by Robyn Grady
Tonight Laura was Tinker Bell, complete with pom-pom slippers and gossamer thin wings, although she didn’t feel the least bit mischievous or daring. When Captain Hook had asked her to dance a moment ago, she politely declined as she’d done to others many times tonight. Watching the captain from a distance now, she wondered if she might recognize the face should he remove the mask.
Tickets had asked that guests keep their masks in place until twelve. Not until you’d given or had received a kiss were you permitted to reveal your true self. Not everyone had gone along with the adventurous spirit of the request, however. That man standing next to one of the bars, for instance. Indiana Jones. His hat was worn at a forward slope, all but covering his eyes. The adventure-scarred thirties flight jacket suited his masculine physique…tall, broad, a posture that said commanding, aloof. Even arrogant. Everyone attending tonight was wealthy or here courtesy of someone who was. If it was good enough for the majority—top models, champion race car drivers, Forbes businessmen—to abide by the keep-your-mask-in-place edict, why should Jones think he was exempt?
Indiana drank from his heavy-based glass then tipped his hat back. When a pair of bright blue eyes indolently swept the room, Laura’s blood froze in her veins. Then she broke out in a sweat. Pressing her hand against the nerves jumping rope in her stomach, she set her glass down on a passing waiter’s tray before it could slide through her tingling fingertips and smash on the floor.
Bishop?
It couldn’t be.
Desperate to see more clearly, she removed her mask, blinked several times then focused again. At the same time, the man in the hat flicked a glance her way. Their gazes hooked. Stuck.
Fused.
She’d given the attendance list a good going over. Or she thought she had. Had they come close to bumping into each other tonight? Had they brushed, touched, unbeknownst to either one of them?
Shaking inside, Laura gulped down a breath and straightened her spine.
Forget all that. What did she do now?
He made the decision for them both.
Removing his hat, holding it at his chest, he crossed to her. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, Laura heard someone call out, “Five minutes to midnight!” And then he was standing before her, so tall and more darkly handsome than any man had a right to be. On his hip he wore a coiled whip. Beneath his eyes lay shadows she didn’t remember seeing before. Had he slept as little as she had these past months?
Beyond nervous, she pasted a smile on her quivering lips.
“Bishop…this is a surprise.”
“A pleasant one.”
That husky comment would’ve been enough to unbalance her, but the slant of his kissable mouth, the sparkle in his eyes, left her dizzy.
Sucking in a breath, she shored herself up.
Cool. Collected. Don’t let him know how affected you are. You don’t want his pity. Let him see you don’t need anything from him, particularly the pain of hope.
She adjusted her fairy wing shoulder strap. “I didn’t see your name on the attendance list.”
His gaze had dropped to her mouth and was now licking a deliberate line over her lips. Her heart raced faster. She thought she’d remembered how deeply he affected her. Now, with no more than a lidded look, she was dissolving into a warm puddle.
“I decided to attend at the last moment,” he told her. “I believe you’re a functions coordinator now.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask how he knew. But she deliberately smoothed the questions from her expression and, as calmly as she could, explained.
“I was always into food. Catering. Making things nice. I wrote up a few proposals, did some promotion and got a few gigs, including this one.”
Approval shone in his eyes, transforming them into glittering blue mirrors beneath the lights. “Congratulations. I’ll have to put our promotions department onto your website.”
“So you kept the company?” He nodded and a sense of right filtered over her. “I’m glad. That place was so much a part of you. You always wanted to build it up into all it could be. I can see you taking Bishop Scaffolds all over the world.”
“My suit with its giant S printed on the chest is on order.”
He chuckled and for the first time in months, she wanted to laugh, too. How wonderful to feel something other than listlessness.
A call from the center microphone went up. “Three minutes. Get your lips ready, folks.”
Laura had unconsciously been checking out the beautiful bow of Bishop’s mouth. Now the reference to kissing jolted her back. Her cheeks hot, she redirected her attention to a dazzling nighttime view of the harbor and bridge visible beyond the multistory glass wall. Below, a glittering sea of sparklers lit the boardwalks and streets.
“The fireworks should be spectacular tonight,” she said, her gaze on the view while she felt his own gaze sizzling over her.
“Spectacular. Yes,” he replied. “Not long to wait now.”
While the crowd stirred and the excitement around them grew, her gaze joined with his again and they simply looked at each other, soaking each other up, one drinking the other deeply in. She felt herself being drawn up, like early morning dew to the sun, but then nearby someone blew a party whistle, reality intruded again and she dropped her gaze to her pom-pom slipper feet.
Time to move on before she did something foolish like throw herself at him and beg him to take her home.
She rubbed the back of her neck above her fairy wings. “Guess I’d better let you get back to the party.” Her expression suitably poised, she nodded a farewell. “Happy New Year, Bishop.”
“Take care, Laura.”
He touched her arm and the skin-on-skin contact shot a hot flash straight to her belly before it spread drugging warmth down her suddenly unsteady legs.
She cleared her throat and mumbled, “You, too,” before, more than a little shaky, she walked away.
