My Secret Fantasies

by Joanne Rock

  He really laughed at that one. But when he stopped, he clasped my face in his hands as if I was the most precious thing he’d ever held.

  “I believe you and I can’t wait.”

  My heart bloomed like a desert flower, as if it had been just waiting for him to treat it with this tender care. I felt happy from my toenails to my hair follicles and everywhere in between.

  “I’m not sure we can keep the tabloids away.” I fretted about this one last element. I so didn’t want the drama of my life infringing on his. “But I know interest will fade....”

  “I don’t care about that.” He crossed his heart with one finger. “I swear that doesn’t matter anymore. When I made a big deal about that, it was a knee-jerk reaction from my past. But more media is going to be necessary to grow both sides of my business, and there are worse sorts of attention than what your fame can bring to the farm.”

  “I hope so.”

  He kissed all along my eyebrow, making me realize I must have the worried frown on my face that scrunched up my forehead. I relaxed and he continued speaking softly.

  “I know so. Besides, no matter what kind of press you get, I want you. So that means we’ll deal with it. Together.”

  “Wow.” I marveled at him, this taciturn Sonoma County farmer who was sweeping me off my feet with all kinds of sweet talk. “I want to meet this brother of yours who got you to say all these things my heart was longing to hear.”

  “No way.” His arm wrapped around my waist and he tugged me tighter. “Not until I’m convinced you’re so far gone on me you could never look twice at anyone else.”

  “A jealous streak?” I kissed him, giddy with the idea that I could do that whenever I wanted from now on. “I’m learning so much about you, Damien. But you have no worries there, since I’m already halfway to loving you anyhow.” In my heart, I knew that I did love him. Fiercely. But I was saving that tender admission for a night when I cooked for him and wore a cute dress and wasn’t sprawled half across a pickup truck steering wheel. I liked thinking that we didn’t have to rush things. That we could take our time getting to know each other and falling madly in love. “I’m just curious to meet your family. Plus, I want to know everything about you.”

  “I’m going to take such good care of you, Miranda Cortland.” Damien’s expression went all serious again and I felt a little awed to think his feelings for me were darn fierce, too.

  I think I was only just beginning to understand what it might be like to be loved by a passionate, honorable, forever guy like Damien.

  “I’m going to take such good care of you right back. You wait and see.”

  “Does that mean I get to take you home now?” He kissed my cheek and then captured my lips.

  Our kiss was long, slow and deep. It left me breathless. It left me wanting. It left me anticipating every second of the future at his side.

  “That means you can’t drive fast enough for me,” I teased, nipping his lower lip.

  Gently, he settled me in the passenger seat, buckled me in and revved the engine.

  “Just watch me.” That flash of white teeth in the dim truck interior made me smile.

  By the time we peeled out of the parking lot of the Sea Wind hotel, I was giggling with joy and the knowledge that I was going home with my Mr. Right and I was about to get very lucky.

  Scratch that.

  My luck had started right about the time my car broke down on Highway 1.

  Epilogue

  Six Months Later

  “DO YOU THINK it was a mistake to open on Wine Country Weekend?” Miranda asked for the tenth time, after she’d seated a third shift of afternoon tea patrons. “I’m so embarrassed to have people come for tea and not take a seat until six o’clock.”

  Tea Under the Oaks was packed with shoppers, diners and browsers, the crowd spilling out onto the porch and lawn, where gardens spread from the farm stand property well onto land that used to be Thoroughbred pasture. But since the tearoom was a joint holding, Damien didn’t mind.

  Actually, he’d tried to sell her that farm stand multiple times, to assure his fiancée that she would always have something that was just hers. But she didn’t seem to need that kind of security. These days, she thrived like her gardens, her bonsai trees and everything else she touched.

  “You wanted lots of traffic. You got it.” Damien drew her away from the hostess stand at the front of the tearoom, needing two minutes alone with her. “Come on. Stop for a minute and admire what you’ve done here, okay? Joelle can handle this. She’s an old pro.”

  Miranda’s friend winked at him as she stepped up to take over the role, only too glad to celebrate the grand opening of the tearoom. Patrons from Joelle’s tearoom had made a trek, as if Tea Under the Oaks was some new mecca. Violet Whiteman had tweeted the details to her slew of followers, and tea drinkers from miles around responded to the call. Trey’s wife, Courtney, had brought some friends from the wealth management firm where she worked, too.

  In fact, Miranda had so many supporters through friends and family, she hardly had room for the huge influx of Sonoma County tourists on Wine Country Weekend.

  “How can I leave when I have so much to do?” she protested, but walked with him, chattering nervously, waving to newcomers and making kissy-faces at babies held by a few customers wandering around out front.

