“I know you didn’t. But it still hurt, just a little. What helped was you saying you weren’t running away. I can handle you needing some alone time. I’m not going to demand you be by my side every instant. That’s not logical, nor is it all that healthy. But if you need to work something out, I wish you’d come to me first.”
“Next time I will. This sucked.” She let the sound of his heartbeat and the feel of his chest moving with every breath ease the last of the aches inside her. “I can’t believe this is actually happening. The divorce will be final. He’s giving up. I can move on.”
“Believe it,” Josiah said firmly with a squeeze.
“Apparently there was a secret meeting in Atlanta with a lawyer and an asshole. Wanna tell me about that?”
His chest rumbled against her ear, telling her he was laughing quietly. “Let’s just say your ex was about as spineless as I’d thought. Pulling the strings on a woman who couldn’t out-swing him financially was no problem. Coming up against someone who could match him . . . and he tapped out like a pussy before it even began.”
“I’m embarrassed you even met him.” She hid her face against his shirt, flushed and a little sweaty. “God, I’m not sure what I was thinking of when I married him.”
“Mistakes happen. It’s going to be over soon.” He rubbed her back. “And it’s time to stop looking behind you and start looking toward the future.”
“That’s part of what this escape was. The future.” She explained what she’d told Cynthia, about learning just as much as she was sharing with the groups she spoke to. “It ended up being nearly as educational for me as it was for them. They knew more about nonprofits than I did, but they didn’t have the knowledge of the fashion side.”
“You’ll learn. You’re quick, you think on your feet, and you’ve got the heart for it. It’ll come.” He smoothed down her hair once more, then urged her up. “Anya, I love you. It nearly broke me in two when you pulled your disappearing act, even though you reassured me you were coming back. Telling me you understood if I moved on?” He shook his head, looking stern. “Not gonna happen, baby.”
She swallowed down a hint of anxiety and stood, smoothing her pajama bottoms out as if that were the most important thing in her world at that moment. Because looking into his hurt eyes was painful. “I’m sorry about that. I did what I thought was best. I was juggling too much and I dropped a lot of balls. I had to make a choice.”
“Next time, I’m not a choice to make. You get overwhelmed? You hand something to me. You don’t sacrifice us to make room. I plan on doing the same. I’ll catch whatever you throw at me, and I’ll help you. That’s what people in love do. They’re the permanent fixture, and the balls that get juggled are everything else in their lives.”
He sounded so fierce, so absolutely positive that this was going to keep going forever, that she smiled and looked up. He was closer than she thought. “You sound very sure of your abilities to multitask.”
“I’ll show you multitasking.” He gripped her under the arms and tossed her onto the bed. Before she could even shriek in surprise, he was on her, taking her lips in a searing kiss and thrusting one hand under her thin cotton sleep tank.
“Oh my God,” she managed to mutter as he worked his way over her face. “I’ve—oh!” His fingers pinched one nipple. “Missed this. Missed you, this . . . mmm.”
His mouth was on her breast then, sucking and tugging. One hand pulled at the cotton of her pants. Thanks to the elastic, they shifted down her legs easily to catch on her ankles. She kicked and fought to remove them entirely while holding his head to her.
He reached down and yanked them off, letting them fall wherever. Then he hooked one knee with his elbow, slithered down, and put his mouth on her slick core.
“Oh!” Her fingers clutched in his hair, loving the tenderness of his hands running over her legs and stomach while his mouth ravaged her. He ate at her with a roughness that told her he’d missed her, wanted her, needed her more than he could explain.
Then he slid two fingers inside, crooking them to hit just the right spot and . . .
“Josiah!” she panted, coming around him without even giving him a warning. His pace only increased, as if to keep up with the demands of her pulsing body, until she couldn’t take the sensation any longer and stopped him.
He landed beside her on the bed, one of his large hands resting on her heaving chest. “God, I missed seeing you like this,” he said in a hushed voice.
