Be Mine, Miss Valentine

by Patricia Kay

  "Oh, Alex. I love you. I've loved you from the very beginning, and I wish with all my heart I could marry you, but you know it would never work out!" Pain twisted at her insides as she said the words—but they had to be said.

  "Why not?" he said incredulously. "If we love each other, why not? Is it Christopher? Don't you like the idea of my having a child, is that it?"

  "Oh, don't be crazy! I fell in love with Christopher almost as fast as I fell in love with you. Couldn't you see that?" She smiled at the thought of the chubby boy and his warm little boy smell.

  The brilliance of Ronnie's smile dazzled Alex. My God, he thought. How had he ever found anyone as special as Ronnie? "I'm the luckiest man in the world to have found you," he said. "Now what's all this nonsense about then if it's not about Christopher?"

  "Oh, God, Alex, don't you see? No matter how much I love you, I can't just walk away from my obligations. I owe something to the people of Juliette, especially people like Laurie Jacobsen and Sam."

  "Who's asking you to?" Alex said.

  "B ... but..."

  "I asked you to marry me, you nitwit, not to give up your life for me." He chucked her under her chin and kissed her lightly. His breath was warm and sweet.

  Ronnie's heart skipped. "I ... I don't understand."

  "It's very simple. Even a small-town girl like you should be able to figure it all out. First, the boy says, 'I love you.' Then the girl says, 'I love you.' Then the boy and the girl get married, move to Juliette with Christopher and live happily ever after." He chuckled. "Just like any good playwright would write the script."

  Ronnie sat unmoving, hardly breathing. Move to Juliette? Had she heard him right?

  "So what's wrong with my scenario?" he asked.

  "I couldn't ask you to move to Juliette."

  "You didn't ask me. I decided all by myself."

  "But, Alex," she protested. "If you do that for me, you'll eventually resent me. I don't want to have to worry about that happening the rest of my life."

  "I'm not doing it for you, silly girl. I'm doing it for myself. I love Juliette. I've missed the town and all the wonderful people in it ever since I got back here. I don't have to live in the city. I can write anywhere. And when I absolutely have to come down here, we'll come together. We'll have second and third and fourth honeymoons. Juliette will be a wonderful place to raise Christopher and all the rest of the children we're going to have." Then he stopped, opened his eyes wide. "You will take time off to have children, won't you?"

  A slow smile spread over her face. Happiness filled her heart. "I love you, Alex," she whispered.

  "But will you marry me, madam?" he said. "Or shall I kneel?" He scrambled to his feet and dropped to one knee in front of her. He took her hands in his.

  "Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Will you be mine, Miss Valentine, my darling?"

  "Oh, yes, Mr. Summerfield," she said, laughing. "Yes, you fool."

  "Good," he said. "Then I can give you this." Jumping up, he quickly walked to the desk, opened the middle drawer, and withdrew a small box.

  As Ronnie snapped open the lid of the velvet box and saw the enormous sapphire surrounded by diamonds, she knew she must be in heaven. No other place could feel this wonderful.

  Alex removed the ring and slipped it on her finger. "Perfect," he pronounced. "Matches those eyes of yours." Then he grinned. "And now, my sweet, before we go to that party, I'm going to make mad, passionate love to you. I'm going to love you so thoroughly you'll beg for mercy!"

  And with that promise echoing through her heart, Ronnie surrendered to his demanding lips, lifting her arms to hold him close. This is where I belong, she thought. This is where I'll always belong.

  The End

  If you enjoyed this story, you'll be happy to know Patricia Kay has a brand new e-book ready just in time for this holiday season. Click here to read about A MOM FOR CHRISTMAS, a classic and beloved marriage of convenience tale. Don't miss it!

  ALSO AVAILABLE for your Kindle, Patricia Kay’s first mainstream romance, WITH THIS RING. Here’s an excerpt:

  Houston, Texas - Friday, October 28, 1992

  Pregnant!

