Collide & Burn

by Conn, Claudy

  Apparently the bitch had wanted to be a ‘rock star’. Her family had the money and the power to launch her, but when she got pregnant they withdrew their support for her career and she had to marry Wade’s father.

  She told me all this while Wade squirmed beside me and drank more than I usually saw him drink. His limit had always been two—three, tops—glasses of wine.

  When last I’d looked, he was on his second bottle, not glass, and as his mother was a recovering alcoholic and I was still sipping my first glass, I knew he was not enjoying himself.

  I got up after dessert was served by her live-in maid (who should, I thought, have been awarded a gold medal in tongue-biting and patience) and said, “Well, this has been … a very different Christmas Eve. Thank you for your hospitality. I am afraid we have to go.”

  She looked surprised.

  She had never seen a woman with Wade, let alone a woman, or I suppose even a male friend, willing to take the reins. I was in protective mode.

  I turned to Wade and said, “Ready?”

  He was slightly buzzed, but he grinned from ear to ear and said, “Anytime, anywhere … always for you.”

  His mother’s jaw dropped.

  I gave her a look and said, “You know, Mrs. Devon, you have the brightest star any woman could have ever reached for … time to take stock.”

  With that, I took his hand, and we marched right out of her swanky Park Avenue Condo.

  In the elevator, Wade looked at me and started to chuckle. That chuckle turned into an outright laugh and now that, calmed down a bit, I realized what I had just done, I joined in, partly from release and partly from ‘like I can’t believe I just did that’.

  We laughed all the way home. His home, no longer mine. He had expanded it, redistributed the rooms, enlarged the master bedroom into a suite, and I liked it. I liked it a lot.

  I suddenly remembered what I wanted to give him for Christmas and hurried to where I had stashed it earlier that week. I produced it and shoved it at him wrapped in a wide red ribbon.

  He looked at me with disbelief. “But you love this … this is Spike.”

  “I want you to have it … a remembrance of me and our time together.”

  “I don’t need anything to remember you by, Charlie,” he whispered and carried me up the stairs.

  In that suite, he removed his jacket and shirt, and I ran my hand up his hard, defined chest. He took my hands, kissed my fingers, and said as he had been saying since the Sother’s event, “Mine.”

  I ran my hand down his chest, opened his silky pants, and found my way to his erection. “Mine,” I said.

  He growled, “Show me.”

  And I did.

  * * *

  It was six in the morning. I was sleepy from an all-nighter session with Mr. Hard-On Never Quits. A woman should always be sleepy from that. It makes you all soft and dreamy, and that was how I felt.

  He wasn’t coming with me. Christmas would be with just my parents, and that was a big and major disappointment for me. I had hoped we had progressed beyond his fear of commitment.

  But I told myself how much we had progressed to and was content. Well, perhaps content would be too strong to describe what I felt. Perhaps frustrated would be better.

  Dad was always reminding me that once I ate my cupcake it would be gone, so I’d learned to save a piece, just a piece, in case I wanted to taste it one more time the next day.

  That was what I was doing, savoring the now, saving what could be for another day.

  Wade took me through security, and I turned and said, “How did you get through? I thought you had to be flying.”

  “Who says I’m not flying?” he said and grinned.

  “Wait … what?”

  “Escorting my girl to her family.”

  “Escorting? And then what?”

  “I’ll be nearby in my hotel suite, and after Christmas I’m taking you and your parents to the Keys, to a little island I discovered.”

  “My parents?”

  “I spoke with your dad last week, and he was receptive.” Wade grinned.

  “You did all that, but you won’t have Christmas day with us …?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he kissed me long and sweet, and then we were on the plane. Out of nowhere, he pulled out a deck of cards and said, “Gin rummy?”

  “Gin rummy?” I was astonished.

  He laughed and pinched my nose. “Afraid you can’t take the champ?”

  “Deal, mister,” I said. “Deal.”

