Her father took in her red, white and blue outfit—off-the-shoulder top, swirling gypsy skirt, matching sandals with enough glitter to require their own sunglasses and her hair free and flowing like Gage liked it.
“You look...relaxed,” her father replied, as she dutifully kissed his cheek. “I must say the color in your cheeks makes you look healthier than the last time I saw you.”
“Thanks.” Trying not to be obvious, Brooke pressed her hand to her abdomen to steady her breathing. “I was next door. It’s a welcoming party for new staff at the veterinary clinic.”
“You’ve never had a pet in your life,” Damon Bellamy replied, clearly not grasping her reasoning. “Oh, wait a minute, you said something about your aunt having a dog.”
“He’s next door, too.” Knowing explanations were useless, Brooke closed the door. “Well, this is nice. Are you celebrating something?”
He held up the bottle. “My latest coup—and a job worthy of my daughter.”
Job? Feeling a weight begin to descend upon her, Brooke belatedly gestured to the room at large. “Would you like to sit down?”
“I can’t. I’m due in Dallas shortly for an important dinner meeting. But I wanted you to know before word gets out that I’ve bought The Crystal Group and I want you to run it for me.”
She was vaguely familiar with the private investment firm that was about half the size of her father’s company. “Me?”
“As CEO, of course.”
“I seem to recall that they’re not based out of Dallas?”
“That’s almost amusing. They’re still in New Zealand. One of the up-and-comers in the Pacific Rim.”
Dear God, she thought. “Dad...” She tried to maintain her composure. “I’m not interested in relocating halfway around the planet. Besides, I’m needed here.”
The handsome but remote man stared at her without blinking. “Needed or used?” he asked, with near disdain. “Didn’t you text me that Marsha is settled in a comfortable facility? Your work here is done.”
“Not exactly. I’m buying Aunt Marsha’s holdings in town. By the time I’m through, I’ll have close to a dozen businesses paying rent.”
After only a slight pause, her father replied, “Small potatoes.” Suddenly, in a totally out-of-character move, he dropped the bottle on to a nearby chair, drew her into his arms and spun her around. “Brooke—think of it! You’ll make a dozen deals worth ten times this entire town before you’re completely dry behind the ears.”
Somewhere in that humiliating and outlandish moment, Brooke saw the back door open and, in the next spin, someone standing in the doorway. By the time her father put her down again, he was gone.
Gage!
“Dad, that was Gage. I have to explain to him.”
“Let him go.” Damon Bellamy ran a hand over his hair, then adjusted his tie. “I have someone I want you to meet anyway.”
Dragging her gaze from the door, Brooke shook her head, willing things not to go from bad to worse. “Excuse me?”
“A merger between our families would be the biggest thing since—”
“Father!”
He fell silent upon hearing her sharp tone.
“You said something about being used a moment ago? I have plans,” she said, with quiet dignity. “It would have been considerate of you to ask about them before you started using me as your next bargaining chip.”
He looked around and then back at her as though she’d lost her mind. “Do you not understand that I have worked for you, groomed you to be worthy of what you’ll inherit someday?”
His words were a blow somewhere even deeper than her heart, but Brooke steeled herself to keep it from showing. “I would say that I’m worthy of being respected for having a mind of my own. What kind of a CEO is it who will be expected to fall lockstep into any directive you make? Thank you for your offer, but I respectfully decline.”
Her father took a step back and stared at her as though she was an anomaly. “I won’t come to you again. Not with such an offer. When you need help, you’ll have to come to me.”
“And I’ll live in the hope that you will want to see me just to make sure I’m well and to maybe meet your grandchild one of these days.”
Without a word, her father walked out.
Brooke watched from the door as he returned to the limo without ever glancing back. She supposed she should be sick that she’d just thrown away a fortune and an even bigger opportunity. However, she realized, in doing so, she’d just freed herself from an emotional and psychological IV that had crippled her for years.
As she closed the door, her gaze fell on the bottle still in the chair. Reaching for it, she whispered, “Whoa,” as she recognized the brand and vintage on the label. Then she started grinning.
* * *
By the time she returned to Gage’s, the party was over, and only Gage and Humphrey remained. They were sitting on his back porch, and it was a toss-up as to who looked more pensive.
Humphrey spotted her first, rose to all four feet and uttered a happy bark. That had Gage sitting forward in his chair as though preparing to rise, then in the last minute, he just clasped his hands between his knees.
“I thought you’d left, too,” he told her when she stopped at the base of the stairs. At her confused look, he explained, “When the limo drove away.”
How could he think that? She gestured to the empty yard. “So in a state of depression, you ran off everyone?”
“Liz pretty much did that.”
“Liz...the gift that keeps giving.”
“She arrived two sheets to the wind, so when she downed a margarita faster than a lottery winner can shove a credit card into a slot machine, it didn’t take any time at all for her to cross the line.”
“And who was the unlucky recipient of that attention?”
Gage slid her a droll look. “Suffice to say that Jerry quickly hustled her back into his truck. Since the concert and fireworks show will be starting at the park in a bit, everyone else decided it was time to head off, too.” He nodded at what she’d brought with her. “Celebrating something?”
