Collin’s deep blue eyes kept growing wider and wider as Annie told him what had been going on right under his unsuspecting nose.
He didn’t smile until Annie told him what she wanted him to help her do about it.
CHAPTER 18
Rico’s hand was shaking badly. It was his third attempt to get the flimsy plastic key to work in the hotel room’s lock. He finally gave up and rapped softly on the hotel room door.
“Helena. It is me, Rico. Please. Open the door.”
What he was facing, he did not know. All Collin had told him was that Helena had agreed to see him. There, in the hotel. Away, Collin had said, from everyone else so she could talk to him in private.
Fear told Rico it was too late. That Helena would honor her uncle’s wishes and marry this other man. Hope told Rico he could change her mind.
Helena opened the door and he stepped inside. The opulence of the premier suite in one of Atlanta’s most luxurious hotels was wasted on him. He had eyes only for Helena. And his love for her was bursting at the seams in his tight-fitting jeans.
“You will not marry this other man, Helena,” he said with the authority of a man in love, not some pretty dream boy. “You are meant to be mine. The subject is finished.”
Not the right thing to say, he decided when Helena turned away from him and walked across the room to sit on the side of a king-size bed. A bed that Rico would not let go to waste if he had any say in the matter.
“I do not want a big star for a husband,” she said, her lips in a full pout. She tossed her dark hair over a bare shoulder that made his mouth go dry just looking at her exposed tanned skin.
Rico walked in her direction. “And you will not have a big star for a husband.” He made it a point to say this much softer. “That is my promise. I am through with the acting.”
He sat down on the bed beside her, leaned forward, and delivered a series of small kisses across her bare shoulder and up her neck, just the way she liked. He felt her shiver with desire for him, but still she pushed him away.
“I do not believe you,” she said, but Rico could see the pulse point beating wildly at the base of her throat.
She reached out and took an envelope from the table beside the bed and handed it to him. “This is from Annie. Another big acting contract for you, maybe. I was told to give it to you. Not to open it.”
Rico handed the envelope back to her. “I am through with the acting.” He pointed to the waste can by the bed. “Throw whatever Annie sent me there, in the trash.”
She stared at the envelope for a moment, then looked back at him. “But what if it is important?”
“You are the only important thing to me,” Rico said.
When the expression in her dark eyes softened, he knew he had said the right thing this time. He expected her to toss the envelope into the trash. Instead, she sliced the flap open with her long red fingernail, and peered into the envelope.
Then Helena threw her head back and laughed like a woman gone loco.
“What?” Rico demanded.
She was holding up what? A lottery ticket? Rico frowned when she jumped up from the bed and began dancing around the room, waving the ticket around and around above her head. Still more laughing. Still more dancing. Rico did not find any of it funny.
“Give the ticket to me,” he said, holding out his hand. “You know I hate the gambling. I will throw the ticket in the trash myself.”
Helena danced over to him with a playful gleam in her eye. She pushed him backwards onto the bed and landed on top of him. “No. We will not throw away the ticket. It is a gift from Annie. We will keep it.”
Rico started to object, but Helena slid her hand down to grasp what was begging for her attention. His thoughts turned to more urgent matters. When she bent down and kissed him, the taste of her sweet, full lips overpowered his reasoning.
“Please,” she whispered. “We will keep the money for our honeymoon? Sí?”
She unzipped his pants, and Rico gasped, “Sí.”
When she slid seductively down the full length of his body, Rico closed his eyes, knowing he would never be able to say no to his beautiful Helena again.
Of that, he was certain.
Matt walked into his apartment, thinking that the last thing he needed was next week off. He tossed his keys on the stupid rattan table by the door that would soon be history, and slammed his front door with a bang. Removing his coat and tie, he headed across the room and slumped down on the sofa.
He’d planned to spend next week burying himself in his new Annie-free life and settling himself into his new roomy executive vice president office. Now, counting both weekends, he had nine long days stretching out before him with nowhere he really wanted to go, and nothing he really wanted to do.
He’d first considered going down to see his folks. But the thought of being surrounded by his brothers, telling him what a great single life he had while they were all gazing fondly at their children playing in his parents’ yard, would have only depressed him more.
Damn Annie.
She had his mind so screwed up he didn’t even want to go home and see his family.
Matt got up from the sofa and headed into the kitchen for a beer. He popped the top, took a long gulp, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and headed back to the sofa to do some more sulking.
Maybe, he decided, he could round up a few buddies and head down to the gulf. He brought the bottle to his lips again. Fresh salt air. A week’s worth of deep-sea fishing. Lots of beer and nothing but all-male camaraderie. It would sure beat sitting around feeling sorry for himself and agonizing over what Annie and her new bing buddy were doing.
Don’t go there.
He couldn’t. If he let himself think about what was going on at the Georgian Terrace Hotel, he would storm down there and make a complete ass of himself.
Or worse.
What he was going to do was change clothes—
His telephone rang, cutting off Matt’s train of thought. He leaned over the side of the sofa, picked up his portable phone, and looked at the caller ID. The phone rang twice more before he finally gave in and answered it.
