Emerald Fire (Christian Romance) (The Jewel Series)

by Bridgeman, Hallee

  As the date draws inexorably near and the pressure mounts, Robin questions whether she is truly the girl of Tony's dreams. Is she the woman God has made for him? As a wife, would she act as helpmeet or poison apple? In truly loving Tony, would it be better to bind herself to him for all eternity or return his freedom?

  When her nightmares return in full force, they remind Robin of an even deeper and more terrifying prospect. Will she give in to her insecurities and cancel Boston's "Royal Wedding" for good? Or, with God's guidance, will Tony sacrifice everything to prove to his beloved Robin her true worth?

  Enjoy this special excerpt from the critically acclaimed novella Greater Than Rubies.

  ROBIN nervously fiddled with her ring while she waited for the Inside Boston magazine reporter to arrive. She sat in the conference room adjacent to the office of Tony's public relations manager, Linda Cross. She still wore the clothes and makeup from the photo shoot that had taken place in a room just down the hall. She'd hoped Tony could be there for the photos, but the magazine had specifically requested only her.

  The door opened and Robin's heart lurched, but Linda entered alone. She was short and stocky, with a thick waist and jet black hair. Thick glasses with square black frames dominated her face. "Don will be in momentarily," she said. "He's signing some papers for me right now." She raised an eyebrow behind her glasses. "No worries, Miss Bartlett. I'll be here the whole time."

  "I've just never done this before." She licked her lips.

  "A year from now, it will be old hat," Linda assured. Robin wondered if she meant that to intimidate her or make her feel more at ease, because, honestly, she wasn't feeling better in the wake of that remark.

  A tap at the door preceded the entrance of Don Roberts. He was younger than Robin, tall, boy-next-door good looking with straight brown hair and a fake tan. Nothing about him made her feel at ease about this interview.

  He shook her hand - again - then sat in the chair adjacent to her. He took a phone out of his pocket, pressed a series of buttons on it, then set it on the table in front of her. She could only assume he'd activated some sort of recording device. "Miss Bartlett, Robin, thank you for giving me this opportunity."

  "It's my pleasure," she said around a suddenly too-dry mouth.

  "Let's go ahead and cover the basics. Tell us how you met Tony."

  This was the first person outside of church to address Tony as Tony and not Mr. Viscolli. It intrigued Robin. "He, ah, bought a restaurant where I worked." She cleared her throat. "We met then."

  "When was that?"

  "Last fall."

  "And, to add a spice of romance to our story, how did he propose?"

  Robin smiled and relaxed, thinking back. "Christmas Eve, on the beach in the Florida Keys."

  "That's really nice," Don said. He smiled. "Tony Viscolli is a powerful force in the business world, and not just in the Boston area. He has businesses all over the country and thousands of employees. What do you think drew him to you in particular?"

  Uncomfortable, Robin shrugged. "I really couldn't tell you. You'd have to ask him."

  "But we can probably guess what drew you to him, right?"

  Robin put her hands in her lap and laced her fingers, squeezing them tightly. "If you knew his heart, or anything about him personally, you'd not have to ask that question. He is amazing and generous and loving, and I feel so incredibly blessed."

  "Is he?"

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Is he really all those things? Or simply uninformed?"

  Robin felt her eyebrows crease under the thick makeup from the photo shoot. "What?"

  "Does he know all there is to know about you?"

  Robin shifted her eyes to Linda, who frowned but did not speak. "I beg your pardon?"

  Don sat forward and tapped the top of the table with every question. He looked like an anaconda eyeing a mouse. "He knows you were a waitress moonlighting as a bartender. Does he know your father went to prison for drug smuggling and now faces double murder charges? Does he know your mother was an addict who was murdered in a drug deal? Does he know you, yourself, stabbed your foster parent in the back with a buck knife? Does he know you were a fugitive until you turned eighteen and your juvenile crimes were sealed? Does he know about the improprietary manner in which you had your former employer pull strings with city hall to clear your record so you could obtain custody of one of your sisters? How did you convince that retired sailor to help you pull those strings, Miss Bartlett?"

