He was trying really, really hard not to simultaneously laugh and cry. “You’re moving in with me,” he said as she nestled the tip of her finger in the cleft in his chin.
She raised her eyes to his. “I am.”
He grinned, a big, dopey grin that made his cheeks hurt.
“I’m going to marry you, too,” she said, draping her arms around his neck. “I’m going to design and sew my own wedding dress, though, so it might be a while.”
His chest tightened, his eyes burned. He was so grateful, so blessed for this second chance, that he scrunched his eyes closed and thanked God before he realized he was doing it. Thanked Him for answering the prayer of a drunken moron who had no idea how to talk to the Almighty. Then he thanked his mom. Because he knew she was up in heaven putting a good word in for him. It was the only way that prayer had a chance of making it through.
And when he opened his eyes, he focused on Kimber: his love, his future wife, the mother of his unborn child. She was smiling, glowing, and probably had no idea she’d just pulled him out of the deepest depression he’d ever suffered.
“Take as long as you want,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “Take whatever you want.”
She stroked the stubble on his face. “I want you.”
Pressing her close, he dropped his forehead on hers and uttered the same words he had the night she’d been playing dress-up in his clothes. Only now, they meant more. Now, they meant forever.
“Honey,” he said, kissing her softly before speaking the rest in a low, husky baritone. “You can have me.”
EPILOGUE
Push! Push!”
If Angel said “push” one more time, Kimber was going to punch her in her perfect nose. “It’s fine,” she growled under her breath. Wait… growling? On her wedding day? That wasn’t right.
Her soon-to-be sister-in-law gave up on trying to shut the stubborn door to the chapel’s small bridal room—more of a glorified closet—and regarded her, an indignant frown tilting her mouth.
“Your brother and I have a baby together, you know. There’s nothing he hasn’t seen.” Especially after the birth of their son, Caleb Henry.
Somehow, Kimber had prepped and planned and sewn, and managed to throw together a respectable wedding while pregnant. At the same time, she had hired additional staff for Hobo Chic, as well as opening a new, upscale store on Michigan Avenue. Of course, she’d had help. Without Landon and Shane on marketing and advertising, and Angel on logo design, Cheeky Chic wouldn’t exist.
Kimber had help getting into her wedding dress, too, thanks to a pit-bull personal trainer she’d hired. After the “I dos” she planned on eating her weight in wedding cake. She’d earned it.
“Well, he hasn’t seen you in a wedding dress,” Gloria argued from the other side of the room. Her ink-black hair swept along her shoulders, her lips painted in shiny red gloss. Not to mention the healthy rack bursting from the bodice of her purple gown. Kimber’s son happily dropped his head into Glo’s cleavage and fell asleep whenever he had the chance. Boys and boobs. The fascination started at birth.
Kimber adjusted her top, her own swollen breasts a new challenge.
“She’s right,” Angel agreed, looping her arm in Gloria’s. Her long brown hair was up, revealing gorgeous shoulders.
“You two are so beautiful,” Kimber said. “I have to take a picture. Where’s my phone?”
A camera on a strap appeared through the gap in the door. “I have one. If it’s safe to come in.”
“It’s safe, Evan, come in.” Kimber flicked a look at Gloria, who flashed him a warm smile. But she didn’t smile at him like she used to—like she wanted to strip him bare and do torrid things to him. No, the only heat between Glo and Evan now was the blazing trail of his illustration career.
As he slipped through the door, Kimber heard her baby’s coo. She clutched her chest and sent a look of longing toward the hallway.
“Oh no, you don’t!” Angel ran for the door to block it, but Caleb’s soft clucks outside the door effectively broke his aunt’s will.
“Come on, Angel.” Kimber smiled at her friend as Landon’s deep, soothing words spoken to their son lifted on the air. “Please let them in?”
Reluctantly, Angel opened the door. Landon smiled at his sister. “I was about to hand him off to Dad, but he and Lyon are ushering the final guests…” His words faded as his eyes strayed to Kimber. Angel hefted Caleb into her arms as Landon’s face pulled into a wide grin.
