by Meryl Sawyer
She loved him more than words could say. When she’d been faced with certain death, her only thought was she wouldn’t ever know what true love could be like. She’d been given a second chance, and she was going to make the best of it.
“Thee, it’s Jake.” She listened to him talking to her aunt. “Gordon is going to recover.… Yes, that’s right. We’re at my place.” He gave her the thumbs-up sign. “Of course, I’m going to marry her.”
Alyssa groaned. Was Aunt Thee that old-fashioned? Of course. She’d loved one man and suffered with him when he’d been stricken with Parkinson’s. She wanted nothing but the love of a lifetime for Alyssa.
When he hung up, she asked, “You’re going to marry me? Why? Are you pregnant?”
“Very funny.” He grabbed her and towed her into the screened-off bedroom area. Benson was right at their heels, evidently thinking this was some game.
The room was darker, diffused light coming up and over the screens to illuminate the ceiling while leaving the wide bed in shadows. He yanked back the coverlet to expose crisp, white sheets. With a sigh, he flopped backward onto the bed.
“My wound. It’s like, like killin’ me. You’ll have to take my clothes off.”
She began unbuttoning his blood-splattered shirt. “What am I going to do with you?”
He threw a hand over his face like a wilting violet in an old-time movie. He sounded suspiciously like he was suppressing a laugh. “Have your way with me.”
“You’re on!”
She had stripped off his clothes, no easy feat considering his size, in just a few minutes. She flung each item over her shoulder. Benson gathered them up and made a pile on the bench at the end of the bed.
“You’re wounded. Do you think you should be—”
“Take off your clothes, Alyssa. Cut the BS.” He settled back against the pillow to watch. “It’ll make my head feel better.”
“Yeah, right.” She tossed her linen blazer aside easily enough, then kicked off her shoes. Benson dove off the bench to retrieve them. “I’m taking pity on you.”
She slowly unbuttoned her blouse, then flung it aside. With a twist of her hand, she released the button on her skirt and stepped out of it. Peeling down her pantyhose took longer. Inch by inch they freed her body, exposing it to the cool air in the loft.
“What about your bra?” he asked.
So much for the striptease, she thought. Here she was standing in front of him naked except for her bra. She unhooked it and tossed it to Benson.
Jake reached out and grabbed her with both hands. He pulled her onto the bed, then rolled on top of her, his weight pinning her to the mattress. He was smiling, a totally satisfied, all-male grin. His erection nudged between her thighs.
He kneed her legs apart. “I love you, Alyssa. I want to marry you, have children, and be happy.”
She inhaled deeply and thrust her face into the curve of his throat. The heat and male scent of his body made her lift her hips to encourage him. “You were right all along. I do love you.”
“It must be my bedroom eyes.”
EPILOGUE
One Year Later
“You’re a stunning bride,” Aunt Thee assured Alyssa. “I knew you would be.”
“Then why am I so nervous?” Alyssa asked.
Aunt Thee adjusted the train on Alyssa’s crystal-white wedding dress. “All brides are nervous. You’re even more anxious because of all that’s gone on this year. You’ve been in the spotlight.”
“True.” Alyssa gazed at her reflection. She had to admit the strapless silk wedding dress she’d designed was gorgeous. From the front it looked like a sheath, clinging to every curve, but from the back of her waist, pleats fanned out into a train.
Around her neck was a sweep of microbeads of lavender jade interspersed between the antique emerald beads she’d found in the flea market in Italy. Completing the set was a matching bracelet and earrings. She knew this jewelry was the most innovative of her designs. She’d already been offered a fortune for the set, but she’d never part with jewelry she’d designed for her own wedding.
“I want to be a jewelry designer, a wife, and a mother. It’s hard when you can’t walk down the street without everyone recognizing you.”
“You’ll have a private life again. Don’t worry.”
She wasn’t worried exactly, but she was concerned. The stress of the last year had changed them all. Clay’s sensational trial for murder and attempted murder had been followed by Hattie’s even more dramatic trial for killing her daughter. Alyssa and Jake’s fathers had been at the center of both trials.
Without the tourists, New Orleans wasn’t a terribly large city. Everywhere she went people asked her about the murders with a curiosity she found morbid. Two families had been shattered. For them life would never be the same—especially her father.
