“I’m going to find Rashid. We’ll be back.” Bethanne waved and headed out of the room.
“When Rashid first came in, I thought you hadn’t come,” he said.
“Well, some of your fiancées might desert you in hospital, but not all,” she said lightly, hating for him to know how much it had taken for her to come. She was so glad she had, but the fear she’d lived with wouldn’t easily be forgotten.
He laughed again. Despite his injuries, he seemed the happiest she’d ever seen him.
“Did that blow to the head knock you silly?” she asked.
“Maybe knocked some sense in me. I lay here thinking, after I woke up, what if you didn’t come? We haven’t known each other that long. What if you didn’t care enough to come.”
“What if I knocked you up side the head again to stop those rattled brains. Of course I would come. I had to see that you were all right. I couldn’t just take Rashid’s word for it.”
“Why?”
She looked at their linked hands. “I care about you,” she said.
“How much?”
She met his gaze. “What do you mean, how much?” she asked.
“I want to know how much you care about me—what’s hard about that?”
“Like, more than spinach but less than chocolate?”
His gaze held hers, his demeanor going serious. “Like enough to marry me, stay in Quishari and make a life with me?”
Ella caught her breath. For a moment she forgot to breathe. Did he mean it? Seriously?
“Are you asking me to marry you?” she said. “I mean, for real?”
He nodded. “I am. I hated to say good-night to you in Quraim Wadi Samil. Hated even more leaving for Kuwait without having another kiss. Then I woke up here and realized, life is unexpected. I could die here today, or live for decades. But I knew instantly either way, I wanted you as part of my life. I love you, Ella. I think I have since you touched my cheek on the beach weeks ago. A woman who wasn’t horrified by how I look. Who could see me clearer in the dark than anyone in the light. A woman who had been through a lot already, and valued people for who they were, not what they could offer monetarily. Did I also mention who sets my entire body on fire with a single kiss?”
Warmth and love spread through her as she smiled at his words. “You didn’t. Maybe we need another check on that.” She leaned over and kissed him.
“Are you saying yes?” he prompted a few moments later.
“I am. I love you. I never expected to say those words again after Alexander’s death. But you swept into my life, running roughshod over any obstacles I might throw up. I can’t pinpoint the moment I fell in love, but I can the moment I realized it. I will love you forever.”
“The fire is still going,” he said.
“And are you planning to put it out?”
“Might be involved in the planning. But right now I don’t feel up to standing to kiss you, so doubt if I’ll be leading a foray close to the flames.”
“This time,” she murmured, remembering what Bethanne had said. She wouldn’t want to change a thing about this man.
“This time. But I’m careful. I’m still here, right?”
“Right. Here’s hoping there are no more fires in your future.”
“Only the one you set with your kisses,” he said.
Ella laughed, seeing an entirely different side of the man who had captured her heart. And to think, she almost missed this. She’d have some quick unpacking to do when she got back to the cottage. She couldn’t bear for him to think she was leaving. She’d tell him—after a while. After he was convinced of her love as she was already convinced of his.
“I love you, Ella, now and always.”
“I love you, Khalid. Now and always.”
EPILOGUE
“I’M GETTING car sick riding with my eyes closed,” Ella said, still gripping the edge of the door to help with the bouncing. They’d left Quraim Wadi Samil a while ago. In the last ten minutes, Khalid had insisted she close her eyes—he had a surprise for her. It couldn’t be the oasis; she’d already seen that. What else was out in this desert?
“Almost there,” he said, reaching out to grasp her free hand in his, squeezing it a little.
She felt the car slowing. Then it stopped. The desert wind brought scents of sand, scant vegetation and—was it water?
“Open your eyes,” he said.
She did and stared. They were at the oasis. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows against the tall palms, the small pool of water—and the sandstone house that looked as if it had miraculously sprung up from the ground.
“What? Is that a house?”
He left the Jeep and came around to her side, taking her hand to help her out. “It’s our house. Ours and Rashid’s and Bethanne’s. She doesn’t know yet. He’ll bring her out next week. We have it first.”
Ella looked around in astonishment. “You built it here miles and miles from anywhere? How could you get all the materials, how—never mind, money can achieve anything. This is fantastic! I want to see.”
He smiled and led her across a flagstone patio to the front door. Lounge chairs rested on the patio, which gave a perfect view of the pool and palms. Opening the door, he swept her into his arms and stepped inside. “Isn’t this what newlyweds do?” he asked at her shriek of surprise.
“Yes, in Italy. I didn’t know you did it in Quishari.” She laughed, traced the new scar on his face and pulled his head down for a kiss. She was so full of love for this husband of hers. And so grateful for his full recovery—with one or two new scars which only made her love him more.
“Why not at our home when we married?” she asked.
“We had the reception there—how could I carry you over the threshold? You were already inside.”
“Hmm, good point.”
He set her on her feet and turned her around. The small room was furnished with comfortable items. Large windows gave expansive views. Two of her glass pieces were on display. Taking a quick tour, Ella discovered the small kitchen, bath and two large bedrooms.
