Over the years, family reunions were scheduled at various locales depending on work schedules and which islands currently had the best non-hurricane weather.
Finally, at the age of thirty-eight, Nicholas found his soul mate, Sofia, an opera singer from southern France, and they went on to raise clever pianists, violinists, and harpists.
As the family grew, spring vacations were held on the coast of the French Mediterranean, and Caleb and Kira held hands while strolling barefoot along the white sandy beach.
When they were out of sight of all fifteen of those precocious grandchildren who were now turning into teenagers speaking three languages apiece, the two of them secretly kissed and laughed and splashed water at each other.
Kira cast a glance over her shoulder, grinning at their amazing brood. “I really must learn French more proficiently,” she said with a laugh. “Six-year old Delilah has a better accent than I do.”
Caleb waggled his eyebrows. “She does have a distinct advantage with a French mother. Besides, you already know the most important French phrase,” hey aded, pulling her close to his broad chest. “Hey, we’re safe,” he whispered. “They’re not looking at the moment.”
“What are they doing?”
“Nick’s building a sand castle with little Amie, and the boys are jumping waves with their boogie boards. Don’t look now, but our daughters are sneaking kisses with their husbands.”
“They learned from the best,” Kira said, leaning over to kiss her amazing husband on the lips.
Caleb’s arms wrapped around her while waves crashed along the shore and the foamy water broke over their bare toes.
“Remind me of that most important French phrase again, Mr. Davenport,” Kira asked.
Caleb gazed into her eyes. “It’s easy, ma cherie. Je t’aim, my love. Je t’aim forever.”
“Je t’aime aussi,” Kira murmured as Caleb deepened the kiss. She flushed at how romantic he was, and her heart rose into her throat like it always did when he held her like this.
Then Kira leaned her head against Caleb’s shoulder and the two of them watched the setting sun lower along the horizon, casting a happy glow of light across the whitecaps.
Kira and Caleb's dreams had far surpassed anything they had imagined, from dreams of music, satisfying careers, and falling unexpectedly in love with each other. The joy and love of their family would continue to fill their lives with many more sunsets and happy-ever-afters for as long as they lived.
Dear Romance Lover
I hope you enjoyed reading The Executive’s Secret, A Secret Billionaire Romance! I’ll love you forever if you have the chance to write a quick review on Amazon. Thank you!!
My husband and I explored the wonderful city of Denver a couple of months ago for our anniversary, and I highly recommend a visit.
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~Kimberley Montpetit
P.S. Turn the page to read the first chapter in THE NEIGHBOR’S SECRET from the Secret Billionaire Romance series!
I also write award-winning Young Adult novels such as the FORBIDDEN trilogy (Harpercollins) and Scholastic Middle-Grade novels under the name:
Kimberley Griffiths Little
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Find all these titles on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, your local bookstore, or on my website where I have gorgeous book trailers, Book Club Guides, and Teacher’s Guides:
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About the Author
Kimberley Montpetit once spent all her souvenir money at the La Patisserie shops when she was in Paris—on the arm of her adorable husband. The author grew up in San Francisco, but currently lives in a small town along the Rio Grande with her big, messy family.
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Kimberley reads a book a day and loves to travel. She’s stayed in the haunted tower room at Borthwick Castle in Scotland, sailed the Seine in Paris, ridden a camel among the glorious cliffs of Petra, shopped the maze of the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul, and spent the night in an old Communist hotel in Bulgaria.
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Other Books by Kimberley Montpetit
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Risking it all for Love
Romancing Rebecca
Sealed with a Kiss
UnBreak my Heart
The Secret of a Kiss
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THE NEIGHBOR’S SECRET: A Secret Billionaire Romance by Kimberley Montpetit
It was the perfect day for a wedding. After months of trying on wedding gowns, ordering invitations, and searching every bridal boutique in Toronto for the perfect shoes, Allie Strickland was ready to walk—maybe even run—down the aisle of the church and into Sean Carter’s waiting arms.
She’d licked stamps to post the more than one hundred announcements until her tongue was dry. She’d suffered through at least that many long-distance phone calls with her mother that sometimes ended in arguments and tears.
If she didn’t stop weeping, Allie’s mother joked, their tiny town of Heartland Cove was going to flood over. The calls and planning were finally over, and Allie’s wedding day was here.
That morning she’d taken her big fat red marker and made an X on the calendar.
“Mrs. Sean Carter, here I come,” she whispered as she capped the pen and tossed it inside a packing box.
During their five years of dating, she and Sean had gone through grad school together, first jobs, and now Sean was climbing the ladder to become a partner with Learner & Associates Law Firm.
Tonight she’d be with the man of her dreams forever. No more work interruptions. No more hurried lunches. No more agonizingly long street car rides to get to one another’s apartments. Lately, they’d just meet somewhere for a late dinner.