She stood, brushing out the skirts of her white dress while she studied the man she would marry minutes from now. Landon wore a trim, black tuxedo, black bow tie, and a crisp, white shirt. Classic. Handsome. Sexy as sin.
A snap sounded from behind her. Evan, looking fetching in his own rented tux, lowered the camera until it rested on his chest. “You should see your face, man. Priceless.”
But Landon ignored his brother, not taking his eyes from Kimber. She felt the tears begin to pool behind her lids. There was too much joy to contain. Too many blessings to count.
He took her hands and looked down at her, his eyes their true color. “Not having second thoughts, I hope.”
She shook her head from side to side, the veil on her crown swishing.
Feeling the weight of their audience, he tilted an eyebrow at the crowd in the room, and Angel and Caleb, Gloria, then Evan exited through the door that wouldn’t quite close.
Landon’s brow raised above the rims of his black glasses. “We have a few minutes.” A wicked grin crossed his face. He pulled her close. “Whatever shall we do?”
“You wouldn’t,” she said with mock alarm. “Not in a church, it’s like… illegal or something.”
The look in his eyes went from predatory to reverent. “I wouldn’t. Next time I make love to you, I’ll be your husband.”
Husband. The word sent chills over her entire body.
“You look beautiful, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you,” he said with a twitch of his lips.
“For?”
“Suggesting the list that brought us together. Which reminds me…” He dropped her hands and pulled a folded yellow note from his pocket. A Post-it note.
“It’s not,” she breathed. She’d never seen it. Had begun to question if it existed outside of her imagination.
“It is.” He offered, the note held between two outstretched fingers.
She carefully unfolded the paper, revealing a list written in Landon’s neat, block handwriting. Her eyes flitted over the words, a smile finding her face. The balcony. The desk. The shower. Then she gasped as she noticed a new number—an eleven, written with a different colored pen.
“The Louvre?” She blinked. Yep, that’s what it said.
“Surprise.”
No. He couldn’t mean… “But we don’t have time for a honeymoon,” she murmured. “The new store just opened. And Caleb is so young…”
“Ginny can handle the store. And Angel’s already begged to take Caleb. If you aren’t comfortable leaving him, he can come along. He might make sneaking sex in the Louvre more complicated, but—”
She threw her arms around his neck and crushed her dress into his chest. She didn’t care. It was worth it. He was worth it. “A honeymoon in Paris,” she said, hardly able to believe her good fortune.
Landon huffed a laugh into her ear, straightening her veil as she lowered to her heels. “I’m glad you like my surprise.”
“I love it.”
“I love you.”
She’d never tire of hearing him say it. Never. “I love you. But the Louvre?” She made a face.
“It’s a big museum,” he said with a rogue lift of one brow. Before his lips caught hers, Angel burst into the room.
“Oh my lord! They’re making out!”
Gloria was next. “Don’t either of you have any respect for tradition?”
“Don’t either of you have any respect for privacy?” Landon asked, his
tone bland but teasing.
“It’s time.” Landon’s dad, Mike, poked his head in the room.
Angel’s expression morphed into one of comical panic. “Did you ever find your something blue?”
Kimber fisted the folded note in her hand. Plenty of blue ink on this sheet of paper. “I have it.” She and Landon shared a secret smile.
Mike and Landon hustled to the front of the church as the music started playing. Angel darted out the door, gesturing to Lyon, who sneaked a wave to Kimber before preceding Angel down the aisle.
Glo positioned herself in front of Kimber, peeking over her shoulder before she went, “What is your something blue, anyway?”
Kimber had tucked the Post-it into her bouquet. “A love letter from Landon,” she said. That’s what the note was. A list of all the ways he’d sworn to cherish, adore, and love her. And it had brought about the most amazing gift of all. Caleb Henry Downey.
At the front of the church, Kimber released her father’s arm and took Landon’s. Her future husband smiled down at her, sending her a wink as the preacher started to speak.