  “You don’t want to miss this, trust me.” Damien kept walking until he had her perfectly positioned, centered in front of the lawn. Then he turned her so she could face her creation. “You see?” He pointed up at the building, which was painted, primped and decked out exactly as she’d imagined. “It looks just like the picture you drew.”

  Right down to the banner flapping in a lazy summer breeze.

  “Only now there are people in it.” She sighed and leaned into him, her head fitting comfortably against his shoulder. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?”

  “You’re perfect,” he argued, kissing her hair—blond these days, with streaks of pink or baby blue, depending on her mood. Depending on whether she thought she was carrying a girl or a boy, their first baby.

  She wasn’t due for seven months, but she was already planning and dreaming. Damien wondered if any of her friends understood what those streaks in her hair meant.

  He liked being able to read her moods. Liked being able to see the changes she made to their house and the farm every day. And he really, really liked helping her work on her erotic novel.

  “It won’t be this busy every day,” she told him suddenly, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “Once things are running smoothly, I’ll hire more help.”

  “That’s good. I don’t want you getting tired out.” He nodded at a few potential Thoroughbred buyers who’d stopped in the tearoom.

  The buyers—investors from Kentucky—were excited about two stallions and were willing to pay a very healthy price for them. Business was good.

  “You keep saying I’m going to be tired, but I feel better than ever.” She did a twirl to prove it, an impromptu dance move that made her print skirt swirl out and her curls bounce around her cheeks. “See? Full of energy.”

  “Excellent. That means you’ll be able to go to Town Hall with me tonight and make things official.” He picked up her left hand and kissed the backs of her fingers near the princess-cut diamond he’d placed there four months after declaring his undying devotion, his love and his need to publicly claim her as his wife.

  He would never forget the feeling he’d had when she said yes. Whatever else he achieved in life, it wouldn’t compare to that. Although, maybe seven months from now, he’d feel differently.

  He rubbed a hand over her still-flat belly while a few horses trotted past on the exercise track that ran behind the tearoom.

  “Town Hall... I guess we could do that.” She gave a careless shr
ug and a wink, less concerned than him about finalizing the deal she said was already signed, sealed and delivered in her heart. “Or maybe you should stay at home and see what naughty adventures Shaelynn has been having....”

  “You’ve been writing again?” He’d never get her to Town Hall at this rate, damn it. His blood was already simmering just thinking about how daring Miranda’s alter ego had gotten lately.

  “Yes. I’m telling you, pregnancy agrees with me. I’ve never felt so creative and full of energy.”

  He kissed her cheek and squeezed her shoulders, so proud of her for her triumphant grand opening and all she’d achieved here. She had decided the naughty novel was just for them and just for fun, but she’d devoted time to the horse rehab efforts, taking a training course and reading books on working with Thoroughbreds. Of course, that was on hiatus while she was expecting, but even now, she used her Nebraska Nice Girl fame to draw attention to the Thoroughbreds who needed another chance in life.

  “Perfect. We’ll say the vows, sign the papers and still have time to read your latest chapter,” he teased.

  Miranda studied him for a long moment, four silver earrings winking in the sunlight. “That sounds great.”

  “It does?” He nearly choked on the words, he was so damn surprised.

  “Yes! I said I’d marry you, Damien Fraser. Did you think I wouldn’t?” She put her arms around his shoulders and hugged him hard. “I love you with all my heart, you gorgeous, smooth-talking Casanova. I’m dying to be your wife. I’ve just been busy getting the tearoom together. But now that I see this—” she gestured with one arm spread wide “—it all feels right and perfect. I’d love to marry you tonight and celebrate our happily ever after.”

  “You don’t think it’s wrong that we’re not inviting anyone else?” He felt a twinge of guilt about that. “I don’t want you to think you can’t have a big, fairy-tale wedding. There’s still time—”

  “We’ll have a party another time and invite our friends, but we’re not the kind of couple who needs a big hoopla, right?” She’d said the same thing to him before, often enough that he believed it. She never would be close with her family, and while he’d mended fences with his, he didn’t mind celebrating his marriage to Miranda privately.

  “I’m fine with it, but I want you to be happy. I don’t want you to ever have any regrets about our wedding.”

  “Never.” She shook her head. “Besides, I’ve already got the fairy tale.” She threaded her fingers through his and locked their hands together. “Right here with me every day. All the time.”

  Damien kissed her, mentally adding to the vows he had planned. He loved her, honored her...yes. But he was also going to make her the happiest woman on earth, since she’d already made all his dreams come true.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from UNFORGETTABLE by Samantha Hunter.

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  1

  “ERIN, C’MON, YOU’LL have fun, and if anyone needs to have some fun, it’s you.”

  Erin Riley shook her head at her friend Dana Rogers, who grabbed Erin’s hand and pulled.

  “Come join me,” Dana invited. “Let loose.”

