Unconditionally Mine
Page 1
Miami Dreams
Event planner Sofia Silva is hiding a big secret. No one can know that her engagement to her lying, cheating fiancé is over. Until she meets gorgeous, wealthy newcomer Jonathan Gunther. Jon moved to Miami for a legally sinful life of waterfront property, convertibles and no emotional entanglements. When he invites Sofia to lie low at his house, their undeniable attraction explodes...but will her dilemma ruin their chance at forever?
Jon watched, fascinated, as she swam over to the ladder and climbed out, silver water pouring off the slope of her back. She came to stand before him, her skin baked to rich terra-cotta by the sun. He could’ve fallen to his knees. He could’ve died right there. Sofia...finally... Of all the times their paths had crossed, she’d worn so many protective masks and he’d never had a glimpse of this woman.
“Hello, stranger,” he said.
She grabbed his tie with her damp hands and deftly loosened the knot. “Do you always travel dressed like this?”
“I left for the airport straight from a meeting.”
“Poor you.”
“Did you have a nice day, dear?” he asked.
The tie fell silently to the slate tile. “You know what? We’ve talked enough, you and I.”
She’d get no argument from him.
She stripped him of the jacket and the shirt underneath, all the while laying down the law. “This is a temporary thing. Okay?”
“More than okay,” he replied.
It wasn’t remotely okay, but Jon knew better than to show his hand. Besides, he had mastered this game. She had no idea who she was up against.
Dear Reader,
Welcome to Miami, the city that is always hustling. Blame the heat, sticky humidity, clash of cultures or rise of sea levels, but Miami is a city in a constant state of renovation and expansion. Miami Dreams is a two-book series set in the world of high-end real estate. It features the young professionals eager to secure a part of that multimillion-dollar business.
The women are smart, unquestionably ambitious and unapologetically sexy. Like the city itself, they have Caribbean flair and hot tempers. When they meet the objects of their desire, hearts combust.
The men are career-driven and unstoppable until, of course, love brings them to their knees.
I hope you like it here as much as I do. Come to play, or stay and fall in love.
For notes on writing, illustrations and photographs, visit my website: www.nadine-gonzalez.com.
To lasting love!
Nadine
Unconditionally Mine
Nadine Gonzalez
Nadine Gonzalez was born in New York City, the daughter of Haitian immigrants. As a child, she was convinced that NYC was the center of the universe. But life has its twists and turns, and eventually she landed in Miami. She fell in love with the people, the weather and the unique mix of cultures. Now this vibrant city has become her home and muse.
Raised on a steady diet of soap operas, Harlequin romances, pop culture, global music, film and classic literature, Nadine hopes to infuse her novels with her unique worldview.
A firm believer in work-life balance, Nadine is not only a lawyer but also a self-proclaimed fashionista, political junkie, art lover, amateur illustrator, wife and mother. Learn more at www.nadine-gonzalez.com.
Books by Nadine Gonzalez
Harlequin Kimani Romance
Exclusively Yours
Unconditionally Mine
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For Ariel, my love, and Nathaniel, my heart.
For Stephanie, Katherine, Melissa, Ericka, Alexander and Andrew. The future is yours.
Acknowledgments
I am grateful to the editors at Kimani Press: Shannon Criss, Glenda Howard and Keyla Hernandez. Special thanks to Keyla for being the best first editor an author could have. Your patience and dedication to authentic storytelling is greatly appreciated. I wish you all the best in the future.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Excerpt from One Perfect Moment by A.C. Arthur
Chapter 1
Sofia cupped the bottle of Dom Pérignon and released the cork. Pop! She poured the overflow into a glass and took a sip. Like water into sand. When was the last time I’d opened a bottle and had some non-work-related fun, she wondered. Short answer: her engagement party. But that didn’t count. The formal event had been organized at her mother’s request. And since that night, over a year ago, life had gone stale. No joy, no fizz, no pop.
This, however, was no time for a pity party. Sofia had an actual party—cocktails and hors d’oeuvres for fifty—to wrap up. Real life was work. Whoever promised her fizz and pop, anyway?
Sofia rested her champagne glass on the counter—a treat for later—took a deep breath and handed out her orders. “Melissa, please set up the champagne flutes... Ericka, where’s the box with the trays?”
The kitchen door creaked open. Expecting one of the waiters, she frowned at the guest peering in. Ground zero—in this case, a French country kitchen in the host’s Coral Gables home—was a madhouse. Guests weren’t welcome. And this guest... Jesus! He was two hundred pounds of muscle beautifully packaged in a heather-gray suit. She took in his toasty brown skin and intelligent brown eyes, and cleared her throat. “May I help you?”
“Some water...please.”
“Melissa, get this gentleman a glass of water.”
“A bottle, if you have it.”
