Carolina Girl
Page 31
“There may not be much time for fancy weddings once ‘Mysterious’ hits the shelves,” he warned. “The company could get pretty big, pretty fast.”
“So could I,” she said with laughter, turning on her side because she loved looking at him. Clay’s need for physical activity to offset his intense mental work habits had developed nicely defined abs and shoulders to die for, but it was his eyes that held her gaze. Surely they were windows to the soul, as the poets said. Trusting the love she saw in his, she revealed one of her fears. “I could turn into a blimp in months. Are you ready for that?”
The ex-millionaire who’d had everything life had to offer smiled like a kid in a toy store, his whole face lighting with joy. “You wouldn’t mind? Having kids is kind of problematic for careers. I’d understand if you didn’t want—”
“I want one just like Midge,” she declared happily, snuggling closer. She shouldn’t have doubted that Clay would think of making babies as a wonderful new process he could explore. He would be a fantastic father simply because he’d have to figure out how kids worked. Love poured through her at the thought of how his mind operated. “But I’m not small.”
He deliberately lowered his gaze to her breasts. “Oh, yeah, I noticed. Your point?”
She laughed in relief at his foolishness. When he looked at her, he was seeing her, not her clothes or her attitude or her size, but the woman she was and would be. Just as she didn’t see the man who’d had it all but a man who wanted to understand how the world worked so he could fix it.
“My point is the same as yours.” She jiggled a little, just to keep him looking. She could see that more than his spirit was rising to the occasion. “Banks might not want blimps on their staff. Babies need mothers. I can work on your company and take care of myself and babies at the same time. Am I following your thoughts close enough?”
Clay abruptly sat up, arranged her on his lap, and leaned his back against the headboard. Gently cupping and lifting her breasts together, he returned his focus to her face. “Will you mind? Your career is important.”
She squirmed into a more comfortable position and basked in satisfaction when she succeeded in diverting his focus for a fraction of a second. She’d never liked men looking at her breasts until Clay came along. Now she reveled in it. “My career is in financial management. I help businesses grow. Can we have an office in Charleston?”
She had his full attention in a nanosecond. Understanding lit his bronzed face, and she could almost see his brain kick into gear. “How about a house with a tower overlooking the water, where we can spend the day making love?”
“And locking out the world.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and rejoiced in the crush of his muscled chest against her. Understanding ran deep. He needed time out from the world, and she could give him what he needed. In return, he would enthusiastically support the place she would build in the community because he didn’t need the money for himself. Who could ask for anything more?
“We could lock our families out,” he agreed with a touch of dryness at the sounds of pounding on the front door and voices rising from the porch interrupting their interlude.
“Lots of guest bedrooms so they can come visit us anytime they like,” she countered.
“Vegas tomorrow and a big ceremony later?”
“I’m feeling lucky,” she murmured against his neck. “Let’s gamble on it.”
o0o
It took nearly a week to reach Vegas.
They couldn’t skip the zoning meeting. When the Binghams announced they’d sell a third of their acreage to the state for a park and an equal amount to the Nature Conservancy for a wildlife preserve if their descendants were allowed to remain on the land, the entire audience stood up and cheered. The commission voted unanimously to allow restricted commercial use on the remaining third along the highway for development of small businesses.
Clay talked Aurora into running off for a quick wedding and returning to tell their families later so they wouldn’t have to make a big production of it. But she hadn’t been able to hide her engagement from Cissy, who promptly told Jake, who immediately told the entire world.
Mara called on her Hollywood connections to rent a casino. TJ and Jared notified family and arranged the logistics. Cleo organized entertainment and caretaking for the kids.
By week’s end, their entourage could have filled the plane to Vegas if they’d been efficient enough to catch the same flight.
“It’s better this way,” Clay intoned solemnly in imitation of his big brother as he gazed around the casino filled with their wedding party, still a little in awe at how quickly his private wedding had turned into a circus, and a lot in awe at how good it made him feel. “They’ll be much too busy gambling to know when we leave.”
“I think it was the Vegas part that decided it.” Tucking her arm around her husband’s, Aurora leaned against him to watch Cissy laugh and flirt with a poker dealer. As her maid of honor, Cissy had had her hair styled and tinted, and even consented to let Rory buy her a new dress. She looked fabulous, and the handsome poker dealer seemed more than interested. “Pops has always wanted to do Vegas.”
“He’s doing it in style.” Clay gazed over the glittering lights of the casino to locate the older man in his tux, his graying hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, his beard immaculately trimmed, and two women clinging to his arms as he punched the buttons of an electronic slot machine. “You’re not worried about losing him to the bright lights?”
He liked Jake’s down-to-earthness. He hoped he could rely on his new father-in-law to teach him the balance he needed in dealing with family. And kids. He glanced down at his gorgeous wife—Clay noted the solid gold band on Aurora’s finger with a good deal of pride and satisfaction—and tried to imagine how she would look carrying his child. Good. Very good, he decided.
