“Yes,” she blubbered, wrapping her arms around his neck. She relished the heat and solidity of him beneath her. She’d never grow tired of that feeling…never take it for granted. “For God’s sake, it’s about time!”
Chris laughed, squeezing her into a tight hug and lifting her off the ground. He spun her in a slow circle, and when her toes touched down again, he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that stopped time.
Because finally, they were right where they were meant to be.
Together.
Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER
Mara rushed around Mitch and Jules’s penthouse in New York City. Tonight was the big Denton family dinner, and she’d offered to create the dessert display. Her treats were almost ready, but she felt a level of stress she hadn’t even felt during the gingerbread competition.
This was somehow more intimate. More important. Even after a year as Chris’s girlfriend, she still felt like the new girl in the Denton clan. She got along amazingly well with everyone, but she wanted to impress them as much as possible. Make them see that she deserved a spot in the family just as much as everyone else.
Because the Dentons had some pretty huge shoes to fill.
“Good lord, what is cooking in here?” Amelia swept into the kitchen, sniffing exaggeratedly. “Is this your best-seller at the bakery? Because it smells like a best-seller.”
“Actually, yes,” she said with a chuckle. Her bakery in Glenford, Marvelous Mara’s, had been an overnight success. She already had three employees in addition to Kaitlyn. Orders came in hourly, and it was a full-time job just keeping up with the administrative tasks, let alone baking her famous orange-cranberry crumble bars, which had already won a Glenford award. “I can’t wait to feed you all! It’s about time.”
“We’ve been trying to make it to Glenford,” Amelia said, just as Josh breezed into the kitchen with their child hoisted on his hip. “But it’s been so hard with all that’s going on here at the hotel.”
Josh paused at Amelia to kiss her cheek, then grinned at Mara. “This smells amazing,” he confirmed.
“I’ve already told her,” Amelia said.
“What the hell is that smell?” Mitch’s voice boomed through the penthouse, and he appeared a moment later, two-year-old Noelle giggling as he carried her over his shoulder. Jules trailed behind, their newborn in her arms.
“Smells like Mara’s marvelous treats,” Jules said with a wink. They all gathered around the kitchen island where she’d taken out her desserts to let them cool. The crumble bubbled slightly in its pan, while the cut-out cookies were already on a rack to cool. She’d made a variety of snowflakes, snowmen, and Christmas trees to commemorate her first Christmas with the Denton family.
But hopefully not the last.
“Where’s Chris?” Josh asked, checking his watch.
“He said he was checking on the food downstairs,” Mara said, wiping her hands on a towel. She didn’t want to mess up her gray scoop-neck dress, which would highlight any frosting mishap should that occur.
“That’s weird,” Mitch said. “He knows the food is going to be delivered here when its ready.”
Mara caught Amelia slap his arm, though it seemed furtive, like it was supposed to be a secret message between them. She watched as Mitch sent her a quizzical look.
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Josh said pointedly, looking at his brother.
As if on cue, the front door to the penthouse opened, and Chris came in a moment later. He was rolling a food cart with him, eyes shining.
“Ahh, here he is!” Mitch went to help him roll the thing into the kitchen, where they all got to work bringing out the various trays of food. “I know you’re not in NYC much anymore,” Mitch went on, “but we do have employees who can do this work for you.”
Chris smiled curiously. It seemed his gaze hadn’t left Mara since he’d come into the kitchen. “I know. I just wanted to go check on things since I was overseeing the dinner prep.”
“Ah, right,” Josh tutted. “You’re a chef, aren’t you?”
Chris playfully shoved Josh’s shoulder. “Real funny. Actually, I only play one on TV.”
“And across the globe,” Amelia added.
Chris’s grin widened. His globetrotting cooking show had turned into something of a cult hit. Turned out that people really were hungry for more Bourdain-like material. And Chris struck the balance perfectly between goofy and soul-searching and informative.
Better yet, they’d been able to work out their schedules so that they saw each other every week during filming. The network had agreed to Chris’s demands to film in blocks, instead of everything all at once. So what would have been a six-months-straight absence was only two months at a time. And often, Mara was able to fly out to meet him somewhere on the road, now that she had a great staff at home.
It was a life beyond her wildest dreams. The type of reality she couldn’t have even imagined coming true a mere a year ago.
But now, they were living their most successful and happiest versions of themselves. And Mara couldn’t get enough of it.
“What’s this?” Jules asked, rocking the newest addition to their family, Clara, as she jerked her chin toward an unopened box, which looked like a Chinese take-out container.
“Ah. This was a special treat.” Chris covered it protectively, his gaze sliding to Mara. “I want you to see what’s in it first.”
Mara received the box from him. She unfolded the flaps and peered inside, finding it strangely devoid of the Chinese noodles she’d expected.
Instead, there was just a small, slate gray box. She picked it up out of the container, staring quizzically at it.
In front of her, Chris sank to one knee.