  Erin let her friend drag her along, and before she knew it, strong arms were boosting them up on top of the bar. Dana was grinning like the wild woman that she was, dancing even before the music started.

  They were having a fun night out, and as she looked around the bar, Erin was self-conscious at first. She seriously thought about climbing back down, but everyone was watching and chanting dance, dance, dance.

  So she started to dance, and that’s when things got better. A lot better.

  Letting go, she raised her arms high and put more hip-swing into it, much to the crowd’s appreciation. Dana hooted in approval and danced with her. Erin had to admit, she enjoyed how the guys were slack-jawed as they watched. She smiled at them and winked as she turned and shimmied to a blaring version of “I’m Alright.” For that one moment, she was all right. Perfect, in fact.

  Erin felt sexy, which she hadn’t in a long time.

  Noting the heat in the eyes of a few men who watched, she also felt powerful. In control, for the first time in a while.

  Dana was right. This was exactly what Erin needed, so she planned to enjoy herself. This was her second chance. She wasn’t going to waste one single minute.

  She’d almost died, after all. A former firefighter, she’d been inside a building when an explosion had knocked her down and she’d been trapped by a loose beam. After several brain surgeries and a week in an induced coma, she’d come out of it all with no memory of her life. Most of her adult past had been obliterated, though she could remember her childhood. The doctors said it was uncertain when or how much of her memory would come back.

  Tastes and some emotions remained. She could like or dislike something—a place, food, etc. She could experience familiarity, without remembering something exactly. It was the same with people. For instance, the firemen she’d worked with for eight years had been her support system since she got out of the hospital. Still, they were strangers to her—mostly. When she was with them, or with Dana or her sister, she could feel the familiarity even when she couldn’t remember their history together.

  She couldn’t, however, recall anything about the accident or being a firefighter. Another member of her crew had died in the same incident, and there was an ongoing investigation since the fire had been arson.

  Erin couldn’t remember what happened. And she had tried. She had suffered and punished herself for not being able to remember, and she couldn’t do it anymore. All she knew was what people told her.

  She also couldn’t remember who she was, but she finally realized that meant she could be anyone she wanted. Smiling as someone handed her a beer, she and Dana danced right into the next song.

  Good thing she’d worn her new jeans and one of those tees that showed a teeny hint of belly. It was all courtesy of a recent shopping trip with Dana, who had helped Erin supplement her otherwise pitiful wardrobe. Apparently it was something Dana had wanted to do for quite some time.

  When she’d gotten home from the hospital, Erin thought there must be a guy living at her house. Most of her clothes were for work or bore the insignias of her department. Not a single pair of high heels in the lot—not like the ones she was wearing now.

  Even her pajamas were cotton pants and oversize fire department T-shirts.

  Those days were over.

  Sending a sexy smile to the cute bartender, she planned on making up for lost time. She tilted her head back and chugged her beer as the song ended, enjoying the chants that accompanied her finale.

  When she was done, her head spun. Her skin was warm. She laughed, wobbling a bit as she handed her glass back to the bartender.

  She and Dana finally made their way down off the bar to riotous applause. Several burly men—most of them firemen or cops—happil
y offered a helping hand.

  Dana was a dispatcher and engaged to a firefighter in the unit Erin had worked with. He met her back on the floor with a kiss.

  “I can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I?” Scott scolded, but he was grinning. His eyes were warm as he took in his fiancée. Erin averted her eyes discreetly from the deepening kiss that the two were sharing in front of everyone.

  Erin cleared her throat. “Okay, well, then, I’ll just go back to the table and eat all of those wings.”

  Dana never broke the kiss while waving her away, making Erin laugh. She suspected the lovebirds were going to find some privacy, and she left them to it.

  As she walked back to their table, she figured she should have known better. She could hear the boisterous voices of the crew the minute she crossed the floor toward the tables at the back. They saw her, too. No doubt they’d seen her up on the bar, as well.

  “What’s up, Buttercup?” Hank shouted.

  “Tulip!” Leroy followed up.

  “Daisy!” Derek added with a snicker.

  The last one got a round of high fives as Erin took a breath and approached the group, smirking at them for teasing her about her work at the flower shop. Her sister owned the shop and had taken her on as soon as Erin was able.

  Still, it was a far cry from being a firefighter to working as a florist. Not so long ago, she’d been one of the guys, so she tried to act like it. As if nothing had changed.

  “You guys calling each other pet names again?” she asked as she joined them. Giving as good as she got was par for the course with this bunch. “Leroy must be Daisy, since he’s always fresh as one.”

  Another round of laughter rose and then settled down as Leroy eyed her from the other side of the long table.

  “Someday, when your memory comes back, you’ll pay for that one.” The threat was playful and made with a glint in his eye.