A Moment of Bliss

by Heather McGovern

  “You don’t have to be scared,” he said. “I should’ve said it last night or the night before or a week ago when I first felt it. I want to be with you, always, and somehow, we’ll figure it out. The rest, all of the hows and whens, we’ll figure out together. All that matters is that you’ll be with me.”

  Madison nodded, her throat knotted up so that all she could get out was, “I will.”

  Roark kissed her. Kissed her with all of the affection and desperation she felt. He held her, murmuring the most beautiful words into her ear. The sky began to brighten and, at some point, the quilt fell from her shoulders. But she wasn’t cold. She had him and the promise of tomorrow to keep her warm.

  “Told you she’d fix everything if you could find her!”

  They turned, and Devlin waved at them from the veranda doors. Beyond him, huddled close together on the couch by the fire, were Jack and Whitney.

  Roark’s chuckle was a warm vibration at her back.

  “Should I make coffee?” Dev yelled.

  Madison moaned, resting her head against his shoulder. “Oh god, yes.”

  “Please!” Roark called back.

  He kissed her once more on her temple before brushing her hair back as she wiped her eyes, enough that she looked halfway presentable.

  “Think our wedding is back on?”

  “God, I hope so.” Roark threw his eyes to heaven. “Let’s go make sure and get them hitched before anything else can happen.”

  “Agreed.”

  “But first.” He pulled her into him and kissed her, as fully as always, but what swept over her was something different altogether. Still the same mix of excitement and lust, but along with it, complete acceptance. Of whatever she wanted to give him, of all that she was, unconditionally.

  And for the first time in her lifetime, Madison was home.

  Chapter 30

  Whitney gave them both a thumbs-up right before Madison shooed her down the aisle to the sound of a guitarist playing Pachelbel’s Canon in a version unlike any other.

  She hurried to Roark’s side, tucking her arm into his and observing the whole beautiful event from the premier seating of the back row.

  “She looks amazing.” Pride dripped from her voice. As it should. His Madison had made the impossible happen.

  Whitney did look amazing. She practically skipped down the aisle with happiness for her wedding day, and for being strong enough to follow her heart. Jack, biker gang-looking fellow that he was, radiated joy. He glowed with it, and in a million years, Roark figured he’d never see a more contradictory sight.

  He brushed his fingers over Madison’s where she held his arm, feeling pretty damn glowy himself.

  This morning, he’d thought his knees were going to buckle as she spoke. Certain she was going to walk out of his life forever, he’d had to force himself to stand there and listen. Take whatever she had to dish out, because he was sure he deserved it. Then she said she was scared, and his knees really had gone out a bit.

  Roark intertwined their fingers and glanced at her. She’d worn her hair mostly loose today. Blond waves fell to her shoulders, inviting and touchable, the same way she was—with him. One side was pulled back, a burnt-orange flower pinned there, courtesy of Whitney’s insisting that if she had to wear shoes to get married, then all the women had to have flowers in their hair.

  Sensing his gaze, Madison looked over.

  They’d figure out this relationship stuff. She was here, and that’s what mattered. She’d go back to Charlotte in a few days, work on settling things up there so she could home base out of Honeywilde, and then they’d be together.

  Home.

  He wasn’t sure how the logistics would work, and he wasn’t the least bit worried. Between the two of them? If they both put their minds to it, and their lists, they’d make it work.

  Now that they both knew they wanted the same thing, everything else they’d conquer in time, and together. When they ran upon hard times, they’d solve that together too.

  He mouthed the words to her, silently. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” she mouthed back.

  She told him again later, after dinner was served and the cake was cut. The cake was, of course, a huge success.

  “Thank goodness you convinced me to go with some random cake no one has ever heard of.” Madison rolled her eyes over another bite.

  Roark used his fork to pick up the crumbs left on his plate. “My pleasure.”

  Sophie found them, holding up the corner of the great room. She pointed at Roark. “You are in big trouble.”

  “What’d I do?”

  “I have heard two people ask to speak to the chef and ask if he’s available for freelance work. You’re probably going to have to give Wright a raise after this because he’s not allowed to leave. None of these music hoity-toits are allowed to take him away.”

  “He’s not going to leave.”

  “He better not.” Sophie looked both of them over. “Why are you two over here anyway?”

  “We’re eating cake.” Roark held up his empty plate. “What’s it look like?”

  Devlin half walked, half glided up to all of them. “Quit holding up the walls. There’s dancing to be done.”

  Roark barked with a laugh. “You do not want me to dance. You know this.”

  Sophie grinned. “Why do you think I want you out there? You make me look like I have skills.”

  “Get Madison out there. I’m going to get one more itty-bitty slice of cake.” He nudged Madison in Sophie’s direction.

  “Oh no. No, sir.” She dug her heels in. “If I have to dance, you have to dance.”

  He started laughing as his sister and his girlfriend—he really liked thinking of her in those terms—dragged him toward the dancing. “This is not going to be pretty.”

  Madison shook her head. “We’re both going to lower the quality of the dance floor just by getting near it.”

  The large dance floor, to be exact. Devlin had been right, the reception party overflowed even the large expanse of parquet flooring.

