by A. C. Arthur
This time Janelle did try to pull her hand away from his grasp, but he held firm.
“And besides, once my family announces that they’re backing your father in the election, we’ll already be connected in the political arena. We might as well make it official all the way around,” he finished.
When he looked at her then, he even had the audacity to appear proud of himself, as if he’d just presented the case of the century and there was no way she could refute him.
“You cannot be serious,” she said finally. “You’re asking me to marry you and we’ve known each other not quite two months now.”
“I just drove thirty minutes to get to your house in the middle of the night,” he told her pointedly. “Now I’m sitting on your bed naked after what might actually be the best sex I’ve ever had, and you’re commenting on how well we know each other.”
“This is sex, Ballard,” she refuted. “It’s been sex since the first two dates, remember? That’s the way this works for you.”
He was quiet for a second, thinking, just as she was.
“Is that all it’s really been, Janelle? Are you honestly telling me that after your no-dating stance, you just decided to simply have sex with me?”
Well, now that he put it that way... “That’s not what I’m saying. I just think this might be rather quick. And as you said, the sex just now was really good. Maybe you were just in the moment or something.” God, she hoped so. Otherwise, what the hell was she going to say?
He used his other hand to tilt her chin upward so that they were staring eye to eye. “I’ve never asked another woman to marry me before. I’ve never even considered being married or having a family, not until you.”
As far as words went, those weren’t so bad, Janelle thought. They weren’t exactly what she thought she should be hearing when a man asked her to marry him, but they weren’t as bad as I’m glad I’m not marrying you either. More cruel words Janelle thought she’d never hear again.
Still, none of that gave her an idea of what her answer should be or if she should even be considering this offer at all.
Ballard didn’t give her another minute to contemplate, but moved in closer to her, touching his lips softly to hers.
This she could do, Janelle thought as she let her eyes flutter closed, accepting the softness of his mouth against hers, the warmth of their tongues slipping and sliding along each other as they seemed to enjoy doing.
She didn’t allow herself to think of the question again, didn’t want to contemplate, wanted only to feel. It had been so long since she’d felt or since she’d let feelings guide her and she was long past due. So she wrapped her arms around Ballard’s neck, let him pull the covers away from her and they lay down together, kissing, moaning, loving each other, even if only in the physical sense, once more.
Chapter 13
“I’m getting married,” Janelle announced on Monday as they sat at the Quarterdeck finishing off their after-dinner glasses of wine. “Next week,” she finished when neither Vicki nor Sandra said a word.
She drank the last little bit of her wine, letting the words hang in the air as her two best friends stared at her wide-eyed, questions undoubtedly rolling through their minds but not quite able to be spoken just yet.
As she set her glass on the table, she nodded. “I know just how you feel. I felt that way myself the first few moments after Ballard popped the question. It took some cajoling and some...ah...convincing that this was the logical next step for us. But now I’m game and I haven’t been able to think of anything else since. I finally get to plan my wedding! Can you believe that? I thought I’d forgotten what I wanted all those years ago, but I didn’t, and I cannot wait to get started. We don’t have much time. Did I tell you it’s in a week?”
“Stop. Stop. Stop,” Vicki protested, holding up a hand and leaning over the table to stare at Janelle. “Are you serious?”
“I think she is,” Sandra replied blandly. “The real question should maybe be, are you out of your damned mind?”
Janelle laughed. She’d known that question would come from one of them at some point.
“Does your father know? Is this about the election? Because it’s only two weeks away and the polls indicate that he’s got the lead over Windom, so I don’t think you need to go this far to win,” Vicki told her matter-of-factly.
“I’m not out of my mind,” Janelle said, looking directly at Sandra. Then, switching her gaze to Vicki, she continued, “I haven’t told my father yet. Having dinner with him and DJ day after tomorrow. And the Dubois family had already decided to endorse Dad, so that’s not why we’re doing this.”
Sandra watched Janelle through narrowed eyes. “Okay, well, since you opened up that can, why are you two doing this? You said he proposed? When? Why so soon? Are you pregnant?”
Janelle’s smile slipped. “Not funny. You know how obsessive I am about using birth control.”
“Even though you weren’t dating, yes, we know,” Vicki added with a roll of her eyes. “But you have to admit this is weird for that fact alone. It’s out of the blue and it just doesn’t ring true. I mean, do you love him? Does he love you?”
Janelle didn’t want to answer either of those questions. She was prepared for anything else they asked or assumed, but not that.
“Look, it’s the right thing to do for us. Every couple is different and we know what we want. So do I have a dress designer and a florist or should I start looking for vendors?”
“You should probably start looking for your common sense since you have obviously lost it,” Sandra quipped.
Janelle frowned. “Oh, I see. It was fine for me to sleep with him and—what did you say?—‘leave if necessary’? But I can’t possibly marry him. He can’t possibly want to marry me of all people, the uptight and boring one of the Silk Sisters.”
Silence immediately followed her heated words and Janelle felt bad, sort of. These were her friends. They were supposed to support her, not look at her as though she’d broken four or five laws and was headed to death row.
