by Adele Hart
A few minutes later, Dad stood in front of me dressed in khakis and a button down shirt.
He smiled and said, “Hi, I’m Frank Simone, I have a gambling problem that I’m fixing for myself and my daughter. I’m a work in progress so please be patient with me.”
I let go of my husband’s hand and threw my arms around my father’s neck. “You’re going to do it this time, Dad.”
“What makes you so sure?”
I looked down at my stomach. I hadn’t told anyone that I was barely pregnant, but it must have been that night when Abel told me he loved me. We’d bared our souls and our bodies that special night.
I looked into my husband’s eyes and said. “Congratulations, Daddy.” I turned to my father and said, “You’ll want to be a good role model to your grandchild.”
Both men stood there mouths agape. “You’re having my baby?”
I cupped his bearded cheek. “I’m not having anyone else’s baby.”
Throughout all the pain and anguish Abel went through, I’d never seen him shed a tear until that moment. He placed his hand over my stomach.
“God, I love you. I’m so fucking in love with you I can’t believe it.”
“Watch your mouth son, that’s my grandchild in there.”
Abel smiled. He leaned in and whispered. “I’ll talk dirty to you later baby. I’ll tell you how damn happy I am that you’re having my baby. Then I’ll show you.” He rubbed his beard against my neck. It was my second favorite place to feel it rub against my skin. My first favorite space would have to wait until we were alone. My panties were already wet with the thought.
Once we got Dad settled into his wing of the house, Abel carried me to bed.
He stood above my naked body and smiled. “You’re so fucking beautiful, and you’re mine.”
“Yes I am. I’m yours to kiss, yours to pleasure, yours to love.”
Chapter Twelve
Abel-five years later
Many mothers would tell their daughters not to marry a musician. Thankfully Gia didn’t have the counsel of a loving mother to steer her clear of me.
My life started the day she sat in front of my gate and waited. I didn’t realize then how much I needed her, but I do now. She’d given me everything. Just over four years ago she gave me a son. I wanted to name him Caine, but Gia, being wise, nixed that idea and Liam was born. He was a drummer from the start. He banged out a rhythm to everything he touched.
Two years later came Scarlett, who was named after the color she turned when she came out screaming. Her first steps led her to my guitar and she’s never stopped strumming it.
Today I stood at the head of the bed waiting for our third child to arrive. Grandpa Frank was babysitting. Other than playing Fish with Liam for candy, he hadn’t gambled since rehab. Gia had changed us all with her love.
“Sing to me?” she asked.
“Anything for you.”
I leaned in and sang in her ear as she puffed air out of her mouth. Panting as the next contraction rolled through her. I knew my woman was strong, but each time she gave birth I was filled with awe.
I brushed the sweat off her brow and sang the song I’d written for her that day—the anniversary of Deb’s death and the beginning of my life.
Stay with me forever, I crooned into her ear.
Make me yours forever.
You stole my broken heart and made it whole.
You captured my attention.
You seized my love.
You kissed away my loneliness.
I’m yours forever.
I’m yours to love.
I sang the four verses to the tune over and over again until she bore down and our second son was born. He was as perfect as his mother but a lot louder.
His scream hit notes I’d only fantasized about. One look at him and I knew I had a new band in the making.
“Are you all right sweetheart?” Of course it was Gia asking me. She’d just given me another treasure. I was rich beyond reason with her in my life, and yet she never stopped taking care of me.
“I’m perfect. What about you honey? You okay?” The nurse wrapped our little boy in a blanket and set him in Gia’s arms.
“Isn’t he beautiful?” She looked down at our son with love in her eyes. “Thank you Abel for giving me everything. I love you so much.” She stared up at me with more love than I deserved. “Is there anything I can give you in return for all the happiness you give me?”
I nuzzled my beard into the crook of her neck and whispered in her ear. “A bass player.”
Also by Adele Hart
Alphas and Virgins Titles
Thrill Me
Tempt Me
Take Me
Choose Me
Kiss Me
Devour Me
Make Me Titles
Make Me Yours
Make Me Crazy
Make Me Wet
Make Me Wild
Make Me Happy
Make Me Love You
Hot Heroes Titles
My Toy Boy
My Cocky Cowboy
My Naughty Professor
Bad Boys and Good Girls
Slow, Hard Puck
Fast, Hard Ride
Long, Hard Pass
Boxsets
Alphas and Virgins Volume One
Alphas and Virgins Volume Two
Make Me Volume One
Make Me Volume Two
Deliciously Dirty
Guilty Pleasures
My Hot Hero
Hard
Devour Me-Sneak Peek
One
MADDY
“I can’t believe you're doing this again.” I hop one-footed toward the front door trying to put on my right shoe. It isn’t an easy task when Mom is primping my hair, and Dad is looking at his watch and tapping his foot on the marble floor.
“Oh, sweetheart. Give your parents a break. We’re not fixing you up with Malcolm.” Mom winks at Dad. “We thought it would be nice for you to have a dinner partner.” She licks her finger and wipes at something under my eye.