  Panic swirled in her brain, freezing her ability to form cohesive thoughts. "I don't – what are you –?" Robin gasped and looked from Don to Linda. Her heart pounded and she felt sweat break out on her forehead.

  Linda pressed a button on the table next to her before standing. "Mr. Roberts? This interview is over. Our attorneys at the Anderson firm will be in contact with your editor in light of the NDA you signed and this particular line of questioning."

  "You can't hide her. Believe me if I know, the tabloids know, too. This is the kind of rags to riches story that everyone will be clamoring after. You need to let her – "

  As he spoke the door opened and two uniformed security officers marched into the room. They walked straight up to Don. "You need to come with us, sir," one of them said.

  "Now." The other one said, picking up the reporter's phone from the table.

  "Hey! You can't have that!"

  "We'll return your property when you're safely outside the building, sir." The guard stepped aside, placing his body between Roberts and the two women, and gestured with his hand. "Right this way, sir."

  Roberts stood but quickly bent around the guard toward Robin. "You might as well figure out the best thing to do is embrace your story and tell it, or else others will do it with their own spin and you won't be able to influence what they say."

  The second guard grabbed his arm at the elbow and said, "You've already outstayed your welcome, sir. Time to go."

  Roberts jerked himself free. "Don't touch me. I'm leaving."

  "Leave now," the guard warned, "Without another word, or I will use force." His finger stabbed in the direction of the door.

  Robin stared at the closed door long after it shut behind them. Linda sat where Don had been and touched her hand. "I'm so sorry. All of his credentials checked out."

  With a shaking hand, Robin brushed the hair off of her forehead. "I'm not doing something like this again."

  Linda nodded. "I understand." She pressed some buttons on her phone. "Margaret? I need to talk to Mr. V. This isn't good."

  Without waiting for Linda to hang up the phone or Tony to come gallantly into the room, Robin gathered her bag and her coat and left. Linda tried to call her back, but she was stuck on hold with Tony's office. Escape. Flee. Hide.

  The elevator arrived. Thankful to find it empty, she slipped inside and pressed the lobby button, then the door close button in rapid succession. As soon as it started moving, she went to the back corner of the elevator and pressed back against the wall. She used to be good at hiding. Hide way in the back of the closet. Protect her sisters. Make the monsters forget you're there.

  But she couldn't hide from her past, could she? What did she think she was doing, becoming Mrs. Antonio Viscolli? Inadequate didn't begin to describe her. Her cell phone started ringing, but she turned it off as she stepped off of the elevator and into the lobby of the hotel. As she walked out of the doors, the valet lifted his hand in greeting, grabbed her keys, and rushed to get her car. With no choice but to wait, she slipped her coat on and shoved her hands into the pockets, lifting her shoulders against the wind. Before her car arrived, she felt Tony at her elbow.

  "I'm sorry."

  "I'm not doing that again."

  "It will never happen again."

  Robin turned her head and looked him straight in the eye. "Oh, I know it won't."

  Her car pulled up in front of them. Tony touched her elbow. "Robin, please."

  "It's okay. I have to go now. But I'll
see you when you get back from California." He looked so worried and a frown marred his forehead. Putting a hand on his cheek, loving him, needing him, she pressed her lips to his. "I love you. Have a safe trip."

  EXCERPT: TOPAZ HEAT

  IF you missed Topaz Heat, part 3 of The Jewel Series, buy it now in Paperback or eBook wherever fine books are sold. Topaz Heat was nominated for the 2012 RONE Award in the Inspirational category as Inspirational Novel of the Year.

  THE very moment Derrick DiNunzio meets Sarah Thomas, he realizes he has a reason to live. Sarah sees only an unshaven tough kid covered with tattoos and shuts down every advance.

  Sarah has no memory of her broken young life leading up to the tragic murder of her mother. Her memory begins the morning she wakes in the home of her loving adoptive parents. She doesn't even know her sisters exist until her fifteenth year. She learns to love her siblings, but always feels a little out of place in their presence.

