Redeemed by Passion

by Joss Wood

  Brooks ran his fingers up and down her arm and his light touch gave her the strength to carry on with her explanation. “The investigator handed over her personal effects and there wasn’t much. A few clothes, a couple of photos of us as children and an expensive smartphone she’d hidden under a floorboard. I was surprised to see the phone because I thought she would’ve sold it for crack but she didn’t. I went through the phone and on it were twenty, thirty videos, some long, some not.”

  Tension rippled through Brooks and she turned abruptly, immediately realizing that he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. Facing him, she linked her fingers in his, needing the connection. “No, they weren’t sex videos. It was, I suppose, a diary of sorts. She told her story, her struggle with drugs and addiction, why she ran away. She detailed how her boyfriend and pimp forced her to have sex with multiple men for money in different hotels daily. And that she did it because she felt she owed him, that without him she was nothing. That she, in a warped way, loved him.

  “It’s a story that plays out a thousand different ways for a hundred thousand girls daily in America, millions across the world. Trafficking doesn’t always mean sex rings and forced captivity. Sometimes, most times, it can be just one girl, one guy. And drugs and prostitution and trafficking go together like a hand in a glove.”

  “And that’s why you want to do the documentary,” Brooks said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears.

  “That’s why Janie wanted me to do the documentary. She knew that I was studying journalism and she made the videos for me, hoping that I would tell her story and save another girl from experiencing what she went through.

  “My first attempt at the documentary happened in my final year of college but it wasn’t very good. I put it aside for a few years and when my grandmother died, she made me promise to do it properly,” Nic said, keeping her voice low. “To do that, I need funds.”

  Brooks was quiet for a long time, but his eyes remained on her face and Nic felt like she could see into his soul. “If you didn’t need my money, if you didn’t have a story to tell, you’d never consider marriage, would you?”

  She wanted to be able to tell him that there was no way in hell she’d be marrying if it wasn’t for Jane and the promise she made to her gran, but she couldn’t deny the truth. There was a very good chance that, even without any incentive, she might’ve still said yes.

  She was that attracted to him; her need to be with him, around him, superseded her good sense and any rational thought.

  Instead of answering him—how could she admit that to him? It was hard enough facing the truth herself!—Nic leaned forward, her eyes on his lips. Placing her hand on his cheek, she rubbed her thumb through his stubble, loving the feel of his scruff beneath her fingers. Was she brave enough to kiss him, to find out how he tasted?

  “Nic, would you have considered marriage to me?”

  Knowing that he would push her for an answer, but not knowing why, Nic lowered his mouth to hers and when their lips met, a powder keg exploded beneath them. One minute she was kissing Brooks, her tongue gliding over his lips, and the next, she was straddling him, his hands on her bare ass and his tongue wrapped around hers, taking and giving and sucking...

  And a minute later she was lying under him, his long form pressed into hers, her leg curled around his calf, her arm hooked around his neck as he kissed her and kissed her and kissed her...

  Nic was lost in a vortex of need and passion and flat-out desire, but over her pounding heart she heard his soft whisper. “Would you have still considered marrying me, Nic?”

  No, yes, she didn’t know. Not having an answer, Nic just kissed him as the limousine made its way through Seattle’s rain and fog to her front door.

  * * *

  After fleeing Napa Valley in Brooks’s jet with Joshua, Teresa solemnly promised herself that she wouldn’t sleep with Liam again, that she wouldn’t allow him to mess with her head again.

  Fail and fail.

  When would she learn? Never, it seemed.

  At the venue for the Ryan/Abbingdon wedding Teresa stepped onto the lavender-edged path that would take her to the bridal cottage and trailed her hand through the fragrant bushes.

  Where was Liam now? What was he doing? She hadn’t spoken to him since she’d stormed out of his office and while she had a bunch of questions for him—why had he proposed? Was his offer to loan her money against her shares still on the table? Did he really want to marry her?—she knew she had to stay away from him. Liam took up too much brain space and she’d needed to concentrate on Brooks and Nicolette’s wedding. So she’d spent the past ten days working her ass off and the big day was finally here.