What is it that compels moms to do that? It isn’t like their spit contains miracle properties. If there is something under my eye, it will take a cotton ball and extra strength makeup remover to get rid of it. To my mother’s horror, I’m a low maintenance girl. I apply industrial strength mascara first thing in the morning and that’s it. I’m good to go all day.
I swat at her hand. “Let’s go.” I pick up the little black clutch from the entry table and walk out the door. The faster I get this over with, the better. It used to be a monthly thing. Mom and Dad would find some reason for me to attend one of their many social events, and each time they conveniently set me up with one of their friends’ single sons.
At twenty-five, I don’t consider myself on the shelf. Lots of women wait to settle down and have children. The issue is, my parents are late bloomers themselves, and at fifty-seven, their grandparent clock is ticking so loud. It doesn’t matter that my biological clock hasn’t been wound yet. They are ready to bounce babies on their knees, and as their only child I have the only eligible womb.
There was a false start two years ago when Anthony Bale the fourth proposed. That relationship crashed and burned the first time we got intimate. That was the day his other girlfriend barged in before he could take my virginity.
“You’ll love Malcolm.” Mom slides into the limousine and I follow. It doesn’t take Dad more than a second to open the decanter and pour himself a scotch. He hates these social events almost as much as I do, but this one pulls in a fortune for his non-profit. The proceeds will go to keep the arts in underprivileged schools.
We come from old money and the family motto is, with big money comes big responsibility. Give more than you take, and be humble. As a Leclerc, working is optional. Philanthropy is not.
“Tell me about Malcolm.” It is always easier to cave in to Mom’s interference then fight it. Tonight will unfold like all others. She wi
ll parade me around the event like a prize heifer at the fair, and if Malcolm is like the other men my parents introduce me to, he’ll want a gazelle not a fattened calf.
I’ll spend a couple of hours with Malcolm at dinner. I’ll smile and do my best to charm him, but by the end of the evening we’ll go our separate ways.
“So you see, he’s perfect for you.” The entire conversation passes without my participation. How did I get so lucky?
Inside I roll my eyes. Outside I smile. “He sounds great.” I pull at my skirt. Maybe that extra pastry this afternoon wasn’t such a good idea, but I have a thing for fresh croissants, and when they’re filled with chocolate, I can’t resist.
The car pulls up to the curb, and the driver lets us out. For a winter day, it’s warm, but that’s the norm in Los Angeles. While people across the United States are shivering in sub-zero temperatures, half of the state of California is in shorts and T-shirts. I wipe at the bead of sweat that forms on my brow and think about hot chocolate and snow.
“Stand up tall, Madison. You look like you’re marching to your death. I’m not putting a noose around your neck. I’m trying to put a ring on your finger. Now smile.” So much for her statement about not trying to fix me up.
I walk into the ballroom behind my parents with a smile as bright as the high beams on Dad’s Porsche.
At the first opportunity, I leave my parents to socialize, and go in a different direction. The only thing fun about fundraisers is buying the goods. I make it a point to purchase something at each event. Last year I purchased a cruise and anonymously gave it to a less fortunate family.
Tables full of prizes line the walls of the room. This will keep me busy all evening. I am rounding the second table when Mom finds me. Next to her is Malcolm. In all honesty, he is surprisingly handsome. I don’t generally go for the gingers, but his hair is more blond than red, and his smile is electrifying.
Everyone has a type and mine is definitely tall, dark and delicious, but Malcolm is easy on the eyes.
“You must be Malcolm.” I offer him my hand and a smile. My parents spent a fortune on orthodontics and this is as good a time as any to show off their investment.
“It’s nice to meet you, Madison.”
Mom pushes us together and squeals with delight. “You two kids have fun.” She turns and leaves as if her job is complete, and I’m grateful that she doesn’t helicopter around us.
Malcolm and I stare at my mom’s retreating figure. “You can call me Maddy. All my friends do.” I have a feeling Malcolm and I are going to be good friends.
“Well, Maddy, how many of these fix ups do you need to attend each month?” He lifts my hand and places it on his arm. “This is my fifth.” He sounds more entertained than irritated.
“Five? You’re certainly holding up well. Let’s just keep smiling. We’d hate to crush their dreams in the first five minutes. Besides, how do you know I’m not the one?” I brush my fingers over a beautiful blown glass vase that is up for auction. The color starts black at the bottom and fades to clear at the top.
“I’m sure you’re a great girl, and you’re quite beautiful, but you’re not my type.” He picks up a pen and hovers his hand over the bid sheet.
“You’ve only just met me, how do you know?” Lord, I’ve been with this guy for less than a minute and he is already retreating.
He leans in and whispers in my ear. “You have a vagina.” He writes five hundred dollars on the sheet.
“It’s worth far more than that.” I take the pen and cross out his bid and replace it with a bid of fifteen hundred.
“So are you. I’ve just told you I’m gay, and you didn’t run in the other direction.” He pulls my arm and guides me down the table.
I burst out in laughter. Out of the corner of my eye I see my mom smile. Sadly, she’ll be heartbroken again.
“Mom always taught me to keep my friends close and my enemies closer.”
He raises his baby blues at me. “Now we’re enemies?”
