We sat down again to finish our coffees, this time cuddling on the same side of the table. I glanced shyly at our audience, some of whom were still watching, and I smiled as I remembered the way we’d met. It was incredible that only a year had passed since I’d fed him Emma’s fake life story and given him a random phone number. So much had happened since that day, and I felt as though I’d known him all my life. As though I’d loved him all my life.
Emma’s story was set to be published soon. As excited as I was to share a new book with my readers, the ending I’d written had felt slightly off to me. Now, as Donovan held me close and pressed his lips to my temple, I understood why.
Emma had found her handsome hero and gotten her happy ending, but I knew it was nowhere near as perfect as the one I’d made with Donovan.
Epilogue
Kennedy
July
One Year Later
“This is ridiculous. I can’t see anything but pink,” my husband grumbled, swatting at the air around his head as he drove. “And they’re attacking me. Remind me again why we agreed to be on balloon duty.”
“Because we love our niece?”
“We can’t love her without being assaulted by hot pink latex and static electricity?”
“Oh, hush. It’s way too humid for static. And she’ll love them,” I smiled.
“Right. I still say we could’ve wrapped an empty box, and she’d like it just as much as that toy we bought.”
For all his feigned grouchiness, I knew there was nothing Donovan wouldn’t have done to make Kinley’s first birthday a happy one. She’d had her Uncle Donny wrapped around her finger from the moment he’d first felt her kick. Watching Donovan with our niece never failed to leave me with moisture in my eyes and a pang of longing in my uterus.
To say we’d had a busy year would be an understatement. Not only had we pulled off a wedding and honeymoon, but I’d released two more books, and Donovan had begun renovations on his own restaurant, Chance Encounters. Granted, Miranda had done the bulk of the wedding planning, having been thrilled beyond words to help make our sister status official. Our May wedding had been followed by two weeks of honeymooning in Europe. Not only had I been able to cross multiple places off my travel bucket list, but I’d also been so taken by the culture that I’d outlined my next three books.
Donovan had been so inspired by the food in the Mediterranean that he’d decided to make serious inquiries into restaurant ownership. To his surprise and relief, securing the funding had been easier than he’d anticipated, thanks to unexpected investments from his parents as well as mine. The restaurant was tentatively set to open in six months’ time, just after the new year. Judging by the interior design specs I’d seen thus far, it was shaping up to be an even nicer establishment than The Aviston, just without the pretentious overtones.
I’d teased him a little about the name he’d chosen, telling him that ‘Chance Encounters’ sounded more like the name of a seedy bar. The sort of place that hosted speed dating and had occupancy limits posted in the bathroom stalls. But when he’d told me his second choice would be to call it Kennedy’s, I’d decided to let it go.
“What’s this?” he asked, smirking as he held up a small gift bag with one hand and gathered a handful of balloon weights with the other. “That pushing-riding-flying-whatever contraption wasn’t enough for Auntie K’s princess?”
“It doesn’t fly,” I laughed as I grabbed said contraption from the back of our SUV.
“May as well.”
“That’s just a little something extra I picked up. She may have to grow into it, but I think she’ll like it.”
“Ah, but will my sister like it? She’s like the baby fashion gatekeeper.”
“She’ll love it,” I said confidently, unable to keep the secretive little smile off my face.
He narrowed his eyes playfully at me but didn’t press the issue. Together, we wrangled the massive balloon bouquets into the house and greeted our family. Donovan set about detangling the chaos of ribbons while I went to help Miranda in the kitchen.
“You didn’t cook, right?”
Miranda gave me a withering look before continuing to assemble a relish tray. Motherhood had not improved her culinary skills, and I’d become more than a little spoiled by being married to a four-star chef.
“I swear I’m going to take cooking lessons just so you all have to come up with a different running joke.”
“Aww, don’t sweat it, Mama. You have other skills. Thank God for Gabe, though. You’d all starve without him.”
