“Thanks, hon. That means a lot.”
* * *
The next morning, April drove down the highway leading to Canyon Lake Lodge all by herself. Poor Clovie had called in sick, waking up with a sore throat and a monstrous cold. There was no way April would allow her to come. She missed Clovie’s company, but she’d put on her big-girl panties this morning and bucked up.
Reaching the lodge fifteen minutes early would give her time to take one last look around before the potential clients arrived. This sale was big, and she needed it, but it didn’t stop her from remembering all that had happened here. The joy and the heartache. But the sun shined bright today, the skies were clear, and it was a perfect day to paint a picture for her clients.
She sucked in a big breath and got out of her car. Ceramic pots filled with her favorite flowers, pink stargazer lilies, decorated the front porch. Dozens of flowers in every state of bloom brought new life to the entrance of the house. Where had they come from? Had the new clients brought them by? A gift from the landscapers?
The door creaked open, and she jumped back, shocked that someone else was on the grounds. She hadn’t seen any other cars. Her heart began to race. The door opened wider, and she faced a man with deep-set dark eyes and a stubbly beard that made him look one hundred percent dangerous, yet he was wearing a charming smile.
“Risk, what the heck are you doing here?”
Risk winced at her tone. She didn’t care; he’d scared her to death.
“April,” he breathed out, looking her over from head to toe. “Man, I’ve missed you.”
She couldn’t let the sound of his voice, the tender look in his eyes, persuade her. “Risk, I have no idea why you’re here, but you have to leave. I have clients coming any minute now.”
She glanced down the long road, and when she turned back to him, he arched a brow, his dark gaze penetrating hers.
“I mean it, Risk, you have to go.”
He kept his eyes trained on hers.
“Oh.” She felt dread in the pit of her stomach. And something clicked in her head. She put two and two together. Mr. and Mrs. Rivers. As in River Boone, Risk’s real name. What a dirty trick. She’d been set up. “There are no clients coming, are there?”
Again, he gave her a tender look and shook his head slowly.
“Clovie?” She couldn’t believe her friend had set her up. Where was her loyalty? “Wait until I get back to the office. I’m going to ream her out for this.”
“It’s not Clovie’s fault. I talked her into this. She only wants what’s best for you.”
April gave her head a shake. “In that case, you want me to ream you out instead?”
“It’d be better than the silent treatment you’ve given me.”
“It was well deserved.” The sight of Risk here, despite his tactics, confused her. Dressed in dark jeans, a black Western snap-down shirt and dark boots, he seemed to fit here at the lodge. He wasn’t a corporate suit but a man of the land. Gosh, he looked amazing, if not tired around the eyes. Was he having trouble sleeping, too?
Her resolve starting to melt, she sighed and talked herself out of any warm feelings for Risk.
She couldn’t do this again. She couldn’t let her feelings for him persuade her to change her mind. How many times would Risk burn her?
“I’m going,” she said. She turned her back on him and began walking to her car.
“I thought you really needed this sale,” Risk called out.
She stopped and pivoted around. “I got your message, Risk. You’re not going to buy the lodge. Enough said.”
He climbed down the steps and strode over to her. “What if I said that’s not entirely true?”
His eyes were glowing now, the dark rims light and bright. “I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t, either, April. Not until a few days ago. There’s been something missing in my life, something that I couldn’t put my finger on. And it took losing you to see clearly, to see what was staring me right in the face.”
“What’s that?” she asked quietly, mesmerized by the soft ray of hope in his eyes.
“This lodge is my calling. I have always loved a challenge, always sought something that I could accomplish that really excited me. I’m not buying the lodge for the company, I’m buying it for myself, April. It’s a private venture. I want to run this place, open it up to fishing, boating and horseback riding. I want to make it a destination for the adventurous guest. I know horses, so I can do trail rides and teach roping and riding as well. I’ll be sinking my own money into this.”
“Really, this is what you want?” she said, nibbling on her lip.
“Yes, it’s what I want. But I want something else even more. You, April. I can’t imagine living my life without you in it.” He took her hand, capturing her attention with the warmth in his eyes. “You’re what’s also been missing in my life, sweetheart.”
“Because I’m a challenge?”
He laughed. “Because I love you with all of my heart. I’ve never loved this strong before. I’ve never been so sure of anything. We belong together.”
April was floored. She was all set to walk away from Risk, to try to pick up the pieces of her life and move on, but that was never what she’d really wanted.
