Love is Lovelier
Page 1
Table of Contents
Excerpt
Love is Lovelier
Copyright
Dedications
Quote
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
A word from the author…
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
“Stick close. I’ll get you out of here.”
He used his broad shoulders as a wedge to propel himself though the crowd. Heather scurried to keep up with him so she could take advantage of the gap he created, not wanting to be so close she could feel the warmth of his body through his elegant suit, but because she needed somehow to beat this crush of people to the Retreat to make sure everything was in place for the post-christening party she’d planned for Bethanne. Only perfection would do for her BFF.
She watched Mick’s back as she stuck close to him; he looked so strong and fit. It was hard to imagine him from ten years ago when he’d suffered his NFL career-ending injury, but the same business acumen that kept him with the Portland Pintos organization back then was the reason Jeff and Cisco hired him at the Retreat.
He’d be good for business. She’d just have to keep chanting those words in her head like a mantra, or else she’d do one of two things she’d regret—kill Mick or kiss him. She’d gone the kissing route with him before, and it did not end well. As tempting as the killing option was at the moment, it probably wouldn’t end any better.
Love is Lovelier
by
Donna Simonetta
Rivers Bend Trilogy, Book 2
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Love is Lovelier
COPYRIGHT © 2018 by Donna Stevens Simonetta
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by Debbie Taylor
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Champagne Rose Edition, 2018
Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1911-7
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1912-4
Rivers Bend Trilogy, Book 2
Published in the United States of America
Dedications
To Leo, for your unfailing support of me
and my wacky mid-life career change!
~*~
And to my mother, Mary,
thank you for sharing your love of books and reading with my sisters and me.
~*~
Speaking of my sisters,
thanks also to Mary and Judy
for all of your help spreading the word
about my books.
No author could ask for better publicists!
~*~
Thanks to Max,
for patiently answering all of my
out-of-left-field questions
when I waylaid you at your mom’s house.
It was a huge help to me in planning the final scene.
“Love is lovelier the second time around…”
~Sammy Cahn
Chapter 1
Damn D.C. traffic!
Michael ground his molars together and conceded it might not have been the most appropriate thought given he was standing in the doorway of a church where his friends were currently christening their baby. But double damn, now he was late and the only open seat was next to Heather Braden—the one person he’d hoped to avoid as much as humanly possible here in Rivers Bend.
He walked as unobtrusively as possible, which wasn’t very, given he was six-foot-three and the church was roughly the size of a postage stamp. As all eyes turned to him, he felt grateful he’d traveled in his favorite custom-tailored charcoal gray suit. At least he looked appropriate for the occasion.
He slid into the pew next to Heather whose eyes reminded him of stormy seas. Mostly it was because of the glare she bestowed upon him, but their steel gray color, with hints of blue sparking at him were reminiscent of the Atlantic during a hurricane.
“Nice of you to show up on time, Mick,” she whispered.
“Traffic from the airport was a bitch. I got here as fast as I could,” he whispered back out of the corner of his mouth. His gaze was trained forward to the altar where two couples stood at the baptismal font with a baby wrapped in a fluffy, white blanket.
The older lady behind them clicked her tongue in disapproval, and Heather glanced back through her stylish, choppy bangs. “Sorry, Mrs. Warren, we’ll be quiet.”
She looked at him and narrowed her eyes in warning, before turning to face forward.
In spite of the situation, he felt a smile playing at the corner of his lips. Heather always managed to entertain him. Actually, she alternated between infuriating him and driving him crazy with lust, and once again, his thoughts took a distinctly non-church-appropriate turn. Given their current situation, he had to squash all those emotions where Heather was concerned. He was here to start a new job as the CEO of the Corporate Retreat at Rivers Bend, owned by the two men at the altar, both old friends of his, and one of whom was Heather’s big brother. Her very protective big brother.
Francisco Cardoso and his wife Bethanne were the proud parents of the baby, who was held by his godmother, a tiny blonde with a head full of crazy curls. Jeff Braden was the godfather, and he stood behind the cute blonde with his hands resting possessively on her shoulders. Interesting—she must be Jeff’s new squeeze. She wasn’t Michael’s type, but he could see her appeal, and Jeff certainly looked smitten.
“Don’t let Jeff catch you eyeballing Magda like she’s the last slice of pizza in the box, Mick.”
“Michael,” he corrected through gritted teeth.
Heather rolled her eyes and made some sort of symbol with her hands.
“What the hell does that mean?”
The old biddy behind them huffed her disapproval
Heather shot her a furtive glance, before whispering in response, “It’s a ‘W’ for ‘whatever,’ Mick.”
