by A. C. Arthur
How could he be breaking her heart and filling it at the same time? She ached for the pain he’d carried all these years. It was foolish of him to think he had to be punished for an accident that wasn’t his fault. Just as it was foolish of her to hold what had happened with her and Gordon so close that it spilled over into everything she did. Once again, the fact that they seemed to be a perfect match was not lost on her.
She tried to lift her free hand up to his face, but the effort was painful, and she winced. He immediately leaned over so he was closer, and her palm finally met his cheek for a slow stroke. “We’re quite a pair, you and I. Walking around here acting like martyrs, holding our feelings back because of some nonsense in our past.” She shook her head. “Last night, when you left, I thought back to when I found out Gordon was cheating on me. And then after I saw that video I remembered when the owner of the team Gordon had played on held a press conference to announce that Gordon was being released from the team after sleeping with the coach’s wife.” She took in a shaky breath, forcing herself not to cry over events that didn’t deserve any more of her tears. “I felt like it was happening all over again, but this time the pain was surreal.”
“Des—” She shook her head to stop him from speaking.
“No. I know that this is different. You’re not Gordon, and I’m sorry for comparing what we have to what I had with him.”
“I would never intentionally hurt you. Not ever,” he insisted.
“I know.”
Revisiting her life with Gordon was tough, but it was also cathartic, because in that moment she looked into Maurice’s eyes, she knew deep down in her soul that he’d stand by his word.
“I would never treat you badly. Next to Major, you’ve been my best friend these past five years.” He was shaking his head now. “I didn’t realize that until now.”
“Well, you may rethink that when you find out I was responsible for that video going viral.” She figured he had to know about it by now. He was in charge of PR at the company, so someone would’ve reached out to him once they saw it.
“What are you talking about? When did you see the video?” He looked as perplexed as she’d felt when Kelli had walked into her office. But after telling him about that entire exchange, his look of confusion shifted to pure rage.
“Dammit!” He released her hand and stepped away from the bed, turned his back on her and then ran his hands over his face. “That’s where I knew that guy’s name from. When Chaz first said it, I didn’t make the connection.”
“The connection to what?” Despite the pain meds her head was still pounding as she tried to process everything.
He turned back to face her and shrugged. “It seems that Dear Lover was responsible for bringing us together and was almost responsible for tearing us apart. Travis Milhouse was the one who sent me the blackmail messages I started getting that Sunday while we were still at the resort. He and Kelli must’ve concocted the plan once they figured out who we were. And if I wasn’t the consummate playboy, they wouldn’t have had the opening.”
“Oh no, you’re not about to accept the blame for that, too. I knew Kelli was a little off when I met her.”
“Nah, I’m not taking the blame for anybody but myself at this point. I just can’t believe we had to go through all of this...just to realize our friendship was meant to be more.”
“Is it more for you, Maurice?” It was a brave question, one she’d been struggling with asking him all day long.
When he walked over to the bed again, this time brushing his knuckles over her cheek and bending down to drop the softest kiss on her forehead, her skin rippled once again with warmth. It traveled throughout her body now, comforting and calming.
“Yeah, it’s definitely more now.”
EPILOGUE
Three Months Later
MAURICE HELD HIS cards tight, watching as Major decided what he was going to do. Chaz and RJ had already folded, leaving their money to add to the hefty pot up for grabs. Desta was sitting prettily with her cards facedown on the table. She’d already added her bet to the pot.
He watched her while he waited, recalling all they’d been through in the past several months. After she’d left the hospital, they’d both given statements to the police about meeting Kelli and Travis at the ski resort. With their lawyer beside them, they hadn’t needed to go into too much detail about why they’d been there in the first place. Arrests had occurred about a week later, and Maurice had done a press conference explaining the falsehood to the media.
Desta, along with the legal department and a talent agent they’d hired, had negotiated a lucrative reality-television special deal for Riley and Chaz. The new development kept her busy for the bulk of her days, but the nights were reserved for him. Just after they returned from spending Christmas with her family in Chicago, they’d decided that her place was just too small for both of them. He’d wanted her to move into his place, but she’d insisted on them searching for a place where both their names could be on the lease. He respected her need to maintain her independence while being part of a relationship.
Maurice had been in a relationship for three months now. Not three dates, but three months. Who would’ve ever thought he’d change his ways so drastically and so quickly? Who would’ve ever thought his best friend would turn out to be the woman of his dreams?
“Damn, Major, quit studying the cards. Make a bet or bow out,” RJ complained, and he wasn’t even in the game anymore. He was getting grouchier, and the family hoped traveling to the private island they’d booked for Riley and Chaz’s wedding in June would relax him a little.