  He and Madison lucked out though. As they closed in on the crowd, the DJ slowed things down with a ballad.

  Dev spun Sophie in some fancy turn Roark would never dare try, and he raised an eyebrow at Madison.

  “Don’t go getting any ideas. I might be able to manage a little side-to-side for a slow song. That’s it.” He took her hand and pulled her into him.

  “I’ve experienced your side-to-side.” She cocked an eyebrow. “And your front-to-back. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. Believe me.”

  They shared a private smile until Madison began to giggle.

  “You know . . . it’s that charming little grin of yours that started things in the first place.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Really. The sheepish little smile on the boss-man? It’s irresistible.”

  “That is good to know.” He tried his best at a dance turn, making them both laugh.

  “You’re going to use that little smile on me every day of my life now, aren’t you?”

  He pulled Madison closer into his arms, holding her tight, promising he’d never let go.

  A lifetime sounded like a great plan to him.

  Epilogue

  One month later...

  She sauntered into the great room, knowing she wore a smug grin, not caring one bit. “Are you ready for this? Because I don’t think you’re ready.”

  Roark tried to grab a magazine out of her hands and she dodged to the side.

  “Oh, come on. We’re dying over here.” Sophie clapped her hands, looking the furthest thing from dying.

  “Okay, but you have to share. No hogging the publicity.” Madison set copies of five different magazines down on the coffee table, and the Bradleys dove in like a pack of wild dogs.

  “Holy shit, we’re in Southern Living.” Dev reached across the table.

  “And People. We made People!” Sophie screeched, flapping one of th
e magazines around in the air like it was a pom-pom.

  Trevor grabbed the biggest magazine from the pile. “Why is there a Rolling Stone issue in here?”

  “Because . . .” Madison drew out the word, walking around to sit on the arm of the sofa, next to Roark. “Honeywilde may or may not be mentioned by name, in a little article about Red Left Hand’s front man and -woman, and their high-speed romance and nuptials.”

  “No way.” Trevor started flipping through the pages.

  Roark’s dark head was buried in the middle of a ten-page spread in Carolina Style. It was the smallest name among the magazines, but the largest article. Each of the pieces gushed over the pictures from the wedding, how picturesque the resort was, how romantic and ideal.

  There was no way bookings at Honeywilde wouldn’t skyrocket this fall, indefinitely, because she’d gotten the name out everywhere she could. She’d called in some connections, favors, even some of her former coworkers who still owed her.

  “This is . . .” Roark looked up, shaking his head. “This is amazing. I can’t believe you did this. I mean, I can . . . but . . . damn.”

  “I can totally believe it.” Sophie clutched the magazine to her chest. “And Whitney and Jack said they’d autograph one for me if I mail it to their new manager.”

  Madison winked at Roark. As soon as Jack and Whitney were married, their next order of business had been to fire Phil Troutman.

  “This is epic.” Devlin put down his magazine, pulling at Roark’s arm. “Bookings are going to start coming in. We’re going to be slammed all fall. We have to start planning.”

  Roark tossed his head back, a grin to rival Madison’s. “You want to plan?”

  “Yes. We have to live up to the hype. Whip out that phone. I have ideas.”

  As Devlin and Sophie got into an animated discussion about other events and possible celebrity bookings, Roark turned to her.

  “Enjoy basking in this glow. You’ve earned it.” She kissed the top of his head.

  “We’ve earned it.” Roark pulled her down into his lap and kissed her fully on the mouth.

  “I’ll enjoy more of the glow when I get back,” she told him.

  “Damn. That’s right. You have to head to Charlotte today.”

  “Just for three days. I have an event there, and then I’m going to pack up the rest of my apartment. You’re about to be stuck with me.”

  “I can’t wait.” He squeezed her.

  “You’ll have a lot to do around here once these magazines spread the word.”

  “I hope so. You know how much I love a lot of to-dos.”

  She kissed him again. “I better get my bags. The sooner I get to the city, the sooner I’ll be back.”

  Roark stood with her. “I’ll help you with your stuff, see you off, and then get back to basking.” He nodded to the magazines, spread all over the coffee table. “Thank you for this. For everything.”

  She shook her head. “No. Thank you.” Madison reached for his hand, and Roark held on tight.

  The Bradleys had given her more than she could ever give them. With Roark, she’d found love, happiness, and acceptance.

  She’d found home.

  Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of Heather McGovern’s next

  Honeywilde Romance

  A DATE WITH DESIRE

  coming in December 2016!

  Chapter 1

  Looking at the Bradley brothers was like staring into the sun.

  A beautiful, blue-eyed sun, so big and bright the sight hurt a little, but Anna still studied them with a sharp eye as they buzzed around the check-in area.

  They were all tall, with hair the color of rich coffee, and in the kind of rugged shape that came from working in the mountains. The family photo on the resort’s website didn’t do them justice, especially not the rakish-looking one in the corner.

  He was more like a sun god.

  A sun god sent to whisk a weary traveler like her away from the ever-tightening grip of big city reality. Pamper her with luxury and cater to her every whim and wish.