She snuggled closer and almost purred with his attention. He enjoyed knowing that the more he indulged in looking, the more she liked it.
She’d chosen a sleeveless, cream-colored gown with a heart-shaped neckline that he couldn’t help studying—in pure intellectual interest—to see what held it in place. The amber sunburst dangling between her breasts distracted him into remembering last night, when she’d worn only the amber he’d given her and nothing else.
“Pop’s already designing a set of gnomes for the baby’s room,” she informed him, her eyes crinkling with laughter as she watched him consider this.
Since it was much too soon to predict babies, Clay pondered the image of cribs and dancing concrete gnomes. A burst of laughter diverted him to his own family competing at the blackjack table. TJ and Jared were teaching their wives the finer points of losing money. Cleo’s sister, a teacher who ran a day-care center, had taken Mandy and the other kids under her wing. The teacher’s husband already had a tall stack of winning chips in front of him.
“Concrete gnomes?” Clay finally asked, since even his creative mind couldn’t picture concrete Dopeys in juxtaposition with cribs.
Aurora laughed and tugged him toward the door, where their limo waited. She didn’t have to tug very hard. “Wooden ones. He’s decided to expand his inventory with woodworking. Not all the pines burned in the fire, and he figures to make lemonade out of what’s left.”
That made absolute, perfect sense, probably because his brain had checked out the instant she pressed a kiss to his cheek. He’d already learned that once Aurora felt safe, she was a creative and enthusiastic lover.
The honeymoon suite at the hotel—in Reno, out of range of their families—had a mirror over a whirlpool bath. He may have grown up in highbrow, wealthy surroundings, but he was learning to appreciate popular taste. He was learning to play, and Aurora was teaching him. He was looking forward to Reno.
She was looking forward to Paris. He’d promised her that, as soon as the game was making enough money so she felt comfortable spending it.
He looked forward to lots of things, but right now he was learning t
o live in the moment. He had the woman of his dreams on his arm, and the future was too bright to see.
Behind them, before they reached the double glass doors, red and blue lights flashed frenetically, sirens shrieked, and bells clamored, accompanied by wild cheers and shouts.
Turning, Clay and Aurora watched as silver coins poured from the slot machine Jake was operating, cascading into the bucket he held as he yelled in surprise and exultation. More coins tumbled onto the carpet to the tune of “We Are the Champions” on the speakers.
“Perfect,” Rory murmured. “It’s only fair.”
Laughing, they escaped before anyone noticed they were gone.
Acknowledgments
I want to thank Angela Shrader, RN, and Joan Kayse for their invaluable medical information. Any errors are entirely my own. They told me so. And thanks to Roxann Fortenberry and the Carolina and Kentucky Romance Writers for opening networks of information. You guys are the best!
And as always, my undying gratitude to Connie Rinehold and Mary Jo Putney for their clear vision and immense patience. Without them, I’d still be chasing the bottle cap under my desk.
About Patricia Rice
With several million books in print and New York Times and USA Today’s bestseller lists under her belt, former CPA Patricia Rice is one of romance’s hottest authors. Her emotionally-charged contemporary and historical romances have won numerous awards, including the RT Book Reviews Reviewers Choice and Career Achievement Awards. Her books have been honored as Romance Writers of America RITA® finalists in the historical, regency and contemporary categories.
A firm believer in happily-ever-after, Patricia Rice is married to her high school sweetheart and has two children. A native of Kentucky and New York, a past resident of North Carolina, she currently resides in St. Louis, Missouri, and now does accounting only for herself. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, the Authors Guild, and Novelists, Inc.
For further information, visit Patricia’s network:
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Copyright & Credits
Carolina Girl
The Carolina Series Book Three
Patricia Rice
Book View Café edition May 2012
ISBN: 978-1-61138-133-7
Copyright © 2004 Patricia Rice
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not inspired by any person known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
All Rights Reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.
Originally published 2004 by Ivy Books, Ballantine Publishing Group
The Carolina Series
Impossible Dreams
Almost Perfect
McCloud’s Woman
Carolina Girl
v20120518vnm
v20120519vnm
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Sample Chapter
Impossible Dreams
A Prequel to The Carolina Series
Patricia Rice
Book View Café Edition
December 2011
ISBN: 978-1-61138-130-6
Copyright © 2000 Patricia Rice
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One
i souport publik edekasion.
“If you’re a bill collector, all the money we have is in the cash box under the counter. If you take it all, you’ll be taking food from the mouths of babes,” a musically feminine voice called from behind the long glass counter.
Startled, Axell waited for his eyes to adjust to the murky interior of the New Age gift shop. The chiming bells of the door behind him silenced, and in their place the haunting aria from Man of La Mancha: “To dream, the impossible dream...To fight the unbeatable foe...” swelled to a crescendo.