Bishop watched Laura, in that sexy-as-sin pixie outfit, as she vanished back into the crowd. Her legs were just as delectable and her smile still melted his heart. If anything she’d grown more beautiful. More desirable.
Over these past two months, whenever his mind hadn’t been otherwise completely occupied, his thoughts had tracked back to his ex and the incredible time they’d spent together when fate could have taken them one way but had pitched them in the other instead. But after his talk with Willis, he’d seen things more clearly…well enough to push himself to climb back on top. He’d made the firm decision to keep his company and had dived back into work with fresh gusto.
And then there was Laura.
That day, when he’d decided he would win back Laura’s love, he’d also decided to act only when all the pieces were lined up to give him the best chance of success. His nature was to be cautious; every step needed to be the right one. And yet in the past he’d acted impulsively where Laura was concerned. She fired up emotions that flicked a switch in him that demanded immediate action. He’d asked her to marry him too soon, had left when he should have held on and seen the rough times through. Hanging off from approaching her these past weeks had been agony. But the wait would be worthwhile. Tonight he felt the time was right. Soon he would make his move.
As the “one minute to midnight” warning echoed through the vast room, Bishop knocked back the rest of his drink. Then, setting down his glass, he shouldered a path through the elaborate costumes and masks and found a relatively quiet spot against a column near the main entrance. Crossing his arms, he leaned back and absently watched an assortment of guests prepare themselves for twelve.
Soon the countdown cry went up.
“Ten, nine, eight, seven…”
He’d caught up with a few friends tonight and had made a few new contacts. But he hadn’t come here to socialize. Not in that sense anyway. He was here because of Laura.
When they’d touched a moment ago, the sensation had been the same. Almost too hot. Too good. If they met and touched in ten yea
rs’ time, it wouldn’t be any different. He’d still nurse the same maddening urge to carry her away despite any protests. Tonight, if he had to, that’s precisely what he intended to do.
The countdown ended. Cheers and cries of “Happy New Year!” exploded through the ballroom. Beyond the windows, Sydney ignited in a limitless show of sky-high flares, sparks and luminous color. Crowds clapped and hugged. Inside, streamers flew, whistles blew and everyone seemed to be kissing and embracing.
Bishop waited, anticipating his next move and how the scene he’d envisaged a thousand times would ultimately play out. His gaze landed on a nearby couple. They were young, clearly in love. She was heavily pregnant.
The anticipation in his gut spiked and looped, and rather than that couple, Bishop imagined he and Laura standing there looking that happy. That pregnant.
That in love.
As the couple broke apart and gazed tenderly into each other’s eyes, Bishop set his hat aside and moved out. The cacophony of noise expanded to a deafening pitch, but now Bishop blocked it out. On a mission, his heart pounding louder than the fireworks hitting the stars outside, he drove through the tightly-packed crowd until he reached the center of the room. He angled around, focused as his gaze whipped over countless heads and a pulse beat furiously in his throat.
He’d purposely let Laura walk away five minutes earlier. He’d wanted the realization that they were indeed in the same room to sink in. He wasn’t concerned he wouldn’t find her again, and for one simple reason.
He had faith. At this moment, whether she wanted to admit it or not, she would be searching for him as earnestly as he was now searching for her.
From the first time they’d spoken, the first time they’d kissed, he’d made up his mind to have her, and marry before anything got in their way. When she’d told him about her heart condition, it made no difference to how he’d felt. He’d work it out. That’s what he did. Logically. Methodically.
One maddening step at a time.
He’d married Laura on impulse and despite all they’d been through, it was the best decision he’d ever made. Tonight he intended to tell her just that.
Still searching, he rotated slowly back around and a path seemed to open up through the center of the crowd. At the far end of the room, with her silver wings and fluff ball slippers, stood Laura. Even with a sparkling mask covering half her face, he could see that their eyes had locked. She angled more toward him and he strode up until he stood, determined, before her.
“Time is nothing but a great empty void without you,” he said, as cheers and whistles continued to wail all around. But he didn’t worry she couldn’t hear him. Behind her mask, her emerald eyes were swimming. She’d heard every word.
But when his hands searched out hers, to hold and urge them close, her shoulders thrust back and she wound away.
“We don’t need to do this again. Especially not here. We said all we needed to two months ago. There’s no point rehashing it.”
“You’re right. No rehashing. There’s been enough of going over old ground. We need to push forward. Get over the past once and for all.”
“The only way to get over it, Bishop, is to leave it behind. Leave us behind.”
“You know neither of us can do that.”
“We have to. Don’t you see? There’s no answer.”
“I won’t accept that.”
The breath seemed to leave her and her lower lip trembled the barest amount. “Please, Bishop, don’t. I can’t do this again.”
Blocking out the commotion, he found her hands and held them tight.
“When I left over a year ago, I was angry. Not with you. At how things between us had turned out. You’ve heard the saying, what you fear most you create. What we were both so scared would happen, did.” He stepped nearer and the distance separating them closed more. “We lost a child.”
Her shoulders hitched as she swallowed back what he suspected to be a quiet sob. Her heart was there in her eyes as the tips of her fingers reflexively curled over his. “I…I never thought you understood how I felt.”