During the ceremony, Landon’s eyes locked onto the note nestled between the bouquet of carnival roses, and she watched as he bit back a smile.
They were announced husband and wife, and when Landon kissed her, Kimber sank into the warmth of his mouth, realizing in the midst of applause and cheers that their happily ever after may never have begun if she hadn’t suggested the list. A list starting with one and, as long as she had anything to say about it, not ending any time soon.
About the Author
Jessica Lemmon has always been a dreamer. At some point, after she decided head-in-the-clouds thinking was childish, she went out and got herself a job… and then she got another one because that one was lousy. And when that one stopped being fulfilling, she went out and got another… and another. Soon it became apparent that she’d only be truly happy doing what she loved. And since “eating potato chips” isn’t a viable career, she opted to become a writer. With fire in her heart, she dusted off a book she’d started years prior, finished it, and submitted it. It may have been the worst book ever, but it didn’t stop her from writing another one. Now she has several books finished, several more started, and even more marinating in her brain, and she couldn’t be happier. She firmly believes God gifts us with talents for a purpose, and with His help, you can create the life you want.
Jessica is an ex-meat-eater, writer, artist, dreamer, wife, and den mother to two dogs.
You can learn more at:
JessicaLemmon.com
Twitter @lemmony
Facebook.com/AuthorJessicaLemmon
ALSO BY JESSICA LEMMON
The Love in the Balance Series
Tempting the Billionaire
Can’t Let Go
Hard to Handle
ACCLAIM FOR
TEMPTING THE BILLIONAIRE
“A smashing debut! Charming, sexy, and brimming with wit—you’ll be adding Jessica Lemmon to your bookshelves for years to come!”
—Heidi Betts, USA Today bestselling author
“Lemmon’s characters are believable and flawed. Her writing is engaging and witty. If I had been reading this book out in public, everyone would have seen the huge grin on my face. I had so much fun reading this and adore it immensely.”
—LiteraryEtc.wordpress.com
“If you are interested in a loveable romance about two troubled souls who overcome the odds to find their own happily ever after, I would certainly recommend that you give Tempting the Billionaire a try. It was definitely a great Valentine’s Day read, for sure!”
—ChrissyMcBookNerd.blogspot.com
“The awesome cover opened to even more awesome things inside. It was realistic! Funny! Charming! Sweet!”
—AbigailMumford.com
Business or pleasure?
Please turn this page for an excerpt from the first book in Jessica Lemmon’s Love in the Balance series,
Tempting the Billionaire.
CHAPTER ONE
Oscillating red, green, and blue lights sliced through the smoke-filled club. Men and women cluttered the floor, their arms pumping in time with the throbbing speakers as an unseen fog machine muddied the air.
Shane August resisted the urge to press his fingertips into his eyelids and stave off the headache that’d begun forming there an hour ago.
Tonight marked the end of a grueling six-day workweek, one he would have preferred to end in his home gym, or in the company of a glass of red wine. He frowned at the bottle of light beer in his hand. Six dollars. That was fifty cents an ounce.
The sound of laughter pulled his attention from the overpriced brew, and he found a pair of girls sidling by his table. They offered twin grins and waved in tandem, hips swaying as they strode by.
“Damn,” Aiden muttered over his shoulder. “I should have worn a suit.”
Shane angled a glance at his cousin’s T-shirt and jeans. “Do you even own a suit?”
“Shut up.”
Shane suppressed a budding smile and tipped his beer bottle to his lips. It was Aiden who’d dragged him here tonight. Shane could give him a hard time, but Aiden was here to forget about his ex-wife, and she’d given him a hard enough time for both of them.
“This is where you’re making your foray into the dating world?” Shane asked, glancing around the room at the bevy of flesh peeking out from beneath skintight skirts and shorts.
“Seemed like a good place to pick up chicks,” Aiden answered with a roll of one shoulder.
