by Dani Collins
“But you’re not happy.” Her bottom lip moved unsteadily until she caught it in her teeth.
“It hasn’t been a comfortable journey, but right now I couldn’t be happier.”
Her mouth twitched and she nudged against the erection imprinting her abdomen. Her brow cocked as though to ask, are you sure about that?
On the verge of becoming distracted, he cupped her jaw, urging her with a caress of her peach-flushed cheek to look into his eyes. This was too important. He saw the hesitancy and vulnerability she was trying to hide behind her flirty smile. His heart lurched.
“I want to make love to you so much I can hardly breathe.” A pleasant shiver chased over him at the mere thought of burying himself in her. “Holding you and touching you is the most incredible experience of my life.” He caressed her almost convulsively, reassuring himself that he was touching this beautiful woman who meant so much to him. “I was really scared, Sin. I didn’t know how I was going to convince you to give me another shot.”
Something stark flashed in her eyes before she ducked her head. “I’ve loved you from practically the minute we met. You’re the only man I’ll ever want to be with.”
Loyal to a fault and so emotionally brave. He would be a lonely coward if he didn’t emulate her.
“And you’re the only woman I can imagine spending my life with. You believe that, don’t you?” he prompted, rather desperate to know her subconscious wouldn’t put her through the wringer ever again.
“Of course,” she said, adding cheekily, “I have Lucy.”
“Don’t joke.” He leaned back a fraction, waiting for her chastised gaze to come up to his. “I mean it. I want to spend my life with you. I want to marry you. A proper wedding this time. Your dad can give you away...”
She shook her head, trying to forestall him.
“Why not?” he demanded. “You don’t want to be the center of attention?” It was the only excuse he could accept. He wouldn’t force her into something that made her uncomfortable.
“Those romantic dreams were a young girl’s rescue fantasy.” She waved them away as she disentangled herself from his embrace. “I’ve grown up, got my head on straight. I don’t need some empty gesture because you feel guilty. I’m fine. We’re fine.” Her smile was soft and lovely and tried hard to disguise a deep insecurity.
He stared at her, aware he only had himself to blame. “You still don’t trust me,” he accused gently.
“Of course I do.”
“You don’t believe my feelings for you are as strong as yours are for me.” He was insulted to the core by that, but this wasn’t about him. It was about the fragile self-worth he’d damaged too many times.
“I—” What could she say? It was true. “I’m not trying to start a fight. I know things will only get better from now on.”
He allowed the conversation to end there and they returned to Lucy, then went to the hospital for an introduction to her father. By the time they crawled into bed, she truly felt they were on their way to a stronger relationship than ever. He made love to her with the same sweet power as always and held her all night long.
And then he took over in that mildly annoying way of his, throwing Faye for a loop, checking to see if their house needed modifications for when her father came home. He had a man-to-man chat with her father about his finances, too.
“Don’t hurt his pride,” she urged before he left for the hospital, and got a pithy look.
“I want him to know he has a fallback if he doesn’t get on his feet right away. I take care of my family,” Raoul said.
For the first time in a very long time, she began to feel she had a cohesive family. With her confidence renewed in her position as a mother and his wife, she tried to let go of her baggage and enjoy her time with her father and sister. Faye became someone she shook her head over, rather than taking her words to heart, especially after her father remarked on their relationship.
“After your mother died, I saw you growing up so fast, trying to take on all her responsibilities. I married the first woman who looked like she’d have me, hoping to give you back your childhood, but it didn’t work. You two never connected. You were so independent. Faye didn’t know what to make of you. Moving here, I honestly didn’t think you’d miss us or that it would be so long until I saw you again. You sounded happy with your job and traveling...”
Startled by this view of herself, she asked Raoul later, “Do I take charge of everything?”
“You’ve taken over the renovations of the penthouse.”
“You told me to—oh!” She caught a glimpse of the grin he was suppressing and gave him a little shove.