When she put two and two together, she gasped. And that’s when she noticed his cousins and their families gathered behind them, wearing big grins.
“Mara, babe,” he began, and those words alone prompted tears to start welling up in her eyes.
“Oh my God.” She sniffed, and then popped open the box. Inside, an enormous rock glittered on a gold band. “Holy shit, this thing is huge!”
Chris beamed at her, reaching for her hand. His blue eyes were crystalline and imploring. “Babe. Ever since I pushed you away in high school, I felt like I was missing something. Like I’d ruined something not just important, but necessary.”
Tears were flowing now, ruining the makeup she’d spent nearly an hour on for tonight’s dinner. But it didn’t matter. Because this mattered more.
“Then when we found each other again?” His voice gave out, and he paused, as if swallowing the same knot of emotion that was in her throat. “We both knew. Right away. Our connection had never gone anywhere. And when I pushed you the second time…well, you can only be an idiot so many times before you lose the love of your life, right? I don’t want to lose you again. Not now, not ever. And I want to make sure that I can hold onto you forever. Please, Mara. Will you be my wife?”
More tears spilled over and she collapsed downward, slinging her arms around his neck. She landed on his knee, finding his lips with her own.
Needy, hungry kisses emerged. The type of kisses that told him exactly what her answer was. What the answer would always be.
They kissed a few times before Mara finally pulled away, wiping at her eyes.
“So is that a yes?” Josh asked.
A laugh rocketed out of her, and she nodded, getting lost in Chris’s gaze once more. “Yes! Of course I’ll be your wife!”
The group cheered while Chris squeezed her into a tight hug. They kissed more, indecently, while the family cheered and laughed and clapped. At one point, a champagne bottle opened. And then another. When she and Chris finally came to their feet, a whole row of champagne glasses awaited. Chris scooped one up, holding it in the air while he pulled Mara into his side.
“To the newest future Mrs. Denton!”
Jules and Amelia whooped, raising their glasses.
Mara beamed at
the warm faces in the kitchen. She’d never felt so full. So loved. So absolutely at peace with everyone and everything in her life.
So this was what true love could do to a person.
She pushed up onto her tiptoes and captured Chris’s lips in yet another kiss.
It fixed the past.
Opened up the future.
And so much more that they had yet to discover.
End of The Billionaire’s Second Chance Christmas
PS: Do you love being swept off your feet? Then keep reading for exclusive extracts from The Billionaire’s Sham Girlfriend.
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About Leslie
Leslie North is the USA Today Bestselling pen name for a critically-acclaimed author of women's contemporary romance and fiction. The anonymity gives her the perfect opportunity to paint with her full artistic palette, especially in the romance and erotic fantasy genres.
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BLURB
Gregor Beaumont is in a world of hurt that all the charm in his gorgeous, well-toned body can’t fix. His late grandfather, God rest his soul, wanted to make sure Gregor and his two playboy brothers settle down. He had the brilliant idea of buying up a huge share of the brothers’ engine company and using that as incentive for each brother to find Mrs. Right. Settle down or lose the company to a competitor. Well, that’s just not happening to Gregor, not when life’s so good at the moment. Gregor likes racing fast cars and seducing fast women, and not necessarily in that order. Settle down? Not a chance. Gregor has his own brilliant idea: find some wholesome and desperate girl to pretend to be his girlfriend. No harm. No foul. Unless things start getting a little bit too real.
Kara Alerby knows she’s a sucker for blues eyes and a great smile, so when Gregor comes into her theater wanting to hire her to act the part of his adoring girlfriend, she’s already got her defenses on high alert. But Kara’s a practical girl, and Gregor’s offering a boatload of money that would go a long way toward making her dream of creating a fine arts school for gifted kids a reality. She can ignore his smiles, his charisma, and his kiss-me mouth if it means she’ll get her school. All she has to do is remind herself, every second of every day they’re together, that it’s all make believe—even when it doesn’t always feel that way.
When Greg’s love of racing puts his life in jeopardy, Kara isn’t ready to watch another person die in front of her like her father did. And Greg isn’t about to stop doing the one thing that makes life worth living. The two are on a collision course, one that could break them apart forever if they don’t change directions…
Grab your copy of The Billionaire’s Sham Girlfriend (The Beaumont Brothers Book 1) from www.LeslieNorthBooks.com
* * *
EXCERPT
Kara lurked in the back row of the grand old theater as students filed in. It was the first afternoon of a new session of summer improv, but inside, shadows clung to the corners and wings, casting the nearly one-hundred-year-old theater in a somber, reverent mood.
As more students filed in, filling the first three rows sporadically, Kara checked her email for what she promised herself would be the last time that afternoon.
She’d been waiting for news for what felt like an eternity, but really it had only been a semester. In the middle of last school year, she found out that her beloved community theater would be put up for sale—and the owner was motivated to sell. Too motivated for Kara’s tastes, since her long-held dream was to buy this space and open her own school for the arts. Maybe she’d held the dream too close to her heart, because the past six months had been a crush of grant applications and community pleading. Foster the Arts and Save Our Theater had been practically the only words on her lips since January.