Having his obviously unbalanced wife judged competent to stand trial meant Gordon LeCroix had been forced to spend weeks sitting in a courtroom and listening to lawyers rehash his daughter’s brutal murder and the subsequent attempt on his own life. He’d gone through it with dignity and courage. He’d seen to it that Hattie was represented by Mitchell Petersen, the same lawyer who had helped Alyssa.
Gordon blamed himself for not realizing how unstable Hattie had become, and he was frantic every time he thought about Alyssa almost being killed. If the ordeal hadn’t been hard enough on her father, just after Hattie was sentenced, the IRS clobbered Wyatt with tax evasion. He’d managed to get off with a hefty fine, suspension of his accounting license, and six months in a minimum security federal prison.
It was nothing compared to the death sentences Hattie and Clay had received. Alyssa told herself not to feel sorry for either of them, but some part of her couldn’t help wondering if the dual tragedy couldn’t have been prevented.
Alyssa and Jake had decided to wait until the trials were over before getting married. It was too hard to concentrate—and enjoy—planning a wedding when so much of their time was focused on events in court. They did share a few laughs with Gordon and Max when Ravelle was fired for not immediately calling the police.
“Alyssa, it’s time.” Her aunt touched her hand. “Your father is waiting to walk you down the aisle.”
The “aisle” was the red carpet put down across Aunt Thee’s courtyard where a small number of guests had been invited to see her marry Jake. Many were friends from Italy, but other were friends she and Jake had made during the turbulent year after Hattie had tried to kill them.
The string quartet began to play. “A kiss for luck and everlasting happiness,” Aunt Thee said as she kissed Alyssa on the cheek.
Aunt Thee, her matron of honor, slipped out the door of the downstairs powder room where they had been making last-minute adjustments. Alyssa gathered her skirt and stepped into the hall where her father was waiting.
“You look lovely,” he said, staring at her, a mist in his eyes. “You’re the image of your mother.”
Tears stung Alyssa’s eyes and she held them open as wide as she could to keep from crying. “I wish Mother was here. I’d like her to see how happy I am with Jake.”
“She’s in heaven, darling. She knows.”
“I’m sure she does, and I’m sure she’d want to thank Aunt Thee for being such a wonderful stand-in.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t much of a father,” he said. “Forgive me?”
“Of course, I forgive you.”
They heard their musical cue, and her father said, “Time to hand you over to the lucky devil.” He helped her lower her veil.
On her father’s arm, Alyssa stepped out into the courtyard. Twilight shadows and flickering candles created romantic wavering patterns of dark and light. The world looked gauzy through the veil. At least she hoped it was the veil, not tears.
The small group was seated in a semicircle broken in the center by the red carpet sprinkled with white rose petals. Ahead stood Jake and his best man, Max, dressed in tuxedos. Nearby was Aun
t Thee, her only attendant in a pearl-gray suit. Off to the side, tail wagging, sat Benson. He had been groomed until his fur gleamed like freshly minted gold, and he was wearing a tuxedo collar.
They moved up the aisle slowly and Alyssa tried to smile at her friends, but she couldn’t stop looking at Jake. His expression conveyed all his love.
“Why are you crying?” Jake whispered when she stood beside him.
“I’m so happy.”
She didn’t remember another thing until the judge said, “You may kiss the bride.”
Jake lifted her veil carefully. He kissed her, just a brush of the lips at first, then he pulled her close and gave her one of his trademark kisses. When he finished, everyone was clapping. Benson bounded up, barking, tail wagging.
“There’s more where that came from,” he whispered. “I love you.”
She didn’t have to tell him she loved him. It had to be written all over her face.
About the Author
Meryl Sawyer is the New York Times–bestselling author of more than twenty-five romantic suspense novels. Among her accolades are the Romantic Times Career Achievement Awards for Contemporary Romantic Suspense and Contemporary Romance, the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award for Romantic Suspense, and the Georgia Romance Writers’ Maggie Award for Contemporary Romance. Sawyer grew up in Santa Fe, New Mexico, and lives in Newport Beach, California, with her golden retriever.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2001 by M. Sawyer-Unickel
Cover design by Mimi Bark
ISBN: 978-1-5040-2721-2
This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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