“A few minutes ago you were a love interest. Now you’re competition.”
His laughter reverberates through the room. It’s a genuine heart felt laugh.
“You’re safe with me. I’ve got someone.”
I swipe my forehead with an exaggerated movement. “Thank God. I didn’t want to have to take you out back and fight you for someone’s affections.”
“I like you, Maddy. I think we could be friends.”
I hug his arm. “We already are.” We move to the next table where a gift certificate for a private chef, masseuse, and chateau are being offered. “Do your parents know?”
He pens in a five thousand dollar bid. “No, it would kill my parents. They have dreams of grandbabies and a daughter-in-law.” I take the pen and scribble out his bid and write in ten thousand. Something tells me Malcolm and his lover could use this retreat.
“There’s always surrogacy.”
“Are you volunteering?” We walk down the row of offerings, stopping occasionally to bid.
“No. I mean, I want children, but I want to have them for myself. Tell you what. As soon as I pop one out, you can be an honorary uncle.”
“I get to babysit.”
“As an uncle, it’s a requirement.” Talking to Malcolm is easy. Too bad it isn’t that way usually. I’m not shy, but there’s so much pressure to marry and have kids, it makes me cautious. I don’t want to enter into a relationship out of desperation. I want attraction. I want connection. I want love.
“Your kid is going to be the luckiest little one out there. Me and Luke will be amazing uncles." He says the name in that dreamy way that people in love do.
“You and Luke shouldn’t hide your love. We can all learn something from love so passionate and pure.”
“How do you know our love is passionate and pure?” He picks up a signed tennis racket and mimics an overhand swing.
“Please… you nearly puddle on the floor at the mention of his name. You look like I do when I’m ready to devour a chocolate-filled croissant.”
He slides down three displays. “You like pastries?”
I run my hands down my body and over my flared hips. “Can’t you tell?”
“You’re body is perfect.”
“Says the man who likes men.”
“That’s irrelevant. You need to see this.” He reaches out and picks up a brochure for a cooking school. “Do you know Ripley Stark?” He shoves the brochure into my hand.
“Never heard of him.” I open the trifold page and see the most gorgeous man on earth. He’s obviously a cover model because men that look as good as him don’t need to cook. People cook for them.
“He’s the owner of Sinfully Delicious and he donated this cooking class. You need to do this.” He points to the description that says, Five Days to Sin: A French pastry course.
“I never buy anything for myself at these things, but if I did, and this is actually the man, I’d make sure I was the highest bidder.” I run my finger over the picture of the dark-haired hottie in the chef’s jacket. “He’s so yummy.”
“Makes your mouth water, huh?”
That and other things get wet too, but I don’t say that out loud. I put the brochure down and move down the table.
“Speaking of mouths and water, can I get you a drink?” I needed a reason to break away from Malcolm to make sure I am the highest bidder on the getaway package.
“Yes, a Manhattan would be great. Catch up with me down the row. I’ll make note of anything worth seeing.” He moves down the table while I backtrack to the bid sheet and put twenty thousand dollars down. It’s a crazy bid, but I want it for him and Luke. Something tells me that a romantic getaway would be important to them.
When I return with his drink, he is rounding the last corner. Fifteen minutes later the bids are closed and dinner begins.
Malcolm and I sit under the watchful eye of my parents who ask lots of questions about his career and his family. Turns out that Malcolm’s father
is a lawyer, and Malcolm is a partner in the firm.
Near the end of dinner, Mom asks, “Will you two be seeing each other again?” Hope gushes from her like a geyser.
Malcolm lays his hand on my shoulder and gives me a silent I’ve-got-this. “Yes, I’m going to be an uncle to Maddy’s children.”
Mom’s geyser stalls mid-air then sputters to a stop until her hope and happiness are capped off. It’s heartbreaking to watch, but she deserves no less for meddling in my love life one too many times.
The man announcing the high bid winners silences my parents. I sit on the edge of my seat and wait for my name to be called. When it is, I smile because I know even though love isn’t in my future, it’s in Malcolm’s and Luke’s.
When the evening ends, Malcolm and I exchange numbers and hugs. Mom and Dad didn’t find me a husband. They found me a friend.
Two
MADDY
Three days after the auction a package arrives with my name on it. It’s special delivery and comes wrapped in a pink bakery box. I know it’s from Malcolm. No doubt he’s sent me chocolate filled croissants to thank me for my gift. We text constantly and he’s always teasing me about my sweet tooth. He’s quickly become the light to my boring days with his wit and wisdom.
I untie the white string and open the box to find a handwritten card that says,
Enjoy,
Future Uncle Malcolm
Beneath the card is one perfect chocolate croissant. I lift it to my nose and inhale. There’s nothing more comforting than the smell of fresh-baked bread, mixed with sweet chocolate.
I hold the box under my chin to catch the crumbs as I take the first bite. I nearly melt into a pond of pleasure right there. I’ve never had sex, but I can’t imagine it being better than this. I eat the whole thing while standing in the hallway, and when I lick my finger to press it against the crumbs in the bottom of the box, I notice it’s not empty. The recognizable red envelope from the auction is there.