by Joanna Sims
“I appreciate you meeting me,” Brock said to Taylor.
“I was surprised to hear from you. You said you needed my advice?”
He did need advice. He’d been trying to convince Casey to put in notice at her job and come back to Montana to be with him and Hannah. But no matter what angle he tried, she was resisting. He didn’t doubt that she loved him—yet she always found a reason why they should postpone their reunion. For him, the time for them to get back to the business of being a family of three had long since passed. Taylor knew Casey better than anyone, and that included him for now. It wouldn’t always be that way.
“You know I love Casey.”
Taylor nodded. “I do know that.”
“I want her here with me, Taylor. I want us to get married. But, no matter what I say, she’s always got a reason why we’ve got to wait.”
“She’s concerned about Hannah...”
“I know she is, and God knows I love her for it...but Hannah misses her. And Casey’s talking about working her contract and waiting until the summer to come out. Hannah will be in California with her mother then and we could be right back where we started—except now it’s a year later.”
“But what do you want from me?”
“Tell me how to get through to your sister, Taylor. Because I’ve run out of ideas and I want her with us. And so does Hannah.”
Taylor studied him for a moment and then she said, “The only thing I can tell you is that Casey can really dig her heels in when she thinks she’s right. If you want to convince her that you’re ready and Hannah’s ready, then you need to get your butt on a plane, go to Chicago and do some convincing in person.”
Chapter Sixteen
Casey Brand stepped off the elevator into the reception area of the Signature Room. Situated ninety-five stories above ground level on Michigan Avenue in downtown Chicago, the Signature Room restaurant had the best views in Chicago and it was one of Casey’s all-time favorite places to dine. No matter how many times she watched the sunset over the downtown skyline of her hometown city, it never lost its appeal.
Tonight was a special night—she had just received a clean bill of health earlier in the week from her gynecological oncologist and her parents were taking her out to eat to celebrate. She hadn’t dressed up in a pretty dress in such a long time, so she gave herself permission to break out her Bloomingdale’s credit card. Several hours of shopping later, she emerged with a fabulous cocktail dress that made her legs look longer than they were, her waist smaller than it really was and gave the illusion of an hourglass shape. Of course, shoes and a cute evening clutch to match were absolute necessities.
After working up a sweat at Bloomingdale’s, Casey met her mom at her mom’s favorite spa for a day of beauty. Her mom treated her to a deep-tissue massage, a manicure-pedicure, a facial, hair and makeup. The whole deal. By the end of her shopping excursion and spa day, Casey felt reenergized and ready to slip on her sassy cocktail dress and strappy, fabulous heels, and meet her parents at the Signature Room.
“Reservations under Angus or Vivian Brand,” Casey said to the maître d’.
The gentleman located their reservation. “Right this way.”
“Thank you.”
Casey followed the man to one of the tables with a window view. She had asked that her father make an early evening reservation so she could see the sun set—sitting at a table at the top of the John Hancock Center was like having a window with a view of the whole world.
The gentleman stopped next to a table set for two and pulled out a chair for her.
“I’m sorry—we need a table for three.”
“I apologize, ma’am—let me check into that for you. Please have a seat and I’ll be right back.”
Casey sat down and enjoyed the view while she waited. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man walking her way—she turned her head toward him.
“Brock...?”
The man walking toward her was Brock. Her ranch foreman was dressed to the nines in a tailored black suit and a soft gray shirt with a beautifully matched tie. He was carrying a single red rose in his hand and he looked so tall and handsome and in control as he walked her way.
The look on Casey’s face when she first spotted him in a place where she least expected to see him was worth all of the planning and preparation for this surprise dinner. He’d enlisted the help of Casey’s family—he wouldn’t have been able to pull this off as well, or as smoothly, if they hadn’t agreed to be complicit.
Casey stood up and met him halfway—Brock hugged her tightly, not caring about the stares or the curious eyes. He only cared about holding the woman he loved in his arms again. She tilted her head back, her eyes shining with happiness and surprise—she kissed him lightly on the lips and then immediately wiped her plum-colored lipstick off his lips.
“This is for you.” He handed her the rose.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
Perhaps it was a cliché to love red roses, but they were her favorite flower. And Brock must have picked the biggest, reddest, most scented specimen he could find because it was one of the prettiest, most fragrant red roses she had ever received.
Brock held out her chair for her and then joined her at the table.
She immediately reached for his hand; there had been a small part of him that had worried about her reaction. Had she really been stalling their reunion because of Hannah—or was she using his daughter, consciously or unconsciously, as an excuse? But the love and acceptance he saw in her eyes scrubbed away his doubt. Casey loved him. It was there on her pretty, freckled face for anyone to see.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” She leaned toward him.