“Naked?” she asked, trying to smile and unable to conjure the energy.
“You’re not naked.” He flicked a hand at her shirt, still shoved up to just over her breasts. “But no, like this. Flushed, spent, content, happy because of something I’ve done to you, or for you, or with you. In bed with me.”
“Mmm,” was all she could muster. He kissed her sweetly, and she felt her energy start to bounce back. She rubbed her thigh seductively over the erection tenting his jeans. “Your turn, love of mine.”
“No condom,” he admitted sheepishly. “It can wait.”
“I’d tell you I’m on birth control, except I’m not.” She bit her lip, then went after the button of his fly anyway. “While I trust that you’re clean, I don’t think we’re quite ready for any little mini eco-nut fashionistas.”
He chuckled, the sound straining at the end when she unzipped his fly and brushed over his cock with her fingers. “Anya—”
“You took care of me, so now it’s my turn to take care of you.” She pushed at his jeans—with a little help from him—until they were down around his ankles, then licked the plump head of his penis.
“I’m not going to last,” he said through gritted teeth.
“You’ve got stamina,” she teased.
“I’ve got short bursts of speed,” he corrected, hissing when she licked up one side of his cock and down the other. “I’m a sprinter, not a marathoner. Bad analogy.”
“Oh dear.” Feeling wicked, she took his cock in her mouth, watching him. She’d never done that before, preferring to close her eyes and pretend to be invisible. Blow jobs were, well, awkward. It couldn’t be sexy to watch all that bobbing and . . . whatever. But Josiah’s eyes were hot on hers, as if he’d never seen anything more erotic and hypnotizing than the way his penis looked disappearing into her mouth.
His gaze gave her confidence, and she sucked and swirled her tongue around his shaft, listening to his breathing change, grow raspier, and finally stop.
“Right there,” he managed to get out, his entire body tightening. “Suck, suck . . . yeah. God. Anya . . .”
He exploded on her tongue, and she swallowed eagerly, keeping him in her mouth until he cupped her jaw and motioned for her to let go.
She crawled up his body and settled to the side of him while he kicked his jeans off entirely. Then she started to giggle.
“What?” he asked softly, sounding exhausted.
“We must look ridiculous. Neither of us is wearing pants, but we’re both wearing shirts. Sweating, breathing hard. It’s a picture.”
“Not a picture I’d want the blogs to carry.” His voice was tinted with gruff amusement.
“Of course not.” She ran her hand up and down his torso, loving the way their heartbeats seemed to sync in rhythm as the excitement of the moment died down. “Are you going to be in trouble for leaving in the middle of a practice week?”
“Some.” He brushed his lips over her hairline. “Ask me if I care.”
“You do,” she insisted. “You care. You’re not a guy who flakes out on his responsibilities.”
“That’s true,” he conceded. “But I’ve spent ten years in this league playing by the rules, eight of them with the Bobcats. Never had a scandal, never caused problems, never been fined for anything before, well, a few weeks ago.”
“You were fined?” She tried to sit up, but he held he
r down. “What for?”
“Not important. The point is, I don’t intend on this being a pattern. I’ll take my lumps, and the coaches will forgive me, and we’ll move on.”
She sighed, nestling farther into her. “How’d you find me?” she asked on a yawn. “Cassie didn’t know where I was.”
“I have my ways,” he said, and she felt herself drifting off, even as he said her name.
* * *
Josiah woke to his favorite sight . . . Anya straddled over him. “Hey,” he said, stretching his neck up for a morning kiss. “I like where your head’s at. Let’s . . . you’re dressed.”
“I have a meeting later.” She checked her watch. “And you have a flight that leaves in two hours.”
“Aw, shit.” He rolled out of bed, trying hard to remember what it was he’d forgotten. He knew there was something . . . They’d fallen asleep so fast the night before. Pulling his jeans on, he headed to the bathroom to take care of business. He borrowed her toothbrush and rinsed his mouth out. “Is there coffee around here anywhere?”