“Where have you been?” Collin wailed. “I’ve been calling you for hours. Why aren’t you answering your cell?”
Matt wasn’t answering his cell phone because it happened to be in several pieces. In the back of his Jeep. Where he’d thrown it after checking it every five seconds, thinking Annie might call after he wouldn’t talk to her, and she didn’t. Where he’d been was downtown, driving back and forth in front of the Georgian Terrace Hotel for the last five hours, where he finally talked himself out of possibly getting arrested for disorderly conduct and disturbing the peace.
But Matt said, “I had things to do, Collin. Got a problem with that?”
“No. But I’ve got a problem,” Collin said. “Stay where you are. I’m walking into your building now. I’ll be up in a minute.”
When Matt opened the door, the first thing Collin did was shove a golden furball into his arms. Matt laughed and held the little guy out to take a good look at him. “Well, what do you know,” he said. “You finally got yourself a real dog.”
“He’s not mine,” Collin was quick to tell him. “And that’s my problem. You know I’m a temporary foster parent for lost animals, right?”
Matt nodded, ruffling the dog’s soft fur.
“Well, the good news is the animal shelter called me earlier to say they found this pup’s owner. And the bad news is, Lars is on standby and he just got called in. I’m taking Lars to the airport now. I need you to drop the dog off for me at the owner’s house.”
Matt was puzzled. “Why can’t you just drop the dog off after you take Lars to the airport?”
Collin gasped. “It’s still in the nineties outside, Matt. You can’t leave a helpless puppy locked in a hot car. Not even for a minute. Do you know that in this kind of heat the inside temperature of a car can reach—”
“
Okay, okay,” Matt said. “I’ll drop the dog off for you.” What the hell? He didn’t have anything better to do.
“Here’s the address.” Collin handed over a slip of paper. “The owner is expecting you.”
Matt shifted the pup to one arm and took the address.
“Better run. Lars is waiting.” Collin grinned. “You can’t leave a big, gorgeous, blond pilot locked in a hot car, either, you know.”
“Don’t push it, Collin,” Matt warned.
After Collin disappeared, Matt closed the door.
“You ready to go home, little guy?”
But as he headed into the bedroom to change clothes, Matt got that sucker-punch feeling in his stomach again.
Golden retriever.
Dammit, did everything on the planet have to remind him of Annie?
It was eight o’clock Friday evening when Matt drove into the subdivision. Druid Hills was only a short distance away from the hustle and bustle of the city, but Matt felt like he was driving through his small hometown. The houses were all big and homey, testimony to the slower pace here. The rose bushes in the yards had been put there for people to stop and savor the smell, not just for show.
Matt pushed the button on his car door panel, letting his window slide down so he could inhale the sweet scent of the freshly cut lawns. This had always been his favorite time of day when he was a kid. Just before dark, when the promise of a pleasant evening chased away the misery of a long, hot Georgia day.
This was the time when fireflies came out to play with the kids. The time when parents sat on their porches, their stomachs full after a good meal, their exchanged looks filled with other promises for later, after the kids were all put to bed.
Who are you?
Isn’t that what Annie had asked him?
Matt was beginning to wonder the same thing himself. If he got any more melodramatic, he was going to be a contender for Collin’s drama queen role. He had to get his emotions back under control and stop giving in to all the ushy-mushy lovesick bullshit. Get his edge back. He was Haz-Matt, dammit. Not Hazbeen-Matt.
He drove farther down the street, checking the numbers on the mailboxes as he went. He finally found the right address. But when he pulled into the driveway, he slipped right off his edge and landed in another giant pile of ushy-mushy.
A damn minivan was parked in the driveway.
He sat there for a moment, looking at the old colonial-style brick house and stroking the pup who was asleep and had curled into a ball on his lap. He couldn’t help but wonder if the woman of this house had a dream guy. She had the damn minivan and the golden retriever, didn’t she?
Matt opened his door, scooped the pup into the crook of his arm, and got out of the Jeep with a deep sigh. All he needed now to really push him over the edge, were three or four excited little kids running to answer the door when he rang the frickin’ bell.
Annie let out a relieved sigh when Matt finally got out of the Jeep. She’d been watching him, peeking out from behind the drapes of the front parlor window. She scrunched her hair one last time and sprinted for the front door.
Nervous didn’t even touch what she was feeling. Every emotion she had was ready to explode. And the questions running through her mind were making her crazier than her wild-ass scheme to get Matt back. Would he be angry with her and leave? Or would he stay with her forever?
The doorbell told Annie she was about to find out.
She braced herself and opened the door.
Matt almost screamed like a girl.
He was that shocked to find Annie standing in the doorway.
She leaned casually against the doorjamb, as if he were some neighbor stopping by for a visit. “I checked my mail, Matt,” she said nonchalantly. “The ear wasn’t there.”
So you think because I said the L-word I’m a pushover now.
Matt was through playing games. “I decided I couldn’t part with the ear, Annie. But I doubt you’ll miss it. You seem to have everything you need already. The dog, the house, even the minivan.”
