Joey had looked down the barrel of a gun on numerous occasions, had been injured and struck and frightened on various levels, but never had a criminal walked freely into her home—twice.
“Leave now, Gian, and the repercussions of unlawfully entering my home might not be so severe,” she said, suddenly no longer sleepy or lulled by the lingering effects of a glass of champagne. She needed total focus to talk down a crazy psychopath.
“I told you before, belladonna, that I could get to you anywhere. Putting that high-tech security system in place delayed me, and I’m personally offended by the inconvenience, but I can somewhat understand your need to feel protected.” He glanced around. “Now the house is locked up tight, but I’m the only person inside with you. Where is he? Zafir?”
“I don’t know.” It was true. They hadn’t made contact since he’d left. “The next time I see him, I’ll tell him you popped by.”
He advanced and she backed up to the counter, holding her stick tightly. “Don’t get the idea that you might strike me. I guarantee it won’t benefit you.”
“Gian, I’ll make this perfectly simple. I’ll walk you to the door, will open it and will let you walk out.” She started to move, clutching the counter and the stick now.
Then his hand shot out and caught her neck.
Stunned more than physically injured—how could a living being’s fingers be so cold?—she countered with a cough and dropped the cane, predicting he’d perceive her as defenseless.
Good, she thought, calm now. I knew it would come down to you and me.
Gian gave a full-fledged grin, but the dominance trip impacted his alertness and reflexes, and by the time he saw the glass jar in her hand, it was too late for him to change the trajectory.
The jar connected with his skull, bursting on blunt force impact and setting free dozens and dozens of jelly beans. Joey felt the skin on her hand open in several tiny spots, but the blood that began to flow like wine pouring into a goblet came from her attacker as they both crumpled to the floor.
Candy crunched under her feet, and her cane wobbled as Joey scrambled up. She groped for a phone, but realized with her breath going out in a whoosh that the landline receiver was sideways on the counter.
And her mother on the other end.
“Mamá!”
“Ay, Dios mio, are you all right?” Anita cried. “Did he hurt you? Are you okay? Where the hell are the police?”
As though on her command, sirens screamed outside on the street. “I’m okay, Mamá. The police are here. It’s over. Finally, it’s over, and I’m okay.”
*
Joey supposed it made sense for her friend Charlotte to break from tradition at her wedding reception when instead of tossing her bridal bouquet from the grand second-story balcony of an elegant centuries-old ballroom, she took the staircase in measured graceful steps and joined the hundreds of guests and photographers anxious to see who’d wind up holding the bundle of rustic cream roses, branches and imported silk ribbon.
From her seat in the ballroom, Joey couldn’t see much once the bride was swallowed up by single women clamoring and competing for the flowers, but with a bandaged hand she lifted her champagne flute in an early toast to the gal who’d receive them.
Charlotte appeared then, in her diamond-strapped wedding gown, holding the bouquet toward…
“Me?” Joey asked, frowning as she looked around her. Guests watched from lavishly decorated tables as lights winked up to the cherubs dancing across the stories-high ceiling.
“Yes, you,” Charlotte said, handing her the bouquet. “Be happy, Joey.”
“But I’m not getting married anytime soon. I don’t even have a date tonight.”
Around her people laughed, but did anyone—including Miz Willa Smart, who shared her table and spied her with eyes that seemed to know too much—notice the sorrow beneath her humor?
As the band struck up live classical music, Joey took the bouquet and her scepter-styled walking stick out to the gardens.
It was a beautiful summer night for a wedding…for promises and for dancing.
The lights had been magnificently webbed over the lush gardens, and the flower petals and plant leaves wore a golden blush.
“A sight like this will make me never want to leave you again.”
She turned as her mouth fell into a soft O.
Zaf stepped away from the double doors and across the stone walkway to her. The music seemed to trail after him, but he had a way of amplifying everything. “Can I get a dance?”
“You came back to Las Vegas for a dance?”
Zaf drew closer and she let him kiss her: forehead, nose, lips, the bandage wrapped around her hand. “I didn’t protect you, Jo.”
“In a very bizarre way, you did,” she protested. “The weapon I used to fend him off was a gift from you.” She offered her lips again. “Why did you come back?”
“For you. I didn’t go to New Mexico. I had to let Raphael rest in peace, by not hanging on to his murder.” He raised a hand; his cousin’s ring was gone. “I’m letting the Pote sting happen and I won’t be a part of it. I came back to be with the woman I love.”
He’d put her first. He loved her. It was dizzying and she didn’t doubt it this time.
“Where were you if not in New Mexico?”
“A small town outside El Paso, applying for a job. There’s this security firm that seems interested in my skill set.”
Joey gazed at him, greedily taking in his sulky features and serious dark eyes. “The Espositos want you in the family business, do they?”
“Seems that way. I, however, want to be home with you.” Holding her so that she could toe off her stilettos and settle her feet on his, he started to move to the music that caressed the gardens. “I don’t know if it’s here in Las Vegas.”
“Or in Texas,” she said truthfully. Some undefined mission, some undecipherable chapter in the arc of her life, had been completed. Underneath the bittersweet finality of it all was the certainty—as comforting as it was exhilarating—that she wasn’t meant to go it alone. Not anymore.
Joey and Zaf were unfinished apart, but mesmerizingly complete together. Two halves of a whole. They were risky, intense, dirty together, and no one understood them more than each other.
“So what do you propose we do?”
That’s exactly it, she thought, looking at the bouquet in her hand. Propose.
Zaf kissed her. “I love you, so here’s what I’m hoping. Marry me, Jo.”
“I will,” she whispered. “I can’t wait another five years for you, though. Or five months or five days. Just marry me, Zaf, and take me…”
“Somewhere for us.”
There was such a place. They just had to search for it. For now, they had a diamond sky, a golden garden and this dance.
*
Get rewarded every time you buy a Harlequin ebook!
Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards
http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003
Get rewarded every time you buy a Harlequin ebook!
Do you want to earn Free Books and More?
Join Harlequin My Rewards points program and earn points every time you shop.
You can redeem your points to get more of what you love:
Free books
Exclusive gifts and contests
Book recommendations tailored to your reading preferences
Earn 2000 points instantly when you join—getting you closer to redeeming your first free book.
Don’t miss out. Reward the book lover in you!
Click here to sign up
Or visit us online to sign up at
http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010001
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Kimani Romance.
You dream in vibrant hues! Harlequin Kimani Romance stories feature sophisticated, soulful and sensual African-American and multicultural heroes and heroines who
develop fulfilling relationships as they lead lives full of drama, glamour and passion.
Enjoy four new stories from Harlequin Kimani Romance every month!
Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Other ways to keep in touch:
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
ISBN-13: 9781488003462
One More Night with You
Copyright © 2016 by Lisa Marie Perry
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
One More Night with You Page 20
