“I love him, too, Jonny,” she said as tears welled in her eyes. “I really do.”
“I want you to listen to me, Lina. Listen very closely. If you can’t go in there and accept him for who and what he is, I’ll turn the car around and take you back to your house,” he said solemnly. “I like you. We all like you—well maybe not Jake—but the rest of us do. But no matter how much we like you, we won’t let you hurt him again.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?” he asked, his eyes steady on hers. “I want you to be absolutely sure.”
“He may not want me,” she said.
“Oh, I think he does,” Jonny said. He turned his head toward the house. “But there’s your chance to find out.”
She followed his gaze and felt her heart begin to race. The Kiwi was standing ten or so feet from the bottom step of the stairway with his hands shoved into the pockets of a pair of torn and tattered jeans. He was wearing a sloppy hooded gray sweatshirt that had seen better days and his head and feet were bare.
“He’s supposed to be sleeping,” Jonny said and reached for the door handle.
She couldn’t move. Though they were forty or so feet apart, she knew he was looking directly into her eyes. He was as still as she was.
“What the fuck are you doing out here and where the fuck is Spike?” she heard Jonny ask.
She couldn’t hear the Kiwi’s reply but Jonny threw his hands into the air. He came back to the car, opened the backdoor and plucked the infamous manila folder from the seat. He gave her a fleeting look before shutting the door and going back to his friend.
And still, the man she loved more than her own life stood silently staring back at her.
“What is she doing here?” he asked, interrupting Jono. The blood was pounding so loudly in his ears he hadn’t heard a word the man had said.
“Did you hear me?” Jono demanded.
“Apparently not,” he answered and Jono did a Jono-hands-to-the-gods thing and stomped back to the car. He saw him go to the back door of the car then frowned when Jono came back with a folder in hand.
Sudden understanding came over him and he tensed. “Did I forget to sign her fucking check?” he asked.
“You need to talk to her, bro,” Jono said. He tapped the folder against his leg.
“No,” he said firmly and turned to go back up the stairs.
“She tore up the check!”
“Not my problem,” he said. He kept walking. “She’ll not get another.”
“It was all Jake’s doing,” Jono called out to him.
He stopped then, turned his head a little but didn’t say anything.
“That’s why no one can get hold of his arse. He fucked you over big-time, bro.”
He turned all the way around. “What do you mean?”
Jono held the folder out to him. “He gave her this the morning you took her to Savannah.”
He looked down at the folder then back at Jono’s face. “What is it?”
“Just read it, bro. It’ll explain everything.”
He didn’t want to read anything. He wanted to go back to his room, curl up in his bed in the fetal position and feel sorry for himself for the rest of the afternoon and night and into the morning. Come the sunrise, he’d get up, go to the gym, work himself hard enough to hurt, shower and then go to work. He would push her—and all the pain she’d caused him—as far to the back of his mind as he could.
“Read it, Synnie,” Jono insisted.
Angry at his lifelong friend and all too aware of the woman standing in front of Jono’s car, he took his right hand out of his pocket and snatched the folder from Jono’s hand. With his lips tight, he brought his other hand from his pocket and opened the folder.
She watched him closely as he read the mockup of the ad. His dark head was bent. It seemed to her he took an inordinate amount of time to read what was in the folder. She thought perhaps he was either reading it very slowly because of the sedative still in his system or he was reading it twice.
“Well?” Jono asked him, as impatient as he was to know the Kiwi’s thoughts.
He slowly lifted his head and looked at her for a long moment then closed the folder and handed it back to Jono.
“Why did you tear up the check?” he asked.
“I didn’t want it.”
“You said you did.”
“I lied.”
“You took it. Why didn’t you keep it?”
She came a few steps closer. “It felt like blood money,” she said.
“It was,” he told her. “It was payment for your virginal blood.”
“Was that all it was to you?” she asked.
“No, Melina,” he said. “I was going to ask you to marry me. The ring was in my pocket.”
“You didn’t give me any indication that was the case,” she said.
“You didn’t give me a chance to,” he replied. “You thought I was a player and never let me prove otherwise. You always have thought the worst of me, haven’t you?”
“He showed me the file on the other women,” she said, closing the distance until she was only a yard or so from him. “All the things he told me you would do that last night, you did. You followed all of it to the letter. Can’t you see how I would interpret that?”
“You should have believed in me,” he responded. “You could have asked about the women. I would have told you the truth.”
“I thought I knew the truth,” she said. “I believed what he told me. Seeing those other women, seeing their ads, reading the new one…”
“One that would never have been sent,” he said. “One I knew nothing about.”
“I didn’t know that,” she told him.
“You should have fucking asked!” he shouted. “That was my past. You were to be my future!”