He snagged his arm around her and warmed her with an admiring look. “You’re smart and confident and good at anything you chose to do. Which might threaten some men, but I need that sort of inner strength in my wife. It’s reassuring to me that you won’t give up and drop out on me.”
“No, never,” she promised.
In fact she felt more integral and necessary to him all the time. He changed the access on all his accounts so they were joint holdings and made it her job to keep everything balanced. She reeled under the depth of responsibility and trust he was showing in her.
Perhaps they were going to make it after all.
By the end of the following week her father was well into his recovery and they were winding up their visit. They were keeping the penthouse for future visits, planning two a year at least, but Raoul really did work best out of London. Everything was returning to a steady, reliable keel and if she felt a little wistful each time he said he loved her, she told herself to be grateful he was able to say the words, even if he didn’t mean them the way she did.
The day before they were to leave, Sirena woke late. Raoul had pulled his favorite trick of stealing both baby and monitor, but since he’d been rather passionate last night, not seeming able to get enough of her, she appreciated the extra sleep. Her body was a teensy bit achy in the best possible way, making her feel sensual and well loved even as she was disturbed by the memory of his near-frenetic hunger for physical connection.
Was something wrong? She went looking for him, and reassurance, as soon as she rose.
The flat was small, so it was easy to find him in the lounge, where a muted instrumental was playing, giving the sunny room a lazy Sunday feel. He’d bought her flowers yesterday, enough for three vases, filling the room with splashes of color.
He was closing the main door and had a royal-blue garment bag in his hand. As he moved to drape it over the back of the sofa, he saw her. “Good morning.”
Did he sound extra serious? Her tummy gave a flutter of apprehension.
“Good morning. Where’s Lucy?” she asked, bending her brow at the fancy logo on the bag. What was it?
“Ali just took her upstairs.”
“To the penthouse? Why? I thought we were all having lunch—”
The way he approached, all serious looking in his crisp white shirt and perfectly creased pants, gave her another hitch of anxiety. He was so damned good-looking, freshly shaved and with his new haircut—something he’d sought out himself yesterday without asking her to book it. Very out of character.
In fact, lots of odd details were adding up in her mind to something going on that was being kept from her.
He took her hands and she almost pulled them away, suddenly quite worried, but not sure of what. All her inner signals of conspiracies and loss were firing.
Don’t, she told herself, forcing herself to trust him by letting her fingers relax in the firm grasp of his.
He frowned at how chilly her hands were. Emotion seemed to catch at him in a way he couldn’t control, causing a flinch across his features. The line of his closed lips wasn’t entirely steady and for a second he seemed to struggle to meet her eyes. When he did, her heart bottomed out.
This was big. Whatever it was, it was big and scary.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, as if it hurt him.
She shook her head. Not right now she wasn’t, wearing only a robe that had taken a splash of coffee yesterday, eyes still smudged with last night’s makeup, hair tousled from their extensive lovemaking. Her lips were chapped, her—
Stop it, she told herself. If he said she was beautiful, she had to believe that to him she was. It was just so hard when he looked so uncharacteristically hesitant.
“Raoul?” she prompted.
“I’m not trying to be mysterious, Sin. I’m nervous as hell. I—well, there’s nothing to say except...” He released her and took a half step back.
She closed her hands into fists, drawing them tight into her stomach, where serpents seemed to be writhing.
To her eternal shock, he drew something from his pocket and lowered to one knee. Holding out a ring pinched between his finger and thumb, he said, “Will you marry me?”
Sunlight glanced off the diamond, throwing rainbow sparkles into her vision. The moment was imprinted for all time: the delicate notes of music behind the question, the perfume of freesias and roses, the way her heart began to pound with sheer joy, the naked feelings in Raoul’s beloved face as he looked up at her: desire, regard, admiration.
She realized she couldn’t speak because she’d clapped her hands over her mouth. “We’re already married,” she reminded him from behind them.
