by Neesa Hart
“I meant it at the time.”
“No, you didn’t,” he countered. “I’ve learned that about you. You’re a rotten liar.”
“Then are you going to believe me when I say I’m sorry?”
“I’ve got no choice.” He cupped her face in his hand. “You’re holding my destiny in your hands, Cammy. I want you.”
“Flaws and all?”
“If you didn’t have any flaws, you’d be impossible to live with. I’ve never been able to stand perfect women.”
“And I positively loathe perfect men.” She was smiling now, and his universe was starting to right itself.
“Are you telling me you’re ready to believe I can go the distance with you?”
“Yes,” she nodded.
“What changed your mind?” He had to know, couldn’t risk going through this again.
“Watching you tell a room full of people that you’d forgiven yourself for what happened to Leo.”
That made him pause. “Really?”
“Yes. The way I see it, if you’d forgive yourself for that, then surely you’d forgive me, too.”
“So, the rest of the public apology wasn’t necessary?”
“No, I guess not.”
“Well, damn. I wish you’d told me that before I made a jerk of myself.” The crowd’s response to the president seemed farther away this time.
“You didn’t make a jerk of yourself. I thought it was kind of heroic.”
He heard the crowd laugh again. The harsh intrusion might have irritated him if he weren’t feeling so euphoric. “Were you impressed enough to let me have the full package?”
“All of me, you mean?”
“The whole thing, honey. I’m not the type to settle for less.”
“Macon told me you wouldn’t be.”
“She was right.”
He saw the fear in her eyes, but she held his gaze. And he adored her for it. “All right.”
“Can we get one thing straight first?”
“There’s more?”
“Honey, there’s a ton more.” He paused when he heard the president call his name. “But there are two thousand people waiting for us to come out of this closet, and when I’m ready to tell you the rest, I don’t want an audience.”
“Then what did you want?”
“I would like to adopt four children.”
Surprise, then a tender kind of warmth that threatened to melt him into the floor, filled her eyes. “Four?”
“Yes.”
“I guess that would be all right.”
He heard his name again. The president was beginning to sound edgy. “There’s a catch.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Another one?”
“Yep. Didn’t you know I’d be hard to live with?”
“The thought did occur to me.” She tapped her fingers on his chest. “All right. What else do you want?”
“At least three of the four children we adopt have to be deaf. And one of them has to be Amy Patterson.”
Cammy made a slight sound in the back of her throat, threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Jackson. Did I ever tell you that you’ve made every wish I had come true?”
“I love you, too,” he muttered as he surrendered to her kiss.
When he heard his name the third time, he finally gave in. Without breaking the kiss, he nudged open the door with his foot. Vaguely, he heard the muttered approval of the crowd. As he felt Cammy begin to pull away from him, he slipped his hand around to switch off her transmitter so she wouldn’t be distracted from her exploration of his mouth. She’d kill him for this later, he guessed, but he didn’t care.
“Mr. Puller,” he heard Gordon Stratton say, “I suppose this means everything has turned out okay.”
He gave the president a thumbs-up, tuned out the applause of the audience, and pulled Cammy back into the closet. As the door swung shut, he saw Jacob Blackfort move into position in front of the closet. No one was going to climb onto their comer of paradise. With a soft sigh and his heart filled to bursting, Jackson wrapped both arms around the woman he loved, made a mental note to thank Jacob later, and let Cammy take him all the way to heaven.
epilogue
Cammy reached for the phone with a slight yawn. One thing she’d learned in two years of marriage—Jackson had never mastered the concept of time zones. “It’s three in the morning,” she told him.
“I know. Sorry.”
“Are you still in Romania?”
“No, I’m at JFK.”
She laughed at that. “So you really did know how late it is. Did you wake me up on purpose?”
“I woke you up because I was dying to hear your voice.”
“Okay. You’re forgiven.”
“Thanks.” He exhaled a weary breath. “How are things?”
“Great. The kids are so happy you’re going to make it home for Christmas.”
“So am I. Is Amy ready for opening night?”