Melissa held open the refrigerator door. “Would you prefer sparkling or flat?”
“Flat.”
“Spring or—”
“Melissa, please!” Sofia cried. The man shouldn’t have to answer a quiz.
Melissa handed him a small FIJI bottle. “Here you go.” She smiled shyly.
He smiled too, but there was nothing shy about it. Sofia stiffened. She felt the oddest sensation, the turn of a dial.
But with Watergate resolved and the guest gone, she focused on the task at hand. “Guys, the toast is in five minutes. Let’s go!”
Melissa lined up a row of champagne flutes, giggling as she worked. “That guy was so hot I nearly fell on my face.”
Ericka piled a dozen silver trays on the counter. “I thought you were only into pretty boys.”
“Comes a time in every woman’s life to forget the boys and find a man,” Melissa said.
“You’re a woman now?” Ericka asked.
Valid question. Melissa was only nineteen and looked even younger. But now was not the time to delve into it.
“Quiet!” Sofia snapped. “I need to focus.”
Everybody fell silent. She took a breath and started pouring from the bottle of Do
m. The host, a hotshot Miami lawyer, was throwing this party for his firm. This wasn’t the usual office party fare. Normally, they’d serve coconut shrimp and California sparkling wine. This event was all about grilled scallops, crab cakes, smoked salmon topped with caviar, top-shelf liquor and fine champagne. For that reason, she’d taken on the task of filling the glasses herself—not that she was any good at it. It required steady hands, and she was anything but calm.
“Can I help?”
Damn! The words were spoken so close to her ear, she jumped and nearly spilled two hundred dollars’ worth of champagne down her shirt. Him again! What was he doing back in the kitchen? She straightened up to better confront him. His eyes had flecks of gold. One sip of champagne would do that to you; make you see all the sparkle in the world.
She clutched the bottle to her chest. “You really shouldn’t be here.”
He slipped off his suit jacket, revealing a gorgeous garnet lining, and draped it over a chair. Sofia’s mother owned a fabric shop and Sofia had her eye for quality.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I used to be a waiter.”
So what? Hadn’t everyone?
Over her protests, he confiscated the bottle of champagne. Then she watched as he expertly poured eight glasses with a sure hand, not spilling one precious drop. Those brown hands...the nails were clean and clipped, but there was no mistaking them for the hands of a gentleman. If he applied even the slightest pressure, the thick green bottle might shatter.
“How many glasses do you need me to fill?” he asked.
“I don’t need you to do anything,” Sofia replied. “I’d love for you to join the party and enjoy your evening.”
She couldn’t drop the show of indignation. She had employees to impress. He glanced up at her. Brown eyes like rum swirling into a glass.
“Fifty,” she said. “Plus an extra ten. You never know.”
“Well, line ’em up.”
Melissa handed him bottle after bottle. Ericka loaded up the trays. Sofia stood to the side, watching her team and this stranger work quietly and efficiently together. The door swung open again. A young guy, a lawyer-in-the-making type, poked his head in. “What are you doing in here? Everyone’s looking for you.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’m done!”
Sofia inspected his work. All sixty champagne flutes were filled to equal height, ready to go. He reached for his jacket. On his way out, he turned to her and said pointedly, “You’re welcome.”
She shrugged. He wasn’t worth sparring with—because for sure she’d lose. Her staff, though, cheered the unlikely hero.
“Give me a break!” Sofia groaned. “He poured champagne!”
“But he did it with style!” Melissa declared.
“Let’s stay on schedule,” Sofia said. “Ericka, have the waiters serve the host and the guest of honor first.”
Her troops went out and returned with news. “You won’t believe it! Mr. I-Used-To-Be-A-Waiter? He’s the guest of honor. He’s out there giving a speech. This party is for him.”
Sofia popped a crab cake in her mouth. Interesting. He must have been nervous and slumming in the kitchen was his way to take the edge off.
“That’s so cool, don’t you think?” Melissa said.
There was no time to think. The kitchen door swung open again and this time a woman burst in. She was stunning with a caramel complexion and cheekbones that ought to be insured, but her features were distorted. Tears streaming down her cheeks made tar of her mascara. “I need a drink! Give me something, anything.”
Sofia braced herself. What roller-coaster ride was this?
Melissa offered her a bottle of water. The woman huffed. “Do I look like I need water?”
Sofia sent her employees away and took over. She grabbed a bottle of Patrón and a couple of glasses and guided the woman to a table by the kitchen’s fantastic bay windows. She poured generously and began her usual speech to calm unruly party guests. “I don’t know you or what you’re going through—”
“I’ll tell you.”
Oh, boy.
“He was only supposed to be with us a few weeks!” Her Brazilian accent produced petal-soft o’s and u’s. “I thought, why not have a little fun?”
