Kiss & Makeup

by Alison Kent

  Right now she was feeling an urge to clock out and make the next flight to Texas.

  An urge that seemed to have come out of nowhere but that she knew had been close to the surface since yesterday when she’d told Quentin goodbye.

  “Anyhow,” she said, saving the rest of her thoughts for later. “Tell me about the wedding, but feel free to leave out the details of the wedding night.”

  “Oh, oh.” April waved both hands. “It was the cutest little chapel. Evan tried to talk me into being married by Elvis, but that wasn’t going to happen. I was willing to give up the Belgian lace, four-foot train and the eight attendants but not the roses or the doves.”

  “One dove.” Evan held up one finger, twisted his mouth wryly. “In a cage.”

  Shandi laughed. “Sounds perfect.”

  “Oh, it was. Except that you weren’t there to be our witness,” April added with a bit of a pout.

  “So let me see your ring,” Shandi said, drying her hands after wiping down the bar. “Did your man here spring for a big chunky rock?”

  Fingers spread, April placed her left hand on the bar. “No. He commissioned it.”

  “From who?”

  “Me,” April said softly, her voice almost reverent, as was her expression as she looked into Evan’s eyes.

  “You designed your own wedding band? Oh, April.” Shandi picked up April’s fingers for a closer look at the wide band of hammered gold and amethyst chips. “It’s gorgeous. And so sickeningly romantic.”

  Tears misted her eyes as she lifted her gaze. “I’m so happy for you two.”

  And she was. She truly was. But now it was time to get happy for herself.

  Suddenly she was certain of what she needed to do to make that happen.

  She only hoped she could pull it off.

  FLYING OUT OF LA GUARDIA for the second time in a week should’ve been one of the hardest things Shandi had ever done. In a way it was. She was leaving behind so much. Her job, her classes, her friends.

  Telling herself it was temporary, that she’d be back, that the compromise she was making was not a betrayal of all she’d worked toward the last year was easy.

  Believing it was harder. Until she reminded herself that her gains would quickly wipe any lingering thoughts of losses from her mind.

  She was going to be with Quentin, going to make her life with the man she loved, the man who was her life.

  Two semesters remained in her degree plan. She would take the hiatus, certain he would never insist she sacrifice her dream completely. In fact, she knew he wouldn’t.

  He would do all he could to make it happen for her, including letting her return to school when she was ready. In the meantime, she wouldn’t stop him from calling in markers, from making contacts, using his connections.

  But she wouldn’t take any money unless he agreed the money would be a loan. That was the bottom line of her pride.

  The flight seemed to take forever since this time she was suffering none of the negative trepidation she’d suffered before.

  Instead her stomach was a bundle of butterfly nerves, swooping and swarming and splashing through the coffee that was the only thing she’d had time for this morning before her taxi arrived.

  At long last the plane began its descent into Austin. She stared out the window, seeing nothing of what she’d seen earlier in the week, this time seeing what she thought Quentin must see upon landing.

  His home. His future. His life as he wanted to live it.

  The life she wanted to share.

  She only thought once about turning around and taking the next flight back to New York. Only once. Because then she couldn’t wait to see him and surprise him and tell him all the things she was feeling.

  How much she’d missed seeing him today—the only time she hadn’t seen him in the last ten or so days—and how strangely lonely she’d been.

  How she’d gone to class and thought of him instead of paying attention as she manipulated her hair-color ad in Photoshop, staring into his eyes there on the screen until she couldn’t take it anymore.

  She wanted to tell him about rushing home to change for work and finding the flower he’d tucked behind her ear that night during the carriage ride. About wearing it on the subway to Hush and losing it in the crowd.

  She wanted to share her feelings over April and Evan’s joyful and surprising announcement and over seeing Constantine Hale walk through the lobby and feeling profoundly the absence of her love.

  That more than anything was what she wanted him to know. How very much she loved him. How very much she did.

  QUENTIN WANDERED FROM HIS kitchen out onto the back deck, from where he stared off into the distance at the setting sun sparkling over Lake Travis.

  The view was the reason he’d bought the property and built here. He’d decided way back when that it was the perfect place to sit and enjoy life to the fullest.