“Come on, it’s my wedding,” she said quietly. “Are we really going to argue about this?”
Sandra finished off her drink, set the glass down and frowned toward the window, then looked back at Janelle. “I’m going to say this because I’m your friend and I love you, and I know you’re not going to like it.”
She gave Janelle a moment to object. Janelle remained silent.
“Don’t feel like you have to marry the first guy to ask you since Jack. You’re a terrific woman. You’re not frigid and you’re not boring, despite what that asshole said and did to you. That was all about him, Janelle. You were the best thing to ever happen to his sorry ass. And you deserve the very best. That’s all I want for you.”
Vicki joined in as soon as Sandra finished. “That’s all we want for you.”
Reaching her hands across the table, Janelle smiled at her friends. When their fingers were entwined, she told them with all the honesty she absolutely felt at the moment, “I am happy. I know it seems strange and out of character for me, but this is what I want to do. It’s what I need to do for myself for a change. And it’s going to be terrific once we finally start planning.”
In seconds they were all smiling, all grasping each other’s hands and silently committing to this wedding, to this joining, no matter what they might be feeling on the inside.
“Okay, let’s get started,” Vicki said, digging into her purse for her notepad and pen.
Sandra followed suit, retrieving her iPad from her bag. Glad they’d now shifted to work mode, Janelle went into her own purse, then took out her tablet and pulled up the document she’d already begun working on regarding her wedding. That was what she’d titled the document—My Wedding. She’d never thought she’d be at this place, planning this event. Of
all the events she’d ever planned, this one definitely had the most significance, the most emotional impact. Fighting back tears, she pushed her empty plate aside and was ready to begin.
“You love pink,” Vicki began. “And orchids are your favorite.”
“I still have the notes from our high school days,” Sandra began. “I’ve kept a file for each of us separately, so I know exactly what type of dress you want.”
Janelle cleared her throat. “I don’t want any of that,” she announced.
They both looked up at her in question.
“I have a totally different idea for my wedding now,” she told them. “I’m not that same idealistic dreamer I was in high school and I’m certainly not the naive love-struck girl I was in college.”
Sandra nodded her agreement. “You’re right,” she said. “Tell us what you have in mind.”
With a smile, Janelle happily began, “The theme is...change. Times change, seasons change, and if they’re smart enough and open to personal growth, people eventually change.”
Vicki smiled. “All right, I’m intrigued.”
Janelle turned her tablet so that they could both get a visual of what she’d come up with.
“Fall is my favorite season. I love the fresh crisp colors, the scent in the air, the buffer between the sultry days of summer and the cold snowy days of winter. I want to incorporate all those elements into a whimsical and celebratory experience.”
Tapping her pen against the table, Vicki nodded. “I can see it. Huge Tuscan planters filled with chrysanthemums, dahlias, spider mums.”
“And tulips,” Janelle added. “I want baby tulips because they have so much potential for cheeriness.”
“Is that the Chancellor property?” Sandra asked, staring down at the tablet.
“Yes, I was thinking of going with a rustic-chic theme. We could transform the barn space so that it’s elegant and play off the earthy charm at the same time.” Excitement formed in the pit of Janelle’s stomach like a slow storm, churning and brewing, waiting for the exact moment to break free. She was certain that moment would be the day she walked down that aisle and said “I do” to Ballard, to the man who would be her husband. The husband she never thought she would have.
“Oh, that’s going to be lovely, Janelle. Just lovely!” Vicki purred.
Sandra was nodding again, this time going back into her bag to get her sketchpad. Pulling the pencil she kept tucked in the spiral top, she turned to a clean page and talked as she sketched, not looking up at them.
“You won’t wear white, because change is good. Flip it a little and go with a peach or maybe even a very soft green, celadon, maybe. Halter, V-neck, simple yet chic. The perfect combination for Janelle Howerton!” Sandra happily lifted the quick sketch and showed it to Janelle.
Janelle did tear up then, the emotion filling her throat until she thought she might not be able to speak. “I love it!” she exclaimed. “I was thinking of a charcoal-gray-and-orange color scheme. Ballard looks fantastic in charcoal-gray. And you two can wear a soft gray dress.”
“And you’ll be the splash of color in a lovely shade of peach,” Sandra said, confirming she was on board with the color scheme.
“I love it! This is going to be beautiful,” Vicki exclaimed.
“Oh, my goodness, I can’t believe you’re the first one of us to get married,” Sandra added with her own gleeful smile.
“I can’t either,” Janelle admitted. “But I’m really going to marry Ballard Dubois in exactly six days. So let’s get ready to pull some all-nighters.”
“With that said, we’re going to need some champagne,” Vicki announced.
“I’m with that,” Sandra agreed, waving over one of the waiters. After she ordered champagne and the waiter came back with two chilled bottles and three glasses, they all held their glasses up for a toast.
“To the first of the Silk Sisters to walk down the aisle,” Sandra began.