  It was the most important day of her life, career-wise, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted by thoughts of Liam Christopher and how much she missed him. Neither could she allow herself to be sidetracked by wondering and worrying about when she’d be contacted next about repaying Joshua’s debt, trying to figure out why Linus left her the shares in the first place or the future of her business.

  She could only worry about what she could control and this wedding should be—was, dammit!—her entire focus.

  As she passed the groom’s cottage, and the old-fashioned gazebo placed between the two cottages, she thought about Brooks’s strange call the day before.

  “There’s something else I need you to do for me, Teresa.”

  Her toes had curled—not in a good way—at his greeting.

  “Okay.” Think about the money; think about the fact that organizing this wedding is a way to reestablish yourself.

  “Can you delegate some of your pre-wedding duties to one or more of your minions, and help Nic dress?”

  Nope. She liked Nicolette but they hardly knew each other. “I don’t think Nicolette would want me to intrude...”

  “She has no family and she works too hard to make friends.” Yep, Teresa could relate. “I need you to be there, Teresa. I don’t want her to be alone.”

  Hearing the concern in Brooks’s voice had her, despite the millions of things she had to see to, saying yes.

  Teresa looked over her shoulder toward the main buildings and sighed at how picture-perfect the venue looked. Using Brooks’s money and influence, she’d persuaded the owner of The Two Barns, a fantastically exclusive wedding venue on the outskirts of Seattle, to speed up the last few renovations so that Brooks and Nic could hold their wedding in the newly converted, cathedral-like barns.

  The smaller barn was a chapel and the bigger barn would hold the reception. The venue, with its old bridge, babbling stream and a profusion of weeping willows, was ridiculously pretty and also housed an award-winning restaurant on the premises. Joaquin, the Michelin-starred chef and owner, had also added two small cottages, places where the bridal parties could dress.

  She’d love to wander around the grounds, sit next to the brook, dip her toes in the cool water. Pretend that her life wasn’t going to hell in a broken-down wagon. She wanted a minute to catch her breath, to zone out, to center herself before she faced the madness of the next six to eight to ten hours. But because Brooks asked her to, she was going to check on the bride, hold her hand. See if she was okay...

  The thing was, she wasn’t okay. She was stressed and tired and unhappy, feeling isolated and a little scared, and very much alone, but she’d never, not in a million years, let Nicolette see that. This was her day to feel like a princess and she didn’t need to know that her event planner felt like her nervous breakdown was waiting for her around the corner.

  Teresa dug deep for her courage—that well was starting to run dry—and knocked on the cottage door. When she heard Nicolette’s call to enter, she stepped into the exquisitely decorated room. Mint green and cream, feminine furnishings, sophisticated art. An unopened bottle of champagne stood in an ice bucket, and a plate of chocolate-tipped strawberries sat next to the bridal
bouquet on the coffee table.

  The room also contained one of the most beautiful brides she’d ever seen.

  Teresa stopped, placed her hand on her heart and simply stared at the vision in front of her. Beaded silk flowers bloomed down a low bodice and along illusion tulle sleeves. The material gathered at her tiny waist, and expensive lace fell in a waterfall of fabric hand-beaded with pearls, beads and stones. A dramatic train completed her fairy-tale look.

  Nicolette turned and lifted her eyebrows. “Do I look okay?”

  “You look absolutely amazing,” Teresa replied, feeling a little weepy. She’d done hundreds of weddings and rarely felt emotional, but Nicolette’s ethereal, natural beauty took her breath away. And, truth be told, she was a little envious. She wanted to be Nicolette, who had an amazing career and was about to embark on this amazing life with a sexy, nice man. Nicolette didn’t have to worry about her brother, his debts or deal with inconvenient feelings for a complicated man.

  She wanted this, Teresa reluctantly admitted. She wanted the pretty dress, the flawless makeup, the bouquets of lilies sitting on the coffee table. She wanted a new start with a strong man...