  A few days ago he’d actually thought he might be enjoying that life with Shandi. She had fit in so perfectly, as corny as it sounded, showing him what it would be like if his house was truly a home.

  She’d only spent one night here, yet he’d turned expecting to find her coming toward him so many times since he’d lost count. He did it again now, swearing he heard her footsteps, smelled her scent, heard the crystal bell of her laugh.

  He was losing his mind, because there was nothing behind him but his big empty house. He shook his head, leaned into his palms where he’d braced them on the deck’s cedar railing and wondered if she’d answer the phone if he called.

  Or if she’d see the Austin area code on caller ID and let her machine pick up.

  If she’d screen him out, waiting a day to return his call, the next time waiting two days, three the one after that, easing him down slowly since he was obviously too dumb to take the hint.

  She didn’t want to hurt him by coming out and telling him she’d made her choice. That she’d chosen her career over anything she might feel for him.

  That proving herself to her family meant more to her than the fact that she’d already proven herself to him.

  He was feeling way too sorry for himself. This was turning out to be a hell of a bad way to start his new life. He needed to suck it up, get on with his plans.

  To stop thinking he was smelling her scent, hearing her voice—

  “Quentin?”

  He turned, his heart pounding. He wasn’t imagining anything, because there she was, walking across the flagstone floor of his great room, waving one hand and saying, “Uh, you probably need to turn off your alarm. I sorta broke in and I’m sure it’s dialing 911 as we speak.”

  Crazy wench. He hurried through the sliding glass door, punched the security code into the keypad, barely able to remember the numbers for all the questions running through his head.

  He finally asked the only one that mattered. “What are you doing here?”

  She moved from the dining area into the kitchen, keeping the bar between them as a buffer. “I came to take you up on your offer.”

  It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it was a start. An opening. A door that she hadn’t closed. “Good. Okay.” She was here for business. But she was here. “I’ll call and set up a meeting. We can get started laying out plans tomorrow.”

  But when he looked over again, he found she stood there with her arms crossed, shaking her head. “No, Quentin. Not that offer.”

  He laced his hands on top of his head to hold himself in place, afraid he’d reach for her, afraid that wasn’t what she wanted. “Which one then, Shandi? Which offer?”

  He didn’t think he’d seen her expression any more serious than it was when she said, “The one about giving this relationship a fighting chance.”

  That he could deal with. That was better. They were almost there. “As a long-distance one?”

  When she shook her head, he couldn’t even move. All he could do was grin. A big, fat, stupid clown of a grin. “Did you bring your things?”

&n
bsp; “I didn’t have time to bring anything but me,” she said, and he wanted to tell her she’d brought the only thing that mattered.

  But then she went on. “I left Evan and April a note to pack me up. I figured it could be on your dime.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll wire them money tomorrow.” He’d wire them hundreds of thousands if it meant Shandi would have no reason to go back to New York.

  “They went to Vegas and got married.”

  “Whoa.” He wondered how she felt about that, about losing two roommates, about leaving her friends. Wondered even more how she felt about her future being here with him. “Did you want to do that?”

  “Which part? Go to Vegas? Or get married?”

  “Either. Both. Anything.”

  She laughed. “Vegas would be a fun trip to take. I’ve never been.”

  “Then we’ll go.”

  “Sure,” she said, adding, “But when we get married, I was thinking of doing it in Round-Up.”

  He could only nod.

  “And I was thinking of waiting at least a little while. Making sure this really is more than a fling. That it’s truly as pure and rare as you told me.”

  “I don’t have any doubt,” he barely managed to croak out before he lost the rest of his voice.

  She only waited a moment before tearfully whispering, “I don’t either.”

  He opened his arms then, and she stepped into his embrace. And they stood there holding one another, not speaking, not moving, doing nothing more than enjoying the existence of this magic they’d made.

  They did it all with the sun outside setting over the lake while the sky twinkled with the stars just waking up.

  And in that moment Quentin realized exactly what Shandi saw when she sat and stared at the sky.

  She saw possibilities and promises and potential. She was right. About so many things. But about this most of all.

  That what they had found together didn’t need to be rushed. They would have it forever.

  And that the sky truly was the limit.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-6335-6

  KISS & MAKEUP

  Copyright © 2005 by Mica Stone.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All 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 even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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