“Not the kind you’ll approve of,” she called back through the door. “I made myself a cup, though, so don’t judge me.”
“I wouldn’t.” He opened the door and watched her move around the hotel room, barefoot, in a surprisingly conservative business suit of plum, with a navy dress shirt underneath. “You look . . . different.”
She grimaced and looked down. “I’m running out of options, being on the road this long. Everything I like more is too wrinkled to deal with. This is my emergency backup suit.” She paused by the mirror and started to re-braid her hair. “Thank goodness I have enough time before my meeting I can head to the airport with you.” She shot him a look over her shoulder that spoke of mischief and teasing. “I missed your face. I want to keep it in my sights as long as I can.”
She finished wrapping the band around her braid, and he asked quietly, “How about forever?”
“Hmm?” she asked, starting to pull makeup out of a small bag and line it up on the dresser below the mirror.
“Keeping my face in your sights forever.”
“Sounds good,” she said distractedly, opening a tube of something, shaking her head and closing it.
“Anya.”
“I know, Josiah, but we’re running behind and I don’t want to miss riding to the airport with you.”
“Anya.”
“What?” she asked, looking annoyed. That scrunched up, exasperated look just did it for him.
He went down to one knee and took her hand in his. Her other hand went lax, dropping the tube of whatever it was onto the carpet by her feet. Eyes wide, she met his gaze with a little bit of fear, apprehension.
“I love you. You’re probably the best thing that’s come into my life. I love that you mock me and don’t hold back when I do something stupid. I love that you keep me honest in balancing my passion and my daily life. I love that you forced me to get off my high horse and admit that there’s more to fashion than beauty, and you showed me with your attitude and your desire to make people happy.”
A tear tracked down her cheek, and he reached up with his free hand to brush it away.
“I love you so, so much. I don’t want another day to go by where I’m not attached to you in as many ways possible. I want your heart to belong to me, like mine does to you.”
She wiped at her own cheeks now, which were damp. “Stop,” she whispered. “You’re making me cry.”
But he was on a roll. “I came here not just to see you, but to make you a promise, that I will never take for granted the beauty you will bring into my life. I might not always understand it,” he added with a rueful smile, “but I’ll appreciate it.”
She just shook her head, as if trying to force herself to calm down.
“So, having said all of that, I’m hoping that you, Anastasia Fisher, will say yes.”
She waited, then added with a choked laugh, “Yes to what?”
He grinned. “To me. To marry me.”
“Still not divorced,” she whispered.
“That’s the past. And let’s face it, we’re not getting married before Cassie and Trey. They’d kill us.”
“She would, yes.” Anya gave a wobbly smile.
He waited a beat. “Is that a yes?”
“Of course it’s a yes.” She bent down, cupped his face with her hands and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against him while her fingers sifted through his hair.
“You have to get up now.”
He pressed his face to her stomach for a moment, breathing her in. “In a second.”
“You’re kneeling on a hotel floor. Ew.”
He looked down, then back up. “Only you would take the time to note that in the middle of a proposal.”
She gave him a sly grin. “But you won’t take me for granted.”
“Never, hummingbird.”
Epilogue
“How’s my veil?” Cassie stepped back so Anya could adjust it. Anya did, smoothing it down on one side, then Cassie stepped forward again to look at herself in the standing mirror.
Sandra Wainwright, Cassie’s mother, gripped Anya’s shoulders and squeezed gently. “Thank you. I’m all thumbs about this. If it were up to me, we’d still be trying to button that darn thing in the back.”
Anya smiled a little. “Hidden buttons are difficult,” she said, trying to remain diplomatic. When Sandra stepped forward to rub her daughter’s forearm, Anya tried to slide farther back to give the mother-daughter duo some space. She sat on the chair beside Mellie and Irene, both of whom had been uncharacteristically quiet through the dressing and all-female photograph sessions that afternoon.
