Second Chance Girl--A Modern Fairy Tale Romance

by Susan Mallery

  Still, getting lost in Carol would go a long way to healing what ailed him.

  “I’m good,” he said instead.

  “Let me know if that changes.”

  “I will.”

  “Want to stay for dinner?” she asked.

  “I need to get back to Del and Maya. Want to join us?”

  “Sure.”

  He didn’t care if it was a mercy agreement—he wanted her with him. “Weren’t you over earlier today, helping her with something?”

  “I dropped by at lunch and took pictures of her in her dress. It was fun. I always enjoy your view when I’m at your place. Looking down at all the little animals.”

  “My house is the closest one to yours and our views aren’t that different.”

  “And yet we are worlds apart.”

  “I’m ignoring you,” he grumbled as he grabbed more chips.

  “At your own peril. I’m all that keeps you grounded in the real world.”

  He chuckled. “Lucky me. Now if only you had superpowers to keep my father at bay.”

  “Sorry. I can try to think of a few ways to distract him, if that would help.”

  “No, it’s okay. We’ll get through it.”

  All of them, or so he hoped. He might not enjoy dealing with his father, but he would manage to survive the visit. Ronan was less of a sure thing. His brother would be fine with Ceallach—Ronan was used to ignoring their father’s pronouncements. The bigger problem would be Elaine. Ronan still hadn’t come to terms with the woman he’d always thought of as his mother.

  Carol reached out her hand. He took it and ignored the wanting that accompanied the warmth of her skin. He knew what she was offering and while he wanted a lot more, he was going to be happy with what he could get.

  * * *

  VIOLET AND ULRICH walked along the boardwalk by the river. They’d gone out to dinner and then had decided to take a stroll before he dropped her off back at her place. The sun had set, the air was still warm and she was doing her best not to read too much into their evening, but it was difficult not to. Ulrich was just so great to be around.

  “I can’t believe how warm it is,” he said as they passed an older couple on a bench. “Back home it would be rainy and cold.”

  “Isn’t it like that all the time?” she asked, her voice teasing. “I had a friend visit London once in July and she said it was the coldest she’d ever been in her life.”

  “We do have challenging weather,” he admitted. “But we more than make up for it with our culture and charming accents.”

  “Your accent is charming.”

  “As is yours.”

  “I don’t have one,” she told him. “You’re simply hearing me incorrectly.”

  They moved closer to the river and leaned against the railing. Behind them was The Promenade and all the uptown shops. Across the river was the downtown district, such as it was.

  Ulrich pointed. “The Boardroom is over there, isn’t it? I’m starting to get my bearings. Your shop is by the art gallery that will host the party to raise money for more giraffes.” He smiled at her. “I’ve made my peace with Millie, by the way. I shall not have any hard feelings about her gaining a herd.”

  “How very nice of you.”

  “I’m a very nice man.”

  He was, she thought wistfully. One she would miss when he was gone.

  “Tell me, Violet, why aren’t you married?”

  The unexpected question had her blurting out the truth. “No one has asked.”

  “Have you wanted anyone to?”

  “Not really. I have a habit of choosing safe, boring men to have a relationship with. I pick them because there’s no way I can fall for them, so there’s no way they can hurt me. But being with someone for the sake of having a relationship isn’t good, either. Eventually the men figure out I’m not emotionally engaged, so they end things, usually blaming me for trying to trick them.”

  She glanced at him and saw him watching her intently. “There’s an old saying that knowing the problem is half the battle, but they’re wrong. Knowing the problem just means I can see it when it happens, but it doesn’t seem to make me act very differently.”

  Except with Ulrich. She’d fallen for him and he was neither boring nor safe. But he was leaving, which meant there was a predefined end to whatever it was they had together.

  “Do you know why you choose safe, boring men who won’t hurt you?”

  She drew in a breath. “Yes. I think so. Mostly.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  She laughed. “I have ideas. My parents are wonderful, loving people who told my sister and me that we were incredibly special. The most wonderful children in the world.”

  “Most parents do that. At least the good ones do.”

  “The problem is we believed them and no one told us otherwise. Not until we got to school and found out the truth the hard way. It was more difficult for Carol—she was older and got the brunt of the teasing. She tried to explain it all to me, to spare me the trauma, which helped. I kept my specialness a secret. Then, when I was seventeen, I was discovered.”

  He shifted so he was facing her. “What does that mean?”

  “A famous photographer saw me walking down the street in New York and instantly claimed me as his muse. Within weeks I was literally everywhere—in ads, on billboards. I had three major clothing campaigns and he put together a show that was pictures of me.”

  “I had no idea.”

  Violet did her best to stay in the moment. Talking about her past—at least that part of it—always upset her. “It was like being on a scary, wonderful roller coaster,” she admitted. “At first my mom wasn’t sure I should get involved with him, but I convinced her it was a great opportunity. I was interested in fashion and planned to study it after high school. What better way to make contacts than be a model for this guy?”

