“Marry me, Christina.”
Instinctively, all her inner watchdogs rushed in to shield her, to make excuses: She and Derek hadn’t known each other that long. This was still too new. What if, what if, what if…?
But, even if she’d told herself in the past that she’d never find love, an undying spark in her soul had always saved hope. It was this part of her that knew Derek was the one. Crazy as it seemed, a person didn’t have to date for three months or even be engaged for one year to develop something beautiful.
Sometimes, she thought, rekindled, love flashed as quickly as lightning that needed to be captured. You just had to be brave enough to hold it to you, pain and all. To allow it to light up your soul with its eternal illumination.
“Even though you’ve always respected me,” she said, “you also knew how to make me feel like a woman.”
“Is that a yes?”
Though the question sounded doubtful, she could tell by the affection in his brown eyes that he knew what her answer would be.
“Yes, Derek. Yes!”
With a joyful laugh, he picked her up, twirled her in his arms. In return, she hugged him tightly.
Capturing her lightning.
When he finally set her down, he said, “Thank God. I don’t think I could be happy without you, Christina. I believe I knew that the second you stepped into my office. It was just hell to admit.”
“You were too busy ordering me around to notice.”
As they laughed together, they realized there was quite a big audience outside the window. The employees weren’t even bothering to hide their curiosity, watching them as if they were in a fishbowl, there to entertain.
Even the team, including Jack, was present. He was doing his best to peer at the contents of a folder while spying on them as he crossed the lobby.
“They’re dying to know what’s happening,” she said.
Derek got a wicked gleam in his gaze. “Haven’t they always been? Hell, they might as well know that Fortune-Rockwell is about to add another partner.”
She’d never considered money as being part of the deal. Even though Derek was very well off, he managed not to flaunt his wealth. At least, not here in San Antonio. She’d almost forgotten he wasn’t even near normal.
He grabbed her hand and started pulling her toward the closed door.
“Derek…” She laughed, giddy with the touch of him.
Sending her his devilish smirk, he opened the door, bringing her outside, too.
“Looks like everyone’s enjoying their lunch hour,” he announced jovially.
The crowd shuffled, no doubt embarrassed that their boss was calling them on their nosiness.
But Derek didn’t acknowledge the awkwardness. “I thought you’d like to know that she said yes.”
Some employees pretended not to know what he was talking about. But Adam, Jonathan, Seth, Ben and Jack all high-fived, causing a relieved chain reaction of applause and felicitations.
Before anyone could approach them, Christina gripped Derek’s hand and tugged him down the hall toward his office. She wanted to be alone with the man she loved.
Wanted him, period, since there was nothing standing between her and her fiancé now.
Si. Her fiancé.
True love had finally hit her, Christina Mendoza, the unluckiest target of love to ever exist.
They passed Twyla, who was leaning against the wall while excited chatter filled the room. The blonde was sending Christina a jaded look, one that seemed to say, “We both know better, don’t we?”
But Christina only held tighter to Derek’s hand, feeling the rough skin of his palm brush against hers, creating sparks. Flames.
For a split second, Christina imagined Rebecca Waters’s face superimposed over Twyla’s. The frowns merged together, morphing into one bad memory.
But, then, unruffled, Christina walked right past, leaving them both behind.
When they arrived at Derek’s office, he dismissed Dora, who was eating a sandwich at her desk while surfing the Internet.
“In fact,” Derek said to her, “why don’t you just take the rest of the day off.”
Dora jumped out of her chair. “This job gets better and better!”
Then she took off, and Derek locked the door to his small lobby, turning around to find his newly minted fiancée leaning against his desk.
Christina.
A fiery flush had stamped her cheeks, bringing a beautiful shine to her eyes and skin.
His wife. His future.
“Should we call Patrick? My parents?” Her smile lit up the room. “Two engagements in the space of days. Mama and Papa are going to hit the roof.”
“What about your bet?” he asked, slowly walking away from the door. “Is this going to mess it up?”
“Terribly. I’m toast, Derek. But I’m betting you’ll be worth all the heinous work I’ll be performing for this lapse into man temptation.”
“I’ll help you through it.”
He was standing in front of her now, coaxing her hair back with his fingers, taking her in as if she’d disappear.
But she wouldn’t. This woman would always be around to rescue him from facing more lonely, soulless nights.
“Let’s make the phone calls later,” he said. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“Work?” She seemed highly disappointed. “You’re kidding, right? Because if you’re not, I’m really quitting this time.”
“A wife can’t quit her and her husband’s company.”
“I’m not your wife yet.”
Derek scooped Christina into his arms. “Yes, you are. The minute you said you loved me, I became your husband.”
Molding her body against him, Christina rested her lips against his neck, communicating with a language of kisses. “You move fast, Mr. Rockwell.”
“I know a good deal when I see it.” He memorized her back with an opened palm, easing over the line of her spine, the curve of her rear end. “They say I’m ruthless when it comes to getting what I want.”
“Then show me.”
With tender persuasion, he caught her mouth with his, kissing her, slowly exploring her lips, taking his sweet time.