  Amy Carpenter couldn't stop smiling. She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel in time to Bonnie Raitt's "Let's Give 'Em Something to Talk About" and grinned from ear to ear.

  She knew she shouldn't be so happy. After all, this pregnancy was a bit premature since her wedding wasn't scheduled to take place until the start of her Christmas break—still eight weeks away.

  But she didn't care. Joy, like champagne, bubbled inside, giddy and irrepressible. She felt like shouting from the rooftops.

  And her parents! They would be thrilled. They wanted grandchildren more than just about anything. Of course, they would have preferred she wait until she was married—especially Amy's mother—but she didn't think the fact that she and Sam had jumped the gun would matter much in the end. It was the baby that was important.

  A delicious shiver raised chill bumps on her arms as she thought of her fiancé. Sam. Oh, Sam, please be happy, too. She told herself he would be. He wanted kids, and even though he'd said "someday" the one time they'd discussed the subject, Amy didn't think he'd mind if that "someday" was sooner than they'd anticipated.

  She wished she could call him and tell him immediately. Unfortunately, where Sam was, there were no phones. Amy would have to wait until she heard from him again.

  He'd originally expected to be back in Houston by now. Sam was a staff photographer for World of Nature magazine, and he'd thought this assignment to shoot the elusive snow leopards who made their home high up in the Himalayas would only take a couple of weeks, a month at the most. But the snow leopards had proven more elusive than ever, and Sam had been in Nepal more than two months already.

  It might not be so bad if she could at least talk to him regularly, but he was in such a remote area that his base camp was a three-day hike, so she'd only talked to him twice since he'd been gone.

  If Amy thought her married life would be like this—a long series of absences with no communication—she might not have been so eager to marry Sam, no matter how much she loved him. But he'd promised her he would do his best to avoid assignments that would keep him away longer than a week or two, and he had also promised he would take her along with him whenever he could.

  Now that she was pregnant she wouldn't be able to travel with him as planned, at least not until the baby was old enough to go, too, but that was okay. The trade-off was worth it. She was going to be a mother.

  A mother. Imagine.

  Less than four months ago she'd despaired of ever finding the right man, and now she'd not only found him, but she was going to marry him over the Christmas holidays and have his baby in May. Some days she could hardly believe her good fortune.

  She smiled contentedly, her momentary unease gone. As she braked for a red light, her big emerald engagement ring sparkled in the afternoon sunshine slanting through the windshield. Amy twisted her hand a little, admiring the rich color and fire of the stone, which was surrounded by tiny diamonds.

  She loved the ring. It was so like Sam: out of the ordinary, a bit larger than life. She hated removing it, even to wash her hands.

  She was still smiling as she pulled into the driveway of her parents' home, punched in the security code that would open the electronic gates, and drove around to the back of the property where she lived in an apartment over the garage.

  The first thing she saw was Justin Malone's dark green Toyota. She frowned. What was Sam's best friend doing here so early in the day? Justin and Sam worked together and had even lived together for a while. Several weeks ago Amy had given Justin the code to the security gate because he was helping her paint the inside of the apartment while Sam was gone. Even though she and Sam were planning to find another place to live when he returned, Amy wanted to leave the apartment fresh and shining in case her parents decided to rent it to someone else. And Justin being Justin
had insisted on giving her a hand.

  Her unease deepened.

  It was only four-thirty. It wasn't like Justin to leave work so early. Since he'd been promoted to business manager at the magazine, he'd been working long hours. Amy had enjoyed teasing him about his diligence, saying she guessed that now that he was "one of them" she'd have to be careful what she said in front of him.

  Justin was fun to tease because he was so earnest and serious. Too much so, Amy thought. She'd already decided that once she and Sam were married, she would try to find someone for Justin so that he'd loosen up a bit. "The Quiet Man," Sam called him, always there, always the person you could count on.

  She waved as she passed him, pulling her Miata into the garage. "Hi!" she said as he walked toward her. "What a surprise! What're you doing here at this time of the day?"