“I don’t go by Mick anymore.”
This time the old lady actually smacked him on the shoulder with her rolled up program. “Young man, some of us are here to listen to the service; not to pick up young women. Would you please be quiet?”
“Sorry, ma’am.”
Heather’s smothered giggle at his mumbled response did nothing for his already bad mood.
He’d never imagined Jeff’s sister still lived in Rivers Bend, Virginia. And in his wildest dreams he wouldn’t have thought they’d meet up in a church on the first day in town.
> ****
Heather fidgeted in the pew to try to move her leg from where Mick’s muscular thigh pressed into hers. The man took up way more than his fair share of space.
Did he have to be just as devastatingly handsome as he used to be? Mick—she couldn’t think of him as Michael—was very bad for her peace of mind.
Darn her brother for dragging this man out of her past and into her present. And he threatened to be as big a pain in her ass in the present as he’d been in the past.
She scooted over a little to her right until her younger brother, Jason, used his shoulder to shove her back into Mick’s big, solid, warm body.
“A little personal space here, sis? Hey, Mick.”
She frowned at Jason but pulled her arms into her sides and pressed her legs together as tightly as possible. She took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the service, which felt interminable since Mick had arrived. Probably because she had herself twisted up like a pretzel on the already uncomfortable wooden pew. She heaved a sigh of relief as the service finally wrapped up, and she could flee from Mick’s close presence. Heather jumped to her feet, which caused her small clutch bag to fall to the floor with a thump.
“Jeez, Heath, where’s the fire?” Jason laughed.
She bent at the knees to retrieve her bag, which put her eyes right at crotch-level with Mick as he stood. Her heart pounded, and in spite of their ugly history, her palms itched to touch him through the fine wool of his trousers.
She straightened as fast as she could, but based on the knowing smirk and raised brow on Mick’s face she hadn’t been quick enough, and he’d seen just where she’d been looking.
Oh, if they weren’t in church, she would knock the annoying grin right off his face, and she hated the blush she could tell was spreading across her cheeks. Mick had managed to make her feel like an awkward seventeen-year-old girl again in under half an hour.
She tried to keep her voice calm and detached, even though her heart pounded in her chest. “I’ve got to get back to the Retreat before the other guests. I need to make sure everything is set for the party.”
Mick cocked his head, and he reminded her of her mother’s old hound dog when he was confused by his humans. He couldn’t possibly be baffled by her lack of warmth. Did he really think she’d welcome him to Rivers Bend with open arms?
“I guess I was too subtle there for you, Mick. You are blocking my way out of the pew and I need to get to the party before everyone else. Please move.”
He frowned, but he did step out of the pew to join the crush of people in the aisle.
“Stick close. I’ll get you out of here.”
He used his broad shoulders as a wedge to propel himself though the crowd. Heather scurried to keep up with him so she could take advantage of the gap he created, not wanting to be so close she could feel the warmth of his body through his elegant suit, but because she needed somehow to beat this crush of people to the Retreat to make sure everything was in place for the post-christening party she’d planned for Bethanne. Only perfection would do for her BFF.
She watched Mick’s back as she stuck close to him; he looked so strong and fit. It was hard to imagine him from ten years ago, when he’d suffered his NFL career-ending injury, but the same business acumen that kept him with the Portland Pintos organization back then was the reason Jeff and Cisco hired him at the Retreat.
He’d be good for business. She’d just have to keep chanting those words in her head like a mantra, or else she’d do one of two things she’d regret—kill Mick, or kiss him. She’d gone the kissing route with him before, and it did not end well. As tempting as the killing option was at the moment, it probably wouldn’t end any better.
****
He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed when he cleared the church door and Heather scooted around him and high-tailed it to the parking lot.
“What have you done to send my baby sister running for her car, Mick? Not even in Rivers Bend for one hour and I already have to kick your ass.”
His old friend’s amused southern drawl belied the harshness of his words. At least here was someone who was happy to see him in Virginia.
He turned with an easy smile on his face. “Hey, Jeff! Heather said she needed to get to your house before everyone else to set up the party or something, so I used my NFL blocking experience to get her out of the church.”
They did that awkward one-armed hug men do and Mick added, “But I go by Michael now. I left ‘Mick’ behind after my playing days.”
Jeff smiled. “You’ll always be Mick to me, get used to it.”
The little blonde from the church stepped up beside Jeff and looped her arm through his. Her smile was warm but shy. “Sorry to interrupt, but they need us for pictures.”