A smile played on the corner of her mouth. Amy was dancing in the Nutcracker at the Kennedy Center. Jackson, she knew, had moved heaven and earth to make it home in time for the opening. “Yes. She’s got jitters, but she’s ready. Lynette says she’ll knock their socks off.”
“I’m sure she will,” he said with his typical fatherly confidence. “I never doubted it.”
“And I adore you for that.” She shifted in the bed.
“Is Peter over his cold?’’ he asked, referring to the five-year-old son they’d recently adopted.
Her life, she thought, not for the first time, was richly blessed. “Yes. He’s better.” Since that day on the stage at the Wishing Star fund-raiser, Jackson had found a thousand ways to show her that he loved her. Daily, it seemed, her love for him grew and blossomed in ways she could never have imagined.
“I’m glad. I know it’s been hard on you taking care of him by yourself.” In the background, she heard the airport loudspeaker.
“We managed.” She yawned again. “Are they calling your flight?”
“Yes. I should be home around six or so.”
“Hmm. I can’t wait to see you.”
“I can’t wait to see you either.” He hesitated. “Uh, Cammy—”
She smiled. She knew exactly what was coming. “Before you start, I think there’s something you should know.”
“You do.”
“Yes. You know that leather jacket you wanted for Christmas?”
“Yes.”
“I bought it for you.”
“Oh.” He sounded confused.
“I also returned it today. I figured those fifteen Romanian orphans you’re bringing to our house for Christmas morning needed presents more than you needed that jacket.”
His laugh warmed her. “How did you know?”
“Because I love you. I saw your report last night, and the minute you said you’d made arrangements to get those kids to the States, I just knew.”
“You are incredible.”
“I’m glad you recognize that.”
“Are you sure you’re all right with this?”
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t show up with a vanload. Besides, who else is going to eat all the candy I bought?”
“I never thought I’d see the day when you were worried about getting rid of chocolate.”
“You haven’t seen what I bought yet.”
“Am I going to have to return your Christmas present, too?”
“Don’t worry. I don’t think I broke the bank.” The loudspeaker crackled again. “That’s my flight.”
“I’ll be waiting for you.”
“No kidding?”
“Would it surprise you to know that I think I’ve been waiting for you my entire life?” Tears stung her eyes.
“Ah, Cammy.” She heard the emotion in his voice. “Promise you’ll never quit talking to me.”
“I don’t think I could if I wanted to.”
“Have I told you today how much I love you?”
“In a do
zen different ways,” she assured him. “Sometimes, I still can’t believe it took me so long to interpret the signs.”
“Good thing we’ve got the rest of our lives for you to figure them all out.” The final boarding call sounded for his flight. “I’ve got to go, babe.”
“Fly safely,” she told him. “And if you happen to see my wishing star when you’re up there, tell it I said thanks.”
about the author
NEESA HART, who writes contemporary romance under her own name and historical romance as Mandalyn Kaye, lives outside Washington, D.C., where she says “truth really is stranger than fiction.”
An avid romance fan for years, she got hooked while majoring in international affairs and geography in college. “Romances,” she said, “were always more fun, more informative, and more relaxing than anything I was supposed to be reading for class.” After a brief political career, including a Senate confirmed appointment to the President’s Council on Women’s Educational Programs, Neesa abandoned the hectic world of politics to pursue her dream as a full-time author. “Nothing,” she says, “could be better than telling stories for a living.”
Her interests, other than writing and reading, include volunteering at her church, collecting Barbie dolls, watching professional hockey, and playing the banjo. One day, she hopes to learn to pick “Oh, Susannah.”
Neesa loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at: 101 E. Holly Avenue, St. 3, Sterling, VA 20164 or email [email protected]
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
also by neesa hart
HALFWAY TO PARADISE
copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
A KISS TO DREAM ON. Copyright © 1999 by Moneesa Hart. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Published by arrangement with the author
ISBN: 0-380-80787-4
EPub Edition June 2013 ISBN 9780062303400
First Avon Books Printing: December 1999
AVON TRADEMARK REG. U.S. PAT. OFF. AND IN OTHER COUNTRIES, MARCA REGISTRADA, HECHO EN U.S.A.
WCD 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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