by Aria Ford
“I know. I had a devil of a time finding you.”
“That was intentional,” she smiled and cuddled closer to him.
Chapter Twelve
Gabrielle became Mrs. Arran Muhalla in a garden ceremony beneath blooming dogwood trees. Margie was her matron of honor and Alahan stood up for Arran. The bride wore a silvery white gown that set off her unusual color and the groom wore a tuxedo with a silver tie.
Arran liked the climate in Louisville as it had four seasons; something he wasn’t accustomed to. He also realized it was central to most of the country and had an international airport, so he brought his jet in.
He and Gabrielle honeymooned on the Gulf coast of Florida and while they were there, Arran bought a condominium penthouse overlooking the water. He left orders for his yacht to be brought over and secured a dock moorage for it nearby. He gave in and let Gabrielle furnish both the condominium and the house they bought in Louisville exactly the way she wanted. She gathered pale, weathered colors for the condo, extending the light beyond the day and making it shine in the moonlight. She knew it set her own coloring off well and Arran was mesmerized by it. The condo had eight bedrooms and en-suite baths; enough that any family or business associate could come and stay with them. He had an office built and while Gabrielle busied herself furnishing a nursery at the condo, he and Alahan set about establishing this office as the primary location for his new business, Silver & Associates.
It was here that the baby was born in late November, just as the leaves had dropped from their branches in Louisville. Young Arran Muhalla, Jr. was healthy and had a beautiful bronzed complexion. His father insisted that his tiny son’s bassinette be present in his office while he worked. “He will learn very early what it takes to be successful,” he explained.
When Christmas came, they moved to Louisville to celebrate the holidays. Gabrielle hadn’t had much time to pull their mansion there together, but she wanted to see a white Christmas and there was a far greater chance of that happening in Louisville.
Their staff travelled with them and the chef prepared a magnificent Christmas dinner with goose, ham, and all the trimmings. Margie and her children were lined up at the dining table while Baby Arran’s eyes were fastened on the colored string of blinking lights.
Arran had given Gabrielle a magnificent canary diamond ring for their wedding, while he insisted on nothing more than a simple gold band for himself. For Christmas, he gave her a matching set of necklace and earrings, wrapped in a box covered with silver foil and a huge silver ribbon. There was also a new car waiting in the drive; a baby blue Mercedes convertible.
Arran’s business was already exploding. He was providing financial advice and leveraging his American connections with businessmen from the Middle East. He made the ideal liaison and invitations to dinner at the Muhalla mansion, with the breathtaking Gabrielle Muhalla as hostess, were highly coveted.
Just after Easter, Arran’s brothers and their wives made a surprise visit and the three couples attended the Kentucky Derby with box seats Arran had managed to secure. They made quite a spectacle in their finery; particularly the ladies in their hats. Gabrielle was thrilled that the women spoke perfect English so they were able to chat about fashion, differences in culture, and the fact that Arran’s brother, Sinhad and his wife were expecting their first child. Baby Arran was handed around regularly and bounced on knees to his parent’s delight. It was decided by Sinhad that since Baby Arran was the eldest male in the new generation, he would pass the title “Sheikh” down to him – it was only fitting since it rightfully belonged to his father. This thrilled Arran but Gabrielle was a bit worried about what that meant for his future. It was a long time off, however, and she wasn’t going to waste time worrying.
Sinhad, Farrah, and their wives accompanied Arran and Gabrielle down to Florida to see their condo. It was a short journey in their jets. Arran’s brothers were enchanted with the proximity to water, just as he knew they would be. Under his guidance, they each bought condos in nearby buildings and it was decided this would be their American headquarters as well. Gabrielle felt a pang of sadness when they bid goodbye to her in-laws. It felt good to her to have a sense of belonging and she was extremely happy that Baby Arran would never know what it was like to be an orphan.
That Christmas, as Baby Arran toddled around, the family flew to Las Vegas for New Year’s Eve. Arran had secured tickets for a Celine Dion show and Gabrielle was beside herself with excitement. The well-known singer had been a favorite of hers for years. When she sang, “The Power Of Love” Gabrielle felt as though the song had been written especially for she and Arran. They still owned the compound there and spent a few weeks in the desert sun and heat as a break from the colder, snowier climate in the mid-south.
As they crawled into bed one night, Arran pulled Gabrielle close and began to kiss her. “I cannot imagine what would have happened if I’d not found you,” he said, remembering the terror he’d felt when he’d arrived back in Vegas and found her gone. “I would have gone mad looking for you.”
“I’m glad you found me, too,” Gabrielle whispered, kissing his chest with little flicks of her tongue. His nipples were sensitive and her lips pulled at them until he was erect and bobbing, needing her pussy for relief.