“I thought you’d get over it,” he admitted, “and when you did, I wanted to try again. But when you didn’t want to—” He corrected himself. “When you couldn’t, it suited me because at the edges of my mind I kept thinking…what if it happens a second time, a third? What if we go to term and it’s my twin brother all over again or there’s problems with his heart?” A rock pressed on his chest. “How could I do that to a child?”
She was biting her lip, clearly holding back tears.
“I should have been there for you,” he went on, “even when you didn’t want me to be.” He rotated her hands until their backs rested against the buttons on his chest. “I love you, Laura. Till the end of time I’ll love you.”
A tear slid past the ridge of her mask, down her cheek, around her chin.
“You love me? Still?”
He nodded, smiled and cupped her cheek. “I want you to give what you always asked of me. Have faith in me, Laura. We were in love again two months ago. I know we can have that again.” He brought his cheek to hers. “I’ll never stop holding you,” he murmured against the shell of her ear as he stroked her back below its wings and willed all the forces of heaven and hell to this time have it turn out right. “I’ll never stop loving you, no matter if we live out one lifetime together or ten.”
Slowly, he released her. As fireworks ignited the night sky and the party continued to explode, Laura’s throat bobbed up and down. Needing to see her face, he found the sequined edge of the mask and slid it off. What he saw left him short of breath. It was there in her eyes, so clear and bright, and he knew what she was going to say before she said it.
“I can’t help loving you,” she got out. “Even when I didn’t want to. I was the one who wanted to take a risk, but when the worst happened, you were the one who stayed strong while I—” Her cheeks wet, she leaned into him. “I gave up. I gave up on us.” Her hands knotted in his shirt. “I don’t want to give up again.” Then she blinked and concern flared in her eyes. “But Bishop, even if we walk out of here together tonight, we still won’t have solved our problem.”
The dilemma of when and how or if they should have a family.
He reached into his top shirt pocket. When his hand withdrew and he opened his palm, Laura’s eyes went wide and her hands lifted to cover a disbelieving smile. Gingerly she scooped up the delicate gold pieces. She held them high and the gold symbols caught and reflected a hundred lights. Bishop could see her heart caving, and his did too, as she twirled the pieces so that prisms planed out from a cross, an anchor and a heart.
“We’ll try again,” he said. “We’ll fall pregnant. But only when and if you’re ready. And no matter what comes, good or bad, I’ll always, always be there right beside you.”
That sob escaped and, looking as if she couldn’t find her voice beneath a world of emotion, she pressed her lips together and nodded. At that moment, all the commotion in the room seemed to fade. He lifted her chin higher so he could see her eyes…and the open gift of her love.
“Guess that means I have an answer to my question,” he said, smiling, too.
“Which question is that?” she choked out.
He cupped her face and searched her eyes until he felt his soul touch hers.
“Will you marry me?”
More tears pooled in her eyes—happy, grateful, as-soon-as-we-can tears. But then she asked, or was it teased? “You don’t think we need more time?”
“I only know I can’t wait for you to be Mrs. Samuel Bishop again.” His lips brushed hers. “I can’t wait for the rest of our lives to begin.”
While the other revelers were finishing their embracing, Bishop gathered his only love adoringly near. He cherished her…loved her…and with all his heart, he kissed her. A kiss to seal their future and a promise neither one would ever forget.
Epilogue
Sitting in the living room of their Blue Mountain
s home, Laura and Bishop huddled together on the couch, watching their favorite DVD. With her head on her husband’s shoulder, Laura sighed as the camera’s eye panned the interior of the quiet church while a hundred guests smiled and gazed on.
On the screen, proud father Bishop carefully handed over his baby daughter for the minister to perform the long-anticipated ceremony. Laura stood beside them, her hands clasped under her chin as her eyes shimmered with more love than many hearts could ever hope to contain. Their baby, Abigail Lynn, had her father’s thick dark hair and her mother’s striking green eyes. She was dressed in the christening gown her grandmother had sewn and trimmed with white ribbon over twenty-five years earlier.
The minister held Abbey’s tiny head over the font and carefully anointed her crown. Cameras clicked and at least one camcorder caught all the action, including the godparents’ smiles (Willis and Grace had been honored), and the approval radiating from both sides of the aisle. Bishop’s parents had flown in from Western Australia the day before and planned to stay a few weeks. But by far the strongest, sweetest emotion captured that day was the expression on Bishop’s face. Gratitude. Pride.
Unbridled love.
The ceremony wound up. She and Bishop, with their baby girl, made their way down the crimson-carpeted aisle, soaking up the best wishes of the people with whom they’d chosen to share this special day. On a close-up, Mum and Dad kissed their baby on each cheek. A moment later the images on the plasma screen flickered to black.
Misty-eyed, Laura reluctantly let Bishop leave her side to remove the DVD from the player. Her gaze wandered to their darling eight-month-old, sitting up by herself on her pink blanket. While Abbey played with her animal friends phone, Queen dozed directly behind, a living, breathing, soft place to land should the baby happen to topple. Bishop ejected the disc while Laura leaned forward to scoop the baby up.