  “I take it things didn’t end well.”

  “No. What we didn’t know was he had the habit of picking a young woman to be his muse. I was just one in a long line of temporary faces in his work. Four months later, he moved on to someone else. It was only then I found out the advertising campaigns were with him, not with me. As far as the companies were concerned, we were all interchangeable. That was just his thing. My pictures disappeared from the gallery. It had never been about me at all. I wasn’t famous, I was a fool.”

  “Not special,” Ulrich said quietly.

  “Exactly. One of the masses. There were no contacts, very little money and no good memories. I went to fashion school and pretended it never happened.”

  “On the outside. You had to deal with it on the inside.”

  “I did. My mother felt terrible for not figuring out what was going on. I had to fake being fine so she could feel better.” She sighed. “It’s not like anything really horrible happened. Not one tried to sleep with me, I was never hurt or drugged or assaulted. I had my dream shattered. It happens every day.”

  “Is that when you decided on safe, boring men?”

  So he wasn’t going to try to pretty things up? “It wasn’t a conscious decision, but I would say yes. Part of living here is also about that,” she added, then tried to call back the words. That truth was one she usually kept hidden.

  “Things are safer in a small town?”

  She nodded. “There aren’t a ton of single guys in a wedding town. Not who live here permanently. And I’m not the type to pick up a groomsman for the weekend.” She managed a smile. “It’s okay. I’ll figure it out.”

  “I’m sure you will.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “The timing of this statement might be suspect but I’m compelled to tell you that I’ve become quite smitten. You are lovely and I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  She’d
expected him to say something like, “You were a fool. Did you really think you were going to be a model?” Or “Could your story be less interesting?” Smitten? Smitten? Who used that word? Who meant it?

  Ulrich turned back to look at the river. “You don’t have to say anything, Violet. Your silence speaks volumes, as they say. Not to worry. I’ll be gone soon enough.”

  He spoke lightly, as if he was perfectly fine with his assessment of her lack of response, only that hadn’t been what she meant.

  She spun to face him and grabbed his arm. “No,” she said quickly. “I’m not speaking with my silence. I was surprised by what you said.” She smiled. “Good surprised. I mean that. I’m fairly smitten myself.”

  His features relaxed as he smiled back at her. “You are?”

  “Yes. Unfortunately that means we find ourselves in quite a pickle.”

  His dark blue gaze settled on her face. “Because I’m leaving?”

  “That has been made pretty clear. You’re not from around here. I get that—what with the clues. Your accent, the funny clothes.”

  He glanced down at his jeans and long-sleeved shirt. “How are my clothes funny?”

  They weren’t but she liked teasing him. She had a feeling Ulrich didn’t get a lot of teasing in his life these days. “They’re just so British. And royal.”

  “I’m not royal.”

  “Sorry. They’re so dukeish.”

  “As am I.”

  They looked at each other. She read wanting in his eyes. There were other emotions but that was the one she was going with, mostly because she liked it. But when he didn’t move toward her or try to kiss her, she wondered if maybe he wouldn’t...because he was leaving. Because it would be bad form or whatever it was he would say. And because he was, at heart, a gentleman. He’d asked once and she’d refused. She doubted he would ask again.

  Yet another pickle, she thought, although this one had a very simple solution.

  She rose on tiptoe and lightly brushed her lips against his. The sound of his inhale was audible. His body stiffened, but he didn’t touch her.

  “Violet,” he began.

  She took his hand in hers. “I’m sure.”

  He laced his fingers with hers. They walked back to her car and she drove to her place, then eyed the stairs up to her loft.

  “You’ll never make that,” she said. “Let me grab a few things and I’ll take us to your hotel.”

  Ulrich got out of the car. “I’m perfectly fine and extremely motivated. I can handle the stairs.”

  “But your leg—”

  “Is really the least of it,” he assured her. “Trust me.”

  He was as good as his word. He climbed the single flight easily, then waited while she opened the front door. Once they were inside, he glanced at the open space, nodded approvingly, then pulled her close.

  His kiss claimed her with mastery that left her reeling. She went from interested to take me now, big boy in less than two seconds. As his tongue brushed against hers, his hands moved up and down her back before settling on her hips. Heat burned. Heat and need and some whisper of emotion she dare not name. Not now...maybe not ever.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on as if she would never let go. He was tall and strong. Lean, yet powerful.

  They kissed for the longest time. Deep, slow kisses that seemed to tug at her soul. He could have touched her anywhere, but he didn’t—not at first. Finally, when she was ready to complain that she wanted things to move just a little faster, he slid up her sides and lightly stroked her breasts.

  Wanting grew as her breathing quickened. She broke the kiss to lead him to her bed at the far end of the loft. She set an unopened box of condoms on her nightstand, then unbuttoned his shirt. He unzipped her dress and let it fall to the ground.

  With each article of clothing, they paused to explore, to touch, to taste. The feel of his mouth on her breasts had her moaning. The warmth of his skin against her fingers was its own form of arousal. Every touch, every kiss, every move was a promise.