  * * *

  He escorted me all the way to my parents’ door, kissed me long and hard, and stopped my hand from knocking. “Wait,” he said, “till I leave.”

  I turned hopeful eyes to him, and I heard the plea in my voice. “You sure … you won’t come in? We do turkey again for Christmas, and you could eat my share.”

  “No can do,” he answered glibly, and his attitude made me frown.

  He went back into the elevator, and I stood feeling lost for a moment before I knocked on the door. My dad opened it wide and scooped me in for a hug.

  I wasn’t there more than five minutes when a knock sounded once again. I frowned. “You expecting people today?”

  My dad grinned. “Only one.” He opened the door wide, and there stood Wade, looking like a schoolboy who had swallowed something everyone else wanted.

  “Wade, my boy,” my father said and clasped Wade’s hand.

  Wade, my boy? Since when had Wade and my dad become friends?

  Wade stepped in, holding something behind his back with his free hand. My dad slapped him on the shoulder and went to stand with my mother. They looked like they were about to attend a musical as they held one another and my mom made little sounds of delight.

  Wade cleared his throat, and I saw at once he was nervous. I had never, ever seen Wade Devon nervous.

  He said, “I have already gotten your father’s blessing—”

  “What?” I said.

  “Shhh,” my father said.

  “But—” I said.

  “Hush,” my mother admonished.

  Wade produced a small black velvet box. He got down on one knee, and my mother squealed. It dawned on me what was happening. It all became clear. He had called and asked my dad for permission. My parents knew. They knew.

  He flipped open the box and said, “Charlene Wells, I love you beyond redemption. I love you with my mind, and my heart … no war there, they both call for you. I need you beside me always. You are all I need. Will you marry me and make me the proudest, happiest man on earth? Please, Charlie, because I am fairly certain that I can’t get through this life without you.”

  I was dazzled by him, by this speech, and by the size of the beautiful diamond in the box. Dazzled speechless.

  “Charlie,” Wade said on a plea.

  “Baby,” I said and pulled him off his knees, “I said yes the moment I met you.”

  He roared with pleasure, and we all started laughing as he slipped the ring on my finger and my parents surrounded us with love.

  ~ Epilogue ~

  THE KEYS, OH my gosh, the Keys.

  Jimmy Buffett’s place was where I watched my mom burst out with song and my dad pull her up for a dance. I turned to Wade, and he said. “Happy?”

  Could I be any happier? I nodded my head vigorously and said, “Boardwalk … want to go for a stroll and watch all the performers on the boardwalk.”

  We waved at my parents and, hand in hand, made our way over to the boardwalk overlooking that beautiful water.

  “Yeah, but I think we’ll leave your parents here for now. We’ll come get them when we’re ready to take the ferry back to the island.”

  Wade had booked us rooms at Little Palm Island, an island with one small but luxurious inn. He always does it up right.

  He even brought my easel and paint supplies. The orders for my paintings were coming in faster than I could ever imagine.

  Life, I knew, would not always be good. Life is
like that, full of ups and downs, and I told him that.

  “Sure, I know, but as long as we travel the ups and downs together … it will belong to us, this life. I had a hole in me, Charlie. It was too big to repair. I filled it with sex, but it was never enough. You came and, Charlie … you didn’t just fill that whole, you filled all of me. You are in my mind all the time. I can’t eat something without wondering if it is something you might enjoy. I can’t feel the breeze without thinking, ah Charlie would love this breeze in her face … or see a TV comedy show without wondering if you would find it funny … Charlie … you fill me.”

  I hugged him and then nearly screamed out loud because there was a performing cat show on the boardwalk. Cats … performing to commands. Little cats …?

  I exclaimed and pulled him along, and we laughed. He kissed my hand and said, “I talked to your mom and told her I’ll pay for any wedding they would like to throw for you, but my deal is that we do it in three months. I won’t wait longer to make you Mrs. Wade Devon.”

  “I wonder why you can’t be Mr. Charlie Wells,” I teased.