Tomorrow, new renters were moving into her apartment on Bloor Street. When she and Sean returned from their honeymoon to the Bahamas, Allie would unpack the boxes sitting inside Sean’s apartment and officially move in.
Allie’s stomach jumped as she checked the time on her phone. Her wedding began in ninety minutes and it would take at least half of that just to get through Toronto traffic.
She sent a text to Sean and then tried to take deep breaths in an effort to settle her nerves while staring at tightly packed buildings and Roger’s Stadium glinting in the late afternoon sun.
With her brother Jake at the wheel and the car full of her mother, sister, and best friend Marla on their way to the Episcopal Church, Allie’s brain went over her luggage packed for fun, sun, and the beach.
Three bikinis; red, black, and purple.
Slinky dresses for candlelit dinners.
Five pairs of shoes, including a pair of running shoes.
Lingerie and toiletries.
She couldn’t wait to get on that plane tomorrow morning and leave work and str
ess and family behind.
Seven perfect days with Sean. Finally, finally, finally.
“I don’t think Toronto has ever looked lovelier,” Allie sighed happily, pressing her nose against the window glass like a kid.
She was excited, anxious, and terrified all at once—and missing Sean. She hadn’t seen him in three days due to his working overtime so he’d have a few days off for their honeymoon.
“I promise we’ll have a longer honeymoon when I’m finished with this current trial,” he’d said last week. “A cruise of the Greek Islands in autumn.”
“You know all my dreams,” she’d told him, throwing her arms around his neck and feeling the beat of his heart against hers.
Pulling her arms down, Sean had given her a peck goodbye. “You know I have to be in the courtroom at seven a.m., Allie.”
She’d frowned, turning away to stare out the window of her apartment. It was a spectacular view of downtown and the lake. She’d been lucky to get this flat a year ago and hated to let it go, but Sean had a bigger place so she’d reluctantly given up her dream apartment.
“That case has taken over your life. Our lives,” she said, trying not to whine. “We haven’t been out in ages. We’ve hardly kissed in months.”
“But we’re getting married in a few days, Allie. Be a grown-up and get used to the hectic life of a criminal defense lawyer.”
She despised those moments when he treated her like a child. But all she could say was, “But I miss you. Don’t you miss me?”
As soon as she spoke the words, Allie chomped down on her tongue. Sentiments like those merely underscored his assessment of her as a petulant child.
“Your dress!” Mrs. Strickland suddenly shrieked from the front passenger seat, motioning to Jake that there was a red light before throwing a glare at her daughter in her wedding finery.
“These darn no left turn streets,” Jake muttered, braking so hard they all lunged forward. “Traffic is horrible. They’ve got the next two streets blocked off for a 10K run.”
Quickly, Allie hitched up the beaded satin wedding gown around her to prevent wrinkles on the back end.
“You simply can’t have wrinkles when you walk down the aisle,” her sister Erin said with a dose of sarcasm. “It would be, like, a crime or something.”
Mrs. Strickland gave her youngest daughter a second glare and then silently held out her palm when Erin snapped her gum.
Erin stuck her wad of chewing gum in her mother’s hand, smashing it down vehemently in revenge, and leaned back with a sulk.
“Thanks for the gum sacrifice,” Allie told her, nudging at her sister’s shoulder.
“Huh,” Erin grunted, sliding another pack of spearmint contraband from her handbag.
“Look at the blue sky and enjoy the fact that there isn’t ten feet of snow on the ground.”
“You mean smog and obnoxiously tall concrete they call architecture.”
“You only think that because you’re sixteen.”
“Girls!” their mother cried, craning her neck to check the name of the cross street. “Don’t fight on your wedding day.”
Jake remained stoic, his mobile giving out directions in an English accent.
“It’s not my wedding day,” Erin said, making one of her famous faces, eyes wide, nostrils flaring.
“Obviously. But today is Allie’s most special day in her entire life. Be nice. Mind your manners. And please don’t put your chewed gum on the dinner plate at the reception this evening.”
“I’m not eight!” Erin crossed her arms over the deep maroon bridesmaid dress. Lower cut in the bust line than Mrs. Strickland had suggested, but nobody had listened to her protests when the wedding planning rose to extreme levels of tension.
Marla Perry, Allie’s best friend since Kindergarten, reached over with a tissue. “You’ve got a smudge of frosting on your face, Allie.”
“Where?” Allie scrabbled inside her white lace-covered wedding bag for a mirror, which, of course, only held two tissues and a lipstick for refreshing. Allie had a tendency to bite off her lip color. “How could you let me leave the house like that?”
“It’s just a tiny smidge,” Marla assured her. “Probably cream cheese from the cinnamon roll.”