“This is so lovely,” she said, returning to the center of the main room. Khalid had done all he could to make her life wonderful. He’d backed her art exhibit, which turned out wildly successful. She had orders lined up for new pieces.
They’d attended Bethanne and Rashid’s wedding in Texas. And then done a quick tour of several larger cities in the United States which Ella had enjoyed with her new husband.
On their way back to Quishari, they’d stopped in Italy so he could meet her parents. Even settled Giacomo’s remaining debts, with a stern warning to never gamble again—which only reiterated what her father had decreed. She’d protested, but Khalid had insisted he wanted to have harmonious relations with his new in-laws.
Which she still hoped for with his mother. One day at a time, she reminded herself. At least they’d been married in Quishari, which Madame al Harum liked better than Rashid and Bethanne’s wedding.
“The best is outside. Come,” Khalid said, drawing her out and around to the side of the house where stairs led to the flat roof.
When they reached the upper level, Ella exclaimed at the loveliness. Pots of flowers dotted the hip-high wall. Several outdoor chairs and sofas provided ample seating. The view was amazing. Slowly she turned around, delight shining in her eyes.
“This is so perfect.”
He smiled at her and drew her into his arms. “I wanted something special for us to get away to sometimes, just the two of us. To enjoy the quiet of the desert and the beauty of this oasis.”
She smiled, then frowned a little.
“You don’t like it?”
“I love it. It’s just…” She bit her lower lip and glanced around, then back at Khalid. “It won’t be just the two of us.”
“Rashid and I plan to keep the other informed when we want to use the house. We won’t be here when they are. Or I can just tell him forget it, we want it all ourselves.”
> “Don’t you dare. It’s not that. We’re having a baby,” she blurted out. “Darn, that was not the way I wanted to tell you,” she said.
Staring at his stunned face, she almost laughed. “Well, we’ve been married for four months and not exactly celibate. What do you think?”
“I’m stunned. And thrilled.” With a whoop, he lifted her up and spun her around. “How are you feeling? When is it due? Do we know if it’s a boy or girl? How long have you known?”
She laughed, feeling light and free and giddy with happiness. She thought he’d be happy; this confirmed it.
“You know Bethanne and Rashid are expecting. She gave me a full rundown on the symptoms she was feeling, from morning sickness to constantly being tired. Only, I don’t have any of those. I feel fine. But there are signs and I had it confirmed yesterday. I was going to tell you last night, but then you had that meeting, and then we flew to Quraim Wadi Samil and here we are. Really, this turns out to be the best place to tell you. I loved our picnic here months ago. I’m so thrilled with this new house. We’ll have only happy memories here. Do you know we’re probably going to have our baby within weeks of Rashid and Bethanne’s?”
“So our child will grow up with theirs,” he said with quiet satisfaction.
She nodded, already picturing two small children playing on the beach by their home. Or coming here with parents to explore the desert.
“Do you think we’ll have twins?” she asked.
“Who cares—one at a time or multiples, we’ll love them all.”
“All?”
“Don’t you want a dozen?” he teased.
She laughed. “No, I do not. A couple, maybe three or four, but not twelve.”
“Whatever makes you happy. You have made me happy beyond belief. I love you, Ella.” He drew her into his arms and kissed her gently. “You changed everything beyond what I ever expected.”
She smiled at him, not seeing the scars, only the love shining from his eyes. “You are all I’ll ever want,” she said, reaching up to kiss him again on the rooftop of a house made for happy memories.
For One Night Only
Jennie Lucas
JENNIE LUCAS grew up dreaming about faraway lands. At fifteen, hungry for experience beyond the borders of her small Idaho city, she went to a Connecticut boarding school on a scholarship. She took her first solo trip to Europe at sixteen, then put off college and travelled around the US, supporting herself with jobs as diverse as gas station cashier and newspaper advertising assistant.
At twenty-two she met the man who would be her husband. After their marriage she graduated from Kent State with a degree in English. Seven years after she started writing she got the magical call from London that turned her into a published author.
Since then life has been hectic, with a new writing career, a sexy husband and two small children, but she’s having a wonderful (albeit sleepless) time. She loves immersing herself in dramatic, glamorous, passionate stories. Maybe she can’t physically travel to Morocco or Spain right now, but for a few hours a day, while her children are sleeping, she can be there in her books.
Jennie loves to hear from her readers. You can visit her website at www.jennielucas.com, or drop her a note at [email protected].
Reckless Night in Rio
Jennie Lucas
To Pete
CHAPTER ONE
“WHO is the father of your baby, Laura?”
Holding her six-month-old baby on her hip, Laura Parker had been smiling with pride and pleasure across her family’s two-hundred-year-old farmhouse, lit with swaying lights and filled with neighbors and friends for her sister’s evening wedding reception. Now, pushing up her black-rimmed glasses, Laura faced her younger sister with a sinking feeling in her heart.
Who is the father of your baby?
People rarely asked that question anymore, since Laura always refused to answer. She’d started to hope the scandal might be over.
“Will you ever tell?” Becky’s face was unhappy beneath her veil. At nineteen, her sister was an idealistic new bride with romantic dreams of right and wrong. “Robby deserves a father.”