“I want to marry you properly. Everyone is upstairs waiting for us.”
Her eyes grew wet as she goggled at him.
“I know you didn’t want this,” he continued. His voice seemed to come from very deep in his chest. “But I need to know you want to be married to me as much as I love being married to you. I’ve spoken to your father, told him everything, asked him for your hand...”
“You what?” she gasped. Her heart tried to jump from her chest. She was both touched and alarmed, unable to process it.
“He took his time thinking about it, and I don’t blame him.” His shoulders took on a weighted slant. “If I could go back and change things...but I can’t. I know why you think I married you. I know you think I’m only trying to assuage guilt. I’m not. Although it would certainly reassure me if you said yes in spite of everything I’ve done.”
The regret in his eyes was too painful to face.
“Don’t,” she murmured, moving forward to graze her hands over his ears, startled when he locked his arm around her and pressed his face into her middle.
“You will make even the most impossible relationships work so you can stay in the lives of the people you love. I know that about you, Sin.” Anguish seemed to hold him in a paroxysm that nearly suffocated her, but she only held him tighter. “You’ll be tempted to say yes to me today simply because you hate letting me down. But I can’t bear you thinking my love for you is impossible, that what I feel for you isn’t real.”
“I—” Her arms involuntarily loosened and he surged to his feet, grasping her by the shoulders and compelling her with the force of his personality to take heed.
“I love you. This isn’t pandering to your romantic side—even though I love the idea of making your dreams come true. It’s me asking you to marry me properly. Not for Lucy’s sake, but because we love each other. If you don’t want that, if you don’t believe we’re equally invested in this relationship, then don’t do it.”
He was right, she couldn’t imagine hurting or humiliating him with refusal.
He seemed to read her mind as he straightened to look down his nose at her. “Don’t marry me out of pity or a sense of obligation. I’d rather a hit of revenge. But, Sin, think about it. Why would I set myself up for this kind of drubbing unless I wanted to prove something to you? Something really important.”
Like what?
The truth revealed itself like a specter condensing from something she had tried too hard to see.
“You shouldn’t have to prove anything to me. I should just believe you. Trust you,” she said, smothered by growing compunction. “That’s what I always wanted from you, faith in my feelings and intentions toward you...” She pressed her lips together so hard her chin crinkled. Why hadn’t she put it together before this? “I’m so sorry.”
“We’re not holding grudges, Sin.” He stroked a tender hand down her cheek. “This is our fresh start.”
She nodded agreement, letting him draw her into his embrace. With her head on his chest, she said, “I love you so much. It’s hard to believe you could feel this same way for me. It’s so big and endless and you are so incredible. You deserve to be loved like that, but I’m just me.”
“If you could see yourself the way I do. The way we all do. You’re such an amazing woman, Sin. So strong, but so kind. I’m proud that you’re my wife. I want the world to know how much you mean to me.”
For such a naturally circumspect man, this was quite an act. She couldn’t think of any reason he would do such a public thing, take such a risk, except that he loved her.
She was so overwhelmed and touched she could only wrap her arms around him and hold on, trying to keep the bursting sensations from breaking her skin.
“Will you?” he asked, kissing her hair. “Marry me?”
She nodded through happy tears. “Of course. I’d love to. I love you, Raoul.”
“And wear my ring this time,” he grumbled, easing back to thread it onto her finger. It was a band of baguette diamonds, smooth enough that the claws wouldn’t catch on baby clothes or skin, stunning enough to make her gasp as she really took it in.
“I might have been overcompensating,” he commented sheepishly.
“You think?” She laughed, then looked up at him. “I don’t know how to handle being this happy.” Her cheeks ached from her huge smile. “It means so much to me.”
It wasn’t the proposal; it was knowing he loved her that made her misty with emotion. She felt his lips touch hers as she blinked fast, trying to keep her eyes from overflowing.
“Ali helped me set it up. I hope our day is everything you imagined your wedding day would be.”