“You just had to go and make cinnamon rolls for breakfast on the day I wanted to be my skinniest best self,” Allie teased.
“I knew you’d go all day without food if I didn’t give you something. And then we’d be picking you up off the floor in front of the minister when you fainted from starvation.”
“Not starvation. Sugar overload. I should have had a granola bar.”
“Granola bars are for birds, not real people,” Marla said. “Fainting can be a means to an end. Sean could scoop you up from the cold floor and kiss you passionately.”
Marla had snagged the lead role in Romeo and Juliet in their high school drama production class and swore she’d leave the tiny town of Heartland Cove and run away to New York City. She’d gotten as far as Toronto—which, for a Heartland Cove resident, that boasted a population of 899 was, nevertheless, a major feat. But her Fine Arts degree in photography was proving difficult to find a decent paying job.
She’d finally taken a position shooting kids school photos all over town with Life Touch, but was determined to open her own business.
The thought of having your own business was exciting. Despite using her MBA to snag a good paying position, Allie was bored to tears with financial reports and office politics as the manager at a small branch of The Royal Bank.
“Mom. Chill,” Jake said at last. Miss British GPS voice told him to turn right, but when he did he hit another red light and jerked to a stop. All the women braced a hand on their seats, then adjusted dresses and jewelry.
“Warn us next time, Jake,” Mrs. Strickland said, the frown deepening between her eyes.
Allie did not miss the family dynamics living in Toronto, although she sometimes got nostalgic for Heartland Cove, the town where she’d been born, worked her teen summers at the Strickland Family Fry Truck, and had her first kiss on the Bridge of Heartland Cove with a boy who told her he’d love her forever—and then promptly moved to Newfoundland three weeks later. It might as well have been Timbuktu.
After a few sexy Facebook messages, he’d posted a picture of himself with a suntanned blond girl—and disappeared from her life forever.
In Heartland Cove he’d been her only possibility for a boyfriend until she’d met Sean her senior year as an undergrad in Business School.
Sean Carter was the complete opposite of the boy from tiny Heartland Cove High. Tall, slim and dark-haired with smoldering eyes and a crooked grin that melted her heart.
“I think butterflies have set up permanent housekeeping in my stomach,” Allie said, while the clock ticked down to the moment they both said, “I do”.
Sean was now on the verge of being offered the position of junior partner at Learner & Associates. He’d worked hard and received top marks in law school. Now the man lived and breathed law, briefs, and depositions. He had a sharp mind and was quickly becoming a talented and incisive criminal lawyer. Being in the courtroom gave him a thrill like riding the most daring roller coaster at Six Flags.
Sometimes, Allie worried that she wasn’t thrilling enough. The only time Sean got truly passionate was after he’d argued a heated and feisty trial.
Mrs. Strickland patted her hand. A little bit comforting. A little bit impatiently. And a little bit sadly.
“You alright Mom?” Allie asked.
Her mother gave a wan smile, and a tug of empathy rose in Allie’s chest. She’d never seen her mother wearing red lipstick. Any makeup really. Frying burgers and fries for the tourists that swarmed the town every day wasn’t exactly conducive to glamour.
Heartland Cove’s main industries were potato farms and lavender fields—and buses that disgorged tourists three times a day to gawk at the Heartland Cove bridge—the world’s longest covered bridge.
“You look lovely, Mom.”
Her mother was wearing a maroon sheath trimmed in lace, black pumps, pantyhose, and a ton of hairspray in a traditional middle-aged pouf. A far cry from jeans and a splattered, greasy apron.
Her cell phone began to buzz, and she recognized the familiar ring of her fiancé. “It’s Sean!” she shrieked, patting at her dress and then peering along the floorboard of the car. “I can’t find my phone! Why’s he calling? I talked to him just before we left the apartment. What if he got in an accident?”
“Calm down,” Jake said, speeding through a light. He turned to give Allie a grin. “Knowing him, he’s calling about the cop giving him a speeding ticket right about now.”
“Be useful and help me find my phone, Erin!”
Her sister pressed her lips together and folded her arms across her chest, tapping one toe on the floor mat.
“Okay, sorry,” Allie quickly corrected. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m panicking.”
“Wedding day jitters,” Marla said soothingly, searching under the car seats.
Allie lifted wads of satin as delicately as possible. She shook out the folds of her gown, but there was no sign of the phone. It was as if it had disappeared into another dimension.
“I wish you’d gotten married in Heartland Cove, sweetheart,” Mrs. Strickland said wistfully.
The ringing had stopped by now and Allie’s stomach clenched. Sean had trained her to never miss a phone call from anyone.
He always said that if they were going to excel at their careers and strive for every possible promotion, they could open their own law firm one day, Allie as office manager and head of PR. “Let no opportunity go to waste,” Sean said. “Grab them all.”
The Executive Page 19