Arran played with her nipples as well, and her pussy went wet and hungry, the muscles spasming in waves that made her moan. He chuckled, teasing her with his fingers for penetration, entering and withdrawing just as she was about to release. She cursed him for withholding himself and finally, he rolled over upon her and entered her deeply with a possessive need to claim what he knew had been intended for him all along. His hips slammed into hers as thousands of years of domination by the hunter man sought the tender, internal prey that was woman. Gabrielle pulled him closer, holding him deep within herself, her vaginal muscles refusing to release him until at last, by force, he withdrew. “I love you, Arran,” she whispered and he returned the sentiment, his body moist from the exertion of lovemaking. “Don’t ever leave me again, do you promise?” she begged. He nodded and held her close.
“The same goes for you,” he said and she agreed.
Nine months later, Victoria Ann was born to them in the same hospital where Baby Arran had been born. She was the image of her mother, right down to the green eyes and a soft fuzz of silvery hair covered her head.
Gabrielle had wanted a girl so badly. She wanted to spoil her; to give her dolls and toys and beautifully feminine clothes. She wanted to give Victoria all the things she’d been denied as a child. Arran allowed her this; he knew she needed to wipe out the memory of her youth and Victoria certainly was easy to spoil.
Gabrielle made the most of the Louisville nursery for Victoria. She decorated it in a pale, pale blue with gauze curtains and a four-poster bed where she slept when Victoria was fussing in the night. There were shelves of dolls and tiny dressers that held their clothes. There was a rocking horse that was painted to look as though it had come straight from a carousel and a white rocker where Gabrielle held her and read her stories while Baby Arran crawled around on the carpet and listened as he played. The children had a nanny but Gabrielle loved spending time with them both.
Gabrielle had made many friends at all of their houses, but her favorite was still Margie. Gabrielle had convinced Arran to buy a small daycare business and it included a very cozy little house. They gave it to Margie to run and live there with her brood of children. The long-term effect was that her children, no longer left alone for long hours, began to calm down and turned out to be model children.
Gabrielle spent some hours working with Arran. He often sought her input before making a major business decision. She had the unique American perspective that he valued so highly. She was very popular among his business contacts with her rare beauty and Arran swore that she closed more deals than he’d ever thought of doing. This flattered her. It felt good to be needed and valued. It felt good to have a family. Most of all, it felt very, very goo
d to be in love with a husband as handsome and successful as Arran Muhalla. They were the ideal couple living a fairy-tale life and as the years passed, they would come to have two more boys. Victoria was spoiled, just as her mother intended, but no one said a word. There were two silver-haired princesses ruling, after all.
The End
AGAIN: A SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE
Prologue
I recalled the feeling of his hands on my skin, soft and stroking and loving. The way he had looked into my eyes as he pushed into me, his hardness making me cry out, first in pain and then, an instant later, in wonder.
I had melted in his arms and afterward, after our slow, sweet passion was spent, I had wept with the beauty of it all.
He was my first man.
Maddox Jefferson. Handsome, funny, rugged. The first man in my life and the one who had taken my heart along with everything else I had to offer at the time.
Then, for some reason, he’d left. I guessed it had been natural. That’s how my mom had made me see it, anyway. Natural and logical. We were sixteen at the time and of course, she said, things were not going to last between us. When he walked away without contacting me, she made it seem like I was foolish to expect anything else. Except that it hadn’t ever faded away…not for me.
“Ms. Trent?”
“Mm?” I blinked up at my secretary as she came into the office.
“Papers for you to sign.”
“Oh. Thank you, Jess. If you could just leave them there?”
“Yes, Ms. Trent.”
I sighed and focused on the print as I lifted a page to my eyes, trying to think straight. Somehow, my mind was full of Maddox today. I looked out of the window: the sky was a delicate blue, springtime visiting the city again. I suppose that was it. It was a season where the heart naturally thinks of loving. And it was five days before Valentine’s. That must be it.
“And here I am, in Trent Incorporated, signing…um…forms for the customs bureau?”
I put my signature to the papers, put my elbows on the desk and rested my head in my hands.
I was twenty-six, and my life felt so empty.
It was actually quite full. My father was the CEO of Trent Incorporated—a massive international freight company—and I was all set to take over from him. Running a big business empire should have made me excited. As daddy’s daughter, I would have expected it to. I was very like him in some ways, or so mom always said. And dad was leaving me in charge this week while he jetted off to Singapore for talks there.
I knew I had a full life. But it was only three months since I split from my ex-boyfriend and I still felt all the trauma after that as well. He had been a critical, belittling and undermining guy, always telling me that I fell short or implying I wasn’t quite good enough for him. It had only been when it became clear he had met someone else that I finally had the courage to step away. Now that I was free of him and his small cruelties, I should feel so much happier. Oddly enough, though, I didn’t.
I’m just being silly.
My phone rang. I glanced at the clock—1:15 p.m. Weird.
I didn’t expect that phone to ring—very few people have my personal number. My dad. Mom. Harper, my best friend. And Valery, when he was my boyfriend. Now he’s blocked.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Macy!” It was Harper. I smiled.
“What’s up? Listen, it’s the end of lunch hour—I haven’t got time now…” I began quickly.