Now, he wasn’t afraid to take her inside of him, to let her all the way into a place no one else had ever ventured before. He absorbed the love she was willing to give, allowing it to make him stronger.
Not weaker.
As her kisses burned his skin, searing him with what he once perceived to be wounds, he felt himself healing under her touch, her care.
He lowered her to the carpet, spreading out her hair like an exotic fan, tracing his fingers over her breasts, watching as they peaked, straining against her red shirt.
“I’ve got that blanket in the closet,” he said. “Let me get it.”
She pulled him back down to her, and he didn’t even mind being restrained.
“I’m comfortable just the way we are,” she said.
He had a vision of the red shawl, the way it’d covered her, protected her, bringing out the deeper feelings he’d been repressing.
“I don’t want you to be just comfortable.” He got up, hating to lose the heat between them. But he’d be right back, restoking it. “I want you to know I’m always thinking of you, whether it’s a blanket under your back or a far grander gesture. Rose petals over your skin, a trip to a first-class Paris hotel…”
“I just need you,” she said. “Not the trimmings.”
“Humor me.”
Playfully, she stretched out on the floor, Cleopatra-like. “You come right back in record time.”
As she sent him a lazy, kiss-warmed smile, Derek’s pulse slammed against his skin. He made fast work of fetching the blanket, then made sure he had a condom ready to go.
He spread the heavy, silky material on the floor, then moved over to her, relieving her of her sandals, sliding his fingers over her delicate ankle while urging her body over to him.
“Your office
seems like a forbidden place to make love in,” she said, voice light, teasing.
“It’s been my fortress. And…” He reached over to guide her shirt over her head, leaving her in a lacy white bra. “…you’ve stormed it.”
They slicked off the rest of their clothes until she was in her underwear and he was bare-chested, wearing only his jeans.
Making love in his office would be the statement of all statements. He was changing the tone of it, announcing to himself that work was nothing compared to this woman.
As Derek lay his body over hers, kissing her once again, business fell by the wayside.
Instead, he lavished fingertip praise on the tops of her breasts, which were mounded by the confines of her bra. With easy strokes, he shaped them, making her shiver, her breath quicken.
Inspired, he dipped his thumb into the cup of her bra, tracing the nipple, round and round, taunting it into arousal.
She reached down between them, caressing him, bringing him to a stiff, aching erection.
Soon, all their clothes littered the floor, and she’d worked the condom over his length, wriggling her hips and lulling him inside, where he slid, drove, pulsated into her.
Together, they danced forward, avoiding the backtracking they’d been doing for most of their lives. They followed their own footsteps this time, not the ones other people had laid out for them.
With rhythmic grace, they explored new ground, forging their own path, seeking mountaintops, peaks, summits.
As Derek got higher and higher with Christina matching every climb in elevation, moaning, gyrating, soaring with him, the pressure built in his body.
It stopped his heart, dizzied his head, stole his oxygen. When his partner climaxed beneath him, crying out her love, helping him reach the top, too, Derek finally burst into pieces, overwhelmed by where they’d gone.
Where they’d go every day for the rest of their lives.
Spent, Derek held Christina to him, their skin slick, melting into each other, fusing two into one.
Then he looked at her, replenishing himself with the woman who’d stolen his energy in the first place. She smiled up at him, a tear of sweat trickling down her face, meandering between her lips like a moist kiss.
He fit his mouth to hers, tasting the salt of it.
Drinking her in.
His wife. His partner.
His elixir.
Epilogue
When Patrick Fortune had received the call from Derek, announcing his engagement to Christina, he’d already been on his way back to Texas from New York, planning to personally congratulate Jack and Gloria on their own upcoming nuptials.
And, now, with the success of The Sequel, Patrick felt doubly blessed.
When he’d learned about the office rumors dogging Christina and Derek, guilt had overshadowed Patrick. But his employees had handled the strife beautifully themselves. Then again, they were both the best, so he wouldn’t have expected anything less of them.
However, wanting to make up for his absence, Patrick had hightailed it to the Mendoza house, which had been host to one big party ever since two out of three daughters had gotten engaged. All week, Patrick had toasted their love, eaten Jose’s marvelous food and enjoyed the comfort of family.
But on this weekend, the Mendoza sisters were celebrating Christina’s engagement in a different way.
As Patrick’s driver dropped him off at the Blinko Gas Station near Stocking Stitch, Maria’s knitting store in Red Rock, he caught wind of the festivities: loud laughter, jokes, the lively recorded music of acoustic guitars and the spray of water.
Drawing closer, Patrick adjusted his glasses. Yes, it was true. Just as Gloria had promised, she’d constructed signs that were flapping in the breeze as the Mendozas gathered around a boom box and a cooler of colas and snacks. At the same time, they poked fun at Christina as she washed cars.
Vehicles were lined up on the street, the occupants joining in the fun, calling out to Christina every so often. She’d return the jesting while squirting Jack with water or inviting Sierra to come out and join her.
Labor Of Love! read one sign.
Christina Fought Cupid And Cupid Won! said another.
Another sign, less clever by far, but more meaningful, boasted the words: Car Wash, $10, For Charity. Proceeds Go To The Pediatric Ward Of Red Rock General Hospital.