“What’s up with you two?” she asked, nudging Mellie, who sat to her left.
Mellie just shook her head and stared straight ahead.
Irene glanced toward her, then shook her own head.
Well, okay then. Maybe nerves were getting the better of them.
A knock on the door made both girls jolt. Anya gave them a telling look, mouthing, Calm down before going to crack the door open.
Ken Jordan stood there, one finger tugging at the collar of his dress shirt, which gleamed white against his tanned skin. “Is she ready? Are you ready? Is everyone in there ready? We need to get going, here.”
Anya smiled again, fighting hard to keep her calm in a sea of antagonized family members. She was Cassie’s designated rock. She had to remain steady. “We’re just about there. Have they finished seating all the guests yet?”
“Finished seating, and everyone’s waiting.” He huffed out a breath. “I don’t know why I wasn’t allowed to sit in on the photos. It’s my daughter.”
“My daughter too, Ken.” Sandra stepped up beside Anya, looking as cool and calm as Anya hoped to look. “It was a female thing. You’ll have plenty of time with the bride later. Now, go in and tell our daughter how gorgeous she is, then bring her upstairs.” With a soft kiss on his cheek, Sandra breezed by them toward the stairs.
Anya grinned at Ken’s dumbfounded look. “Smile, Mr. Jordan. It’s a good day.” When he just blinked at her, she added, “Don’t forget, you get to do this two more times! Mellie, Irene, let’s get into position! Your dad needs a minute alone with the bride.”
* * *
Josiah rocked back on his heels in his dress shoes, hands clasped behind him. Stephen made a grunting sound to his left, clearly aggravated at having to wait for the ladies to take their sweet time to the altar.
Josiah didn’t mind. It gave him a chance to look over the crowd and take in the number of people who loved Trey, or Cassie, or both of them, and were excited to share the day with the couple. His gaze caught Anya’s family—father, mother, and stepmother, sitting peacefully together—and he nodded in acknowledgement. They all gave him short waves back.
>
“What the hell is taking so long?” Trey muttered, twisting a little. “They did pictures an hour ago. They’ve been dressed. Why—”
“Breathe,” Josiah said back, under his breath. He didn’t want the mic the pastor was wearing to pick up their conversation. “You’ll see her in a second. Just chill out.”
Trey turned then, facing him fully. His face was a little pale, but otherwise, he looked good. “Is the flower thing straight? I forgot to look before I walked out here. Tell me it’s straight. Anya will murder me if it’s not.”
“First, it’s a boutonniere,” Josiah corrected, grinning that he knew that. Thank you, Anya. “And secondly, yes, she would kill you. But you’re good,” he added, nudging the flower stem just a hair to the left with one finger then giving him an approving nod. “What’s with the nerves? You’re used to a crowd of ten thousand, not three hundred.”
“I’m nervous because . . . damn,” he muttered as the music for the bridesmaids started. “Because I haven’t seen her all day. When I see her, I’ll be fine.”
That didn’t make much sense to him, but he simply nodded for his friend’s benefit and watched as Mellie, Coach Jordan’s youngest daughter and Cassie’s youngest sister, made her way down the aisle. She looked somber, almost as if she were purposefully bottling her normally cheerful personality. Or maybe it was just the seriousness of the day.
Irene followed next, looking pleased with herself, standing quietly beside Mellie at the altar.
And then there she was. No, not the bride. Anya. She glided down the aisle on wheels, or that’s how it looked to him. She was the most graceful, elegant thing he’d ever seen in her long gray dress. Her thick ropes of blond hair were artfully arranged in some curly updo that probably weighed a ton and would take hours to disassemble.
And suddenly, he understood what Trey meant about just needing to see Cassie. Everything in him relaxed as he watched Anya stroll down the aisle, a bouquet of flowers in her hand, and a serene smile tilting her lips. His gorgeous hummingbird.
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