“I couldn’t wait any longer to see you.”
She was wearing her long red hair down tonight, just as he had imagined it would be, and the green material of her dress only enhanced the loveliness of her wide green eyes.
“I’ve missed you.” Casey put her other hand on top of their clasped hands. “I must think of you a hundred times a day.”
Their waiter stopped by their table with water, took their drink orders and brought them the menus.
Casey didn’t open her menu right away. “How’s Hannah?”
“She’s having a good year. She has a message for you.”
Brock handed Casey his phone; she pushed the “play” icon on the video and smiled as Hannah’s round face and wild brown curls came to life.
“Hi, Casey...it’s Hannah. Hey—when are you coming back? I hope you like what’s on the menu!”
Casey handed the phone back to Brock.
“She has the cutest face! I swear it’s the truth.”
Brock slipped the phone into his pocket. “She misses you.”
Casey felt a twinge of sadness—she missed Hannah almost as much as she missed Brock. It wasn’t this way before her summer break, but there were as many people in Montana to miss now as there were in Chicago—her aunt and uncle, her sister and niece, her cousins.
“I miss her.”
“You don’t have to miss her.” Brock looked directly into her eyes. “You can see her every day whenever you want.”
They had had this discussion so many different times in so many different ways—but the facts, as far as she was concerned, hadn’t changed. On her end, she was under contract for one more year with her school and her kids needed her. But whenever she would bring this up to Brock, he would say, I need you. Hannah needs you.
On Brock’s end, Casey felt strongly that Hannah needed time to ad
just to her parents’ divorce. She needed time and they needed to give it to her. Brock agreed with her completely, but they also disagreed completely about the timeline.
Brock must have seen her furrow her brow. “We have plenty of time to talk later. Right now, the only thing I want to do is enjoy a great meal and enjoy this gorgeous view.”
“It is an amazing view, isn’t it? You can see for miles.”
Brock smiled at her. “I meant you.”
Casey felt herself flush with pleasure. Brock always made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the room—he never so much as looked at another woman when they were together. He genuinely only had eyes for her.
“What looks good to you?” Brock looked at his menu.
Casey didn’t pick up her menu.
“Aren’t you going to look at your menu?” he asked her with an expectant expression on his face.
“Uh-uh.” She shook her head. “I already know what I want. I have this menu memorized.”
“They may have something new on the menu—something you may want to try.”
“Nope. I’ve been thinking about the Scottish salmon all day. It’s in-credible.”
“Look at the appetizers...you may want something to start.”
“Lobster bisque.” She nodded. “Every time.”
Brock had stopped looking at his menu; he was frowning at her in thought.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
After a second of thinking, Brock picked up her menu and handed it to her. “Please look at the menu.”
“Why do you want me to look at it so badly?” She laughed.
“Don’t you remember what Hannah said to you in her message?”
Casey had to think back to the video, but then it hit her—Hannah had said that she hoped she liked what was on the menu.
With understanding dawning in her eyes, Casey gave him a suspicious look before she looked curiously at the menu. In the middle of the menu, a new dish had been added:
Meet Me at the Chapel for the Rest of My Life.
Marry Me, Casey.
Casey stared at those words printed on her favorite menu, blinking her eyes rapidly to stop tears from dropping into her lashes.
She looked up from the menu and Brock was no longer in his chair. He was kneeling beside her, in the now-crowded restaurant, holding an open ring box in the palm of his hand.
Casey’s knees started to shake from the adrenaline being pumped all over her body by her rapidly beating heart. She had known that one day this proposal would come, but Brock had been so good at hiding his plans to fly into Chicago and surprise her, that there was no way she could have anticipated that the proposal would happen tonight.
Brock took her hand in his. “Casey Brand. If you’ll let me, I want to spend every day of the rest of my life showing you how much I love you. Will you marry me?”
Casey didn’t need to think about it—she already knew what she wanted to do. “Yes. I’ll marry you, Brock.”
Brock must not have heard her, because he asked her, “Was that a yes?”
Casey laughed and brushed some wayward tears from her cheeks. “Yes!”
Brock took the antique-inspired brilliant-cut diamond ring set in filigreed platinum from the box. Everyone within earshot or sight line of the table started to clap and cheer as he slipped the ring onto her left hand.
“I love you.” She put her hands on either side of his face and kissed him.
“I love you more.”
* * *
Brock had reserved a suite at a downtown hotel, so their engagement night was full of incredible views of downtown Chicago—first at the Signature Room and now at a suite at the Hyatt Regency. Brock had lit candles in the room so they could leave the curtains open and enjoy the twinkling of the city lights all around them.