Trying to control the anguish in her heart, Laura kissed her son’s dark hair, so soft, and smelling of baby shampoo. She said in a low voice, “We’ve talked about this.”
“Who is he?” her sister cried. “Are you ashamed of him? Why won’t you tell?”
“Becky!” Laura glanced uneasily at the reception guests around them. “I told you…I don’t…” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know who he is.”
Her sister stared at her tearfully. “You’re lying. There’s no way you’d sleep around like that. You’re the one who convinced me to wait for true love!”
The people closest to them had stopped pretending to talk, and were now openly eavesdropping. Family and friends were packed into the farmhouse’s warren of rooms, walking across creaking floors, having conversations beneath the low ceilings. Neighbors sat on folding chairs along the walls, holding paper plates of food in their laps. And probably listening. Laura held her baby closer. “Becky, please,” she whispered.
“He deserted you. And it’s not fair!”
“Becky,” their mother said suddenly from behind them, “I don’t think you’ve met your great-aunt Gertrude. She’s traveled all the way from England. Won’t you come and greet her?” Smiling, Ruth Parker reached for her grandson in Laura’s arms. “She’ll want to meet Robby, too.”
“Thank you,” Laura whispered soundlessly to her mother. Ruth answered with a loving smile and a wink, then drew her younger daughter and baby grandson away. Laura watched them go, love choking her. Ruth was wearing her nicest Sunday dress and bright coral lipstick, but her hair had grown gray and her body slightly stooped. The past year had left even her strong mother more frail.
The lump in Laura’s throat felt razor-sharp as she stood alone in the crowded room. She’d thought she’d put the scandal of her pregnancy behind her, after she’d returned to her northern New Hampshire village pregnant, with no job and no answers. But would her family ever get over it? Would she?
Three weeks after she’d left Rio de Janeiro, she’d been shocked to discover she was pregnant. Her burly, overprotective father had demanded to know the name of the man. Laura had been afraid he might go after Gabriel Santos with an ultimatum—or worse, a shotgun. So she’d lied and said she had no idea who her baby’s father might be. She’d described her time in Rio as one gigantic shagfest, when the truth was that she’d had only one lover her whole life. And even that had been for a single night.
One precious night…
I need you, Laura. She still felt the violence of her boss’s embrace as he’d pushed her back against his desk, sweeping aside paperwork and crashing the computer to the floor. After more than a year, she could still feel the heat of his body against hers, the feel of his lips against her neck, his hot brutal kisses against her skin. The memory of the way Gabriel Santos had ruthlessly taken her virginity still invaded her dreams every night.
And the memory of the aftermath still left a shotgun blast in her heart. The morning after he’d seduced her, she’d tearfully told him she felt she had no choice but to quit her job. He’d just shrugged. “Good luck,” he said. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
That was all he gave her, after five years of her love and devoted service.
She’d loved her playboy boss, stupidly and without hope. It had been fifteen months since she’d last seen Gabriel’s face, but she could not forget it, no matter how hard she tried. How could she, when every day she saw those same dark eyes in her child’s face?
Her tears in the little white clapboard church an hour ago hadn’t just been from happiness for Becky. Laura had once loved a man with all her heart, but he hadn’t loved her back. And as the cold February wind whipped through their northern valley, there were still times she imagined she could hear his dark, deep voice speaking to her, only to her.
; “Laura.”
Like now. The memory of his low, accented voice seemed so real. The sound ripped through her body, through her heart, as if he were right beside her, whispering against her skin.
“Laura.”
His voice felt really close that time. Really close.
Laura’s hands shook as she set down her glass of cheap champagne. Lack of sleep and a surfeit of dreams were causing her to hallucinate. Had to be. It couldn’t be.
With a deep breath, she turned.
Gabriel Santos stood before her. In the middle of her family’s crowded living room, he towered over other men in every way, even more darkly handsome than she remembered. But it wasn’t just his chiseled jawline or his expensive Italian suit that made him stand out. It wasn’t just his height or the strength of his broad shoulders.
It was the ruthless intensity of his black eyes. A tremble went through her.
“Gabriel.?” she whispered.
His sensual lips curved. “Hello, Laura.”
She swallowed, pressing her nails into her palms, willing herself to wake up from this nightmare— from this incredible dream. “You can’t be here,” she whispered. “As in here.”
“And yet I am,” he said. “Laura.”
She shivered at the sound of her name on his lips. It didn’t seem right that he could be here, in her family’s living room, surrounded by friends and family eating potluck.
At thirty-eight, Gabriel Santos owned a vast international conglomerate that bought and shipped steel and timber across the world. His life was filled with one passionate, single-minded pursuit after another. Business. Adrenaline-tinged sports. Beautiful women. Laura’s lips turned downward. Beautiful women most of all.
So what was he doing here? What could he possibly have come for unless…unless…
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother disappearing down the hall with her baby.
Trying to stop her hands from shaking, Laura folded her arms around the waist of her hand-sewn bridesmaid’s dress. So Gabriel had come to Greenhill Farm. It didn’t exactly require a crack team unit to find her here. Parkers had lived here for two hundred years. It didn’t mean he knew about Robby. It didn’t. He couldn’t.
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