Shane tamped down another smile. Aiden was recently divorced, though finally might be a better term. Two years of wedded bliss had been anything but, thanks to Harmony’s wandering eye. Shane couldn’t blame Aiden for exercising a bit of freedom. God knows, if Shane were in his shoes, he’d have bailed a long time ago. This time when Harmony left, she’d followed her sucker-punch with a TKO: The man she left Aiden for was his—now former—best friend. At first Aiden had been withdrawn, then angry. Tonight he appeared to be masking his emotions beneath a cloak of overconfidence.
“Right,” Shane muttered. “Chicks.”
“Well, excuse me, Mr. Moneybags.” Aiden leaned one arm on the high-top table and faced him. “Women may throw themselves at you like live grenades, but the rest of us commoners have to come out to the trenches and hunt.”
Shane gave him a dubious look, in part for the sloppily mixed metaphor, but mostly because dodging incoming women didn’t exactly describe his lackluster love life. If he’d learned anything from his last girlfriend, it was how to spot a girl who wanted to take a dip in his cash pool.
He only had himself to blame, he supposed. He was accustomed to solving problems with money. Problem-free living just happened to be at the top of his priority list. Unfortunately, relationships didn’t file away neatly into manila folders, weren’t able to be delegated in afternoon conference meetings. Relationships were complicated, messy. Time-consuming.
No, thanks.
“I can pick up a girl in a club,” Shane found himself arguing. It’d been a while, but he never was one to shy away from a challenge. Self-made men didn’t shrink in the face of adversity.
Aiden laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t embarrass yourself.”
Shane straightened and pushed the beer bottle aside. “Wanna bet?”
“With you?” Aiden lifted a thick blond eyebrow. “Forget it! You wipe your ass with fifties.”
“Hundreds,” Shane corrected, earning a hearty chuckle.
“Then again,” Aiden said after finishing off his bottle, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in action, learn what not to do now that I’m single again. Find a cute girl and I’ll be your wingman.” Before Shane could respond, Aiden elbowed him. “Except for her.”
Shane followed his cousin’s pointing finger to the bar, where a woman dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. She looked so delicate sitting there, folded over in her chair, an array of brown curl
s concealing part of her face.
“Crying chicks either have too much baggage, or they’re wasted.”
Says Aiden Downey, dating guru.
“Drunk can be good,” he continued, “but by the time you get close enough to find out, it’s too late.”
Shane frowned. He didn’t like being told what to do. Or what not to. He wasn’t sure if that’s what made him decide to approach her, or if he’d decided the second Aiden pointed her out. He felt his lips pull into a deeper frown. He shouldn’t be considering it at all.
A cocktail waitress stopped at their table. Shane waved off the offer of another, his eyes rooted on the crying girl at the bar. She looked as out of place in this crowd as he felt, dressed unassumingly in jeans and a black top, her brown hair a curly crown that stopped at her jawline. In the flashy crowd, she could have been dismissed as plain… but she wasn’t plain. She was pretty.
He watched as she brushed a lock from her damp face as her shoulders rose and fell. The pile of crumpled napkins next to her paired with the far-off look in her eyes suggested she was barely keeping it together. Grief radiated off of her in waves Shane swore he could feel from where he sat. Witnessing her pain made his gut clench. Probably because somewhere deep inside, he could relate.
Aiden said something about a girl on the dance floor, and Shane flicked him an irritated glance before his eyes tracked back to the girl at the bar. She sipped her drink and offered the bartender a tight nod of thanks as he placed a stack of fresh napkins in front of her.
Shane felt an inexplicable, almost gravitational pull toward her, his feet urging him forward even as his brain raised one argument after another. Part of him wanted to help, though if she wanted to have a heart-to-heart, she’d be better off talking to Aiden. But if she needed advice or a solution to a tangible problem, well, that he could handle.
He glanced around the room at the predatory males lurking in every corner and wondered again why she was here. If he did approach her, an idea becoming more compelling by the moment, she’d likely shoot him down before he said a single word. So why was he mentally mapping a path to her chair? He pressed his lips together in thought. Because there was a good chance he could erase the despair from her face, a prospect he found more appealing than anything else.
The Millionaire Affair (Love in the Balance) Page 25