“Not really,” she snorted, grinning. “Kinley has completely transitioned to solid food now, but she still doesn’t seem to care about variety. And I have it on good authority that that’s unlikely to change. The neighbor’s kid is three and won’t eat anything that’s not swimming in cheese sauce or breaded and shaped like a dinosaur.”
Our laughter was interrupted by Gabe, who had managed to pry his daughter away from Grandma Laurelle long enough to change her into her birthday dress. I promptly abandoned my task of table decorating and held my arms out to the little girl. She leaned away from Gabe eagerly and didn’t give him a second glance as he left the room, shaking his head good-naturedly.
“There’s Auntie K’s birthday girl! You look so pretty!”
Kinley gave me a wide and somewhat slobbery smile, revealing four teeth. She babbled excitedly and latched her tiny fingers into my long hair. Thanks to her premature birth, she was still on the petite side for her age, but she had a few basic words in her vocabulary and had just taken her first steps the week before. She was truly a beautiful baby with her dark, curly hair and wide brown eyes.
“Gosh, she looks more and more like Gabe every time she smiles,” I gushed, kissing my niece’s forehead. She still had that amazing baby smell, and I inhaled it greedily.
“But she has Mommy’s fashion sense!”
Miranda beamed at her daughter, and I was momentarily distracted by the purity of the love shining in her eyes. My mom had said it best, just after Kinley’s birth: Miranda’s world began and ended with her daughter.
“Fashion sense? At a year old?”
“You bet. Gabe’s mom bought her a really hideous dress last month, and right away, she spilled fruit punch all over it.”
“Who gave her fruit punch?”
“I have no idea,” Miranda said innocently, trying and failing to conceal her smirk.
Once the rest of the guests had arrived, it was quickly decided that presents would come before cake, since Miranda wanted as many pre-cake pictures of Kinley as we could manage. I agreed with her logic but felt my stomach flip with nervous excitement.
“Hey, make sure you get video of her opening our gift. The smaller one,” I told Miranda as we watched Donovan blowing raspberries against Kinley’s cheek.
Lord, that man still makes me swoon.
“Gabe’s on camera duty,” she replied.
“Good.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
Everyone cooed predictably over the adorable outfits, noisy toys, and Kinley’s newfound fixation with glittery tissue paper. When someone finally handed Miranda the small gift bag Donovan had asked about, I spoke up quickly.
“Maybe her Uncle Donny should help with that one.”
Both my husband and sister-in-law looked at me curiously but didn’t argue, trading places so that Donovan could hold Kinley on the living room floor. Kinley pulled out a pink t-shirt and promptly discarded it in favor of the tissue paper, but Donovan held it up to read the screen-printed words. My breath seemed to freeze in my chest as he stared at it in confusion. I watched his expression and saw the exact moment the message clicked in his brain.
“Really?” he breathed, gazing at me with wide eyes across the room. His features were a comic mixture of shock, incredulity, and boyish excitement. My answering smile made my cheeks ache.
“Really.”
Donovan handed the baby ba
ck to his sister and practically flew across the room to sweep me into his arms. My feet lifted from the ground as he spun us in a circle, and he didn’t stop kissing me even when the other guests began to ask what was going on. We were lost in each other and couldn’t have cared less who was watching.
We only began to return to earth when our kiss was interrupted by Miranda’s shrieks of excitement, but my husband’s arms stayed tight around my waist. We turned to see Miranda holding up Kinley’s new shirt so everyone could read the text printed onto the hot pink fabric.
My Cousin Has the Best Cousin.
From the Author
If you enjoyed Kennedy and Donovan’s story, I’d love to hear from you! Feel free to reach out to me in a review, through social media, or on my website!
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Chance Encounter is the first stand-alone novel in the Fates Aligned series.
If you loved Eli Brighton in this book, don’t miss his return in book two, Fortune’s Angel.
Turn the page to read the first chapter!
