He loved her.
Oh, thank God.
“To hell with him. He can’t win,” Robert said fiercely and she knew this was a man who would lay down his life to protect her. “I won’t allow it. If I want to be with you, I’m going to be with you because you are the right person for me, Jeannie Kaufman, and I will make it the right time.”
Of course he would. He was a Wyatt. “So you bought a mansion?”
“For you. You and me and Melissa and...us.” He looked up at her and she saw love and worry and hope in his eyes. Finally, hope. “For our family, whether it grows or not.”
She almost fell over. “Robert.”
“Marry me,” he said and damn if it didn’t sound like an order. But before she could call him on it, he quickly added, “Wait. No, let me do that again.” He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles like he really was a duke of the realm and she was the tavern wench who’d won his heart. “You’ve shown me what love is, Jeannie. And I want to spend the rest of my life sharing it with you. We can get married or not. I’m not your boss and you’re not my employee or even my bartender. You’re the woman I need and I hope I can be the man you want.”
“Oh, Robert,” she said, tears flowing.
“You’re crying,” he said, alarmed.
“I love you, too, you complicated, messy, wonderful man.” But then the past few weeks flashed before her eyes—his reaction after the first time they’d made love, the way his father had treated him and his mother, the fact that the legal mess was going to be the headline for weeks and months to come. “And I do want to marry you—on one condition.”
“Name it,” he said with a devastatingly gorgeous smile. “Anything. I can buy a different house or...”
“I’ve never wanted you for your money.” Something deepened in his eyes. An answering shiver of desire raced down her back. “But I want you to see a counselor to help you work through your...issues because marriage isn’t a magical cure-all. You have to work on some things yourself.”
He didn’t even hesitate, bless the man. “Yes. Of course. I’ll work on talking and hugging and...” His cheeks darkened and she had to wonder—was he blushing? “What else?”
She began to laugh and cry at the same time and that was when Robert let go of her hands and then vaulted over the bar. Vaulted! Then he had her crushed to his chest, his mouth on hers and those were definitely gasps because not only was he kissing her, he was also doing so in public. “Anything else, Jeannie?” he said against her lips. “Anything for you. If you want to work a bar, I’ll buy you one. I’ll buy you this one, if you want.”
Behind them, she heard a squeak of alarm and rolled her eyes.
“We can make plans later but—will you adopt Melissa?”
He scoffed at that. “Of course.”
“Will you just be with me, Robert? Through good times and the not-great times?”
His hands flattened against her back. She couldn’t get close enough. “There is nowhere else I’d ever want to be if it’s not by your side.”
“Then the answer is yes because you’re the right man, Robert.”
He grinned wolfishly and dear Lord, he was just the most handsome man in the world and he was choosing her. “You’re the right woman for me and when it’s right, there is no wrong time. Not if I have anything to say about it. After all, I’m a Wyatt.” He leaned down but instead of kissing her, he whispered in her ear, “And soon you’ll be one, too.”
And just like that, she fell more in love with him.
“Perfect,” she told him.
Because it was.
Epilogue
“Package for you, Cybil,” Bridget said as the physical therapist, Anne, moved Cybil into the last stretch. “It’s on your chair. I’ll get your water.”
“Thank you.” Cybil smiled, despite the burning exhaustion that went with a tough PT appointment.
She liked being just Cybil. She liked being Bridget’s equal. She liked the quiet villa in Kauri Cliffs, at the far north end of New Zealand. She even liked being disconnected from the rest of the world. By and large, she didn’t want to know what was happening back home. She had no interest in keeping up-to-date on what her soon-to-be ex-husband was doing. She wasn’t available for comment on news stories.
She could focus on herself. It was selfish and something she was still getting used to—but with the help of a psychologist and a physical therapist, she was rediscovering who she’d been before Landon Wyatt and, more important, who she wanted to be after him.
But most of all, she was getting used to talking with her son again. Not every day, because he was still a busy man, but at least every other day. At one in the afternoon her time, Bobby would call at what was eight his time. They talked of her progress and his work. They’d avoided discussions of Landon, but after a while, Bobby had begun to mention Jeannie more and more.
She wished she could’ve been there for the wedding, but someone named Darna had streamed the whole civil ceremony, all fourteen minutes of it, for Cybil to see.
For the first time in decades, she could breathe again.
“There,” Anne said, helping Cybil to stand. She wobbled a little—today had been tough. “Make sure to drink plenty of fluids, okay? I’ll see you in two days.”
Cybil patted the young woman’s shoulder and gratefully sank into her chair, the package in her hands.
She’d received mail from Bobby before, legal notices of her divorce proceedings, usually—her son had hired an absolute shark of a lawyer. But this felt different.
Her hands began to shake and it wasn’t just from the physical exertion.