  She didn’t want a half-assed proposal, nor did she want a marriage based on convenience and protection and money and shares.

  Teresa shook off her blues. “Brooks asked me to check on you. He wanted to make sure that you were all right.”

  Nicolette’s eyes softened. “He’s a good guy.”

  Teresa flashed her a grin. “And he’s sexy as hell.”

  Nicolette smiled. “Isn’t he just?”

  Teresa sat down on the arm of the sofa and crossed her legs. She glanced at her watch and realized that it was later than she thought, fifteen minutes before Nicolette had to walk down the aisle. But they had time for a quick chat, a small glass of champagne. When she made the offer to Nicolette, she shook her head. “With my luck, I’ll probably pour it over my dress.”

  Teresa looked longingly at the imported, expensive bottle of champagne. “And I’m working. Damn.”

  Standing, she walked over to the table and picked up a strawberry and popped it into her mouth. She moaned as the flavors hit her tongue. Ripe, juicy berries and dark, rich Belgian chocolate. Could she just stay here for the rest of the day and drink champers and gorge on strawberries and chocolate and pretend the real world didn’t exist?

  She wished.

  “Those look amazing,” Nicolette commented, looking at the strawberries with undisguised longing.

  A girl should be able to eat whatever the hell she wanted to on her wedding day. Teresa picked up a berry by the stalk. “Open wide,” Teresa commanded her.

  “My dress, my makeup,” Nicolette protested.

  “Just bend forward and open up wide.”

  Nicolette did as she was told and Teresa popped the berry into her mouth, watching as her eyes fogged over with pleasure. “Aren’t they divine?”

  She nodded enthusiastically, chewed and opened her mouth again. Teresa fed her strawberries until Nicolette indicated that she’d had enough. “Thanks, I didn’t have breakfast,” Nic said. “Nerves.”

  “Can’t think why you are nervous. You’re only getting married today,” Teresa quipped.

  “I’m such a wuss.” Nicolette’s tone was desert-dry.

  Teresa checked her watch again and tapped her foot. She shouldn’t ask her this, she really shouldn’t. “Nicolette, how did you know Brooks was the one?”

  “Please call me Nic.”

  Her eyes flashed with an emotion Teresa couldn’t identify. Then she dropped her eyes and looked away. Curious.

  “I think that love, true love, ferocious love, doesn’t roll around often and that, as a society, we are in love with the idea of love.”

  So that was a helluva complicated answer to a simple question.

  “Love doesn’t have to be the only reason for marriage, Teresa.” Nic lifted one lovely, creamy shoulder. “I’m a practical person, Teresa, as I suspect are you.”

  Oh, damn, that had to mean that Nic was marrying Brooks for a reason other than love. Sadness swept over her. She liked Nic a lot and she liked Brooks, as well, and if they didn’t marry for love, would they spend the rest of their lives feeling cheated? Because, if she had to marry Liam without love, her life would be sheer hell.

  She’d saved herself; maybe she could save Nic, as well. “Please don’t, Nic.”

  Nic lifted perfectly arched eyebrows. “Please don’t what?”

  “Marry him.”

  Realizing what she was putting at risk—her reputation as a wedding planner, the plans she had for that money, Joshua’s hide—Teresa suddenly felt sick. What the hell was she doing? Was she certifiably insane?

  But just like she and Liam did, Nicolette and Brooks deserved the ferocity of love, deserved happy-ever-after happiness. “You don’t need to get married today. You can take your time, think this through.”

  Nic smiled softly. “Teresa, we have hundreds of guests waiting for me. We have spent a ridiculous amount of money—your fees included—to throw this function together in two weeks. Brooks is expecting me.”

  Teresa chewed the lipstick off her bottom lip. “It’s the rest of your life, Nic. The rest of his life.”

  Nic ran her hand up Teresa’s arm. “I’m not asking you to get married.”