And this week the grant decision was due to arrive.
The little circle spun in the middle of her screen as the app checked for new mail for the billionth time that day. Her belly clenched as her inbox refreshed. No new emails. Christ on a stick. She pocketed her phone with a sigh. The email should have arrived Monday, and now it was Wednesday. Every minute she had to wait for this decision was another minute when someone else might buy the theater and ruin her dream.
Because this was it. This was all she had. Acting, directing, teaching. She was born only to do this.
“Just keep filling in the seats.” Kara’s assistant Lexie waved people in as they hesitated near the door or got lost in conversation. “We’ll be starting in about five minutes.”
Kara watched the filling rows without really seeing them. What would she do if she didn’t get the grant? There was no way she could afford this theater on her meager high school drama teacher paycheck. Hell, these improv classes were the only way she could really live comfortably, afford the occasional night out. And only because she’d worked so hard to grow them and really make the improv classes popular in their Seattle suburb.
She blinked hard, trying to get a head count from her distant vantage point. She liked to keep her distance at the start of a new class, have a chance to observe without being observed, like an actor peering from the wings on the opening night of a new play. It gave her perspective. A chance to let her persona settle into place before she burst onto the stage, the bright and bubbly Ms. Alerby the community had come to expect.
Her hand gravitated toward the phone in the back pocket of her denim shorts. Before she realized it, she was checking her email again.
This time, the circle spun for a bit longer than before. Or maybe she just stared more intently at it, forcing time to slow. Her phone buzzed with a new email.
“RE: SEEKING GRANT FOR COMMUNITY THEATER”
Her breath caught in her throat, the conversation and chatter of the theater dulling to a whisper as she stared at the new arrival. It was here. Finally. She paused before swiping it open, mind circling back to revisit every doubt and worry she’d nursed for the past six months. They’ve got to approve it. You’ve got it. I know I got this.
She bit her lip and opened it, rereading the opening line almost five times before digesting anything.
And then she read it again. Just to be sure that she had understood it correctly.
“Dear Ms. Alerby, we regret to inform you that your grant was not selected for…”
Her mouth parted, her gaze drifting away while the email shone up at her. It couldn’t be right. She checked the text again—“While carefully crafted, your proposal was not the strongest that reached our table…”—and the truth shuddered through her, leaving a sick, hot wake behind it.
Her ears rang, and she stuffed the phone in her back pocket. Class would start in just a few minutes. She had to shake this off. She’d pore over the email later, beat herself up for losing this opportunity, and begin the mourning process.
Lexie was looking at her from the front of the auditorium, worry knit into her brow. Maybe she’d seen her staring aghast at her phone. And then Kara noticed Mr. Hofstadt, the theater manager, beside her, squeezing her shoulder, sending a smile her way before excusing himself from the side doors. Kara’s stomach wrenched again. Why had he stopped by? Could this possibly be more bad news? Maybe he’d come to tell her that her improv classes would be cancelled immediately, due to the theater selling to someone else.
Lexie strode up the middle aisle, her clipboard clutched to her chest. Her dark tresses looked shiny, pulled back into a smooth ponytail, as she walked toward Kara at the back of the theater.
“What was that
about?” Kara whispered, even though she didn’t have to.
“Why are you whispering?” Lexie whispered back.
Sometimes, it felt like speaking in a regular volume would make something real. And this news was not something she wanted to be real. “Because I feel like it. What did he say?”
Lexie nibbled on her bottom lip. “Mr. Hofstadt said that he spoke with the property owner.”
Kara stilled, immediately reaching out for Lexie’s wrist. She’d almost forgotten, in the whirlwind of waiting for the overdue grant response, that she’d been expecting a reply from the property owner about her request to postpone the sale.
“Tell me he’s going to throw me a bone,” Kara whispered.
Lexie shook her head, and Kara’s stomach clattered to the ground. “Mr. Hofstadt can’t get a word out of him. Mr. Walton won’t share any information about the theater, and every time Mr. Hofstadt tries, he gets shut down. The owner just doesn’t want to negotiate anything that isn’t an immediate sale.”
Kara clenched Lexie’s wrist a bit tighter before letting go, shifting her gaze to the few rows of heads looking toward the stage. Despair circled inside her, but class needed to start, and this wasn’t the time to lament. No, that would come later, with a bottle of wine and lots of screaming into her pillow.
Your dream is about to be flushed down the toilet.
She cleared her throat, sending a pointed look to Lexie. In a normal voice, she said, “We should start the class. Go close the door, and I’ll start introductions.” This could be the last class you ever teach inside this place.
Lexie nodded, still nibbling nervously at her lip. “Also, I wanted to tell you that we had a walk-in.”
“That’s fine.” Kara waved her hand dismissively.
Christmas with the Denton Billionaires: The Complete Series Page 30