by Sarah Morgan
Why?
Trying to find the answer to that question, she looked up at him and saw an unusual degree of tension in his handsome face.
‘Aren’t you going to look?’ His voice bordered on the impatient and he stretched out a lean, bronzed hand and flipped the box open. ‘Do you like it?’
He sounded nervous and she’d never known Alessandro to be nervous of anything before. He never questioned himself but tackled life with an enviable degree of self-confidence. But today that confidence appeared to be lacking.
She glanced down at the box in her hand and felt the floor shift. Nestled in a bed of rich, deep blue silk lay a huge, sparkling diamond. It twinkled and sparkled under the kitchen lights and she stared at it stupidly.
Finally she found her voice. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s the ring I should have given you twelve years ago,’ Alessandro said gruffly. ‘But I’m giving it to you now. If you’ll wear it.’
‘But—’
‘I’m not great at speeches, so let me just say what I have to say.’ He jabbed long fingers through his glossy hair and took a deep breath. ‘I fell in love with you the day I saw you. Impossible, I know, but that’s how it was. You were so beautiful, so warm and kind and yet so fiery and passionate. I’d never met a woman like you before and after I saw you I never looked again. And I’ve never stopped loving you. And if you love someone you’re supposed to be able to set them free—let them go. I told myself that I’d let you go if that was what you wanted—’
‘Alessandro—’
‘I promised not to order or command so I can’t force you to stay,’ Alessandro said hoarsely, ‘but I’m willing to beg. Will you stay, Christy? Will you stay if I beg?’
Beg?
She stared at him. None of it made sense. ‘But you don’t love me—’
‘How can you say that?’ He stared at her a look of stunned incredulity in his dark eyes. ‘When have I ever led you to believe that I don’t love you?’
She chewed her lip. ‘Loads of reasons,’ she said finally. ‘You didn’t follow me to London, you put me in the spare room and we’ve been lying in the same bed and you haven’t made love to me—’
‘Because when I did make love to you,’ he exploded, the natural volatility of his Mediterranean temperament bubbling to the surface, ‘you slapped me!’
‘It was sex.’
‘It was love, querida,’ he said hoarsely, and she shook her head slowly.
‘You never once said you loved me.’
‘I did.’
‘No,’ she said patiently. ‘You didn’t.’
‘So…’ He spread his hands in a supremely Latin gesture. ‘I had other things on my mind at the time, like the fact that you looked so incredibly sexy and we hadn’t been together for weeks and—’ He broke off and gave an apologetic smile. ‘And I am a man and verbal communication isn’t my forte. I’m working on it.’
‘I thought you’d stopped loving me.’
He stared at her in shocked silence. ‘I’ve never stopped loving you.’
Hope flared and she squashed it down ruthlessly. ‘You’ve never stopped loving me?’
‘Of course not. I know I’m not perfect.’ He frowned slightly as he said the words, as if admitting such a fact was difficult, ‘and I realise that I’ve done many things wrong. Seeing you in A and E and in the mountain rescue team made me realise how many skills you have that you’re not using. You have made so many sacrifices for the family.’
‘They weren’t sacrifices,’ Christy murmured, but he shook his head.
‘You made this family work. You made it possible for me to live the life I wanted to lead. And I neglected you as a woman. I can see that now.’
She sucked in a breath. ‘Alessandro—’
‘You have to let me finish,’ he breathed, taking the box and removing the ring. ‘Over the past two weeks I have tried so hard not to be controlling and bossy and I promise to work on that but even so, I can’t let you leave again. I know I drive you crazy but you love me, Christy. Over the last two weeks I’ve become more and more sure about that.’
She swallowed hard. ‘Of course I love you. And I didn’t mean to leave—at least, not in the way that you mean. You weren’t listening to me and I thought it was the only way to get through to you. I thought you’d come after me—’
‘You didn’t mean to leave? What do you mean, you didn’t mean to leave?’
‘It was only ever supposed to be for the weekend,’ she confessed, pushing aside the last vestiges of her pride in an effort to save their relationship. ‘I thought you’d come after me and drag me back.’
He ran a hand over his roughened jaw. ‘Am I really that controlling?’
‘Yes. But not on that occasion, obviously. Ironic, really. The one time I wanted you to come and drag me back, you didn’t do it.’
‘It seems that I’m not the only one who is hopeless at communicating. When I realised you’d left I was totally and utterly devastated,’ he groaned, sliding a hand into her hair and tilting her head so that he could look into her eyes. ‘I thought you didn’t love me any more and I could hardly blame you, because I missed our anniversary—’
‘It wasn’t about our anniversary,’ she interrupted him in a soft voice, needing to explain. ‘We just didn’t feel like a couple any more.’
‘I suppose I was suffering from that old cliché of taking you for granted.’ He gave a shrug and a self-deprecating smile. ‘I came home and you were always here. And then one day you weren’t and I had the shock of my life.’
‘So why didn’t you come after me?’
