Unforgettable

by Ann Christopher

  He raised his head. Stared at the woman he’d always known would be his wife.

  She met his gaze with steady warmth.

  “Have I mentioned how much I love you?” he asked.

  She frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t think you have.”

  “I love you.”

  “That’s better,” she said, dimpling at him.

  “Have I mentioned I have another souvenir for you?”

  Incredulous look from Zoya. “You’ve done pretty well. Don’t you think you should quit while you’re ahead?”

  “I think you’ll like this one, too.”

  She grinned and started clapping again. “Snow globe. Snow globe. Snow globe.”

  “It’s not a snow globe, you silly girl. Close your eyes.”

  She complied, holding out her hands again.

  He stifled a laugh, hurried to the bedroom, came back and very carefully put the bow in her right hand and wrapped her left hand around the neck of a cello.

  If he’d thought she’d looked stricken before, he hadn’t seen anything yet. She doubled up, bending at the waist and sobbing as her face twisted into what he’d heard Oprah call The Ugly Cry.

  Honest to God, there’d be nothing left of his heart when this woman got through with him. She just squeezed it to death between her soft little hands.

  “No, Daniel.” She rocked back and forth, shaking her head. “You didn’t buy me a cello.”

  “Yes, I did. Open your eyes, Kitten. See if you like it. It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not! I can’t!”

  “You can’t open your eyes?”

  “No! What if it’s all a dream? What if I open my eyes and everything’s gone again and it’s just me all by myself?”

  Shit. Now she had him crying, too.

  He wiped his eyes. Wiped hers. Kissed her forehead.

  “It’s okay, baby. Open your eyes for me.”

  She did, took one look down at the cello and lapsed into another wave of sobs.

  “I can’t believe it!” Regaining some measure of control, she scooted to the edge of the sofa and assumed playing position with the cello sitting on the floor between her legs. She didn’t play it, though.

  “Zoya,” he said, starting to laugh as he sat beside her. “You can’t spoon the cello! Let it go.”

  “I can’t!” She wrapped her arms around the throat, her thighs around the body and kissed the scroll. “I love it!”

  “Well, it’s not sleeping in the bed with us tonight—”

  “Yes, it is! Screw you!”

  “And you’d better stop crying on it before you warp it or something.”

  That knocked some sense into her.

  “You’re right, you’re right.” She hastily released her new love, checking to make sure no tears had splashed onto it. “Do you have a tissue?”

  By the time he came back from the bathroom with one, her tears had all dried up and only girlish delight remained. “I can’t believe you did this for me,” she said, staring up at him with open adoration. “I can’t believe it.”

  He tried to glower at her, but the general effect was ruined by the fact that he couldn’t stop grinning. “I’d like to note, for the record, that you showed far more emotion about the cello than you did about the ring.”

  “No, I didn’t!”

  “I believe you did.”

  “It’s the cumulative effect! This is the best night of my life!”

  “Well played,” he said sourly. “Do you like it?”

  “I love it,” she said, caressing the dark polished wood and running her fingers down the strings.

  “I’ll give you the papers later. It’s French. From the eighteen-thirties. Apparently, Bordeaux was known for its cello makers.”

  “I know. It was. Where did you find it?”

  “Some music shop near Baptiste’s home. They had several cellos, and the owner played them all for me. I don’t know if this one is the best or not, but it sure sounded the best to my ears. And then Baptiste had a couple words with him, and the next thing I know, I’m getting the deal of a lifetime.”

  “Oh, but, Daniel, how can you afford the cello and the ring? You’re not made of money—”

  “I did well back in Napa. I told you.”

  “Yeah, but you were saving your money to buy into Harper Rose so you’d have an ownership stake.”

  “I’m still going to do that. Over time. I talked to my father.”

  “And if we’re getting married, we should start saving for a house, shouldn’t we?”

  “We will,” he assured her. “But I fell in love with a cellist. I plan on marrying a cellist.”