“A godparent’s work is never done,” Jeff joked. “Maggie, this is Mick Evans, but he’s gone all high-falutin’ on me and wants us to call him Michael. Mick, this is my girlfriend Magda Horvath, aka Maggie.”
“Nice to meet you, Magda.”
“You too, Mick—I mean, Michael. Sorry, Jeff always refers to you as Mick. I’ll try to remember to switch to Michael.”
Jeff was a great guy, but he hadn’t been serious with anyone since his late wife, and Mick had been none too fond of her. Magda was cute as a bug and seemed friendly and down-to-earth. He heaved an internal sigh of relief Jeff seemed to have picked a woman worthy of him this time around.
He smiled down at the little bit of a woman. “No worries, you can call me whatever you like.”
“Hey man, we’ve got to go do the picture thing, but I’ll see you back at the Retreat. We’re having the post-christening reception there, if you’re not too beat from traveling. If you’re up to it, it’s a good chance to get to meet some folks from town, and then afterward I can show you to your cabin.”
“I’m not too tired—sounds good. I’ll see you at the reception.”
Jeff grinned and looped his arm around Magda’s shoulders, before he turned to say one last thing to Mick. “Oh, hey…I just wanted to say I was happy to see you sitting with Heather in the church. I know you two don’t get along, but I appreciate the effort.”
Sitting with Heather hadn’t been a choice so much as a necessity, and given their history, and her chilly attitude toward him this morning, Mick was fairly certain they’d never be as close as they used to be, but Jeff didn’t need to know any of his problems. He’d grown up in a small town and knew he’d have to run into Heather at social events. He could certainly suck it up and be a grown-up around her when the need arose. It probably wouldn’t happen too often.
“She’s your sister; of course I’ll try to get along with her.”
Jeff smiled with bemusement. “Yeah, she’s my sister, but the reason I want you two to play nice is because she’s the Director of Guest Relations at the Retreat. You’re going to be her boss.”
Chapter 2
Mick followed the directions to the Retreat the GPS in his rental car gave him without any thought or attention. All he could think about was Jeff’s parting words.
Heather’s boss?
He was going to be Heather’s boss?
How could that be? Rock, hello—meet hard place.
His feelings for Heather were just as much of a confused jumble as they were when he last saw her so many years ago.
As the GPS system’s too-cheery voice told him to turn left, and then announced ‘he had arrived,’ he made a conscious effort to relax his jaw, as he followed the long driveway through the woods.
His teeth were sore from clenching them together; he really had to get this train wreck of his emotions under control. He hadn’t gotten to where he was in life by giving in to his base emotions and popping off like the hillbilly redneck his former college teammates had taunted him about being. He had hated being the butt of their jokes, so he’d polished the coal miner’s son until he’d shone like a diamond.
By the time he arrived in Portland, he’d left t
he raw boy behind and become a smooth pro athlete. And when he blew out his knee, his first year on the team, his intelligence and sophistication helped him transition to the front office.
His molars ground together again, but he wouldn’t let his veneer slip. Not many things stirred him enough to make him fear letting urbane Michael slip up and release his inner West Virginia mountain boy, but Heather always got under his skin, and it didn’t seem like much had changed with time.
He needed to rein in his emotions before he got to the reception. He took a deep, calming breath and looked out at the beautiful scenery along the winding entrance to the Retreat.
It was a sunny, early spring day in Virginia, and the leaves on the trees were that gorgeous light green you only see when they first burst to life. The branches of the tall trees met over the road, and he felt like he was driving through a green tunnel.
Here and there he saw a dirt road leading to the guest cabins scattered across the Retreat grounds. One of them would be his new home, until he found his own place and got settled here in Rivers Bend.
And settle here he would.
He was excited about his work at the Retreat. Jeff and Cisco were looking to him to build and manage the business with the opportunity for him to buy in as a third partner on the table if he did a good job.
Heather working for him did throw a monkey wrench in his plans, but he could make it work; he would make it work.
He pulled out of the woods and got his first look at the Retreat at Rivers Bend. The Potomac River was to his left and the sprawling two-story plantation style house was to his right. He followed the circular drive around the neatly groomed lawn to the steps, which led up to the front porch that ran the length of the house.
A young man in a white shirt, black slacks, and a matching black vest opened the car door for him.
“Park your car, sir?”
Mick swung his long legs out of the car and smiled. “Sure, thanks. Where’s the party?”
The boy gestured with his head. “Through the front door and to the left—in the Retreat’s dining room.”
Mick slipped the boy a large tip. “Thanks.”