  As he came closer, she saw a peculiar expression on his lean, angular face. His blue eyes, normally so bright and riveting, seemed shadowed and troubled, and he wasn't smiling.

  "Hello, Amy." His voice sounded odd, too—rough and strained.

  Her smile slowly faded. Everything inside her went still except her heart. Something was terribly wrong. She wet suddenly-dry lips and stared up at him.

  "Amy," he said again. He reached for her, placing his hands on her shoulders and looking down into her eyes. "I-I've got some bad news."

  No. She shook her head. She wanted to put her hands over her ears. Whatever it was Justin was going to tell her, she didn't want to hear it.

  "I came right over," he continued. "I didn't want you to hear about this on T.V. or the radio."

  Sam. Please, God . . . please, God . . . please, God. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.

  Justin's face was rigid and tightly controlled. Only his eyes betrayed his inner torment. "We heard an hour ago. Sam . . . " He took a long, shuddering breath. "Sam had a bad accident. He fell down the side of a cliff, and . . . and when the search party finally reached the place where they thought they would find him, his . . . his body was gone."

  He swallowed hard, and the part of Amy's brain that still functioned normally noted in a detached way how his Adam's apple bobbed and how his dark hair, normally neat and well-groomed, looked as if he'd been running his hands through it.

  He squeezed her shoulders. "They . . . the authorities believe he's dead."

  "Nooooooooo . . . noooooo . . . " Amy heard the keening sound, hardly aware it came from her mouth.

  "God, Amy, I'm so sorry."

  Amy felt his strong arms go around her, she heard him continuing to talk, continuing to say comforting words, continuing to explain, but nothing he said mattered. "No, no, no," she moaned.

  She tried to hold on. She tried to listen. To think. But she felt sick to her stomach and lightheaded. A loud buzzing filled her head, and then there was nothing but blackness as she slumped against him.

  To read the rest of the story, click here.

  Here's a sneak peek of a brand new e-book from Patricia Kay. THE OTHER WOMAN was first published in 2001 by Berkley, a division of Penguin-Putnam. Once you read the Prologue, you won't be able to resist getting your very own copy. Enjoy!

  New York City, New York December 1997

  Adam Forrester whistled as he took the stairs leading to Natalie’s apartment two at a time. Although this wasn’t the way he would have chosen to live, for some reason tonight he felt more optimistic than he’d felt in a long time. He couldn’t wait to see Natalie. It had been at least six months since they’d had an entire weekend together, but with Julia gone to Mamaroneck, he was free. They were free.

  Maybe they would go somewhere. He’d bet Natalie would like that. He smiled. It would be nice to take her somewhere.

  Clutched in his hand was a bottle of her favorite port. Whenever he came to her place, he always brought her something—wine or flowers or books—because from the very first she had refused to take any money from him. She wouldn’t even let him pay for half the food they ate.

  “No,” she’d said, “when you take me out somewhere, then you can pay. When we’re at my apartment, I’m the hostess, and I’ll pay.”

  “But—”

  “I won’t be a kept woman,” she insisted. Her beautiful blue gray eyes held that determined glint that meant she would not change her mind, no matter how much he protested or what arguments he used.

  Adam, shaking his head, finally gave in. Natalie might look delicate, but underneath that slender frame and deceptively gentle manner was a core of steel.

  He was huffing a bit by the time he reached her third-floor landing. He grimaced as he rang her doorbell. Lately, he hadn’t been going to the gym as often as he should. He’d better remedy that. Forty-four was no age to slack off on your exercise program.

  He waited impatiently, but finally he heard the sound of her footsteps, followed by the distinctive grind of her deadbolt being released. In that last second before she opened the door, there was a familiar tightening in his gut. There had been times over the years when he’d wondered if he would still feel the same excitement and anticipation about being with her if they were married, if he saw her every day, if their relationship wasn’t clandestine. The answer was always the same. It wouldn’t matter what their situation was. From the day he’d first laid eyes on her, Natalie had been the only woman in the world for him, and she always would be. She was the reason he looked forward to each day. Without her, his life would be empty.