  No, she wasn’t, and she had no right to project her fears onto Nic. To judge her for what she was doing just because she couldn’t marry without love and commitment and trust. She wanted it all; maybe Nic didn’t need it. Nic took her hand and squeezed. “I know what I’m doing, Teresa.”

  “Of course you do. I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

  Nic cocked her head, her smile a little cheeky. “Why, Teresa St. Claire, I think you are a bit of a romantic.”

  “Maybe,” Teresa reluctantly agreed.

  Nic laughed softly and picked up the heavy skirts of luscious wedding dress. She nodded toward her cascading bouquet. “Can you grab that?”

  Dammit, she was doing this. She really was. Nic walked toward the door and Teresa followed.

  Teresa ran her hand across her eyes and sighed. Not your circus, not your monkeys. If Nic wanted to sacrifice herself on the altar of a marriage for any reason at all, big or small, it had nothing to do with her.

  But she wouldn’t do it; she couldn’t do it. She’d love to marry Liam, but not like this. Never like this.

  At the door, Nic took her bouquet and smoothed down her skirts. She sucked in a big breath and looked Teresa in the eye. “I’ll be fine.”

  Teresa nodded. Leaning forward, she placed her cheek against Nic’s. “I know.”

  Nic put a camera-ready, confident smile on her face. “Let’s go give Brooks his birthday present.”

  It was Brooks’s birthday? “It’s his birthday today? What are you giving him as a gift?”

  Nic’s answer was short. And to the point. “Me.”

  Eight

  If he never had to attend another wedding again it would be too soon. Liam, having arrived too late to watch the ceremony, walked into the reception and released a low whistle. He’d grown up with wealth, had attended far too many society events and weddings, but this venue was impressive.

  The recently restored barn boasted clear grain cedar wallboards, high cathedral ceilings with polished beams and what he thought might be an original fir floor. The warmth of the wood was contrasted with a floor-to-ceiling glass wall on one end. The wood and glass effect was softened by a profusion of multicolored and massive flower arrangements and fairy lights. It was soft and elegant and pretty and, yeah, romantic.

  Teresa was good at her job.

  Liam ordered a Manhattan from a passing waiter, greeted an acquaintance and looked around for someone he’d like to talk to. Matt was across the room, waiting to issue his congratulations to
the bridal couple. Brooks looked like another guy in his tuxedo and solid black tie but Nic, Liam admitted, looked like a fairy-tale princess in her gown. No wonder Brooks couldn’t keep his eyes off his beautiful bride...

  It was all so damn pretty and perfect. But marriage seldom was. Hadn’t he seen this, not only with his parents, but also with dozens of acquaintances over the years? He’d attend the engagement parties and the weddings and six months later, a year, sometimes five, he’d hear that they were splitting, that they’d made a mistake. That divorce was inevitable.

  And then he’d hear about the vicious divorce proceedings, the custody battles and he’d remember the pretty and perfect. It was all such...crap.

  He’d watched and learned and rarely—okay never—allowed emotions to factor into his brief relationships. He’d never intended to get married, to put his head in that noose...

  Yet, that was exactly what he’d proposed—marriage—and Teresa had been clever enough to say no. Marriage would never work between them; he was too reticent and Teresa was too independent. They were both too scarred and too scared.

  Over the past ten days he’d spent a lot of time thinking about his crazy suggestion. Wondering why he’d made the offer. He finally, reluctantly, admitted that while he wanted to place Teresa under his protection—the protection of the Christopher name—he’d also wanted to save himself from being alone.

  During that board meeting, with Teresa sitting in the seat next to him, knowing that she was there and solidly on his side, he’d felt stronger and more confident than he had in years. He’d felt invincible and he wanted the feeling to stick around.

  If they married, he’d never have to attend another wedding or event alone; he wouldn’t have to come home to a cold, silent, empty house. He’d have access to amazing sex with a partner he craved, whose body he adored.

  He wouldn’t be alone...

  Nope, not a good enough reason to get hitched.