Brock walked up behind her carrying a glass of champagne. “What are you doing?”
She made a pleasurable noise when her fiancé brushed her hair to the side to kiss the back of her neck.
“I’m sending everyone a picture of us at the restaurant after we got engaged.”
Brock took her phone and handed her the glass of champagne. “That can wait.”
She laughed easily. “Okay—you’re right.”
They toasted each other and drank the champagne, and then with the red and green and white lights of the city as their landscape, Brock wrapped his arms around her from behind and breathed in the scent of her perfume.
“I’ve missed this,” he murmured into her neck.
She put her hands over his hands and leaned her head back to rest on his shoulder. “So have I.”
Brock moved her hair over her shoulder so he could unzip the zipper. As he inched the zipper downward, he kissed her skin as it was exposed.
“Are you ready to try?” he asked.
She knew what he was asking—was she ready to try to make love for the first time after her surgery? The doctor had cleared her for sex and her stitches had dissolved. The changes on the inside of her body scared her, but she did want to try. She missed being connected to Brock in that most intimate of ways.
Brock slipped Casey’s cocktail dress off her shoulders and it fell in a whisper of fabric to the plush carpet at her feet. She stepped out of the dress, standing now in her bra, panties and her strappy new shoes.
Casey turned in his arms; his hands felt hot on her bare skin as he kissed her lips and neck and the rounded tops of her breasts.
“You’re so beautiful to me, Casey. So beautiful.”
Casey ran her finger through his hair as he rested his head for a moment on her chest. When he lifted his head, she smiled a playful smile; she took him by the tie and led him over to the bed.
“You look very sexy in a suit, cowboy.” She pushed him gently in the direction of the bed.
“You think so?”
Casey walked behind him and pulled his suit jacket off his shoulders. She ran her hand over his backside and gave it a little smack before she circled back around to his front side.
“Nice.” Brock winked at her when she slapped him playfully on the backside. “Foreplay.”
Casey gave him a little smile and tugged the tie knot loose. Brock let her have control for a couple of minutes, watching with admiring eyes while she untucked his shirt, unbuckled his belt and started to slowly unbutton his shirt one button at a time.
Brock grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her against his body. As she laughed at his impatience, the ranch foremen reached behind her and popped open her bra. He pushed the flimsy material out of his way so he could take her breast into his mouth.
She held on to his shoulders and rested her forehead on the top of his head. The feel of his warm mouth on her breast made her catch her breath.
Brock had a devilish glint in his eyes when he lifted his head. He spun her around, cupped her breast with his hand and then slipped his fingers into her panties.
“Hmm,” he murmured when his fingers found her. “Someone missed me, too.”
Casey dropped her head back and moaned again. Brock knew how to make her body hum in the most sensual ways. She reached behind her and put her hand over the hard bulge in his half-unzipped pants.
Brock made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. He quickly divested her of her panties—the only things she had on now were jewelry and her high heels.
Her fiancé stripped out of his clothes without fanfare; he’d lost some weig
ht while they were apart. The ranch foreman—tall and burly and 100 percent male—was a thing of beauty as far as she was concerned.
“Do you want to take your shoes off?” Brock asked her.
Casey looked down at her sexy heels. “Actually—no. Why shouldn’t I leave them on?”
“It’s okay with me.” Brock swept her off her feet and into his arms.
Casey laughed at the odd feeling of being carried naked. “Wait! The bed is that way!”
Brock ignored her and carried her over to the wide windowsill ledge that ran the length of the long wall of windows that maximized the view.
“What are you doing?” she squealed when he started to put her down.
“Something I’ve wanted to do since I saw this ledge.” Brock put her down on it.
“It’s cold!” she complained on a laugh.
Brock knelt down in front of her. “Shhh.”
Casey looked over her shoulder—yes, they were in silhouette, but it was highly conceivable that someone out there in high-rise land could see her bare back and snow-white butt cheeks!
“Brock!” she tried to protest again, but he refused to listen. Her fiancé gently coaxed her knees apart, exposing her to his admiring eyes.
When he put his mouth on her—when she felt his tongue taste her, all thoughts of further protest drifted away on her moans of pleasure.
Brock wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her toward him. When she was ready, when she was wet and so sensitive and digging her fingernails into his shoulders, Brock took her to the bed.
“I love you, Casey.” Brock lay between her open thighs.
She kissed him. “I love you.”
As gently as he could, and with as much control as he could muster, Brock eased their bodies together.
“Are you okay?” he asked her. She was so hot and tight and slick; it was difficult for him to take it slow and gentle.
Casey was taken out of the sensuality of the moment into the fear of the unknown. Would her body react the same? Would it hurt? Would she be able to orgasm?