  He smiled when the door opened.

  “Hi.” Her return smile seemed a bit tired. “You’re early.”

  “Yes, the meeting didn’t last as long as I thought it would.” He shut the door, set the wine down, then took her into his arms and gave her a lingering kiss. Afterward, he held her close, reveling in her warmth and softness. “God, I’ve missed you.”

  “It’s only been three days,” she said with a soft laugh. But she didn’t try to pull away. Instead, she lifted her face to his again. Just before their lips met, he saw a glimmer of something in her eyes that disturbed him, and he wondered if there was anything wrong. But he quickly forgot about it, because this time there was a kind of desperation in the way she clung to him and in the intensity of her kisses so that dinner and everything else was wiped from his mind. All he cared about was Natalie. Loving her. Wanting her. Needing her. Blood pounding in his veins, he swept her up and into his arms and carried her into the bedroom.

  Most of the time, when they made love, Adam didn’t like to rush. He loved touching Natalie, brushing his fingers over her breasts and belly and thighs and looking at her while he did. He loved seeing the way her eyes would drift shut and the way her body trembled as desire built. He loved hearing the little catches in her breath, the soft moans and whimpers. Her pleasure excited him and increased his own anticipation. He especially loved taking her close to the brink and then stopping—giving her a few seconds to fall back a little—then starting again so that her eventual pleasure—and his, too—would be more prolonged, more intense and satisfying.

  But tonight there was none of that long, slow buildup of passion. Tonight she was ready for him almost immediately, and he was more than ready for her with one of the most painful erections he’d ever had.

  “Adam, Adam!” she cried as he plunged into her, pushing deep and hard. Her fingernails dug into his back.

  “I love you,” he managed to gasp before he shuddered out of control.

  When his body calmed, she wouldn’t let him pull away. Instead, she held him tightly. So tightly Adam remembered his earlier misgiving. Something was wrong.

  It was then he felt the wetness on her cheek. She was crying. Natalie rarely cried, at least not in front of him. She hadn’t even cried that day so long ago when he’d told her he was going to marry Julia instead of her.

  This time when he tried to pull free, she didn’t stop him. “What’s wrong?” he said, sitting up. Was she sick? Had something happened?

  She sat up, too, and swiped at the tears on her che
eks. “Let’s get dressed first.”

  Adam stared at her. Fear caused his heart to pound. Still he managed to answer calmly, “All right.”

  She pulled the quilt off the bed and wrapped it around her—almost as if she was embarrassed to be naked in front of him—before walking to where their clothes lay jumbled together in a pile. Not looking at him, she began to get dressed.

  Suddenly, with a sick feeling, Adam was afraid he knew exactly what it was she was going to say. Still, he told himself not to jump to conclusions. Maybe he was wrong.

  But once they were dressed and seated next to each other on the sofa in her tiny living room, he knew he wasn’t wrong. The expression on her face, half sadness, half resignation, told him everything. The day he had feared for years, a day he had hoped and prayed would never come, was finally there.

  She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. “Oh, God. This is so hard. I... Adam, I can’t go on like this anymore.”

  “Natalie, don’t—”

  “No, wait. Please let me finish before you say anything. You know how much I love you. How much I will always love you. For a long time I’ve thought that would be enough and that the worst thing that could ever happen to me would be losing you again, but—” She swallowed. “But now I know that’s not true. Loving you isn’t enough.” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. “You see, lately, I’ve realized that I have become a person I don’t like very much, and... I am so very sorry, but I just can’t be that person anymore.” For the second time that night, her eyes filled with tears.

  Adam wanted to beg her. Get down on his knees and plead with her not to do this. Not to leave him. How could he go on without her? Yet he knew to do so would be the ultimate act of selfishness on his part. Knowing Natalie as he did, he knew she had not come to this decision easily, and if he tried to change her mind, he would only make things harder for her. She had already given up too many years of her life for him; he had no right to ask for more.