She hung her head. “I am sorry, Kiwi,” she said.
“So am I.”
“Bro, don’t throw away this opportunity to make things right,” Jono cautioned.
“You stay out of this. It doesn’t concern you,” he said.
“Synnie…” Jono began.
“Jono, come in the house,” Spike called from the porch. She was standing at the rail with her hands braced on the marble balustrade. “Let them sort it.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” she said.
“I’m sorry you think so little of me,” he said.
He turned away from her though his heart was breaking. He wanted nothing more than to run to her, grab her and kiss the soft lips that were trembling.
“Tell Jonny I’ll be in the car,” she said.
He acknowledged her words with a nod as he climb the first set of steps. His eyes were on the fountain and when he heard the car door open and close, he closed them briefly. It was tearing him apart to shut her out but at that moment he felt helpless to do anything else. She had hurt him so deeply he knew he would never recover.
“You are making a big mistake,” Jono said as he gained the porch.
“My mistake to make,” he said.
“She’s leaving, you know.”
He stopped and turned his head to Jono. “Leaving?”
“She packed her things up at the apartment and there were boxes in her house too,” Jono said. “She tore that check up and she quit her job, bro. Where’s she gonna go? What’s she gonna do?”
“Take her wherever she wants to go. She can do whatever she wants to,” he said then narrowed his eyes. “And you find me Jake Tonika. Call Anderson and make fucking sure he’s removed from all the corporate accounts and all financial privileges are revoked. Call Kit and have all his security cards cancelled.”
“Will do,” Jono said, “but about Lina…”
“What part of ‘this doesn’t concern you’ did you not understand?” he snapped. “Stay the fuck out of it, Jono!”
“Think about it, bro,” Jono said. “She’s the woman for you. She loves you. I know you love her too.”
He continued into the house wi
thout replying. Spike was standing in the foyer with a worried expression on her lovely face. He walked past her and continued through the grand hall to the master suite, slamming then locking his bedroom door.
She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. She should never have let herself think he would forgive her for what she’d done to him on the yacht. In her mind’s eyes she relived the moment her words had completely devastated him. Knowing that his intention had been to propose to her only drove the guilt and shame of what she’d done deeper under her skin.
“You get on his bad side and you’re likely there for life,” Jono had said.
There would be no coming back from what she’d set into motion. She’d seen deep hurt on his face but she understood he had washed his hands of her. She’d betrayed him and that he would never forgive.
When the car door opened she turned her head to the window, pressed her forehead against it. She didn’t want Jonny to see her crying. She felt his hand on her thigh—squeezing gently for a moment before he removed it and started the car.
“Is he all right?” she asked.
“Unh huh.”
“He’ll never forgive me, Jonny,” she said. “I know that now. I hurt him too badly. I deserve whatever he does to me.”
He didn’t respond as he set the car into motion. She knew he was as sad about the situation as she was so she left him to his silence, huddling against the door for the only comfort she could find.
He knew she thought it was Jono in the car with her and wondered how long it would take her to stop crying and sit up, to realize it wasn’t Jono at the wheel. A part of him wanted desperately to take her in his arms to banish her misery but a perverse part was, if not enjoying, then at least feeling vindicated by her tears.
Instead of heading back to the entrance to WindLass, he took her down the road behind his house that led to the forest and wetlands beyond. Though he did not own the land—could not buy it for it was held by the State of Georgia—he had access to the fire road that ran through the middle of the property. When he reached the gate that shut that part of the land off from his, he pushed the button to open it. No doubt she thought it was the main gate to his house.
“I want him to be happy,” she said.
He turned his head to look at her. She had pushed away from the window and was rummaging in her purse—no doubt for a tissue for there were tears streaking down her cheeks and her nose was running.
“He deserves to be happy.”
She found a clump of restaurant napkins and he smiled. He’d never understood why women insisted on cramming extra napkins into their purses. Hers were three different colors so he knew they came from three different fast food places.
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted for him.” She blew her nose.
He had reached the fire road and the little turnaround that he’d discovered when his house was being built. It overlooked a beautiful little marsh where egrets nested and wildflowers grew in profusion in the spring and summer. Though the shrubs and bushes were denuded of foliage at this time of the year, there were two egrets wading through the water of the marsh. He stopped the car and turned off the engine. He twisted around in the seat and reached out to grip the headrest behind her.
“That’s all he’s ever wanted for you,” he said quietly.
She jerked and her head came up, whipping toward him. Her eyes widened.
“You deserve to be happy too, Melina.”
He slipped his hand from the headrest to cup her neck.
“I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy if you’ll only give me the chance.”
He caressed her neck.
“I can’t imagine my life without you. I won’t have a life without you.”
