the walls of Rose Cottage standing out like deep-red rubies.

  “They would be so proud to see how you’ve turned out.” Nan said, brushing away a tear.

  Molly placed an arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “It’s all because of you, Nan.”

  “There you are.” Sophie weaved her way through the apple trees towards them, looking radiant in her pink bridesmaid’s dress and with her thick dark hair in a side plait.

  Molly glanced past her, surprised to see her alone. Sophie seemed to have picked up an ardent admirer at the wedding, a tall man with floppy brown hair and a rather haughty look in his eyes, who rarely left her side. Molly would never have pegged him as Sophie’s type.

  “Your car’s here, Molly,” Sophie said

  “Why would I need a car to go to the reception? Barrowdene is just across the road.”

  “You can’t be crossing roads in that beautiful dress,” Sophie said, astonished. “You’re the bride.”

  “Sophie’s quite right,” Nan said with a sage nod. “It wouldn’t be seemly.”

  With a resigned shake of her head, Molly walked back with them. “Where’s your new beau?”

  “He’s not my beau.” Sophie glanced around nervously as if expecting him to leap out from behind one of the apple trees they passed. “He’s a friend of Mum’s. I think she was hoping we’d like each other.”

  “And do you?”

  “God, no.” Sophie gave a fine shudder. “I… I mean, he’s nice… in his way, but definitely not my sort.”

  “Then have you told him, or at least your mum? Because it looked to me like you’re definitely his sort.”

  “I can’t. Not yet. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”

  “Oh, Sophie.” Molly looked at her, exasperated. “You’ll end up in a world of trouble if you don’t speak up for yourself.”

  Sophie smiled at her. “It’s your fault in a way. Now that you’re married, Mum’s been introducing me to any man she knows because she’s scared I won’t find anyone.”

  Nan chuckled. “You’re in for a rough time, child, if Kathleen’s got the bit between her teeth.”

  “Yes, I think you’re right,” Sophie said with a small sigh.

  They rounded the corner of the church and Nan’s eyes sharpened. “Look at that! I turn away for a minute and those two are at each other’s throats.”

  Molly followed her gaze to where a scrubbed-up and besuited Nate was standing glaring at Clara Ainsley who was snapping at him and poking a stubby finger at his chest.

  “Go on and find Jake, Molly,” Nan said. “I’ll see you back home later.” And she rushed off to break the two of them up

  Molly glanced around for Jake and her gaze fell on the church steps. The tall man who’d been following Sophie around all morning was standing there with Kathleen. He turned and on seeing Sophie, started down the steps towards them.

  Sophie paled. “Oh, I have to find Anna and Kitty.” And she darted away with the man hot on her heels.

  Molly stood gaping after her. What on earth had Sophie got herself into?

  “Ready to head to the reception?” Jake came up and slipped an arm around her waist.

  “I’m not sure,” she mumbled absentmindedly, still staring at the man who had now caught up to a nervous-looking Sophie and was talking to her.

  Jake laughed. “We can still sneak away if you want. I have a far better time planned for us once we get to Paris.”

  She turned back to him then and smiled at the mischief in his eyes. “Nan would kill us. In fact, the whole of Appleby would kill us, and I’d rather not lose you any time soon.”

  He brushed his lips over hers. “Then let’s go and give the people what they want, Mrs Hennessy, and make this the quickest reception ever.”

  He steered her towards the waiting wedding car, but she glanced back with a frown at where Sophie was still talking to the tall man.

  “What is it?” Jake asked, following her gaze.

  “Sophie. I’m not sure what’s going on.”

  Just then, Anna dashed up to Sophie and put an arm around her, her whole body language territorial as she faced off with the haughty-looking man.

  Jake chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. If she can’t handle the guy, her sister looks to be more than capable of it.”

  He was right, and Molly breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. Sophie would be okay.

  Turning her to him, Jake covered her mouth with his, and sighing she raised her hands to his face and stroked her fingers over the short hairs of his beard, loving the feel of him, and delighting in the knowledge that he was hers now and forever.

  THE END

  A Note From Alyssia

  Every autumn, I get to marvel at apple trees in full fruit. They’re a beautiful sight, especially the ones with apples as red as London buses. The story of Appleby was born one such autumn as I stood staring at an apple tree, with the merry bells of an ancient church peeling in the distance (this was a Sunday). There in my head, out of nowhere, popped up the image of a curly-haired girl standing in front of a white Georgian house. That was my first impression of Molly, and through her I met Jake and the other residents of Appleby village.

  I had a lot of fun writing Molly and Jake’s story, and I hope you enjoyed reading it too. The next novels in the Appleby series will follow the love lives of Sophie and her two sisters, Anna and Kitty. And along the way I’ll also be writing some shorter novellas about other couples we meet during the journey.

  The first of those novellas is ONLY YOU (Lilayni and Damon’s story). I’ve included an excerpt here, so turn the page and read on to find out more.

  ❤Alyssia

  Visit www.alyssialeon.com to see all my books and keep up to date with my new releases.