Ah, her divorce papers. It was done. She was no longer legally bound to Landon Wyatt and it appeared half of his earnings from throughout their awful marriage were now hers. She was an independently wealthy woman. No longer would she have to beg for money or wear what Landon bought for her. She could do as she saw fit.
The next thing in the envelope was the front page of the Chicago Tribune, with a handwritten note that said, “Any deposition can be handled safely and your income will be protected—R.” Landon Wyatt was being charged for criminal sexual assault—several maids and employees had come forward to press charges. Represented, she knew, by a lawyer Bobby had chosen. Oh, but this was new—Wyatt Medical had voted him out as CEO and Landon was also being investigated by the SEC for insider trading and campaign fraud? Apparently, Alexander, Landon’s assistant, had turned on him. All his friends had abandoned him and his political aspirations were dead in the water. His disgrace was complete and if Bobby had anything to say about it, Landon would spend a good chunk of the rest of his life in jail.
How fitting. She wanted to savor this moment, this permanent freedom.
But then a cream envelope fluttered out of the package and Cybil’s breath caught in her throat. She knew she was crying as she read the engraved print, but she simply didn’t care.
“Dr. Robert Wyatt and Jeannie Kaufman are pleased to announce their marriage in a private ceremony on October 12. They are also proud to welcome Melissa Nicole Wyatt to the family.”
The next thing was a slim hardbound book. Oh, he’d sent her a wedding album! When she opened the cover, a handwritten note slid out. “I took a chance on happiness,” the note read in Bobby’s scrawled handwriting. “That’s because of you.”
“Oh, Bobby,” she sighed. He’d always been such a thoughtful boy. Thank God Landon had never succeeded in destroying that.
She flipped through the album, greedily taking in the signs of happiness.
The first picture showed Bobby and Jeannie standing side by side. Bobby was smiling down at his bride. Smiling! Dear God, it did her heart good to see her son looking at peace—the same peace she was beginning to feel.
Cybil barely recognized Jeannie as the same woman who had gotten her away from La
ndon with a well-placed glass of champagne. In real life, Jeannie smiled wider, had kinder eyes and looked downright sweet in her tea-length lace gown in a soft shade of rose pink that was gorgeous on her.
Cybil fondly traced a finger over the picture. Bobby would need someone bold and daring, someone strong enough to withstand his personality—and someone who would understand why he was the way he was but would never pity him. If that was his bartender, then that was the perfect woman for him.
The second picture showed Bobby and his new wife with a small infant. Only a few months old, the little girl was wrapped in a soft blanket, grinning a toothless grin up at Bobby from Jeannie’s arms. Bobby’s hand cupped the baby’s cheek with such tenderness that Cybil’s eyes watered again.
A note was paper-clipped to the page. “We’ll bring her out soon—R.”
“Everything all right?” Bridget said, concern in her voice as she sat the tea tray down. “You’re crying!”
“I’m a grandmother,” Cybil got out as she showed Bridget the album. “Look at my family!”
“Oh, wow,” Bridget said, sounding wistful. “They look so happy!”
Happy. It was a long-cherished dream, one that had gotten Cybil through so many dark times. “You know,” Cybil said, dabbing at her tears, “I do believe they are.”
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from Best Friends, Secret Lovers by Jessica Lemmon.
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Best Friends, Secret Lovers
by Jessica Lemmon
Prologue
“Twenty minutes minimum, or else she’ll tell everyone you’re horrendous in bed.”
“If you’re down there for longer than seven minutes, you dumb Brit, you have no idea what you’re doing.”
“Spoken like a guy who has no idea what he’s doing.”
Flynn Parker leaned back in his chair, his broken leg propped on the ottoman, and listened to his two friends argue about sex. Pleasing women in particular.
“If either of you knew what you were doing, you wouldn’t be single,” he informed his buddies.
Gage Fleming and Reid Singleton blinked over at Flynn as if they’d forgotten he was sitting there. Drunk as they were, they might have. Gage grabbed the nearly empty whiskey bottle resting on Flynn’s footstool and splashed another inch into Reid’s glass and his own.
But not Flynn’s. Thanks to the pain medication he was on, the only buzz he would be enjoying was courtesy of Percocet.
“You’re one to talk,” Reid said, his British accent slurred from the drink. “Your ring finger is currently uninhabited.”
“The reason for this trip.” Gage clanked his glass with Reid’s, then with Flynn’s water bottle.
Flynn would drink to that. His recent split from Veronica was what drove them all up here, to the mountains in Colorado to go skiing. The last time they were in Flynn’s father’s cabin had been their sophomore year in college. The damn place must be a time machine because they’d devolved into kids just by being here.