Patrick wouldn’t advertise it, but he’d chip in a few stacks of bills, too. But, just to get into the spirit, he’d allow Christina to work for it.
After all, she had lost the bet.
When he walked up, the crowd let out a raucous cheer.
“Sit down and watch the show!” Pregnant, yet still slim, Gloria was happy to squash Christina’s shyness with a very public reckoning. Like royalty, she was seated in a lawn chair under an umbrella.
Jack came over to offer his father a cola. Ice chips flaked off the bottle in the spring sun. “Glad you could watch this spectacle, too, Dad.”
They made Patrick comfortable in his own chair near Maria and Rosita. While Christina trooped around in her tennis shoes and grubby, wet shorts and shirt, soapy sponge and hose in hand, a dark head popped up from the other side of the car she was washing.
“Is Derek allowed to be helping?” Patrick asked.
Petite Rosita was using a hand-painted fan to cool herself off. “There are so many waiting cars that the Committee for Man Temptation is allowing it.”
“Jack, Jose and Sierra are talking about helping, also,” Maria said, looking so very pleased about finding two of her daughters their perfect mates. “There is a much bigger turnout than we expected.”
Patrick watched as Derek ambled by Christina, smearing her cheek with bubbles. In retaliation, she sprayed him. When he stopped the attack by enfolding her in a bear hug and kissing her senseless, the observers clapped, urging them on.
“Christina!” yelled Gloria. “I think Sierra took her ring-sitting duties too seriously and ran away with it!”
That got instant attention.
On the sidelines, Sierra was flashing the diamond jewelry at her sister, pretending as if she would take off.
While Derek made to pursue Sierra, Christina held him back, saying how much she trusted her younger sibling. Appeased, Derek resumed work along with his fiancée. But that didn’t keep them from casting flirty glances at each other.
Patrick noticed Sierra’s own gaze lingering on the ring. A deep loneliness filled her eyes, and it broke his old heart.
“Got any ideas?” Maria asked, noticing his focus.
He turned to her and Rosita, who were on the edges of their seats, anticipating his response.
“Give me some time to think about it,” he said, relaxing back into his own. “Just give me some time.”
And, with that, his eye turned back to his latest successful merger.
Between his good friends’ daughter.
And the son of his heart.
What a team, thought Patrick, only too happy to help out.
Still, he wondered if maybe his best work was yet to come.
In a Texas Minute
By
Stella Bagwell
Stella Bagwell sold her first book in November 1985. More than fifty novels later, she still loves her job and says she isn’t completely content unless she’s writing. Recently, she and her husband of thirty years moved from the hills of Oklahoma to Seadrift, Texas, a sleepy little fishing town located on the coastal bend. Stella says the water, the tropical climate and the seabirds make it a lovely place to let her imagination soar and to put the stories in her head down on paper.
She and her husband have one son, Jason, who lives and teaches maths in nearby Port Lavaca.
Chapter One
“Sierra! Hello! Are you there?”
Sierra Mendoza’s gaze circled the table where she and her friends had gathered for lunch. Every eye was zeroed in on her and she suddenly realized her mind had wandered off again and she’d lost all train of the conver
sation.
Her cheeks pink with embarrassment, she glanced at Gayle, a blonde who was five years older than Sierra and much more experienced in the men department.
“I’m sorry, Gayle, I was…thinking about something. I didn’t hear your question.”
Gayle rolled her blue eyes, but softened the impatient gesture with a smile. “I asked if you wanted to try one of those fudge brownie desserts with me today?”
“Ugh, no. I—I’m just not in the mood for sugar today,” she said, declining.
Actually Sierra wasn’t in the mood for anything. She was only here at this lunch because these people were her best friends and had been since she’d met them at the University of Texas at Austin many years ago.
Today the two women and three men had congregated for their weekly lunch get-together at the Longhorn Bar and Grill in downtown Red Rock, Texas.
Back in San Antonio’s earlier days, the Longhorn building had been a feed-and-grain store and today it was still more like a barn than anything else. The ceiling was high, open and crossed with heavy rafters. The wooden planked floor was rough and the pine picnic tables were covered with blue-and-white checked tablecloths. What used to be the loading dock was now an outside dining area that looked out over Main Street. The air in and out of the Longhorn always smelled of beer and fried onions, scents that mingled with laughter and rowdy conversation.
Mario, a Hispanic doctor who worked the emergency room in one of San Antonio’s larger hospitals, turned a look of concern on Sierra. “What’s the matter? Are you trying to diet? You certainly don’t need to. You’ve gotten too thin in my opinion.”
Feeling as if a bright spotlight were focused on her, Sierra dropped her gaze to the half-eaten lunch plate in front of her. “Not really, Mario. I’ve been eating plenty. I just don’t want dessert today.” She looked up and smiled apologetically at Gayle. “Maybe next week I’ll have more of an appetite. Why don’t you go ahead and eat one without me.”
Laughing, Gayle shook her head. “No way. I’m not going to be the only one to eat a days’ worth of calories in one small bowl.”
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