‘I genuinely didn’t realise that was what you wanted, although I should have done, of course. I’ve lived with you long enough to understand your temper.’ His voice was soft and he dragged his thumb over her cheek in a gentle caress. ‘For once in my life I was trying to think of you. I wanted you back but you were obviously so fed up with me that I thought you needed time and space so I left you alone.’
‘And I thought you didn’t want me.’
‘Then you arrived back here looking stunningly gorgeous and promptly slept in the spare room.’
‘You put me in the spare room,’ she reminded him, and he gave a wry smile,
‘Another major error of judgement on my part. I was expecting you to refuse to sleep there. Always you sleep in my bed.’
He sounded so much like the old Alessandro that she gave a soft smile. ‘Thank goodness we had some help from the children or I’d still be in there,’
‘Sí—because we are both so stubborn and hot-tempered, gatita.’ He gave a groan and lowered his mouth to hers, dropping a lingering kiss on her mouth. ‘Perhaps if I was a cool Englishman, none of this would have happened.’
‘If you were a cool Englishman,’ she muttered against his mouth, ‘I never would have married you.’
He lifted his head a fraction. ‘Is that true? I’m always very aware that I didn’t give you a chance to date other men and I confess I was worried about Jake.’
‘Jake has only ever been the very best friend to both of us. And I didn’t want to date other men. But what about you?’ She forced herself to ask the question she’d dreaded asking. ‘I was worried about Katya. I thought you might be interested in her…’ She left the statement hanging and his eyes narrowed, one ebony brow lifted in question.
‘Have I ever given you reason not to trust me?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘But our marriage was on the rocks and—’
He placed his fingers over his lips. ‘Don’t say it,’ he breathed, ‘because it isn’t the truth and it never was. We are both stormy, passionate people and our journey through life is never going to be in calm waters.’
‘I thought you only wanted me to stay because of the children.’ Dizzy from his kiss and the hard press of his body against hers, she stared up at him and he shook his head.
‘Never,’ he said hoarsely, reaching for her hand and sliding the ring on her
finger. ‘I married you in haste and I’ve loved you deeply ever since. I wanted you to stay because I love you and I can’t live without you. And this is the engagement ring I should have given you twelve years ago.’
Her heart thumped hard against her chest as she stared at the ring in delighted fascination. It shone and sparkled on her finger. ‘I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life,’ she murmured, ‘but I still don’t understand one thing…’
His mouth was close to hers. ‘What’s that?’
‘If you love me and you want me to stay, why didn’t you say so when Pete rang, asking me to go back early?’
‘Because you’d accused me of being controlling! I was giving you a choice, querida.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘But you weren’t making the choice I wanted you to make. I assumed you’d only come home because of the children and with Christmas over you had no reason to stay.’
‘And I thought you didn’t want me. Alessandro, I came home for Christmas for me, not for the children. The children just gave me the excuse I’d been looking for.’
‘And you say we kids are complicated.’ A voice came from the doorway behind them, and they both turned.
Katy was standing in the doorway, arms folded and tinsel in her hair. Her eyes were on the ring that Christy was wearing. ‘Nice present, Dad,’ she said softly, and Alessandro gave her a slow smile, his arms still around his wife.
‘I’m glad you think so,’ he drawled, and Katy smiled.
‘So, are we finally a happy family?’
Jake strolled into the kitchen and looped an arm round his goddaughter’s shoulders. ‘You shouldn’t be watching this, angel. It’s probably age restricted.’
Katy rolled her eyes. ‘I’m almost twelve. I know everything. The next thing is they’ll probably go and mate or something. Pretty gross at their age, but there you are.’
Alessandro stared in stunned amazement, Christy blushed and Jake threw back his head and laughed. ‘Well, my friends?’ He stared at them quizzically. ‘Have you sorted things out?’
Ben dashed into the kitchen with an armful of toys. ‘Grandma says, is there a cloth? I spilled my drink.’
‘Oh, what’s new?’ Katy gave a long-suffering sigh. ‘Father Christmas should have stuck a jumbo box of kitchen roll in your stocking. Don’t worry, Mum. You stay talking to Dad. I’ll sort it out.’ She hustled her brother out of the room and Jake watched them go, a smile playing around his firm mouth.
‘She’s growing up,’ he said quietly, and Alessandro frowned.
‘Don’t say that. I’m not prepared for hormones or boyfriends.’
Jake rubbed his jaw, his blue eyes bright with humour. ‘I’d say you’re pretty good at defending what’s yours.’ The smile faded and he looked at both of them. ‘You two were meant to be together. Always. Remember that.’
And with that he turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Christy turned to Alessandro. ‘The turkey is cooked and the roast potatoes are on the point of burning. We ought to serve dinner.’
He gave her a wicked smile. ‘When are we going to mate?’
‘Later.’ She couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy and she flung her arms round him and held him tight. ‘Oh, Alessandro, this is the best present. All I wanted was for you to love me. For us to be a family.’
‘And all I wanted was you, querida.’ His voice was husky as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, his eyes holding hers. ‘Always. Merry Christmas.’