“To Janelle’s happily-ever-after,” Vicki followed up.
“To new beginnings and taking chances,” Janelle finished, and as they clinked glasses, bringing them to their lips for their first sips of the chilly bubbly liquid, words echoed in Janelle’s mind.
To love.
* * *
“Your plane ticket, sir,” Lucy, Ballard’s secretary for the past six years, said, placing an envelope down on his desk.
He barely looked up, he was so focused on quarterly reports and storage contracts. Building their own warehouse was the best decision he’d ever made. He could be proud of that fact. His father had disagreed, believing that the tax breaks they would get from using city-owned facilities would work out more to their advantage. But that wasn’t true and those tax breaks were contingent on which politician was in office at what time. For Ballard that was too much of a gamble. So not only were they now getting New York offices, but just yesterday they’d broken ground on the spot where their new warehouse would be built.
“A car will be waiting for you at the airport and your room at the Ritz-Carlton is already booked.”
He heard Lucy talking, knew she was saying something about the impromptu trip to Miami he was making and figured since she was now silent, he should say something. “Thanks, Lucy.”
Ballard thought he would hear the close of his office door next, signaling that Lucy had left, but instead he heard her clearing her voice.
“Yes?” he said, finally looking up at the pleasant middle-aged female. “Was there something else?”
“I believe congratulations are in order,” she said, her ruby-coated lips twitching in a smile. “You were in meetings all day yesterday when I read the announcement in the morning paper, so I didn’t have a chance to speak to you.”
Ballard crossed his hands over the many reports spread out on his desk and smiled up at her. “Thank you.”
Lucy shook her head. “I just can’t believe you’re finally taking the plunge. Would have never guessed you’d get married,” she continued.
That had been the gist of what his father had said when he’d told him and his grandparents, as well. His mother was currently in Sicily, so he’d sent her an email. She’d replied this morning with her congratulations and promised to be back by the ceremony on Sunday. As for his future family, he’d be meeting with them tomorrow night.
Ballard turned his wrist, looked at his watch and figured he’d better wrap things up here. He didn’t want to miss his flight.
This trip was too important.
* * *
At nine-thirty the next morning, Ballard walked into the corporate offices of Trell Cosmetics.
“If you don’t have an appointment, Mr. Trellier will not be able to see you,” said the tall, exotic beauty seated behind the glass desk, pink walls with the word Trell scripted in gold letters behind her.
Ballard slipped both hands into his pockets, pushing his suit jacket back to give her a full, unfettered view. Then he smiled and waited while she absorbed everything.
“I’m an old friend and I’m in town for a couple of hours. If he’s not in yet, I can wait in his office.”
She watched him carefully, her long lashes moving up and down as she surveyed everything from the gold Movado at his wrist to the cuff links on his shirt, down to the tie of his Gucci shoes and back up to his face. He suspected she’d been calculating what everything was worth, giving her a general estimate of whether or not she should waste her time on him. The slow spread of her dark pink-painted lips across brilliant white teeth meant he’d added up satisfactorily.
“I’ll walk you to his office, Mr...” Her voice trailed off as she stood and sashayed—that was the best word he could come up with to describe how she moved—over to stand next to him.
“Dubois,” he filled in for her, and offered her his arm.
She took it, as he’d known she would, lacing hers through his and being sure to keep her body close to his as they walked down the short hallway to what could only be Jack Trellier’s office.
After two unsuccessful attempts at “keeping him company” the gorgeous receptionist finally left him alone, proving that brains didn’t always come with beauty, no matter how sexist that sounded. Luckily for her, he wasn’t interested in anything in Trellier’s office. He couldn’t actually care less what went on with the day-to-day cosmetics business. What he knew for certain was that all this gold-and-pink would give him a headache and probably some type of complex if he had to be surrounded by it day in and day out. Still, he thought as he moved to one of the windows, looking out across glistening Miami beach, Trell was at the top of its game and much of that credit went to the pretty-boy CEO.
Unfortunately, that pretty boy might not be so pretty after Ballard left this office today.
“I’m shocked someone as versed in business etiquette as yourself would neglect to make an appointment.”
Ballard turned slowly at the sound of Trellier’s voice. He took his time taking a few steps toward the guest seats in the man’s office, then decided against taking a seat at all. And since this wasn’t a pleasure visit, he decided it was best to simply get right to the point.
“Speaking of etiquette, I think you may have missed a few lessons in learning how to deal with an ex,” Ballard told him.
Trellier, who was dressed in a very nice ivory-colored linen suit, a teal shirt beneath the jacket and camel suede loafers, kept moving until he was behind his marble-top desk. He removed his suit jacket and sat down.
“I know how to deal with all the women in my life. Maybe you need some lessons. I ran into Alaya at a party last week and she did not have pleasant things to say about you.”
He smiled as he talked but Ballard wasn’t amused.
“I don’t give a damn what she has to say. I’m only concerned with one woman and you seem to have fixated on her again all of a sudden. I want it to stop,” he said quietly, yet deadly serious.