What she’d wanted for the longest time was the man standing in front of her. Not the celebrity, not the wealthy rancher, but the man behind all that. The kind, sweet man she knew him to be, deep down. “What about Shannon?” she had to ask.
“I pretty much told her to go home, that there was nothing for her in Boone Springs. We are over and have been for a long time, April. That’s what I told her the night of the Founder’s Day party. She’s not going to buy the farmhouse. I went to see Tony Russo and learned the only reason he’d agreed to sell to her was because he’d recently lost his job.”
“I didn’t know that. I didn’t know any of this, Risk.”
“I offered Tony a job. Their family will be okay now.”
April’s eyes teared up. “That was sweet of you.”
“Excuse me, did I hear you say I’m sweet?”
“I did,” she said, lifting her hand to caress his stubbly cheek. “I love you, too, Risk.”
He moved her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. “I love you, April. You’re the perfect girl for me. I swear, I’ll never let you down.” He tugged her into the lodge, and she stared at the most beautiful array of pink stargazer lilies she’d ever seen. They decorated every nook and cranny, every table, and adorned the steps leading up the staircase.
“It’s beautiful, Risk. You remembered my favorite flowers.”
“Of course. I pay attention when it comes to you.” And then he grinned. “And our fake-fiancée list really helped.”
She laughed as he guided her to the master suite. When they got there, she gazed at the embers burning in the fireplace, the silver bucket of champagne and two crystal flutes set out on a tray on the bed. This was a special place to her. She couldn’t believe she was here with him and he was professing his love to her.
She turned to Risk with tears in her eyes.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart.”
He cradled her in his arms, his shoulders big and broad and safe.
And then he pulled away and knelt on bended knee.
Her hands went to her mouth, her gaze on the black velvet box Risk was opening. Inside was a shining square-cut diamond ring mounted on a pedestal of smaller diamonds.
“April,” he began, “you’ve worn an engagement ring before, but it was all pretend. And the more time I spent with you, the more our fake engagement began to feel real. It scared me at first, because I was always the guy who wasn’t going to get serious with a woman again. But then something changed, something shifted, and I realized that my fake fiancée was the love of my life. Maybe we’ve done this a little ba
ckward, but there’s nothing backward about the way I feel about you. I’m crazy about you, and I promise to love you forever and ever. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
April’s legs wobbled as she bent on both knees to meet him on the floor. “Yes, Risk. I’ll be your wife, your partner and whatever else comes along.”
She cupped his face and kissed him then, giving him her whole heart, no longer holding back, no longer worried about being hurt by him.
She trusted him.
And it was wonderfully liberating to finally admit her feelings, knowing they were returned.
When the kiss ended, Risk took her hand and placed the stunning ring on her finger. It sealed their love, and her heart soared.
“Thank you, April.”
“For what, my love?”
“For helping me find my real place in life.”
“The lodge?”
He shook his head and kissed her lips. “Loving you.”
* * *
As the Boone brothers fall one by one,
make sure not to miss Lucas Boone’s story
by USA TODAY bestselling author
Charlene Sands
Available February 2020
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Black Tie Billionaire
by Naima Simone
One
She was beautiful.
Gideon Knight tuned out the man speaking to him as he studied the petite woman weaving a path through the crowded ballroom. Even wearing the white shirt, black bow tie and dark pants of the waitstaff, she stood out like the brightest jewel among the hundreds of guests at the Du Sable City Gala, the annual event of the Chicago social season, rendering those around her to mere cubic zirconia.
How was it that only he noticed the elegant length of her neck, the straight line of her back that tapered at the waist and flowed out in a gentle, sensual swell of hips? How did the other people in the room not ogle the particular way the light from the crystal chandeliers hit her bronze skin, causing it to gleam? How did they not stop and study the graceful stride that wouldn’t have been out of place on the most exclusive catwalk?
Had he said beautiful? He meant exquisite.
And he hadn’t even seen her face.
Yet.
“Excuse me.” Gideon abruptly interrupted the prattling of the older gentleman, not bothering with a polite explanation for walking away.
The other man’s surprised sputtering should’ve dredged up a semblance of regret, especially since Gideon’s mother had hammered better manners into him. But just ten years ago this gentleman wouldn’t have deigned to acknowledge Gideon’s existence. Then he’d been just another penniless, dream-filled, University of Chicago business student. He hadn’t been the Gideon Knight, cofounder and CEO of KayCee Corp, one of the hottest and most successful start-up companies to hit the market in the last five years. Now that he was a multibillionaire, this businessman, and people of his tax bracket and social sphere, damn near scraped their chins on the floor with all the bowing and kowtowing they directed Gideon’s way.