“All right! I’m out.” Major had been taking a long time deciding, but Maurice was patient. At least, he’d been telling himself that for the last hour and a half.
“So it’s just you and me,” Des said from across the table. “Or are you about to concede to my superior poker skills like the rest of them?”
He loved her smile. He loved the way she didn’t take any mess from him whether at work or at home. And he especially loved the way she loved him completely as he was.
“Oh, I’m in,” he said and then set his cards down on the table to reach into his pocket. When he knew everyone in the room was expecting him to pull out more cash to toss into the already large pot to bet, Maurice instead removed a little black box.
He opened the box under the table and stared down at the three-karat pear-shaped diamond ring sitting against the cushioned interior. Taking a slow breath and releasing it, he extended his arm across the table, sat the box on top of the cash pile and waited.
* * *
Desta looked down at the black box and the brilliantly shining ring inside. She struggled for a moment to catch her breath, yanking her hands from the table for fear she might touch it and it wasn’t meant for her.
“What’s going on?” That may have been a silly question, but it was the first thing that popped into her mind.
“I love you, Des.” Maurice stood up and walked around to the side of the table where she was sitting. “I think I’ve loved you since I’ve known you. It just took me a while to figure that out and act on that love.”
“A long while,” Major joked from the sidelines, and Chaz chuckled.
She couldn’t believe this was happening, and on poker night of all nights!
Maurice knelt down on one knee, taking her hands in his. “I love everything about you, even the fact that I know in my heart you’re a cheater when it comes to playing poker.”
Now everyone chuckled, even her while her eyes filled with tears. Her heart was beating so fast, and her hands were shaking. Until he lifted them up to his lips and kissed each finger.
“But what I love most about you is the way you love me. Everything you’ve given me has taught me how to love you in return. You’re my world, and I don’t want to continue on without you. So will you please ma
rry me?”
The tears fell—there was no use trying to hold them back. “I love you. I love you so much for showing me it was okay to love again. You’re my best friend.”
There was a pause and then, “So is that a yes or a no?” RJ asked.
Everyone looked at him in surprise.
“I mean, if all of you want to be married, that’s fine by me,” RJ continued with a shrug.
“Yes!” Desta answered without waiting for anyone to say anything else. “Yes, Maurice Gold, I’ll marry you.”
“Well, all right, then!” Major yelled and began to clap along with the others.
Maurice stood, pulling her up with him and wrapping his arms around her for a tender kiss. When the kiss broke, she laughed nervously. “Oh, I forgot about the ring and the rest of my winnings.”
Releasing her, Maurice took the box off the table and removed the ring. He lifted her left hand in his and slid the ring onto her third finger. “I’m the biggest winner in this room tonight because I’ve won you.”
Staring through tear-blurred eyes at the man she was going to marry, Desta wrapped her arms around him for another hug. “And I’ve won you.”
* * *
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by Rachael Stewart
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CHAPTER ONE
LIAM LANGE JUST wanted this damn day to be over already and it was barely five. He rolled up the sleeves of his canvas work shirt as he slid onto the peeling leather barstool in the dark dive bar in Hoboken. The blinds were down so he didn’t have to stare at the silver cityscape of Manhattan, his least favorite place on earth.
He ordered a cold Pabst Blue Ribbon to try to cool his temper, still simmering from the run-in he’d had with the foreman on the condo build he’d worked on down the street. The foreman—all mouth and no brains in Liam’s opinion—micromanaged his work on the roof all day—from the ground. As if he could tell anything from down there. It had taken all of Liam’s patience to finish the job, which thank God was now done.
Liam’s lower back ached, since he’d been working double time to get out of there, and he could feel the singe of a sunburn on his neck. The mid-May sun had been unforgiving all day, but it was nothing that a cold beer or two wouldn’t fix. The bartender opened a longneck and slid it to him, and he took it with a small nod of his head and drank deep.
No. His real problem had nothing to do with the sun or that moronic foreman. Or his aching muscles. It had everything to do with that damn message on his phone.
Hey, brother. Happy Birthday. WL.
WL for Wilder Lange. As if he wouldn’t know that this unlisted, blocked number would be his asshole half brother’s. It doubly irked because his full brothers, Seth and Stuart, hadn’t yet acknowledged his birthday. They were still pissed off about him taking Mom’s side against them in the last run-in with Wilder, clearly. Well, they could be pissed all they wanted. They were the ones who’d picked the wrong side.
He took one more look at the text, his finger hovering over the reply button. What could he even say?