  Only You

  Lilayni Perrot isn’t about to give up on love. That’s not what a self-respecting French woman does, and especially not a red-headed one. The man she gave her heart to may be avoiding her like the plague right now, but she’s determined to win him back, come what may.

  Billionaire Damon Solarin may be a respected CEO, but he comes from a gritty past, and he’s not afraid to fight dirty when he needs to. He knows the value of trust, and he knows an empty promise of love when he hears it. Lilayni may think she’s won him over, but he has other plans for her, plans that have nothing to do with love.

  And unfortunately for Lilayni, disaster lurks just around the corner. The nemesis that tore Damon and her apart in the first place isn’t finished with her yet. There’s a price to pay, and she must be the one to pay it.

  In the middle of threat, secrets, and rivalry, Lilayni must convince Damon of her love. But if she does, is she prepared to face the grim truth that he might have been ruthless enough to use her for his own gain?

  Only You

  Chapter One

  The cold panther hunted in the middle of Manhattan. A predator, its teeth bared, its claws sharp, and its larger than life body blazing like fire, lit from beneath by orange light, as it tensed, ready to pounce, water dripping like crystal blood from its colourless fangs.

  Lilayni Perrot shivered and stepped further back into the shadows of the imposing ice sculpture. The big cat looked about as approachable as the man she hunted tonight.

  She ran nervous hands over her slim figure-hugging sheath dress. It came to mid-thigh, leaving her shapely legs open to notice, and its green colour—a darker emerald than her eyes—made her wavy red tresses glow as they hung loose down her back almost to her waist. A light, but artful touch of make-up to enhance her beauty, and she stood out a mile in a crowd of the most expensively dressed people in New York. She needed that. She needed to stand out tonight. She needed him to notice
her, and not take his eyes off her.

  He didn’t know she was here, and surprise was her only advantage. Now if she could just dig up the courage to approach. She took another step back, moistening suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue.

  People milled around in the crystal chandelier lit grand hall of the hotel, men in sharp evening suits and women in rainbow colours of designer wear, ranging from short sexy minis all the way to floor-sweeping ball gowns. Glasses clinked and laughter rose among the flowing chatter. Manhattan’s affluent were out in force on a mild September evening to support their favourite charities.

  But business was happening too. Deals were being made and finalized with the shake of a hand or a clap on the back. And that was where he was, in the middle of a group of business men standing way off to one corner of the hall and ignoring everyone else as they talked. He stood out from them all.

  His tall six-foot-four frame placed him above most in the group, backed up by a formidable muscular build like that of a star rugby player that couldn’t be hidden by the fitted layers of the dark suit he wore. His black hair and beard were cropped close and neat, accentuating his rugged striking features, but it was the way his light-copper eyes glowed against his umber skin, almost as if lit from within, that caught people’s attention and held it. Nobody took just one glance at Damon Solarin. And when that sinfully handsome face broke into a wide easy grin, you were lost forever.

  “Champagne?” A young waiter popped up by her side, expertly balancing a tray of filled champagne flutes in one hand, a crisp white towel thrown over the forearm of the other.

  He was lanky and blond, probably not much older than her twenty-six years, and the smile he gave her was one of pure male appreciation rather than professional.

  “Non, merci.” She winced a little at falling back into her mother tongue because of the distraction.

  His smile widened to a grin. “French, huh? I’ve been to Paris, myself. You from there?”

  He looked nice, but he must be new to his job, because from her experience of these exclusive functions, the wait staff were supposed to be seen and not heard and certainly not chatting up the guests. She glanced around to make sure they hadn’t come under the watchful eye of one of his managers. Better to conclude this interchange swiftly and send him on his way before he lost his job. “I am from Nice. If you will excuse me?” She flashed him a friendly smile and made to move away.

  “You… er… here with someone?”

  “I…” She looked to where Damon stood oblivious and far from her. “I am.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment dimmed his eyes as he followed her gaze to Damon. Then he frowned, a knowing look dawning in his eyes as he glanced back at her, and then looked her up and down. “I’ll wish you luck then,” he murmured, and turned to leave.

  Heat coursed up her cheeks. Maybe he wasn’t such a stranger to parties like this after all, because it sounded very much like he’d pegged her as one of those women who made a career out of coming to these functions and targeting the billionaires in attendance. But in some ways, wasn’t that exactly what she was doing? And wasn’t she more desperate than some? She’d woken up in France yesterday and crossed an ocean today to make it to this fundraiser, only because Damon was going to be here. But to know her desperation must show on her face to all and sundry made her squirm with embarrassment.

  “Wait!” With haughty dignity and a look meant to put him firmly in his place, she took a champagne flute from his tray. “Thank you.” And with determined steps she stalked away.

  It didn’t matter what anyone else thought. She’d come here for a purpose and hiding wouldn’t help. She had to go to Damon. Had to make him see her again.

  The champagne flute cooled her fingers as she made her way to the centre of the hall, and she took a quick sip. She hadn’t intended on drinking anything tonight. She needed all her wits about her. Besides, the nervous butterflies crowding her stomach had initially made the thought of alcohol unbearable. But the chilled champagne had a surprisingly calming effect, and she took another sip.