He withdrew his hand then stuck it into the watch pocket of his jeans and withdrew a ring. Her gaze fell to his hand.
“I wanted to do this right,” he said. “I was going to wait until the sun rose over the water and then get down on one knee to ask you to be my wife. It was to be a new beginning for both of us. A new day, a new life.”
Her eyes left the ring gripped between his thumb and index fingers and lifted to his.
“But sunset on the marsh is the closest I could come,” he said. “I’m not going to wait another minute to ask you to spend the rest of your life with me.” He held out his free hand to her. “Melina Wynth, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Her heart stuttered to a stop. The blood rushed loudly through her ears. She was staring into his beautiful blue eyes—eyes filled with vulnerability and wariness, hope, yet fear of rejection—and felt the soul stir inside her body.
“Yes, Kiwi,” she said, her voice breaking. “It would be my honor to become your wife.”
“Yes?” he asked, his eyebrows lifting.
She nodded. “Yes.” She leaned over to lay her palm against his bewhiskered cheek. “Yes, a million times over.”
His slow grin was fifty-thousand watts of pure pleasure as he reached for her hand. His hand was shaking as he guided the black-diamond solitaire onto her finger.
“Mine,” he said and brought her hand to his lips. He kissed the ring. “All mine.”
She smiled and eased her hand from his to put her arms around his neck.
“We’re going to—”
“Stop talking,” she said as she put her mouth over his.
About Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Charlee is the author of over seventy books. Married 42 years to her high school sweetheart, Tom, she is the mother of two grown sons, Pete and Mike, and the proud grandmother of Preston Alexander and Victoria Ashley. She is the willing house slave to five demanding felines who are holding her hostage in her home and only allowing her to leave in order to purchase food for them. A native of Sarasota, Florida, she grew up in Colquitt and Albany, Georgia, and now lives in the Midwest.
Charlee welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Charlotte Boyett-Compo
BlackWind: Sean and Bronwyn
BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn
Ellora’s Cavemen: Dreams of the Oasis IV anthology
Ellora’s Cavemen: Legendary Tails I anthology
Ellora’s Cavemen: Seasons of Seduction II anthology
Dancing on the Wind
Ghost Wind
HardWind
In the Arms of the Wind
Journey of the Wind
Kiss of the Wind
Passion’s Mistral
Prince of the Wind
Shades of the Wind
Shadowlord
WesternWind: Reaper’s Justice
WesternWind 1: WyndRiver Sinner
WesternWind 2: Reaper’s Revenge
WesternWind 3: Prime Reaper
WesternWind 4: Tears of the Reaper
WesternWind 5: Her Reaper’s Arms
WesternWind 6: My Reaper’s Daughter
WesternWind 7: Embrace the Wind
WesternWind 8: BlackMoon Reaper
WesternWind 9: Dark Reaper
WesternWind 10: Sins of the Reaper
WindVerse 1: Pleasure’s Foehn
WindVerse 2: Secrets of the Wind
WindVerse 3: Ardor’s Leveche
WindVerse 4: Prisoners of the Wind
WindVerse 5: Phantom of the Wind
WindVerse 6: Hunger’s Harmattan
WindVerse 7: Craving’s Chinook
WindVerse 8: Emperor of the Wind
WindVerse 9: WindChaser
WindVerse 10: Catch the Wind
WindVerse 12: Reaper’s Bounty
WindVerse 13: Guardian of the Dragon
WindWorld: Desert Wind
WindWorld: Desire’s Sirocco
WindWorld: Longing’s Levant
WindWorld: Lucien’s Khamsin
WindWorld: Rapture’s Etesian
WyndRaider
Print books by Charlotte Boyett-Compo
BlackWind: Sean and Bronwyn
BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn
Dancing on the Wind
Ellora’s Cavemen: Dreams of the Oasis IV anthology
Ellora’s Cavemen: Legendary Tails I anthology
Ellora’s Cavemen: Seasons of Seduction II anthology
Fated Mates anthology
Ghost Wind
HardWind
In the Arms of the Wind
Kiss of the Wind
Passion’s Mistral
Windverse 1: Pleasure’s Foehn
Windverse 7: Craving’s Chinook
WesternWind 1: WyndRiver Sinner
WesternWind 2: Reaper’s Revenge
WesternWind 8: BlackMoon Reaper
WindWorld: Desire’s Sirocco
WindWorld: Longing’s Levant
WindWorld: Lucien’s Khamsin
WindWorld: Rapture’s Etesian
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
30 Days to Syn
ISBN 9781419948596
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
30 Days to Syn Copyright © 2013 Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Edited by Shannon Combs
Cover design by Erin-Dameron Hill
Cover photography by Sergey Sukhorukov, Valua Vitaly/fotolia.com
Electronic book Publication December 2013
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
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