  She slid into bed first and he followed. He touched her everywhere before easing his fingers between her legs. He quickly found her swollen center and pleasured her until she found her release. While she was still lost in the aftermath of her orgasm, he put on a condom and eased inside of her.

  She kept her eyes open, wanting to watch him—only he was watching her, as well. Even as he began to move inside of her, their gazes stayed locked, as if neither was going to be the first to look away.

  The combination of what he was doing and their intense stares touched more than just her body. It was as if she and Ulrich really were becoming the same being.

  He moved slowly, steadily, filling her until she couldn’t help arching her back and drawing him in deeper. The telltale pressure began again and she knew she was close to a second orgasm. He quickened his pace, exciting her further. Her breath turned to pants as her body tensed.

  “Come for me, Violet.”

  His voice was low and guttural. The words were just enough to push her over the edge. She cried out as her body surrendered. He groaned and pushed in deeper, before thrusting faster and faster until he, too, was lost in his release.

  Later, when they lay together, a tangle of arms and legs, her head on his chest, his hand on her side, she wondered what on earth she was supposed to do now. Great sex was one thing and yes, she would think about making love with Ulrich often after he was gone. But there was no danger in that kind of longing.

  The bigger problem wasn’t with her body, it was with her heart. Somehow while she hadn’t been paying attention, Ulrich had found his way inside the very essence of her. She’d fallen in love with him and having done so, she had no idea how she was supposed to let him go.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  MATHIAS STOOD OUTSIDE his house like a prisoner waiting for execution. He supposed there were those who would say he was being dramatic, but those people hadn’t met Ceallach Mitchell. Nothing about this visit was going to go well—at least not from his perspective. He could only hope that Del and Maya had a great wedding and didn’t sense any of the underlying tension.

  Sophie sat at his side, her tail wagging tentatively. She knew something was going to happen and given how happy her life was, surely it would be good, but she had no frame of reference.

  “Your mom’s going to be here soon,” he told the dog.

  Her tail wagged faster as she responded to his friendly tone, but she didn’t understand the words.

  Del came out and joined them. “You could wait inside. We can see the car when it pulls up.”

  “Being outside is better.”

  Not that he was going to bolt, but if he had to, he was closer to his car.

  “You okay?” Del asked.

  “Never better.”

  “Does lying help?”

  “It doesn’t hurt.”

  A car rounded the bend. As it got closer, Mathias felt his gut clench, as if in anticipation of a fist. Not that Ceallach would be hitting anyone. He’d stopped doing that when his sons had gotten big enough to hit back. No, he thought grimly. Not his sons. Del.

  Del had been the oldest, the first to stand between Ceallach and the younger boys. He’d been the one to tell their father to stop it. Mathias still remembered how surprised he’d been when Ceallach had listened.

  “Thanks for getting between us and him,” Mathias told his brother.

  “No problem. I’ll do it again, if necessary.”

  Mathias grinned. “I think we can take him ourselves now.”

  “Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

  “Hopefully.”

  The rental car pulled into the driveway. Elaine opened the passenger door and Sophie immediately lunged toward her, tail wagging furiousl
y. Mathias released her. The little beagle raced toward Elaine, barking, whining and writhing in total happiness. Elaine dropped to her knees and pulled Sophie close.

  “I’ve missed you, baby girl.”

  Mathias had the brief thought that their lives all would have been a lot easier if their mom had shown as much enthusiasm for them when they’d been kids. Then Ceallach got out of the car and there was no way to think about anything else.

  Mathias tried to see his father as a stranger would. The mighty artist was older now, thinner. There were lines by his eyes and around his mouth. He still had the carriage of a proud, powerful man, but one who was past his prime.

  Nick and Maya joined them. Maya rushed toward Elaine and they embraced. The Mitchell brothers and their father stayed carefully apart.

  “Where’s Ronan?” Ceallach asked.

  “In town,” Mathias said. He started to say Aidan would arrive in the morning, then figured there was no point. Their father wouldn’t care about him.

  Elaine rushed toward them, her arms open, Sophie dancing at her side. “My boys!”

  The three of them hugged her. She examined them, pronounced them handsome and healthy, then ushered everyone inside. Mathias wondered if he was the only one who noticed their father hadn’t greeted them beyond asking about Ronan.

  Maya had gone to the store and bought different snacks, along with fixings for dinner. Mathias hadn’t paid attention to the details. He’d been unable to think about much beyond his father in his house. Now he watched the man prowl around his living room, then look out at the view.

  “Good energy,” his father said. “You work here?”

  “I have a studio in town.”

  “Still making crap?”

  Elaine hurried to her husband’s side. “Ceallach, please. For me. Maya and Del are getting married and I want to hear all about the wedding plans.”

  “Then talk to her about them,” Ceallach said, his gaze locking with Mathias. “You could have been somebody. Instead you’re a useless hack making dishes.” Disdain dripped from his words.