Gage and Reid had been nonstop swapping stories, bragging about their alleged prowess, and Flynn had been foolish enough to try the challenging slope...again. His lack of practice led to his taking a snowy tumble down the hill. Just like the last time, he’d ended up in the hospital. Unlike the last time, he’d broken a bone.
Skiing wasn’t his forte.
So. Veronica.
The ex-wife who had recently ruined his life and his outlook. His buddies had come here under the guise of pulling him out of his funk, but he knew they were mostly here because they hadn’t left each other’s sides since they were in college. Sure, Reid had fled back home to London for a short time, but he’d come back. They’d all known he would.
Before he boarded the plane for this vacation, Flynn had learned two things: One, that his father’s diagnosis of “pneumonia” was terminal cancer and Emmons Parker would likely die soon, making fifty-three the age to beat for Flynn; and two, that when he returned home he’d be sitting in his father’s office with the title of president behind his name.
Running Monarch was all Flynn had ever wanted.
Was.
Despite years of showing an interest and trying to please his father, Emmons Parker had shooed Flynn away rather than pulled him in. Now the empire was on Flynn’s shoulders, and his alone.
Reid howled with laughter at something Gage said and Flynn blinked his friends into focus. No, he wasn’t alone. He had Reid, and Gage, and the best friend who’d been a part of his life longer than those two, Sabrina Douglas. His best friends worked at Monarch with him, and with them in his corner, Flynn knew he could get through this.
The senior employees were going to freak out when they found out Flynn was going to be president. He’d been accused of “coasting” before and would be in charge of all of their well-beings, which Flynn took as seriously as his next line of thought—the pact he’d been ruminating about since before his leg snapped in two on that slope.
“Remember that pact we made in college? The one where we swore never to get married.”
Reid let out a hearty “Ha!” UK-born Reid Singleton was planning on staying as unattached as his last name implied. “Right here in this room, I believe.”
Gage pursed his lips, his brows closing in the slightest bit over his nose. “We were hammered on Jägerbombs that night. God knows what else we said.”
“I didn’t adhere to it. I should have.” Flynn had been swept up by love and life. He hadn’t taken that pact seriously. A mistake.
Gage frowned. “It’s understandable why you’d say that now. You’ve been through the wringer. Back then no one expected to find permanence.”
“None of us wanted to,” Reid corrected.
Flynn pointed at Gage with his water bottle. “You and this new girl have been dating, what, a month?”
“Something like that.”
“Get out now.” Reid offered a hearty belch. He lifted his eyebrows and downed his portion of whiskey, cheeks filling before he swallowed it down. “You and I, Gage, we stuck to the pact.” He smiled, then added, “If you were Flynn, you’d have married her by now.”
Reid wasn’t exaggerating. Flynn and Veronica had been married on their thirty-day dating anniversary. Insanity. That they’d lasted three years was more a testament to Flynn’s stubbornness than their meant-to-be-ness.
The final straw had been Veronica screwing his brother.
>
Whatever, he thought, as the sting of betrayal shocked his system afresh. He’d never liked Julian much anyway.
“He’s doing the thing,” Reid muttered not quietly, given his state of inebriation. His gaze met Flynn’s, but he spoke to Gage. “Where he’s thinking of her.”
“I can hear you, wanker.” Flynn lost his marriage, not his hearing. Though “lost” would imply he’d misplaced it. It hadn’t been misplaced, it’d been disassembled. Piece by piece until the felling blow was Veronica’s head turning for none other than his older, more artsy brother. She was the free spirit, and Flynn was the numbers guy. The boring guy. The emotionally constipated guy.
Her words.
“Hey.” Gage snapped his fingers. “Knock it off, Flynn. We’re here to celebrate your divorce, not have you traipse down depression trail.”
But Flynn wasn’t budging on this. He’d given it a lot of thought since he’d tumbled down that hill. It was like life had to literally knock him on his ass to get him to wake up.
“I’m reinstating the pact,” Flynn said, his tone grave. Even Reid stopped smiling. “No marriage. Not ever. It’s not worth the heartache, or the broken leg, or hanging out with the two worst comrades in this solar system.”
At that Reid looked wounded, Gage affronted.
“Piss off, Parker.”
“Yeah,” Gage agreed. “What Reid said.”
With effort, Flynn sat up, carefully moving every other limb save his broken leg so he could lean forward. “I don’t want either of you to go through this. Not ever.”
“You’re serious,” Gage said after a prolonged silence.
Flynn remained silent.
Gage watched him a moment, a flash of sobriety in the depths of his brown eyes. “Okay. What’d we say?”
“We promised never to get married,” Reid said. “And then we swore on our tallywackers.”
Gage chuckled at Reid’s choice of phrasing.
“Which means yours should have fallen off by now.” Reid’s face contorted as he studied Flynn. “It didn’t, did it?”
Seduction on His Terms Page 17