  “But—”

  “You know what? You’re right. Which would you like me to return? The ring or the cello?”

  She shrieked and threatened him with the tip of the bow to his throat, like a sword. “Don’t even try it, buddy.”

  “That’s what I thought,” he said wryly. “Are you going to play something for me?”

  “In a minute.”

  The new throatiness in her voice intrigued him. As did her deliberate eye contact as she stood with a silky swish of her robe, carefully leaned the cello against a nearby chair and started back to him, her hands already untying the robe’s belt.

  Getting air into his lungs suddenly became that much more difficult.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “We have to make this engagement legal, don’t we?” she asked.

  It took him a couple beats to answer, distracted as he was by the way she held the robe’s edges together between her breasts even as the bottom shifted away from her legs as she walked, allowing generous sections of her thighs to show.

  “Ah, legal, did you say?”

  “Engagements aren’t legal until consummated,” she said, dropping her hands and letting the robe separate. “I’m surprised you don’t know that.”

  Ah, there it was. The six-inch column of bare skin he’d been longing to see: the valley between her breasts…the taut belly…the dark triangle between her thighs…

  Legs, legs and more legs.

  “I’m all about the legalities,” he said, leaning forward to reach for her.

  She straddled him, settling her knees on either side of him and her arms around his neck. He pressed his face to her smooth neck, shuddering with relief, gratitude and desire.

  He was back home where he belonged.

  They were back.

  And his head wasn’t full of candy-coated delusions, either. There’d be rough patches in their road ahead; he knew that. They didn’t have all the answers any more than they ever had. The thing was, though, that they were older. Smarter. And if he’d learned one thing in the last fourteen years, it was this:

  “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Zoya.” He raised his head. Gripped her waist to anchor her. Stared into her glittering eyes as he reached under the robe and trailed his free fingers up the insides of her thighs and over her ass. Absorbed her shiver. “I’m never letting go of you again.”

  “You’re never letting go of us.”

  “Good correction,” he said, now stroking his fingers through the slick cleft between her legs. Her eyes rolled closed and her face contorted with gathering ecstasy as her head fell back. “I’m never letting go of us.”

  “See that you don’t.”

  He firmed up his touch, taking great care to lubricate his fingers with her juices as he ran them over the tender nub at the apex of her thighs. He did it over and over again in the slow rhythm he knew she loved, greedily cataloguing all her reactions and storing them with his most precious memories.

  Her breath hitched. She cooed and said something he didn’t quite catch. Her hips began to pump in counterpoint to his stroking. She let go of his neck and palmed her breasts, making the plump flesh swell as she rubbed her nipples. She arched her back, lungs heaving as the sensations washed over her.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice breathless. “Yes.”

>   A sharp cry. She went rigid, then boneless, and he tightened his hold on her waist while she rode it out. He saw it all, his heart full of a dizzying combination of love and triumph.

  Joy.

  And all that was before she recovered enough to raise her head and stare down at him with glazed eyes and passion-stained cheeks.

  “So…” He gave her a nipping little kiss and ran his hands up her sides, to the delicious outer curves of her breasts. She shivered again, cranking him even higher. “Are we legal now?”

  “Not even close,” she said huskily, reaching for the elastic waistband of his shorts.

  His skin burned white hot for her. His dick was more than ready. Hard and huge.

  And she was so tight as she eased down onto him.

  So unbelievably, mind-blowingly tight.

  “Zoya.”

  There were things she needed to know. Important things he wasn’t sure he’d ever mentioned, like how his heart beat for her and how he would give her the earth if she kept smiling at him and loving him like this, with the slow-swiveling hips and the deep kisses that let their tongues fill each other’s mouths.

  But there was no room for words between them right now.

  No time or need for them.

  There was only this.

  They made slow love until she stiffened again, gasping out his name as she clenched her thighs around him. That was all the signal he needed to let his eruption come.

  And come.

  And come.