It was already better than she’d ever dared hope, but she was still awed by the small touches that made her wedding ceremony utterly perfect. As she was too curvy for ruffles or a full skirt, Ali had found her a gown of lace over silk with a modest train. She did her own hair and makeup, only calling in Ali at the last minute to help her with the veil. Faye loaned her the blue cameo pendant that had been in her family for ages and her father met her at the elevator, still unsteady, but so proud to walk with her. Her heart soared.
When she saw her daughter in a confection of a flower-girl dress sitting on Amber’s knee, she almost tripped. Then Raoul’s mother and stepsister came into focus and some of their longtime work associates...
He had really laid himself on the line with this arrangement.
Now in a morning suit that took her breath, he turned to her with such unashamed adoration in his eyes, she couldn’t speak. Unbelievably moved by their vows, feeling the sincerity deep in her heart as they spoke them, she knew he loved her. Her.
And they had a lifetime ahead of them.
He lifted her veil and she kept her eyes open, wanting him to see the same devotion in her gaze as she found reflected in his. They sealed their promises to each other with a tender kiss.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from AN EXQUISITE CHALLENGE by Jennifer Hayward.
CHAPTER ONE
IF LIFE WAS a glass of Cabernet, Alexandra Anderson wanted to live right in the lusty, full-bodied center of it. The thrill of the chase was paramount—the stickier the challenge, the better. If she wasn’t sure she could do it—that’s where she wanted to be. That’s when she got even better. That’s where she thrived.
As for the intricacies of that particular varietal versus California Zinfandel and Merlot? For a girl who’d grown up in the backwaters of Iowa tossing back beers with the undesirable crowd, it wasn’t something that kept her up at night. Who gave a
toss as long as it tasted good and did something to alleviate the interminable boredom of yet another cocktail party that was all work and no play?
Certainly not the sentiment of the man who’d just strode into Napa Valley’s annual industry fundraiser for the homeless, a massive scowl on his face. Those grapes that made bubbly go fizz for her were an obsession for Gabriele De Campo, the visionary behind De Campo Group’s world-renowned wines. His raison d’être.
She stood watching him from her perch on the balcony overlooking the mezzanine of the Pacific Heights hotspot Charo, where the event was being held, with only one goal in mind: to indulge in one of those adrenaline-seeking ventures she so loved. To convince Gabriele De Campo to let her PR firm handle the two massive upcoming launch events for De Campo’s most important wine in a decade. It was her chance to finally win a piece of the internationally renowned winemaker’s communications portfolio, and she didn’t intend to fail.
She took a sip of the glass of wine she’d been nursing for an hour and a half while she’d schmoozed every key player in the California wine industry, doing every piece of reconnaissance she could to learn who was who, what made these people tick and what would make a knockout launch for De Campo.
A warning shiver snaked up her spine. Was she crazy to even be attempting this?
It had all happened in a rather mind-numbingly quick fashion. This morning she’d been sleeping off one too many martinis from her girls’ night out in Manhattan when she’d been woken at 6:00 a.m. with a panicked phone call from Katya Jones, the head of De Campo’s marketing department. An old colleague of hers, cool-as-a-cucumber Katya had sounded unusually flustered. Gabriele De Campo had just fired the PR agency handling his Devil’s Peak launch for its “atroce” ideas three and a half weeks before simultaneous kickoff events in Napa and New York. “I need you,” Katya had groaned. “And I need you now.”
Alex might not have been so inclined to drag her sorry butt out of bed for a chance to work for her sister’s brother-in-law if she hadn’t just lost her three-million-dollar-a-year diamond client this week in a hostile takeover. It had been a huge blow for Alex’s fledgling PR firm that had just taken over a ritzy new space on Fifth Avenue. If she didn’t find another big client soon, she’d be closing her doors before she even got started. So she’d shaken off her fuzz, canceled her appointments and jumped on a plane to San Francisco in time to make this party.
