by Joanne Rock
But she wouldn’t do that. She’d pack her things and fly business class like a sensible executive. She’d turned off her phone for the first time in months—not because she was avoiding anyone per se. But because for tonight she was done being a go-between. An ambassador. A fixer. She was tired of serving in that capacity for her grandparents and Eliot and the merger they wanted. And she was done playing that role for Devon, who’d imposed on their long friendship without her knowing.
As for Marcus...maybe she was avoiding him just a little.
Because she didn’t want to risk another confrontation? Or because she didn’t want to risk her heart? She wasn’t sure of that, either. The easy answer would be to forget about Marcus, because he didn’t want something serious. But she knew what she felt for Marcus was deeply serious. So if she walked away now, was she being as shallow as she’d accused him of being, refusing to take the bigger emotional chance in case he rejected her again?
Staring into the designer suitcase that had been a Christmas gift from her grandparents, she took no satisfaction from the neat rolls of socks. A wave of despair threatened to level her just as a soft knock sounded on the exterior door to her suite.
“Hello?” she called, checking the sleek marble clock over the fireplace as she strode through the living area.
It was too late for housekeeping.
“Lily, it’s Marcus.” His voice stopped her in her tracks.
Not because she didn’t want to see him. But because she did. Desperately.
Biting her lip, she approached the door without opening it.
“Marcus?” Her palm flattened against the dark gray steel barrier. She tipped her head against the wall beside the doorjamb, somehow feeling closer to him.
If she let him in, what was to stop her from flinging herself in his arms? She’d used up all her confrontational words earlier. She didn’t have enough left to argue if he’d come here with new questions or hurtful accusations.
“I came to apologize.” The words slipped through the crack, winding themselves around her.
Or maybe it was just the sound of his deep, male voice, which she had missed.
She felt her resolve soften.
“I’m listening.” Leaning more heavily against the butter-yellow seagrass wallpaper, Lily tried to quiet her hopeful heart beating loud enough to distract her.
“I think you deserve an apology in person.” He paused, as if waiting for a reply. Then he added, “So you can see how sincere I am.”
Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself for seeing him, knowing already that she wanted to be with him. But she couldn’t settle for half measures. She deserved better.
Straightening, she touched the amethysts around her neck. She wasn’t her mother, and she wouldn’t turn her back on everyone else in her life for the sake of a man. But it was okay to want to be loved.
She unlocked the dead bolt and turned the handle, admitting him.
The remote man she’d spoken to at Weston Rivera’s house had vanished. Marcus’s tie hung loose around his neck; the top button on his shirt had popped free. His hair curled as if he’d run his hands through it multiple times. His dark gaze collided with hers.
“Thank you.” He stepped into the room and closed the door behind them.
“Would you like a seat?” She moved into the sitting area, feeling jittery and anxious, wanting to hear him out but afraid whatever he had to say wouldn’t meet the hopeful expectations springing to life inside her.
She needed to just listen.
He took a seat on the tan leather love seat, and his gaze traveled to her open suitcase in the bedroom. She perched on the armless chair near the window, aware of the marble clock softly ticking over the fireplace.
“Lily, I came to apologize, not just for the way I acted at the party, but for suspecting you of spying for Devon all week long.” He sat forward on the cushion, his elbows on his knees. “The issues I have with my brother have nothing to do with you, and it’s a problem that I let infect my relationship with you and my relationship with the whole company.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t expected the nature of the apology to be so professional. Was he only here to fix their work relationship? Her heart sank to her toes, and she tried her best not to show it. She nodded, tearing her gaze away from him so he wouldn’t see her disappointment. “Your apology is accepted. And thank you.”
He was quiet for a long moment while she waited for him to leave. She bit her lip before saying, “It really is getting late—”
“I’m in love with you.”
Her gaze flew to his. “Ex-excuse me?”
“I know you might not be ready to hear that yet, but this part actually is really simple and clear.” He reached across the space between them to touch her hand. To envelop it in his. “I’m in love with you, Lily, and I don’t care how complicated that makes things, because being with you is the only thing that matters to me.”
She stared down at the place where their hands touched, his darker skin against her pale fingers. Speechless, she wanted to tell him that wasn’t sensible or reasonable. But the truth was, she understood him perfectly, because she felt exactly the same way.
So she did the thing she’d wanted to do every moment of the last three days. She flung herself onto him. He caught her neatly despite her lack of grace, one hand going around her waist. His head was temple to temple against hers while she threaded her arms around his neck.
Her heart overflowed with feelings. Joy. Wholeness. Connectedness. The certainty that this was how real love felt.
“Does that mean you forgive me?” he asked against her ear while she breathed in the scent of him that she’d missed so much.
“Not a chance.” She closed her eyes, leaning her cheek into his, savoring the feel of him next to her. “It only means I’m in love with you, too.”