  “Charlie, I will be anything you want … just stay forever, stay with me.”

  “Says the man who doesn’t stay or do relationships.”

  “Until he met his Waterloo—Charlie.”

  I slapped him. “Don’t compare us to a bloody battle, you naughty, wonderful man.”

  He kissed me then, and he kissed me again, and if I’d had socks on, he would have knocked them off.

  *** *** ***

  In the mood for some paranormal with your romance?

  Riley Doogan wants normal, but what she gets is more—

  a lot more. Read her story in

  Journey

  ~ One ~

  HOW DID IT get to be so late? The morning was nearly gone, and I wasn’t halfway through all the chores I had set for myself. I am a work-alcoholic, or so I have been told, and I suppose it is the truth. I have no life. I am twenty-four years old and own an upscale store we—we being my partner Betty and I—started four years ago while I was still in my last year at Columbia University.

  A groan made its way out of my mouth as I stared at the boxes of perfect knit infant-wear to be uniquely displayed in our substantial window overlooking New York City’s famous Fifth Avenue. How we had managed to get this location at the price we did, I still don’t know. That was all Betty!

  Betty laughed at me and shook her head. “Why don’t you let Joe do that when he gets here? I mean, Riley, that’s what he does—windows. You can’t do it all, hon—you just can’t.”

  Betty is not only my partner, but over the last four years she has become my best friend. I sighed and was about to cave and agree with her when I heard the bell that rings whenever the shop door opens. I stepped back from the display window and glanced absently over to the newcomer.

  Damn, hot damn, but that absent glance turned into a stare as I nearly knocked over an entire shelf of infant sweaters. What have we here?

  I am never bowled over by a good-looking man. I have always needed more, but one look at this hottie, and my eyebrows went up and my heart started thumping. I know, crazy. What happened next was not really something I was immediately able to control. Hormones are like that, you know. I felt them start marching to a fervent beat, and my throat went dry.

  Everything about him was ‘money and power,’ which wasn’t unusual, as we run a very high-end children’s clothing store that features handmade items and custom-made clothing. Our customers are wealthy, and we even get our fair share of celebrities—again, due to Betty’s contacts. Even so, I discovered my usual calm completely blown apart.

  He wore a smile that was more a cool smirk, and it boldly shouted, I’ve got it all, and I don’t care. I am rarely intimidated by this sort, and yet, there I was, right from my head to my toes, ready to hide and watch him from a hidden corner. Absolutely ridiculous.

  I tried to turn away, but not before I took another survey and put him down to memory. I liked the way his thick, blue-black hair was styled in layers of shiny waves, some of which fell across his forehead and over his ears. I swallowed as my appraisal then determined that not only was he very tall—well over six feet—but he also had strong, football-man shoulders. All at once, I was oddly reminded of Wolverine, predatory and more than capable.

  He was dressed in an expensive black sports jacket over what looked like a gray silk T-shirt. His black pants were also silky and hung over his hips in masculine lines. His green eyes opened wide and held a glint of something undefined as he looked me over, and I felt my cheeks suddenly burn. Did I say undefined? That’s not right. Those green eyes said, Bed … going to take you to bed.

  My tongue slicked over my bottom lip, and I hurriedly decided I needed to study an article of clothing hanging on a nearby rack.

  Even as I managed to look away and mentally slap myself, I couldn’t help glancing back over my shoulder at him. What is wrong with me? I don’t behave like this. I don’t, and there I was, not able to stop looking at him again.

  I know better than to allow myself to be attracted to the kind of man I was sure he was, and yet, I couldn’t keep my eyes off him.

  Then I noticed myself in the mirrored wall to my left and nearly rolled my eyes. I was a mess. Both my top and my skirt had hiked up when I’d bent over the display case, and not in that cute, ‘have a peek at my midriff’, way. No, I was a rumpled mess, with a little extra thigh thrown in as a bonus. And my hair? Don’t ask.