  When it was over, there was nothing left of him that didn’t belong to her.

  “Now we’re legal,” she said, slipping off his lap.

  “Thank God,” he said, slumping to the side and stretching out.

  Not quite conscious, he was dimly aware of her running the water in the bathroom.

  Coming back, her robe rustling.

  And then the sounds he’d missed as desperately as he’d missed her passionate cries when she came:

  Zoya tuning her new cello from memory, getting each string’s pitch just right.

  Zoya’s delighted laughter at the cello’s voice, which was bright, pure and strong. Every bit as powerful as Daniel remembered from the little shop in Bordeaux.

  Best of all?

  Zoya beginning to play for the first time in years.

  Daniel grinned. Cracked open his eyes open long enough to see her seated in a straight-backed chair with her robe back on and the cello cradled between her bare thighs.

  And fell asleep to the plaintive notes, as familiar as his own face in the mirror every morning when he shaved, of Zoya playing Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1.

  Epilogue

  Five Years Later

  “I’m not sure I feel qualified to give advice about love,” Zoya said, turning to Daniel, who sat beside her on the bench. “What about you?”

  “I sure don’t feel qualified to give advice about love. Especially to my parents.”

  “It’s not really advice,” said their videographer, Marvin, who stood on the other side of all the lights and umbrella and manned the camera. They were in a room outside the ballroom where the black-tie fiftieth anniversary party for Nigel and Ada was in full swing, and all the Harper brothers and their wives were surreptitiously recording a video as a gift. “It’s more like what you’ve learned about love since you got together.”

  “Well, what did my brothers say?” Daniel asked. “Anything worth repeating? Probably not, knowing those knuckleheads.”

  Marvin laughed. “Edward and Reeve talked about love at first sight. Ethan and Sofia talked about her preconceived notions about relationships and how they almost got in the way. They were all great. So feel free to say something profound for the ages. No pressure.”

  Zoya and Daniel exchanged a blank and vaguely panicked look.

  Marvin laughed again. “Didn’t anyone fill you in on the plan?”

  “Yeah, but, in fairness, we haven’t slept well the last couple nights,” Zoya said. “We have a two-year-old girl and a four-year-old boy, and they both had a nasty stomach thing this week, so Daniel was up with them. And I had a concert in San Francisco last night—”

  “You’re in the symphony?” Marvin asked.

  “Yeah, and I flew back on the red-eye. So I have no idea what day it is,” Zoya said.

  “Well, didn’t you come in saying something about how you two had a second chance at love, Daniel?” Marvin asked.

  “True,” Daniel said, frowning thoughtfully. “Not sure how insightful it is, though.”

  “Ummm…” Zoya began. “Well, we could talk about how we met back in college and were together for a couple of years, and then—”

  “Yeah, but everybody already knows that,” Daniel said.

  “True.”

  “I got it, I got it,” Daniel said, brightening and snapping his fingers. “We learned about communication. And pride.”

  “Yes! We did!” Zoya said.

  “The thing is, you can’t be a hothead,” Daniel said. “You can’t let yourself run away mad. Because if you do that, then your pride will kick in, and you can’t figure out how to get yourself back on the playing field. The whole thing just snowballs, and then time passes when you could have been together and happy.”

  “All true,” Zoya said. “But I think we also learned that you can’t just let yourself be stuck. Because I knew I wasn’t over Daniel, but I never did anything about it. We let it go too easily. We didn’t fight hard enough.”

  “Because of the pride,” Daniel said.

  “Well, there you go,” Zoya said. “So the bottom line is to be smart enough to recognize when you have something special and to hang on to it.”

  “Right. But also that some things are special now and they’ll be special years from now, so it’s never too late,” Daniel added.

  “See?” Marvin said. “And you folks thought you didn’t have anything profound to say.”

  “We did our best, didn’t we, Kitten?” Daniel asked.

  “We did, indeed,” Zoya said, leaning in for a kiss, after which they both turned back to the camera.