Brooke glanced down at the bottle of champagne and two glasses. “My engagement.”
That had him drawing a slow, deep breath, only to exhale with a loud puff. “Is that so?”
“My father’s idea. The pot was sweetened by an offer to make me the CEO of his latest acquisition.”
“Well, you knew his intent was to get you away from here.”
“Even you would have to allow that New Zealand is a bit excessive.”
“Wow. He doesn’t fool around.” When she didn’t expand, Gage rubbed his palms against his jean-clad legs. “So who does your father want to hook you up with? The current owner’s son?”
“We never got down to the tacky minutiae, but my hunch is that you’re in bull’s-eye range. The strongest clue came when the phrase ‘merging families’ was used. Who wouldn’t swoon at the opportunity of being her father’s fish bait?”
A look of pain crossed Gage’s handsome face, and he momentarily hung his head. But a few seconds later, he rose and strolled to the edge of the porch. He never took his gaze from hers and looked as if the world had righted itself again. “Are you saying you actually said no to Big Daddy, Brooke Bellamy? You rejected Damon?”
“Try not to sound so smug.”
“Your other option is for you to get up here and let me kiss you senseless.”
Ascending the stairs, she showed him the label on the bottle. “Let’s try not break a primo vintage.”
Gage stared, then whistled softly. “Since Prince William is already taken, and Prince Harry doesn’t strike me as your type, who the heck did your father have lined up for you?”
Placing the bottle and glasses on the table between
the rocking chairs, she returned to stand toe-to-toe with Gage. “I don’t care. I’d rather focus on who I would prefer.”
Gage slipped his arms around her waist. “How many guesses do I get?”
“None. Just show me that I did the right thing.”
With an indecipherable whisper, Gage lifted her off her feet and into his arms and kissed her hungrily. Then again. After the third time, he muttered, “Damn it, Brooke, you scared the hell out of me.”
“Be serious.”
“I am. I don’t have a right to stop you from being all you can be.”
“Good, because I will be. With you.”
She wished someone had been around at that instant to capture Gage’s expression for eternity. Then again, who needed that when she knew she would never forget the blossoming of joy and adoration across his dear face.
“I love you,” he said solemnly.
“I love you back.”
“Say it again,” he whispered.
“I love you. I started to fall the moment you told me so confidently that you were going to ask me out. But it wasn’t until this afternoon when I saw you holding those people’s new baby—”
“Baby... Oh! The Nelsons’ daughter, Victoria. They’re fairly new in the area. I’m not surprised that you don’t know them yet. What about the baby?”
Brooke replied almost shyly, “I saw that child in your strong arms and thought, ‘I want to see him holding our child.’”
He closed his eyes tightly until moisture bled between his lashes. “I ache to see a little angel of our making nursing here,” he said, brushing his thumb over her nipple.
Brooke sucked in an unsteady breath as her body awoke with desire. “So we’re in agreement?”
“Sweetheart.” Gage kissed her with all of his heart. Then he turned her toward the door. “Let’s get to work.”
Epilogue
Late August
On the last Sunday in August, Brooke and Gage were married in the Methodist church that Aunt Marsha belonged to. The couple didn’t send out formal invitations. Instead, on the first Sunday of the month, they’d added a card in the program to announce they would take their vows after the late-morning service. Everyone was welcome to attend. Brooke added a stand-alone poster at the doorway to the shop, and Gage had a life-size poster made of Humphrey holding his own announcement at the clinic. A final notice was posted in the weekly newspaper. Gifts were discouraged, and those who insisted on doing something were encouraged to donate to the local animal shelter and the volunteer fire department.
On the big day it was standing room only at the church—testament to most of the community being fond of their local vet and newest business owner. Andi had come in from Dallas to serve as Brooke’s maid of honor. Roy stood as Gage’s best man. After Brooke’s father’s secretary sent regrets on his invitation, citing a need to be out of the country, she asked her aunt to give her away.
“I’d be honored,” Aunt Marsha had replied, beaming. Although she needed a cane and relied greatly on Brooke’s arm, she looked ecstatic and pretty in her lavender suit as they walked down the aisle.
Not even Humphrey was left out of the celebration. He took the place of the flower girl and ring bearer and wore a satin collar holding a pillow on which the wedding rings were tied. His one indiscretion was to offer a throaty howl of excitement upon getting to the end of the aisle. Rylie was in charge of handling him and expertly quieted him down to sit beside a serene MG for the rest of the service.
Afterward there was a brief reception with cake and punch in the church’s banquet hall, and then a smaller party with champagne and barbecue at Gage’s house—now their house, since Aunt Marsha’s house had just been contracted.
Needless to say, the happy couple hadn’t had many free moments since the welcome party for Rylie, so as guests began to take their leave, neither bride nor groom protested too forcibly.
“I thought it would be sunset before we got rid of the four musketeers,” Gage told his bride, already adopting Rylie’s nickname for the bunch.