Fortune’s Angel - Chapter 1
Eli
There was an angel in my conference room.
Not the biblical or mythical kind. More like the Victoria’s Secret kind. She stood with her back to me, showing far more skin than I was accustomed to seeing at work. The thin straps of her tank top sat precariously on her slender shoulders, and her snug denim shorts revealed a pair of legs that belonged in a magazine or on a billboard. They were flawless, lightly tanned, and shapely down to her feet, which were encased in a pair of well-worn sneakers.
She was tiny. Almost comically so. But her exposed arms showed a surprising amount of muscle and complemented her hourglass shape. Her ink-black hair was gathered high atop her head in a messy bun with a few loose tendrils curling around the nape of her neck.
My body was already responding to hers, and I hadn’t even seen her face. If I’d had the ability to think coherently, I probably would’ve been amazed that I even had the energy to react at all. It had been another brutally long day, which had become the norm since I’d taken over as CEO at Rowan Pierce Construction. Between conference calls, staff meetings, and everything else, romantic entanglements were the last thing on my mind.
When I’d opened my office door to head home for the night, I’d been surprised to hear music playing from down the hall. It hadn’t been loud enough to penetrate the relative sound-proofing of my office, but the peppy, upbeat tune was in stark contrast to the typically quiet atmosphere of the executive floor. I’d assumed the building would be empty at that hour, with the exception of the night security guards downstairs. But when I’d glanced in the direction of the sound, a light from one of the conference rooms had made me curious enough to investigate.
I have no idea how long I stood there watching her, bewildered and transfixed, but I eventually noticed a bottle of cleaner and a damp cloth on the glass conference table in front of her. She’d apparently been in the process of removing the streaks and fingerprints left over from the day’s various meetings. I admit, I’d had very few encounters with the overnight cleaning staff, and I couldn’t help but wonder if they all looked like her. She was dressed for a summer barbeque or a late night baseball game rather than a job.
Her attire wasn’t all that strange, I supposed, considering the nature of her job and the fact that Florida was currently suffering its hottest summer on record. Surprisingly, my angel didn’t seem to be bothered by the arctic chill of the air conditioning, though I was perfectly comfortable in my suit and tie.
I shifted my weight reluctantly, intending to head for the elevator and leave her to her work, but I belatedly caught sight of the object in her hands. The RPC logo in the corner told me it was a company file of some sort, but I couldn’t see it properly from that distance. Regardless, no one on the cleaning staff had any business reading it. I probably should’ve been irritated, particularly after the day I’d had. But all I felt was amused curiosity. I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorjamb, taking care to keep a straight face.
“Anything interesting in there?”
I had to raise my voice a little so she could hear me over the music, and she was visibly startled by my interruption. She whipped around to face me, her expression one of shock and embarrassment, and I was just as stunned when I got a good look at her face.
Wow.
Her features were somehow delicate as well as exotic. Clear skin, full lips, high cheekbones... I could see signs of a mixed heritage, perhaps Hispanic or Asian. Maybe both. Her dark eyes were wide and fearful, and her cheeks were growing pinker by the second. She immediately closed the file and put it on the table behind her, and I barely managed not to smile at her nervousness.
“Did someone leave something interesting behind in my conference room?”
“Your conference room?” she echoed, now looking even more alarmed. Her voice was lower than I’d expected from such a small person. Sultry, even. “You’re Mr. Brighton?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“I’m so sorry, sir. I don’t usually work on this floor. I’m just filling in for Matthew while he’s on vacation. No one warned me that someone might still be working up here this late, so I didn’t think the music would bother anyone. I’m usually down on the first five levels, and no one cares about the noise down there…” I tried to interrupt her rambling, but she just kept talking, even as I slowly closed the distance between us. “I’m so sorry, I just got distracted with--”
I lifted my hand and put my index finger against her lips, and she stopped rambling. She might have even stopped breathing. We were both frozen in place for a moment, as my brain struggled to catch up with my body. I was touching her lips, and judging by her stunned expression, she was as surprised by the action as I was. But I couldn’t pull away. Our eyes were locked, and all common sense had completely evaporated.