  “Happy Anniversary, folks!” they called, waving.

  “And best wishes for many more happy years,” Zoya said.

  “And… that’s a wrap,” Marvin said.

  “Whew.” Zoya stood and adjusted the skirt of her dress. “That was tricky, wasn’t it?”

  A knock at the door prevented Daniel from answering, and then Isaiah came inside, tugging Alyssa in behind him.

  “Oh, shit,” Daniel said gleefully. “These two are next? Maybe I should tell their story. I was there the night they met, Marvin. Alyssa dumped a pitcher of water on Isaiah’s lap. Can you believe that?”

  “He had it coming,” Alyssa said fairly.

  “It was assault,” Isaiah said darkly.

  Alyssa shrugged. “Well, then you had an assault coming.”

  “This is why these two are perfect for each other.” Daniel hooked an arm around Isaiah’s neck and reeled him in for a noogie that knocked Isaiah’s glasses askew. “Alyssa doesn’t let him get away with anything. They’re well matched.”

  Isaiah retaliated by elbowing Daniel in the gut and freeing himself. “Noogies are also assaults.”

  They all laughed.

  “So listen, folks,” Marvin began. “Why don’t you sit on the bench—”

  Another knock on the door, then Baptiste stuck his head in. “What’s going on in here? Why is everyone disappearing when there’s a wonderful party going on out in the ballroom?”

  “No one called for you, Frenchie,” Daniel said.

  “Why are Americans so rude?” Baptiste said. “What’s happening?”

  “We’re doing videos about falling in love for my folks,” Daniel said.

  Baptiste preened for the camera. “I could do a video. I fell in love. I’m sure your parents want to hear about it.”

  “That’s the problem with this clown,” Daniel said, jerking a thumb in Baptiste’s direction. “
He showed up here one day, and he stuck like glue. He just never left.”

  “If we’re telling stories, then my wife and I have a story, is all I’m saying,” Baptiste said.

  “Calm down, people,” Marvin said, laughing. “My camera’s got plenty of memory available. We’ll get to everyone’s story before it’s all over.”

  Read ALL OF ME Now!

  Thank you for reading UNFORGETTABLE! I hope you enjoyed visiting Journey’s End and watching Daniel and Zoya’s reconciliation as much as I enjoyed writing their story! And how about that Griffin, eh? We’ll be hearing more from him…

  QUESTION: What about Baptiste? Does he have a book?

  ANSWER: Yes! The insistent Frenchman kicks off my spin-off series, Journey’s End Billionaires. These sagas are all two-parters because sometimes you can’t fit an epic love story into one book. ;)

  Here’s a teaser for NO ORDINARY LOVE:

  Opposites attract. But for how long?

  Sexy French billionaire Jean-Baptiste Mercier avoids emotional attachments by giving his model or actress girlfriends his credit card—but never his heart.

  Down-to-earth career woman Samira Palmer avoids dating anyone right now—especially bad boys. Until a handsome man with a thrilling accent and piercing green eyes literally bumps into her one unprecedented night.

  Sparks fly when opposites attract. As for happily ever after between star-crossed lovers? Anything’s possible in small-town Journey’s End…

  I’m so excited to introduce readers to this new series that I’ve made NO ORDINARY LOVE FREE! Grab it today!

  QUESTION: What about Crazy Isaiah and Alyssa? Do they have a book?

  ANSWER: I wouldn’t let you down! Here’s a teaser from their book, ALL OF ME:

  Genius tech millionaire Isaiah Harper, better known as “Crazy Isaiah,” alienates everyone he encounters with his abrasive personality. Not that he cares. Until he meets his match during a run-in with the feisty server at his family’s restaurant in small-town Journey’s End.

  Alyssa Banks knows she needs to make some life changes and stop acting like a doormat. But she never expected her big moment to come while nose-to-nose with intriguing Isaiah Harper, who doesn’t strike her as crazy. At all…