Rylie had just left, too, with MG and Humphrey. Humphrey had already familiarized himself with Rylie’s comfy RV and was looking mighty proud to be going off with his new BFF, MG.
“It was good of Roy to act as the guys’ designated driver,” Brooke replied, as Gage laced his fingers between hers. Then she added wistfully, “I do wish he had more of a life. He didn’t even bring a date.”
“Hey.” Gage drew her fully into his arms at the top of the porch stairs. “You already have a guy to worry about.” He kissed her with a fervor that had been a promise in his eyes since they’d repeated their vows. “Alone at last, Mrs. Sullivan. Happy?”
“Over the moon.” Brooke laid her hand on his silver-and-charcoal tie. “I like your parents very much. I’m just sorry the rest of your family couldn’t come.”
Gage had invited them all, but obligations kept most away, mostly so Gage’s parents could come down. They had just left, too, to settle in next door at Aunt Marsha’s house. Brooke and Gage had arranged to meet them for breakfast in the morning before taking them back to the airport.
“You’ll meet the rest soon enough. My sisters are more curious about you than ever. Apparently my father hasn’t stopped raving about you, and Mom gave her stamp of approval the instant you beat Dad at chess. Sullivan women are by nature competitive.”
“I don’t want to compete,” she groaned playfully. “I want a family.”
Gage kissed the tip of her nose. “You’ve got one, angel.” But then he looked apologetic. “I’m sorry your father didn’t come.”
“It’s his loss. Maybe he’ll realize that down the road.” And she meant that. Yes, it would have been lovely to have him here, but not at the cost of making Gage or Aunt Marsha uneasy. As far as she was concerned, everything had been perfect. “But you’re sure you don’t mind me not wanting a honeymoon?” she asked him. When he’d asked where she wanted to go, she’d answered honestly that she was so excited to start their life together that there wasn’t anywhere else she wanted to go but home.
“There aren’t words,” Gage replied, before adding with a grin, “but I plan on trying to find them as I unwrap you out of this enticing concoction.”
Brooke glanced down at the gown that her aunt had begged her to buy. She’d been eyeing a pretty ivory suit; however, Aunt Marsha had spotted this and all but threatened a heart episode to get her way.
“You can’t go to the wedding as though we’re going to the same Easter brunch,” Aunt Marsha had argued.
“It’s a waste to spend a lot of money on a gown you only wear once,” Brooke had countered. But she did have to admit the pencil-slim satin creation with the princess neckline and the sheer free-flowing veil over her hair was lovely.
“You look like a dream,” Gage said, as they entered their house and locked up. His expression remained as captivated as when he’d first seen her coming down the aisle.
“You made your mother cry when she actually saw you in this,” Brooke replied, admiring his pale gray suit. But knowing how uncomfortable he was wearing it, she sympathetically eased off his tie.
“Well, she’d better grab one of the million photos the photographer took,” he muttered, “because I don’t plan to get into one of these straitjackets again any sooner than I have to.”
With that, he swept Brooke into his arms and carried her up the stairs. Brooke had been merging their things, filling the near-empty house for weeks, but had left the master bedroom mostly as it was because it suited Gage so, and she’d told him it reminded her of their first night here together. Her only addition was a beloved Bombay chest that had been her mother’s, which she had already filled with her lingerie. On it was a bouquet of mauve calla lilies—much like the bouquet that she’d thrown earlier to Andi. Interestingly, right
afterward, the tall veterinarian friend that subbed for Gage had come over to her and introduced himself.
Setting Brooke on her feet by the foot of the bed, Gage just stood there.
“What?” Brooke asked.
“Earlier today, I wondered if, once we got back here, this moment would feel different. It does.”
Brooke helped him out of his jacket and set it aside. “Yes, it does.”
“Vows are powerful things,” Gage said, unbuttoning his shirt.
“It’s not just the vows,” Brooke said, stopping him, only to take his hand to bring it against her flat tummy.
“What? No.” Gage’s hand began to tremble against her. “But I saw you drink wine.”
“You saw me holding a glass as they toasted us, and pretend to sip,” she said, her smile sublime. “Then as discreetly as possible, I put down the glass.”
Gage could only look at her and swallow—until he dropped to one knee and pressed his cheek against her.
Brooke stroked his hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you tongue-tied before, Daddy Sullivan.”
He pressed his lips and then his entire face against the soft material of her dress. “When?” came his muffled question.
“I’m barely six weeks along.”
“How can you know?”
“Well, Doctor,” she mused, “when we agreed that night, the night of my father’s visit and Rylie’s party that this was it and that I should get off the pill? I thought it might take months before I became fertile again, but you can’t argue with Mother Nature and a virile man, can you? And remember, after we made love, when I asked if it would be possible to know when it happened? The blinds were open, and the moonlight bathed us in this extraordinary light.”
“God, yes. I remember.” Rising, Gage picked her up as though she was still a figment of his imagination, only to sit down on the edge of the bed and set her on his lap. “My angel is going to have my baby. I don’t know how I’m still breathing. My heart’s about to come through my chest.”
The Dashing Doc Next Door Page 19