How’s the money grab going? Stolen all of our father’s money yet? Want to bleed me dry, too? Ha, sucker. There’s nothing you can take from me.
That’s where Liam had already won. He’d walked away from the Lange Communications fortune long ago. Nothing but vipers and vampires hanging around hoping to get a drop of their dead father’s power and money. All Liam had to his name was a few thousand dollars, and whatever this last job would pay—if the foreman didn’t dock him like he’d threatened. What he needed to do was save all his money and head south. Florida, maybe? Somewhere away from Manhattan and New Jersey, which on days like today just seemed populated with the world’s worst assholes.
Liam was halfway through his PBR when the door to the dive bar slid open, letting too much of the late afternoon sunlight in. He squinted, annoyed at the flash of light in the otherwise shuttered and darkened bar, light that seemed not to be waning. Some idiot was holding the door open. He could feel the blast of hot air from outside on his back. Liam turned, half expecting to see that asshole foreman, as he’d be the kind of guy who’d swing open a door wide to a darkened bar.
Instead, he saw the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his whole life, ringed in a halo of light. She was delicate and blonde, her hair gleaming like spun gold. She wore an airy white sundress, which, backlit with the sun, showed her amazing thighs in nearly perfect detail. She kept her elegant hand, nails painted a shell pink that matched her soft bow lips, on the door as if wondering whether or not to come in. This kind of bar was not the place for a woman as gorgeous as that. Her white linen dress wouldn’t stay white long against these faded and peeling barstools. Her delicate strappy-heeled sandals would no doubt find it hard going on the pitied concrete floor. It’s no wonder she looked so uncertain, so confused, as she let in the summer heat.
“Hey, in or out! You’re gonna melt us over here,” one of the less than savory characters on the other side of the bar yelled, his Jersey accent as thick as his belly. He was almost entirely bald except for a wisp of dark hair he’d tried unsuccessfully to sweep over the center of his head. Liam scowled at the man. He wasn’t wrong, but still, that was no way to talk to a woman. Liam glanced over at her, sure she’d exit the place, realizing her mistake, but instead, she stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind her.
Interesting. So she was going to double down on her mistake. She either had guts or lacked the sense to turn around and leave.
“Hey, sweetheart. Come sit by me!” the man called out, clearly turning in time to realize he was yelling at a gorgeous model. Liam scowled again. Okay, so he was going to be a problem. And the bartender wasn’t doing anything about it. He had his head buried in the ice at the end of the bar, i
gnoring the ruckus. Liam stretched his neck, its joints popping. He wouldn’t mind getting into it with some jerk. Might help him work out the day’s stress.
“Leave her alone. She can sit where she wants,” Liam said, voice low but steady. “Let her decide.” The man saw Liam for the first time and seemed prepared to pop off. But then Liam stood, to his full height of six-three. He was also a wall of muscle, a benefit of working with his hands all day. The man suddenly found something interesting to look at on his phone.
Uh-huh. Thought so.
The woman’s gaze darted from Liam to the man and back again. Maybe this was the time she’d choose to bolt. Instead, she moved closer to Liam, and laid her hand hesitantly on the ripped stool next to his.
“Mind if I...?” she asked, her voice sweet like honey. Her clear blue eyes held his a minute. Damn, they were pretty. Fringed with thick dark lashes. Liam wasn’t exactly in the mood for company, but there was no way he could say no to that voice, to those small, pink, rosebud lips. Whatever the lady wanted, she’d get.
He nodded at the seat, and she perched on it, the hem of her sundress inching above her knee. He tried not to stare at her legs, which she crossed at the knee. The hem rode up a little farther, giving him just a glimpse of pale thigh. She set her small straw clutch purse on the bar.
“I’m Cecily,” she said, holding out a dainty hand with those perfectly pink nails. He dragged his focus away from her legs with difficulty.
“Liam,” he replied, taking her hand, which seemed childlike in his. He worried she’d shrink from his calloused paw, but she shook it gamely.
“Nice to meet you.” She flashed him a dazzling white smile that nearly blinded him. God, the woman was even prettier close-up. Barely wore a stitch of makeup, and had a few freckles across her nose, but otherwise, her skin was flawless. Her clear blue eyes, like a gorgeous calm day on the Atlantic, stared at him, and seemed...friendly. It had been a while since a woman this pretty had been this interested in him. Not that it didn’t happen, but normally, he attracted the punk chicks with the smoky eye shadow and heavy liner, with extra piercings and tattoos, the ones who didn’t mind his calloused hands. Beautiful blondes who looked like they ought to be shopping on Fifth Avenue with limitless platinum cards typically didn’t go for him.