Sofia knew instinctively who he was. She spotted him through the window out by the pool, sipping from a glass of champagne that he’d poured. He looked radiant in the fading September sun. His dark hair was cut short, barely visible, and it didn’t matter because his thick brows framed his face beautifully. But that was neither here nor there.
“I should’ve known they were going to recruit him. They all love him at the firm. He has a nickname and everything.”
“What’s the nickname?”
“What?” the woman asked.
Sofia flushed. “Never mind.”
“The Gun.”
Sofia poured some tequila for herself and wondered how he might’ve earned it. It couldn’t have been looks alone.
The woman read her mind. “He’s that good.”
Okay, then.
“They asked him to stay and he said yes. Things were great between us. We had this amazing connection, so I figured—”
“You figured wrong.” Sofia didn’t need GPS to figure out where this story was heading.
The woman slammed her glass on the marble-top table. Tequila flew everywhere.
Sofia reached for a napkin and wiped up the mess. The hostess was really fond of her antique furniture.
“I’ve seen him.” Sofia pointed out the window, but “The Gun” was no longer out there. “The man is a shot of rum and he went straight to your head. But you can’t afford to fall apart like this. You work with these people, and you’ll have to face them all on Monday. Mess up and I promise you the catty bitches out there won’t ever let you live it down. And I’m not talking about the women.”
Sofia assumed the silence that followed her little speech was a well-earned response. Then it stretched out a beat too long and something in the way the woman gripped her glass warned her that they were no longer alone.
How much had he heard?
The woman rose from the table, brushed tequila droplets off her dress and strode out of the kitchen without uttering a word.
Sofia sat with her back to the door and didn’t move until she heard it creak shut and she was certain he was gone. When you thought about it, she’d done him a favor—a big one. Life had a way of leveling the score.
So, Mr. Gun...you’re welcome.
Chapter 2
Five months later...
Jon had expected nothing until she walked in. Then, suddenly, his morning burst open with possibilities. After a glance around the auditorium, she picked a seat near him. Was it coincidence or the might of his will? He watched her drop her massive purse on one of the three empty seats between them, effectively erecting a wall. She crossed her golden-brown legs and went about the careful business of removing her sunglasses. Her profile was partially obstructed by a cloud of reddish-brownish curls flowing past her shoulders, but he made out the fringe of her lashes, the upward curve of her nose and a carefully drawn mouth.
It was going to be a lovely day.
“Please rise for Judge Antoine Roland.”
Jon rose. He couldn’t shake creeping déjà vu. Had they met before and where?
Judge Roland welcomed the drowsy assembly to the Miami-Dade County jury pool. After a reminder of the importance of jury duty in the great scheme of American democracy, he led the assembly in reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. When he was done, some applauded—but not too many. The judge exited the auditorium as solemnly as he had entered. With that over, the oddly familiar woman sat and mumbled, “Let’s get this over with.”
He took it as an opening. “That’s the spirit.”
She looked his way, as if seeing him
for the first time. Another announcement stopped him from introducing himself.
“Please fill out the jury questionnaire as best you can,” a clerk said through the piercing feedback of a microphone. “Don’t lose it. You’ll have to hand it to the bailiff when you’re called. And, if you’re eligible, don’t forget to request a reimbursement form. It’s only fifteen dollars, but times are hard. In the meantime, enjoy the movie. Julia Roberts—she’s always fun. The snack bar is open. Plus, there’s the quiet room if you prefer to read. All in all, it’s going to be a long day, folks! So why not make a friend?”
She immediately shot to her feet. Jon figured he’d scared her away, but she only went as far as the front desk to request the forms. Then for five minutes or so, she sat quietly, brows drawn, filling in each document using a pen retrieved from the depths of her bottomless purse. It was a fountain pen with some weight to it. The ink was a brilliant indigo blue. When she was done, she carefully replaced the pen’s cap, and he noticed her fingers, long and slim with deep red lacquered nails.
She turned in one form, kept the other, returned to her seat and folded those beautiful hands on her lap. Without looking at him, she said, “You’re nosy.”
“Observant,” he said. “And so are you, but you’re better at it.”
She swiveled in her seat and studied him, her wide brown eyes taking him apart and stitching him back together. He waited, counting the seconds for her to draw her conclusions. Women either loved him or hated him. There was never any middle ground. If she fell into the wrong camp, he had ways to drag her across the line.
Her eyes narrowed. “Have we...?”
“Slept together?” he asked. “I don’t think so. I would’ve remembered.”
If he was hoping to rattle her, it didn’t work.
“I remember you,” she said drily.
There was little evidence that the memory was a pleasant one.
“I knew we’d met before,” he said. “Now clue me in. It’s been driving me crazy.”
She reached into her purse for earbuds and plugged them into her phone. “Sorry. Not trying to be rude, but all I want is to get through jury duty in peace.”