From the closer vantage, I could see that her eyes were a beautiful shade of brown, like bourbon or dark ale. Her small stature made me feel like a giant, and I was sure she couldn’t be much taller than about five feet. A faint floral scent hung in the air around her, leaving my brain befuddled and my trousers snug. She didn’t just look like an angel. She smelled like heaven.
“You don’t need to apologize,” I murmured, forcing myself to lift my finger and break the trance.
My voice came out lower and with a slight rasp that betrayed my arousal, and I saw her tremble slightly. The previously up-tempo song on the radio transitioned smoothly into a slower, heavier beat, almost as hypnotic as she was.
“I’m the only one here this late, and you didn’t disturb me. My office is pretty well sound-proofed, and I only heard the music because I was on my way to the elevator.” My eyes flickered to the file I’d caught her reading. “What’s your name?”
“Charlotte Douglas.”
Charlotte. It was a wholesome sort of name, and it suited her. Despite her somewhat exotic beauty, there was a wide-eyed sort of sweetness about her. Not quite innocence, but close.
“Eli Brighton. Nice to meet you, Charlotte. Mind if I ask what you were reading?”
“Um…” She glanced nervously at the file and back at me. “I think someone in your legal department must’ve left it behind. I was going to return it to the proper office on my way back downstairs, but I accidentally dropped it, and the pages scattered. Then when I was putting them back in order, I started reading and found a few mistakes, and…”
She was rambling again, and I held up a hand to reassure her. I didn’t touch her this time, though, and the hint of relief I saw in her expression brought me up short. Maybe she hadn’t enjoyed our brief contact as much as I had. Lord knows, I’d liked it way too much. My eyes held hers as I reached around her slightly to grab the folder, and it looked like she was holding her breath again.
I said nothing as I scanned the top sheet inside the folder, immedi
ately recognizing it as a legal file from a new client contract meeting earlier that day. Not only was I alarmed that someone on my legal team had been so careless, but I was more than a little intrigued that someone on the cleaning staff had been able to find mistakes so quickly in a document like that. Talk about a misallocation of human resources. Even I had trouble following the legalese sometimes.
“Have you worked here long?” I asked, looking up from the file to catch her staring at my shoulders. The new rush of color in her cheeks made me curious as to what sort of thoughts I’d interrupted.
“About six months.”
“Just in the evenings?” She nodded. Why haven’t I crossed paths with her before? I sure as hell work enough late nights… But I recalled her explanation that she usually worked on the lower floors. RPC wasn’t the only company with office space in the building. “Do you have a background in law?”
“Not really.” My confusion must’ve been obvious, because she added, “I was pre-law at UF before… Before I moved here.”
“And you found mistakes? Care to show me?”
“Well, they were mostly grammatical errors, except for the one on page five...” She cautiously took the folder from my hand and flipped to that page, and I used her momentary distraction to inhale another lungful of her sweet scent. “The attorney referred to clause thirteen of the municipal code, but I think they actually meant to use clause twenty-three. Because the one they referenced doesn’t actually have anything to do with commercial zoning.
“It’s probably just a typo, but if you’re in some kind of dispute over zoning laws, that could be something a judge might use to rule against you. Some judges can be sticklers about things like that. Again, I’m sorry if I overstepped. I’m fully aware of the terms of the privacy agreement I signed when I took the job. You don’t have to worry about confidentiality.”
Her reassurance about my company’s privacy was appreciated, but I was no longer concerned about that. The depth of her knowledge was impressive. How many people would’ve been able to catch something like that so quickly? Or catch it at all? I found myself growing more intrigued and bemused by Charlotte the more she spoke, and I made a mental note to talk to my head of legal about the issue she had found.
Chance Encounter (Fates Aligned Book 1) Page 16