  As it happens, I have an option most women don’t possess. I could right myself with a blink of an eye, but magic is a thing I don’t play with unless I absolutely have to do so. Magic is a natural option for me. I don’t need potions or chants or even my Rowan Wand, though I prefer to hold onto it when I actually perform magic. I can blink, think, point my finger and … magic.

  He walked past me without a word and smiled at Betty as I pulled my blue cotton knit top back into place, smoothed out the wrinkles from my cream-colored pencil skirt, and undid the tie holding only some of my black hair up. I was still raking my fingers through the thick strands of my hair when he turned, swept his gaze over me, and smirked.

  Everything about him had me off balance. He said something to Betty, but I couldn’t hear what it was, unusual as I have exceptional hearing—very exceptional hearing.

  “Riley?” Betty called me over with a wave of her hand. “This gentleman would like a word with you.”

  I turned around and slid a hand over my clothes again, frowning slightly. I mean, what could he want with me?

  Holy shit! The way he appraised me made my knees wobble, and I almost tripped over myself. Almost. I managed to stay upright, although I couldn’t think straight.

  If that wasn’t bad enough, I then made the mistake of meeting his eyes as I approached. He had a killer smile. At that moment that dangerous smile was all for me. I found myself changed from the capable business woman I had become into a pile of Jell-O. No mind, no bones, just Jell-O. In this state, staring at him, you see, full on, he had taken my breath away. He had reduced me to a thoughtless blob of gelatin.

  As I said, I know better than to be affected by a good-looking guy. Been there, done that, got burned. Here is the thing: I was not looking for hot, or so I had convinced myself. I was a mature young woman and smarter than I used to be. What I wanted was sure and steady. So, the question was, what the hell?

  I looked into those sultry green eyes of his and decided that I had to get control and keep this man and his hotness at arm’s length. He was everything I had made up my mind to stay away from.

  I put on my business smile and the business exterior I had developed over the last four years and went forward, my hand extended and a professional welcome plastered on my face.

  He took my fingers, and I felt a super-charged laser beam of sensation singe my veins. The sensation shot through my arm and up to my head. It was like a blast of electricity, unexpected but not painful—rather, it was oddly
titillating and pleasurable, more pleasurable than anything I had ever experienced before. His touch created an eruption of hot blood—or was it lava?—in my veins. It swept through me, turned me into an idiot that couldn’t speak at all.

  Speak? I couldn’t form a clear thought. His touch had burned my brain into a pile of ash.

  The sound of his voice was like a balm, dreamy and soft, and it held that Irish accent I love so well. “I thought I recognized ye from yer pictures, Miss Doogan. Maddy had them all over the house.” He inclined his head. “I am so very sorry for yer loss.”

  “You … you know—knew my grandmother?” Who was this guy? I had lost my granny three months earlier, and I was still reeling from that loss. I couldn’t seem to stop thinking she would call … even now when the phone rings (which isn’t often these days unless it is business) I think for a second it is my grandmother, and I then remember she is gone.

  “Aye, we really became quite close this past year after I moved back to Dunraven. I’m Finn, Finn Dunraven.”

  I had a really difficult time processing anything beyond my reaction to him at that moment and the information that he and my grandmother had become, as he said, close.

  Okay, bad enough that I was tongue-tied, absolutely intimidated by his hotness, his coolness, his overwhelming sexual vibe, but this was the Finn Dunraven my grandmother had spoken so often about! Everything she had gone on and on about in regards to him all came back to me in a wave of sudden clarity.

  The Dunraven estate, this man’s estate, had always been in our town of Sutterville, Maine. The estate had been there for centuries, but no one had ever been in residence there while I was growing up. Now, out of the blue, here he was.

  I was overwhelmed by his presence. There is no other way to describe how I felt. I wanted to say something intelligent, but all I could do was nod at him as I tried to regain my composure and hoped he wasn’t actually aware of my complete engine failure.