  Damon was still talking animatedly to several men in the group and being half-turned away from her, he hadn’t seen her yet. He smiled at something the man opposite him said, cocked his head to the side and rubbed a hand over his dark beard as if considering. Then he nodded and spoke again, his hand gestures expressive as he said something that had his companions laughing in response.

  Her steps faltered. That friendliness wouldn’t likely be extended to her tonight. Damon was charming and his fierce intellect saw people for exactly what they were. He could be more diplomatic than a diplomat when he chose to be, but cross him, and he gave no second chances. In the month since they’d parted, he’d barely acknowledged she was still alive. But she couldn’t forget him so easily. Her heart wouldn’t let her. She’d given it to him once and it had never wanted to return to her since. Maybe today he would finally listen and forgive. On a deep breath, she forced her feet forward, taking her closer to him.

  “Lilayni.”

  Her stomach dropped like a stone, but quickly pasting on a professional smile, she turned to face the tall man approaching her. “Cass. It is a surprise to see you here.”

  Cass Walker was a Hollywood darling, and though he was always behind the camera never in front of it, he carried off the whole hot surfer-dude look with aplomb with his chiseled good looks and dirty-blond hair scraped back in a fashionably short ponytail. He was also one of her clients, having engaged her for the interior design of the thirty-million-dollar Beverly Hills’ mansion he’d bought last year.

  “I’m on a financing drive for a movie and this is one of the best places to be tonight.” He surveyed her appreciatively. “Last I heard, you were in France. It’s a bit of a bonus running into you here.”

  His blue eyes shone with interest and she shot him another polite smile. If ever there was a man convinced of his irresistibility to women, it was Cass Walker. When she’d worked for him, she’d been under no doubt he’d wanted to be more than just her client. It had been before her doomed affair with Damon, but even back then she’d been leery of jumping into quicky relationships. She’d only been with one man before Damon, a college sweetheart who’d grown distant from her once she’d moved to New York. Cass didn’t know it, but he was sniffing up the wrong tree with her.

  She took a step away. “It was nice meeting you again. I wish you success with your project.”

  “Hold on, Lilayni. How long you in Manhattan for?”

  “I have not really decided…”

  Cass smiled, a lopsided grin that would have had most women dropping flat at his feet.

  Fool! She berated herself. She should have told him she was returning to France first thing tomorrow morning, or better yet, tonight.

  “I’m here a couple of days myself, but now I’m tempted to stay longer,” he said, moving closer. “What say we ditch this place and find somewhere quieter?”

  She took a nervous gulp of her champagne, her usual battery of excuses for politely turning men down not cutting it in this case. How to say ‘no’ to an ego-heavy film executive without losing a future client and potentially the whole of Hollywood in the process? This was one business manoeuvre her long-term mentor Mimi Lalique had never taught her.

  “Cass Walker.” The rich deep voice behind her had her stiffening.

  Damon sauntered up to them, tall and powerful, his teeth flashing white with his broad smile and his striking eyes keen as he looked at Cass. Her breath caught as the musky wood scent of him floated over her, stirring a remembered craving deep inside. She couldn’t tear her gaze from him.

  But ignoring her, he held his hand out to Cass. “I’m—”

  “Damon Solarin.” Cass grasped his hand in a firm handshake. “You’re no stranger in these parts.”

  Damon inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I heard good things about this new project of yours. I’d be interested in knowing more.”

  “You would?�
� Cass straightened, his eyes gleaming with the prospect of business, and Lilayni completely forgotten in the process. “I hadn’t pegged you as a potential, to tell the truth. I’ve heard you’re not into high-risk investments.”

  “Times change, and I’m looking to widen the company’s portfolio a bit.”

  “Well, I could give you a rundown now.”

  Damon smiled, and with a barely noticeable step eased closer to her and slipped an arm around her waist. She stiffened, quickly taking another gulp of her champagne to hide her shock. This was the first time he’d touched her in a month.

  “I won’t take your time tonight, Cass. You probably have others to catch before they leave. Have your people arrange a meeting with mine, and we’ll go from there.”

  “Yeah, I’ll do that,” Cass said, a small frown creasing his brow as his gaze dropped to Damon’s arm around her.

  “Have a good evening, Cass,” Damon said, flashing him another smile. “If you’ll excuse us?” And with that he urged her away.

  She reached just above his shoulder in her high heels, still she had to almost run to keep up with his long purposeful strides, but all she could think of was his arm still around her. Heat flowed to her from the solid comforting safety of his body and she glanced up at him, needing to say something, anything, but his jaw was set and he stared ahead, all sense of the relaxed charm he’d used with Cass gone.

  They reached the entrance to the hall and she hesitated, digging back on her heels a bit. Now or never. She had to stop him from putting that wall up between them again. “Damon, we must talk.”

  He stopped and released her, and she ached inside at the sudden sensation of loss. But then his stony gaze rested a moment on the bare skin above the low neckline of her dress, and she had to resist the urge to bring her hand up there. Her necklace. The one he’d given her. The one that was no longer there.