Intrigued despite himself, he wondered if he’d entered some netherworld far from the ordinariness of the Carolina sunshine outside. “Shall I leave the change?” he inquired dryly, searching the narrow shop for the source of the voice. A display case counter stretched along one long wall. Crammed with items too intricate and numerous to identify, it claimed his interest first. The layer of dust and fingerprints on the glass could be the reason most of the objects were unidentifiable. Fastidiously, he dusted a corner over a bumper sticker reading: Very funny, Scotty, now beam down my clothes.
“You can have the Canadian pennies and McDonald’s tokens,” the voice called cheerfully.
“Miss Alyssum?” he inquired, bending to look over the glass for the shop proprietor but captured instead by what appeared to be a crystal ball beneath the spot he’d wiped clean. He ignored the overflowing shelves of commonplace gnomes, dragons, crystals, cards, and dangling beads on the other wall, but the shimmering rainbows of color beneath the glass deserved further examination.
“Still there? Be with you in a minute. Once I’m down here, it’s a struggle to get back up.”
Intrigued by a telescope on a tripod, Axell used his handkerchief to dust it off, adjusted it to face the dirty shop window, and peeked through the eyeglass. A kaleidoscopic whirl of colors materialized before his eyes, sparkling like jewels through the sunshine, gliding and transforming from the fires of the sun to the tides of the sea in vivid blues and greens.
“Haven’t seen one of these in years. They’ve improved.” He’d come in here with a definite purpose, but it slipped his mind as he looked up and fell into eyes the same shade of sea blue and green he’d just admired in the kaleidoscope.
Startled by the unexpected intimacy of her gaze, Axell stepped back. He’d thought that silly nonsense about a man drowning in a woman’s eyes a lot of sentimental claptrap. Maybe the air of the shop contained hallucinogenic smoke.
Wryly noting the dusty handkerchief in his hand, she brought him back from his cloud. “Let me guess, Virgo, right? I don’t suppose you’ve come to make order of my universe, by any chance?” She threw her own dusty rag onto the counter. “It’s murder cleaning all this junk. Cleo’s ideas were always bigger than her ability to carry them out.”
Grounded again, Axell blinked and tried to sort out the various impressions conveyed by the extraordinary apparition behind the counter. Once he disentangled himself from the crystal turquoise of long-lashed eyes, he encountered a fiery explosion of dark red wiry curls streaked with — purple? He’d had some interesting clientele in his bar before, but none could equal this eccentricity.
This wouldn’t do. He’d come here for a reason. He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted — his gaze drifted back to that purple streak. It almost made sense against the blue-green of those eyes.
Taking a deep breath, he gathered his wits again. “Miss Alyssum?”
She nodded, and the curls bobbed vigorously. “Right the first time. And you are...?”
“Axell
Holm.” Unconsciously, he rearranged the disorderly stack of loose cards on the counter. One fell over, revealing a grinning jokester figure. “Tarot?” he inquired.
“Don’t do this to me. I definitely do not need this.” She removed the cards from his hands, tapped the deck together, and stacked them with the unopened boxes. “Not only Virgo, but probably Aquarius ascendant. I can’t imagine a worse combination. You must have driven your mother crazy.”
Unperturbed, Axell opened the cover of a book titled Messages from Michael. “I’ve examined the precepts of astrology and while it has a curiously reassuring effect on certain personalities, it has no scientific basis whatsoever. When looked at as a whole, it is not only improbable, but laughably naive. If this is the kind of thing you teach in your school, then perhaps the mayor is right in wanting it closed. I’m certain the children would benefit from more scientific direction.”
A benevolent smile lit her face, creating the illusion of shimmering mother-of-pearl luminescence in the dusky shop interior, drawing his attention to moist, pink, bow-shaped lips. For a brief — very brief — moment, Axell imagined kissing those lips. Appalled by the kind of lusty image he hadn’t experienced since adolescence, he immediately drew back and focused on the details of his surroundings. “The Impossible Dream” changed to a Gaelic pipe, and the angle of the sun shifted to shoot a beam of rainbows through the crystal prisms hanging above the proprietor’s head.
“Would you like some tea, Mr. Holm? Whatever my sister’s failings, she knows her teas. I have a particularly lovely Chinese green that might soothe your muddy aura sufficiently for us to communicate.”
“No, thank you, Miss Alyssum. I have come to discuss the school. The mayor has every intention of closing it.”
Panic pierced her, but Maya smiled unblinkingly at the attractive lion of a man in front of the counter. She’d guess him to be in his mid-thirties, a decade older than she and definitely of a dangerous social status, judging by his excellently tailored dark blue suit and expensive silk tie. She seldom responded physically to men with his cool Nordic looks, especially ones with the arrogant authority of Axell Holm. She preferred her men dark, passionate, and artistic. Good thing, too, because she didn’t need those dreamy Aquarian gray eyes messing with her already crazed mind. The way they narrowed as they followed her incited definite palpitations.