  Good Lord, she was word vomiting in ad copy.

  Her brain whirred on high speed work mode when she was supposed to be checking into the Honeywilde Inn and Resort to relax and recover.

  Her therapist was right. The time had come. She either took a break or had another break down. The choice was hers.

  “You’ll be in cabin number five,” one of the other Bradley brothers said. His name badge announced him as Roark Bradley, General Manager. “Trevor will show you the way up. Cabin five sits at the highest point on the property.” He turned to who she guessed was the youngest of the three. “Trev, take my truck and have Ms. Martel follow you. Five can be tricky to find until you know your way around.”

  While he murmured to Trevor about offering to help with her luggage and watching the steep bend in the last turn, the third brother stepped out of his corner.

  Devlin Bradley, Hospitality Manager, his name badge read.

  Devil Bradley might be more fitting.

  The slow, sly drag of his gaze up her body, from the tips of her toes to the sunglasses on top of her head, would be lewd if he didn’t look so adorable trying to hide it.

  Arms crossed over his body, he leaned against the reception desk and scratched along his temple, checking her out around the side of his hand and in between his fingers.

  Smooth.

  All of this she noticed from the corner of her eyes because she was not checking him out too. But if she were checking him out, she’d say he was easily the handsomest of the three.

  No, handsome wasn’t right. His brother, the manager, was handsome.

  Devlin was sexy.

  Tall and filled out, he was still a little leaner than his brothers. His dark hair was too long on top to be considered professional, eyes hooded like he’d recently woken from a post-sex nap, and his jaw line would make any model jealous. Broody in a classic James Dean way, but with a hint of boyish charm.

  He was the type they hired to advertise trendy clothing lines, and she was half tempted to call her office and let them know.

  But she was not working right now. She was supposed to be on vacation.

  Just a woman on vacation, admiring a good looking guy as he proceeded to fake cough so she’d look in his direction.

  Anna pinched her lips together to keep from smiling.

  Devlin was tempting, no doubt a handful, and she couldn’t deal with any of that at the moment.

  Taking a break from her burgeoning career, leaving her job in the lurch, that was enough to handle. Following her therapist’s advice of rest, recovery and “participating in the process of grief” would likely prove too much.

  She had no room in her vacation for blue-eyed devils, she sucked at relaxing, and the process of grief could take a flying leap off this mountain.

  “Are you all set, ma’am?” Trevor Bradley straight up ma’am-ed her as he walked by.

  Fantastic.

  With a smile that weighed more than her luggage, she nodded. “I’m ready if you are.”

  Trevor bounded toward the front door and she turned to follow. But her gaze snagged with Devlin’s.

  She meant to look away. Follow the harmless younger Bradley who would lead the way to her cabin.

  If she had, she would’ve avoided the sensuous curl of Devlin’s lips, the flicker of interest. She returned his smile unwittingly, and that got all of his attention.

  His smile spread wider, revealing perfect white teeth and an all too knowing look in his eyes.

  Heat rushed up the back of her neck, pin pricks dancing across her skin.

  Encouraging him was a horrible idea, but her physical reaction was even worse. Whether she admitted it or not, her body knew what was up.

  Devlin Bradley was all kinds of hot, and his being the last thing she needed to tangle with right now only made him hotter.

  If his lingering looks were any indication, he didn’t think she was too shabb
y either.

  Anna turned on the heels of her wedge sandals and got the heck out of there.

  By the time she left the lobby of Honeywilde’s Inn, the back of her neck was on fire. Hopefully her hair hid everything, because once it flared up, her skin would be cherry red back there.

  Trevor led the way to cabin five in a big black pickup truck, the wheels of her Lexus spinning a couple of times as she tried to keep up on the curvy incline.

  Her car wasn’t made for off-road mountain driving. She wasn’t made for off-road mountain driving, but she’d been told to choose a vacation at a legitimate resort or one of those “retreats.” The kind where she’d be in therapy and meditation all day because she couldn’t cope with what life had dealt her.

  No thanks.

  She’d opted for the first appealing vacation spot that popped up on her Google search for upscale North Carolina mountain getaways.

  If she was going to take time away from work, it had to be the mountains. Maybe then she would stop putting off her responsibility. But upscale meant she wouldn’t wind up in a pup tent or a cabin with no running water.

  Honeywilde boasted peace and quiet, lovely strolls around the lake, hiking, delicious dining, legendary sunsets, and a warm, luxurious atmosphere.

  Sold, she’d booked in to one of their private cabins immediately, for two and a half weeks.

  Take my money, she’d thought. Just please don’t let me fall apart.

  The black pickup stopped in front of a sturdy log cabin, a covered porch stretched across the front with two Adirondack chairs and two rockers.

  A little sign post at the bottom of the stairs read: Cabin Five: Highpoint Escape.

  Escape. “Perfect.” She popped the trunk of her car.

  Before she could get out, Trevor was at the back, unloading both of her suitcases.

  “I’ve got it.” He pulled out the shoulder bag as well, but Anna took the bag from his hands. That one was precious. “I’ll get this”—she played it off—“I know my two suitcases aren’t light.”