She glanced at the driveway. “Well, not technically, Matt. You see, the minivan’s only a rental. And the house won’t officially be mine for another few weeks.”
“I’m sure you’ll work it all out,” Matt said and handed over the dog.
Annie handed the dog back to him.
“The dog belongs to you, Matt. If you’ll have us.”
And the tears in her eyes pushed Matt right over.
Matt leaned forward and kissed her gently at first. Then he kissed Annie with a white-hot craving that told her happily-ever-after wasn’t just a myth. It was one of those once-in-a-lifetime perfect moments, when the world tilts on its axis, time stands still, and nothing else matters.
Unless.
You’re snapped back to reality with a loud horn blast and someone yelling, “Get a room, already.”
She and Matt both groaned when they saw who it was.
“I take that back. About the room,” Collin said as he hurried up the cobblestone path in their direction. “I already have a room reserved for you guys. At the Excalibur in fabulous Las Vegas. Lars is at the airport now, leasing a private jet. What’s the point of dating a pilot if he can’t fly you and your two best friends anywhere you want to go?”
Annie looked at Matt.
Matt looked at Annie.
“We’re not going to Las Vegas, Collin,” Matt said.
“Oh yes. Both of you are going to Vegas. We have the time off. And I have all the money we need.” He grinned. “They have a marvelous medieval wedding chapel at the Excalibur. The bride and groom can even dress in medieval wedding attire. Annie can dress like a real princess. You can dress in a suit of shining armor. To die for or what?”
“Or what,” Matt said. “Or not,” he added quickly when Annie sent him a look.
Collin reached out and took the puppy. “I came to get Bing. He can stay with the sitter and Elton John.” He looked at Matt. “Don’t you think Annie picked a great name for Elton John’s new friend? Bing—as in Crosby. Get it?”
Matt looked at Annie.
Annie grinned and put a finger to her lips.
Collin looked down at his watch. “It’s only eight-thirty. Both of you go home. Get packed. And meet me at Hangar Two at eleven. Not one minute later.”
He hurried toward his Mercedes with the dog. Before he got in, he yelled, “Don’t disappoint me! Las Vegas is the only place outlandish enough to let me be the best man and the maid of honor at the same time.”
Matt looked helplessly at Annie when Collin roared away. “What are we going to do?”
Annie took his hand and pulled him inside the house. “You know Collin when he gets like this. I guess we’re going to Las Vegas.” She closed the door and pulled him against her.
Matt nuzzled her neck. “Vegas could be fun, I guess. The Excalibur isn’t the only place with a wedding chapel.”
Annie pushed him back. “Tell me you’re not serious. About a Vegas wedding, I mean.”
Matt grinned. “Not a dream guy kind of thing to do?”
“Not my dream guy kind of thing to do,” Annie said.
“Got it. You want the big wedding, too. To go along with the house, the dog, the kids, the minivan, and this great guy who loves you.”
“At last,” Annie said with sigh. “My dream guy.”
Matt laughed when she threw her arms around his neck.
Annie’s kiss told Matt he’d never regret any of it.
About the Author
Candy Halliday would win a gold medal if the Olympic committee recognized multi-tasking as a sport. In addition to being a wife, mother, and grandmother, Candy works a day job and pens her romantic comedies by night. Her books have been published in six different countries around the world. Candy lives in the Piedmont of North Carolina with her husband, a schnauzer named Millie, and an impossible cat named Flash. Never too busy to hear from readers, she can be reached via e-mail at her homepage www.candyhallida
y.com.
* * *
More Candy Halliday!
Please turn this page for a preview of
Mr. Destiny
coming soon from Warner Books.
* * *
CHAPTER 1
Kate Anderson flashed hot all over as she watched the mounted patrol officer gallop up the path in her direction. The summer heat wave assaulting New York City had nothing to do with it.
What was it about a man in uniform that had the ability to arouse primal instincts in a woman?
Here she was, trying to be Miss Art Gallery Manager Efficiency, capably overseeing the annual “Art in Central Park” outdoor exhibit. Yet what was she doing? She was actually imagining the handsome officer naked.
But not only naked.
Naked and sitting astride the chestnut gelding with an enormous who’s-your-daddy erection.
Pre-wedding jitters, Kate assured herself. That, and her pesky subconscious trying to challenge her theory that size didn’t matter.
Size didn’t matter. Not to Kate. Not if you were a well-mannered prominent corporate attorney with a no-
nonsense outlook on life that would finally bring focus and clarity to her life. She’d known after her first date with Harold Trent Wellington that he was the type of man she needed to keep her grounded.
Harold was handsome. He demanded order in his life. They shared the same interests: opera, art, the finer things in life. Maybe he was a neat-freak and a tad bit anal. Maybe they had a nonexistent sex life, but they were working through Harold’s feelings of inadequacy with a reputable couples therapist. The main thing was that Harold had been a calming and positive influence over her since they’d been together. Proof being, overseeing today’s outdoor art exhibit; a responsibility her previously attention-deficit-impaired-self wouldn’t have been able to handle in her pre-Harold days.
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