She felt him smile, his cheek lifting, the bristle of his jaw scratching her gently.
“You love me, but you don’t forgive me.”
“You left for three days when I needed you,” she reminded him. “What if you knocked on my door just now and I didn’t answer for three days?”
She felt his smile fade, and he edged back to look in her eyes. There was no mistaking the depth of sincerity in his as he stroked her hair.
“Sometimes I miss the big picture, but I promise you I won’t ever do that again.” He sealed the promise with a kiss brushed over her lips.
A kiss that soothed all the hurts, big and small, inside her. A kiss that healed and tempted her at the same time.
“Now I feel like I can forgive you.” She wanted to learn more about him. Understand him better. Discover everything that made him tick. She couldn’t wait for all of those things with him. “What made you change your mind?”
She remembered his expression when she’d left the party. Her words had jarred him, she knew. But she hadn’t expected him to come to her this way. And she’d never, ever expected to hear him confide the feelings for her that she returned in full.
He lifted her the rest of the way onto the love seat, repositioning them so they reclined side by side. “I knew right away—when you called me out for how I spoke to you—that I was wrong. My only excuse is that I’ve never experienced anything like this with anyone before. I was out of my depth with you because I’ve had feelings for you for a long time.”
Her hair slid into her face, and he swept it aside. Pleasurable tingles tripped over her skin, reminding her of all the happiness that lay ahead for them.
“I knew what I felt for you was real when my grandparents left and all I wanted was to share my feelings with you. To see you, be with you, ask you what you thought.” She walked her fingers down his chest, the warmth of him stirring her senses.
“I wish I’d been there for you.” He skimmed a finger under the jewels she wore, a caress that left h
er breathless.
“We both were navigating our way through the surprise of what we felt. We weren’t expecting anything like this, but it’s a gift.” She knew that now—not everyone got to experience this toe-curling joy in love that could be sweet and passionate and aching, too.
Marcus had given her that, and she would always be grateful for it.
“I’ll never take you for granted,” he vowed with a seriousness that touched her deeply.
“I’ll never take this for granted, either,” she promised, her voice wobbling but her conviction rock solid. They were both hardworking, focused people. They would channel all of that formidable drive into a relationship so they could build the kind of future they both deserved.
One that would last for a lifetime.
Her fingers twined in the ends of his bow tie, drawing him closer so she could kiss him as much as she wanted, with all the love she had in her heart.
* * *
If you loved Marcus Salazar’s story,
don’t miss his brother Devon’s!
Mesa Falls: The Rival
by USA TODAY bestselling author
Joanne Rock
Available December 2019
from Harlequin Desire.
Keep reading for an excerpt from A Christmas Rendezvous by Karen Booth.
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A Christmas Rendezvous
by Karen Booth
One
Isabel Blackwell’s head had hardly hit the pillow when the hotel alarm went off. The fire alarm.
Frustrated and annoyed, she sat up in bed and shoved back her sleep mask while the siren droned on out in the hall. This was getting old. The luxury Bacharach New York hotel had been her home for nearly two weeks and this was the fourth time the fire alarm had sounded. She’d intentionally gone to bed early to try to sleep away her difficult day. Her brother, Sam, had convinced her to take on a legal case she did not want—saving Eden’s Department Store from a man with a vendetta and a decades-old promissory note. So much for the escape of a good night’s rest.
“Attention, guests,” the prerecorded message sounded over the hallway PA system. “Please proceed to the nearest fire exit in an orderly manner. Do not use the elevators. I repeat, do not use the elevators. Thank you.”
“Do not use the elevators,” Isabel mumbled to herself in a robotic voice. She tossed back the comforter, grabbed her robe, shoved her feet into a pair of ballet flats and dutifully shuffled down the hallway with the other guests. It was not quite 10:00 p.m., so she was the only one in her pajamas, but she refused to be embarrassed by it. Hers were pale pink silk charmeuse and she’d spent a fortune on them. Plus, if anyone should be feeling self-conscious, it was the hotel management. They needed to get their property under control.
She followed along down the stairs, through the lobby past the befuddled and apologetic bell captain, and out onto the street. Early December was not an ideal time to be parading around a Manhattan sidewalk in silk pj’s, but she hoped that by now, the hotel staff had finely honed their skills of determining whether there was an actual fire.
The manager shot out of the revolving door, frantic. “Folks, I am so sorry. We’re working as fast as we can to get you back inside and to your rooms.” He fished a stack of cards from his suit pocket and began doling them out. “Please. Everyone. Enjoy a complimentary cocktail at the bar as our way of apologizing.”
Isabel took his offering. She wasn’t about to pass up a free drink.
“What if you already have one waiting for you?” a low rumble of a voice behind her muttered.