* * * * *
USA TODAY bestselling author
SARAH MORGAN
welcomes you to the Big Apple in her new fresh and sexy Made in New York series!
Follow three best friends as they maneuver their way through love, careers and life in the bustling and exciting city of Manhattan.
Made in New York series (available in 2016):
MIDNIGHT AT TIFFANY’S (e-novella)
SLEEPLESS IN MANHATTAN
SUNSET ON CENTRAL PARK
MIRACLE ON 5TH AVENUE
“Morgan’s brilliant talent never ceases to amaze.”
—RT Book Reviews
For more irresistible romance, don’t miss these great titles in Sarah Morgan’s charming Puffin Island series!
The windswept, isolated and ruggedly beautiful Puffin Island has a way of bringing people together in the most unexpected ways… Find out how in:
FIRST TIME IN FOREVER
SOME KIND OF WONDERFUL
ONE ENCHANTED MOMENT
These brothers are more tempting than dessert and twice as sinful!
Be sure to also catch the O’Neil Brothers trilogy available now!
SLEIGH BELLS IN THE SNOW
SUDDENLY LAST SUMMER
MAYBE THIS CHRISTMAS
“Uplifting, sexy and warm, Sarah Morgan’s O’Neil Brothers series is perfection.”
—Jill Shalvis, New York Times bestselling author
All available now in ebook format.
Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers,
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HQN Books is proud to present Made in New York, the fabulous new trilogy by USA TODAY bestselling author Sarah Morgan!
Read on for an exclusive extract from MIDNIGHT AT TIFFANY’S, the enchanting novella that introduces the trilogy…
She paused outside the glittering windows of Tiffany’s and he raised his eyebrows.
“You like jewelry?”
“Yes,” she murmured, “but that isn’t why I stop here. It’s a romantic place.”
“It’s a store.”
“It’s a store that sells dreams. I often come here late at night. There’s something sparkly and perfect about it.” She shook her head and gestured with her head toward a couple standing to the left of them, hand in hand. “See that woman’s face?” she whispered. “She looks ecstatic.”
“Of course she’s ecstatic. He’s about to open his wallet and spend a fortune on her.”
The couple wandered off hand in hand and Matilda sighed.
“That isn’t why she’s ecstatic. She’s happy because she’s with him. It was in her eyes and in her smile. He makes her happy and they were choosing something that would tell the world they love each other. I’ve always thought working here must be fun. You see people at their best.”
“And at their most terrified. I thought he looked pale. People working here probably need advanced emergency response skills.”
It made her laugh. “You’re not a romantic.”
“I’m a realist. A pragmatist. So far, all I know about you is that you spend a lot of time observing other people’s lives, have a secret life as a writer and have another job that you won’t share. You’re a secretive person?”
“Not secretive.” She paused, realizing that was going to sound ridiculous given everything she’d told him. “I’m not always that great in big crowds of people. I’m more of a one-on-one person.”
“One-on-one?”
The atmosphere cracked with sexual tension, intense and deliciously unfamiliar. She paused, uncertain what to do with it.
This wasn’t love, was it? This was fun. And there was nothing wrong with having fun.
So why did it feel as if she were standing on the top of a very high cliff, about to plunge into deep water?
She wasn’t a brave person. She’d never been a brave person.
She lived a small life in this big city, a tiny flickering candle eclipsed by bigger, brighter lights.
They walked past the Plaza, to the edge of Central Park.
The first spots of rain started to fall, scenting the air and dampening her emergency dress for the second time in one night.
If she was going to make a move, it had to be now. Ri
ght now.
But she wasn’t. She couldn’t.
“So here we are.” She kept her voice light, trying to mask her disappointment and frustration with herself. “Central Park. Your final destination. Where do you live?”
“I’m staying in an apartment a couple of blocks from here.”
It was impossible not to be impressed. “Well, if you can afford to rent around here, then whatever it is you do with your life, you must be doing it very well.”
The rain was falling more heavily now, huge cooling drops that landed on the trees with a hollow patter, drenching leaves and saturating paths.
“Where do you live?”
She thought of her cramped apartment and then took a deep breath. “I live in New York City, and that’s all that matters to me. I’d rather live in a small room here than a big apartment anywhere else in the world.” Not that she’d be able to afford a big apartment anywhere, but the principle was true. She tipped her head back, looking at the buildings rising above the shadows that were Central Park. The rain trickled through her hair and she smiled. “There is something magical about this city. I always have the sense that something unexpected could happen.”
“Unexpected?” His voice was soft and he drew her against him with purpose. “You mean like this?”
And without giving her a chance to ask what “this” was, he took her face in his hands, lowered his head and kissed her.
What happens when Matilda decides to follow her heart and take a risk on the delicious man she’s just met?
Find out in:
MIDNIGHT AT TIFFANY’S
ISBN: 9781459291751
The Christmas Marriage Rescue
Copyright © 2006 by Sarah Morgan
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, down-loaded, 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.