Money and power had that peculiar effect.
Usually, he could dredge up more patience, but he despised events like this high society benefit gala. One thing he’d learned in his grueling battle to breach the inner sanctum zealously guarded by the obscenely wealthy one percent was that a good portion of business deals were landed at dinner tables, country club golf courses and social events like the Du Sable City Gala. So even though attending ranked only slightly higher than shopping with his sister or vacationing in one of Dante’s nine levels of hell, he attended.
But for the first time that he could remember, he was distracted from networking. And again, for the first time, he welcomed the disruption.
He wound his way through the tuxedoed and gowned throng, pretending not to hear when his name was called, and uttering a “Pardon me” when more persistent individuals tried to halt him with a touch to his arm. Many articles written about him had mentioned his laser-sharp focus, and at this moment, it was trained on a certain server with black hair swept into a low knot at the back of her head, a body created for the sweetest sin and skin that had his fingertips itching with the need to touch...to caress.
That need—the unprecedented urgency of it—should’ve been a warning to proceed with caution. And if he’d paused, he might’ve analyzed why the impulse to approach her, to look into her face, raked at him like a tiger’s sharp claws. He might’ve retreated, or placed distance between him and her. Discipline, control, focus—they were the daily refrains of his life, the blocks upon which he’d built his business, his success. That this unknown woman already threatened all three by just being in the room... Not even his ex-fiancée had stirred this kind of attraction in him. Which only underscored why he should walk away. It boded nothing good.
Yet he followed her with the determination of a predator stalking its unsuspecting prey.
How cliché, but damn, how true. Because every instinct in him growled to capture, cover, take...bite.
She would be his tonight.
As the strength and certainty of the thought echoed inside him, he neared her. Close enough to glimpse the delicate line of her jaw and the vulnerable nape of her neck. To inhale the heady, sensual musk that contained notes of roses, and warmer hints of cedarwood and amber...or maybe almond.
Tonight’s mission would be to discover which one.
For yet another time this evening, he murmured, “Excuse me.” But in this instance, he wasn’t trying to escape someone. No, he wanted to snare her. Keep her.
At least for the next few hours.
Look at me. Turn around and look at me.
The plea rebounded off his skull, and the seconds seemed to slow as she shifted, lifting her head and meeting his gaze.
His gut clenched, desire slamming into him so hard he braced himself against the impact. But it still left him reeling. Left his body tense, hard.
A long fringe of black hair swept over her forehead and dark-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, but neither could hide the strong, regal lines of her face, the sharp cheekbones, the chocolate eyes or the lush siren’s call of her mouth.
Damn, that mouth.
He dragged his fascinated gaze away from it with a strength that deserved a gold medal. But
nothing, not even God Himself, could cleanse his mind of the acts those curves elicited. Acts that left him throbbing and greedy.
“Did you need a glass of champagne?” she asked, lowering her eyes to the tray she held.
No, keep your eyes on me.
The order rolled up his throat and hovered on his tongue, but he locked it down. Damn, with just a few words uttered in a silk-and-midnight voice, he’d devolved into a caveman.
Once more, a warning to walk away clanged inside him, but—like moments earlier—he ignored it. Nothing else mattered at the moment. Nothing but having that sex-and-sin voice stroke his ears. Having those hands slip under his clothes to caress his skin. And those oval-shaped eyes fixed on him.
“What’s your name?” He delivered a question of his own, answering hers by picking up a glass flute full of pale wine.
If he hadn’t been studying her so closely, he might’ve missed the slight stiffening of her shoulders, the minute hesitation before, head still bowed, she said, “I need to continue...”
She shifted away from him, preparing to escape into the crowd.
“Wait.” He lifted his arm, instinct guiding him to grasp her elbow to prevent her departure. But at the last moment, he lowered his arm back to his side.
As much as he wanted to discover how she felt under his hand, he refused to touch her without her permission. Rich assholes accosting the waitstaff was as old a story as a boss chasing his secretary around the desk. Even though his palm itched with the lack of contact, he slid his free hand into his front pocket.
The aborted motion seemed to grab her attention. She raised her head, a frown drawing her eyebrows together.
“Gideon Knight,” he said, offering her his name. “You have my name. Can I have yours?”
Again, that beat of hesitation. Then, with a small shake of her head, she murmured, “Camille.”
“Camille,” he repeated, savoring it as if it were one of the rich chocolate desserts that would follow the dinner course. “It’s a lovely name. And it fits you.”
Stranded and Seduced Page 17