“It’s nothing. Just wait! Listen! I’m having a Valentine’s party. I wanted to invite, you know, all my friends. I wanted to invite you most, of course.”
I smiled. Harper was a wildly enthusiastic type, the sort who got hyped about everything. A party at her place would be fun. “Sure,” I said. “Count me in.”
“Great! I’ll chat later. We can plan more then.”
“Okay,” I said cheerfully. “Chat later then. Bye!”
“Bye.”
After I hung up, I leaned back, feeling much happier.
It was only after I’d thought about it for a bit that I realized that Harper, in her own special way, was probably planning to set me up with someone. I wasn’t sure I wanted that. Not now.
There was only one guy I’d ever really loved, I thought sadly. I sighed.
He was not for me. For so many reasons. But even so, he was on my mind a lot at the moment. Maddox Jefferson.
It was, I decided ruthlessly, about time I stopped thinking like that. I was twenty-six years old, and I should have grown past these rare stabs of nostalgia in which I missed Maddox. The times when I thought of him and wondered what had happened all those years before when he had, so abruptly and without any reasoning, ended our relationship.
It was time I got over him and opened myself out to someone new and special who would sweep me off my feet.
The thought made me smile. Maybe there was a guy like that out there for me. Someone sweet and funny and kind who would fall for me as much as I fell for him. Another guy. Maddox had been the first. But who was to say there wouldn’t be others. It had happened once, after all. And now it seemed like I had a chance to find out if something that lucky could happen to one person, twice.
A party for Valentine’s, organized with Harper Hampton’s special flair for a party. Who knew what might happen?
I put my phone back in my Calvin Klein handbag, feeling better than I had for a while.
CHAPTER ONE
Maddox
“Damn it.”
I leaned back on the sofa and put my head in my hands. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m okay in the head. Reese, my pal from work, insists I’m fine—just a few knocks too many from football—or so he says. Myself, I’m not so sure.
I rolled my shoulders, the muscles aching from my session at the gym this morning and threw my overdue bills on the countertop. I ran my hands through blond hair and closed my eyes.
If I was as okay in the head as he insists I am, I probably wouldn’t be doing any of this.
Well…that’s not exactly true. I’m very glad I’m doing some of it. If nothing else, it’s really great to have a job. And a good one too. At least, the pay is good. It’s boring, but it’s good.
I reached for the other envelope, the one from Maxwell Security, my employers. I hadn’t opened it yet. I guess I was nervous, fearing bad news.
“Dear Mr. Jefferson,” I read. “With reference to your excellent record in the company thus far, we have selected you as part of the team to work in Gracefield Mall. This additional work will of course bring added remuneration benefits and a revised schedule for the next two years.”
Well, that sounds perfect.
I read through the rest of the letter, feeling some of my anxiety drain from me. The “remuneration” they mentioned (why can’t they just say wages? I’m a simple guy, no fancy colleges or anything) was a big help. Just what I needed, in fact. I was struggling on my current pay as the lowest grade of security officer in the firm. I needed this break. And now I had one.
Whew.
The rest of the job description explained that I would have shadow the existing security guard for a fortnight, just to make sure I was clear on protocol and stuff. After all, they had fancy clients in the mall—a new upmarket shopping establishment in the Inglewood district. I was on probation for the first month.
Which was good, since the first month started, technically, tomorrow.
“What?”
I cursed the postal service under my breath and checked my calendar. It was right: Today was the ninth of February, and my term at the mall was going to start on its opening, the tenth. I was free tomorrow afternoon, which was just as well: my first shift started tomorrow lunchtime.
I needed coffee. I went through to the kitchen, wincing as my leg cramped after too long on the treadmill this morning, and switched on the kettle.
Tomorrow, things are finally looking up.
I was excited. Any change is a good change. At least, I was telling myself that. Not
that all the changes in my life had been good just recently. My single status, for example, was a change I was a bit ambivalent about.
I guess it’s actually better after all. Cheri wasn’t the right girl for me. She had been demanding and critical and I knew she was looking for a guy way different than me. At least now we were both free. Or that’s what I told myself.
I put the kettle on, put the granules of coffee in my mug and waited for it to boil. My mind strayed to Cheri as I stood there. It wasn’t her fault things didn’t work out. It was mine. My heart has never been mine to give.
That was because someone had taken it and I’d never quite succeeded in getting it back.
Macy Trent.
I closed my eyes as the kettle boiled, the water bubbling and chortling in the background, and let myself recall her.
Macy. That soft chocolate-brown hair and those big gray eyes. Her skin, like satin, scented with roses. Her beautiful face. Her body, like all my crazy teenage fantasies were made of sweet flesh. I had never fallen for anyone the way I’d fallen for her. But she was so far above me it wasn’t worth thinking about.
The kettle boiled, and I took the coffee through to the sitting room, mind lost in memories.
We met at a christening. Of all the crazy things. I was friends with her cousin, Grady. Given that I was the kid who grew up playing football in the seamy backstreets of the Vermont Hills district, that seems weird. It was.