Isabel turned and her jaw went slack. Standing before her was a vision so handsome she found herself wondering if she had actually fallen asleep upstairs and was now in the middle of a splendidly hot dream. Tall and trim, the voice had a strong square jaw covered in neatly trimmed scruff, steely gray eyes and extremely enticing bedhead hair. It had even gone a very sexy salt-and-pepper at the temples, pure kryptonite for Isabel. She had a real weakness for a distinguished man. “You had to leave a drink behind?” she had the presence of mind to ask. “That’s a very sad story.”
The voice crossed his arms and looked off through the hotel’s glass doors, longingly. “The bartender had just poured the best Manhattan I’ve ever had. And it’s wasting away in there.” He then returned his sights to her, his vision drifting down to her feet, then lazily winding its way back up. As he took in every inch of her, it warmed her from head to toe. “Aren’t you freezing?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I run hot.”
A corner of his mouth curled in amusement, and that was when she noticed exactly how scrumptious his lips were. He offered his hand. “Jeremy.”
“Isabel.” She wrapped her fingers around his, and found herself frozen in place. He wasn’t moving, either. No, they were both holding on, heat and a steady current coursing between them. It had been too long since she’d shared even an instant of flirtation with a man, let alone a chemistry-laden minute or two. Her job was always getting in the way, a big reason she disliked it so much.
“You weren’t kidding,” he said. “How are you so warm?”
How are you so hot? “Lucky, I guess.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the hotel manager announced, poking his head out of the door. “Turns out it was a false alarm. You may go back inside.”
“Looks like you can go rescue your Manhattan,” Isabel said to Jeremy.
“Join me? I hate to drink alone.” He cocked his head to one side and both eyebrows popped up in invitation.
Isabel had been fully prepared to go back upstairs and simply take a few thoughts of dreamy Jeremy for a spin as she drifted off to sleep. “I’m in my pajamas.”
“Don’t forget the sleep mask.” He reached up and plucked it from her hair. “Do these things really work?”
She smoothed back her hair, deciding this was only a good sign—he’d invited her to have a drink with him when she looked far less than her best. “They do work. Once you get used to it.”
“I’ve never tried one. Maybe I should. I don’t sleep that well.”
Isabel fought back what she really wanted to say—that she wouldn’t mind having the chance to make him slumber like a baby. Instead, she took the mask from his hand and tucked it into the pocket of her robe. “If you can stand to be seen with me, I’d love a drink.”
“You could be wearing a potato sack and I’d still invite you for a drink.” He stepped aside and with a flourish of his hand, invited her to lead the way.
Oh, Jeremy was smooth. For a moment she wondered if he was too much so. In her experience, men like that were only interested in fun. She’d moved to New York for a fresh start, so she could pursue a less unsavory line of legal work—adoption law, to be specific—and finally get serious about love. At thirty-eight, she was eager to get on with her life. Still, it was silly to judge yummy Jeremy by a few words in their first conversation. “Good to know your standards.” Isabel marched inside and crossed the lobby, stopping at the bar entrance. Despite the generous disbursement of drink coupons from the manager, the room was sparsely occupied, with only a few people seated at the long mahogany bar. It was an elegant space, al
beit a bit stuck in time, with black-and-white-checkerboard floors and crystal chandeliers dripping from the barrel ceiling. “You’ll have to let me know where you left your drink behind.”
“Over here.” Jeremy strolled ahead and Isabel took her chance to watch him from behind. The view was stunning—a sharp shoulder line atop a towering lean frame. His midnight-blue suit jacket obscured his backside, but she could imagine how spectacular it must be. He arrived at a corner table, and sure enough, there was his drink, along with a stack of papers, which he quickly shuffled into a briefcase.
“You really did leave in a hurry,” she said. “Is this your first night staying here? I don’t take the fire alarm all that seriously anymore. Most of the time it’s nothing.”
“I’m not a guest. I just had a meeting. I actually live in Brooklyn, but I thought I’d grab a drink before I headed home.” He slid her a sly look. “Now I’m glad I did.”
Isabel knew she should ask what he did for a living, but that would only lead to discussion of her own occupation. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about being a lawyer, a career she’d once dreamed of but that had since turned into a bit of a nightmare, another reason for moving away from Washington, DC. She’d somehow gone from earnest attorney to a political “fixer,” cleaning up the personal messes of the powerful. She was good at it. Very good, actually. But she’d grown weary of that particular rat race. And in Washington, everyone was a rodent of one form or another.
“What would you like to drink?” Jeremy asked, pulling out a chair for her.
Isabel eased into the seat, which was sumptuously upholstered in white velvet with black trim. “I’ll have a gin and tonic, two limes.” She reached into her robe and pulled out the drink coupon, holding it out for Jeremy.
“Save that for a rainy day. It was my invitation. I intend to buy you a drink.”
Isabel had to smile. It’d been a long time since a man had treated her nicely and actually made an effort. She’d been starting to wonder if gentlemanly behavior was a lost art. “Thank you.”
