by Anne Logan
The band’s first song ended with a roar of applause. She’s a success, Alex thought with pride, grinning from ear to ear. All the hours of practicing had paid off…thanks to his daughter’s stubborn streak and thanks to Maddie who had helped him finally see how much his understanding and support meant to Carla.
And after each song that followed during the hourlong concert, the decibel level of the crowd’s cheers seemed to grow louder.
Then, toward the end of the hour, Carla raised her arms and the crowd grew quiet. She brought the microphone to her mouth. “I have a real treat for all of you,” she said. “A very special guest who agreed to help me out with the last song “ Then with a flourish of hand motions, Carla shouted, “Direct from Nashville and fresh off a nationwide tour with that hot new country-western star, Bobby Vine, I give you Ms. Madeline Johnson Batiste, my new step-mom and a good, good friend.”
Amidst applause, Maddie ran out on the stage to join Carla. They hugged each other, grinned, then Maddie took the microphone. “Thank you. It’s good to be back in New Orleans.” She paused and smiled. “This last song is for someone who’s very special to both of us. This one’s for Alex,” she whispered into the microphone.
Alex felt instant heat climb up his neck. But as the music swelled, and Carla and Maddie’s voices blended, he soon lost all sense of place or time when he recognized the song, “Old Devil Moon.”
All he could think of was how much he loved the two women on the stage, and how close he had come to losing them. As the song came to an end, Carla and Maddie moved to the edge of the stage, mouthed “Thank you” to him and simultaneously blew him a kiss. The crowd went wild and was on its feet again, giving Alex a few seconds to compose himself as a rush of emotion threatened to overwhelm him. Then he was standing, too, applauding and grinning.
And outside, high above the glittering night-lights of the Crescent City, amidst a sky filled with thousands of stars, the moon—the kind some would call a devil moon—seemed to nod in approval as a cloud floated between it and the earth.
Weddings by De Wilde
Since the turn of the century the elegant and fashionable De Wilde stores have helped brides around the world turn the fantasy of their “Special Day” into reality. But now the store and three generations of family are torn apart by the divorce of Grace and Jeffrey De Wilde. As family members face new challenges and loves—and a long-secret mystery—the lives of Grace and Jeffrey intermingle with store employees, friends and relatives in this fastpaced, glamorous, internationally set series. For weddings and romance, glamour and fun-filled entertainment, enter the world of DeWilde…
Twelve remarkable books, coming to you once a month, beginning in April 1996
Weddings by De Wilde begins with Shattered Vows by Jasmine Cresswell
Here’s a preview!
“SPEND THE NIGHT with me, Lianne.”
No softening lies, no beguiling promises, just the curt offer of a night of sex. She closed her eyes, shutting out temptation. She had never expected to feel this sort of relentless drive for sexual fulfillment, so she had no mechanisms in place for coping with it. “No.” The one-word denial was all she could manage to articulate.
His grip on her arms tightened as if he might refuse to accept her answer. Shockingly, she wished for a split second that he would ignore her rejection and simply bundle her into the car and drive her straight to his flat, refusing to take no for an answer. All the pleasures of mindless sex, with none of the responsibility. For a couple of seconds he neither moved nor spoke. Then he released her, turning abruptly to open the door on the passenger side of his Jaguar. “I’ll drive you home,” he said, his voice hard and flat. “Get in.”
The traffic was heavy, and the rain started again as an annoying drizzle that distorted depth perception made driving difficult, but Lianne didn’t fool herself that the silence inside the car was caused by the driving conditions. The air around them crackled and sparked with their thwarted desire. Her body was still on fire. Why didn’t Gabe say something? she thought, feeling aggrieved.
Perhaps because he was finding it as difficult as she was to think of something appropriate to say. He was thirty years old, long past the stage of needing to bed a woman just so he could record another sexual conquest in his little black book. He’d spent five months dating Julia, which suggested he was a man who valued friendship as an element in his relationships with women. Since he didn’t seem to like her very much, he was probably as embarrassed as she was by the stupid, inexplicable intensity of their physical response to each other.
“Maybe we should just set aside a weekend to have wild, uninterrupted sex,” she said, thinking aloud. “Maybe that way we’d get whatever it is we feel for each other out of our systems and be able to move on with the rest of our lives.”
His mouth quirked into a rueful smile. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”
“Why? Because you’re the man? Are you sexist enough to believe that women don’t have sexual urges? I’m just as aware of what’s going on between us as you are, Gabe. Am I supposed to pretend I haven’t noticed that we practically ignite whenever we touch? And that we have nothing much in common except mutual lust—and a good friend we betrayed?”
eISBN 978-14592-7786-1
THAT OLD DEVIL MOON
Copyright © 1996 by Barbara Colley.
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