  A benevolent billionaire offers Derrick a home and an education. Fresh off the streets and rescued from a criminal future, Derrick sheds his old life. He trades his ripped leather jacket for silk suits; dealing drugs for mentoring "at risk" youth; lock picking and back door jobs for the rigors of mountain climbing and hotel management.

  Sarah cannot seem to see beyond the past Derrick left behind … until one day she does. When they finally come together, an indictment threatens their future. Now the heat is on. Will Sarah finally set aside her prejudices and open her heart to true love or will the long forgotten past tear them apart forever?

  Enjoy this special excerpt from the critically acclaimed awards nominated full length novel Topaz Heat.

  SARAH heard another clang. She quietly set her purse down but held onto the umbrella, holding it just above the handle like a baseball bat. Running lightly on her toes, she crossed the room quickly and stood by the door of the dining room. There were a few more sounds, then the sound of a man whistling that got louder as he got closer.

  Taking a deep breath, she raised the umbrella over her head and waited, focused on the door. She let it swing open, watched the figure of the man come out of the dining room, and brought the umbrella down. Hard.

  He must have sensed the movement because he ducked and the umbrella hit him across the back of his shoulders. "Ow! Hey!"

  In the next second, and utterly without warning, he rolled to the floor and used one of his legs to sweep hers out from under her. She flailed her arms as she landed on her backside, finding herself under his weight. She started struggling, but he threw one of his legs over hers and grabbed her arms in a bone-lock, pinning them up by her head.

  "Sarah?"

  She realized her eyes were closed. At the sound of his voice they flew open. Immediate recognition prefaced the heat that rushed her face from total embarrassment. "Derrick? What are you doing here?"

  "I was about to ask you the same question."

  She hadn't seen him in at least five years. No, it was six. He left town right after his mother's funeral. He'd not been back. She got updates from Maxine or Robin each time they'd seen him in New York. She hadn't been to New York and hadn't seen him at all in that space of time. He'd filled out, she thought. His face looked more mature, almost tougher, his shoulders wider.

  Derrick was thinking that Sarah hadn't changed at all. She still looked like a teenager. Her hair had come out of its clip and lay spread out around her head on the carpet, the red highlights caught in the curls, catching the light. She still had the spray of freckles across her nose, and her eyes, behind their glasses, still looked exactly like the color of the richest topaz.

  Realizing he was staring, he released her instantly, pushed away, and sat next to her. "What in the world did you hit me with?" He reached behind him and gingerly touched the back of his shoulders, wincing when his hand came away smeared in blood.

  The only thing he had on was a pair of sweat pants. "My, um, umbrella."

  He saw it next to her and grabbed it. It was snapped in half. Irritated anger burned through him. "This? You think there's an intruder and this is what you use to defend yourself?"

  She ripped it out of his hands and stood. "It was all I had."

  "It never occurred to you to call security?"

  Her cheeks flushed bright red. No, it had not occurred to her. She waved her hand as if to dismiss his last statement. "Let me see," she said, moving behind him.

  He jerked to his feet. "No, thank you. Don't touch it."

  "Don't be such a baby. Let me see."

  He held a hand up to ward her off. "Really. Don't worry about it."

  "I promise I won't hurt you, Derrick. I won't even touch it." She put her hands on her hips. "I am a nurse, you know."

  She almost withdrew the offer. Then he glared at her before moving to one of the oversized chairs, sitting sideways so she could see his back. The skin across his shoulders was already starting to purple with a bruise, and it looked like something had caught the skin and ripped it. He had a gash about three inches long diagonally across his right shoulder. "Ouch, Derrick. Sorry about that."

  Over his left shoulder, just shy of the bruise, was a tattoo of a dragon, done in brilliant colors – turquoise, fuchsia, purple, bright green. She was surprised that it was there, intrigued. He had done everything to get rid of his past, and she wondered why he still had the tattoo. Before she realized it, her fingers were hovering over it, about to touch it.

  He looked at her over his shoulder and glared. She bit her lip and gingerly touched the bruise. "You'll want to put some ice on it, and you should let me clean and dress the cut."

  She turned to leave. "What are you doing?" he asked.

  She was halfway down the hallway before she answered him. "I'll be right back." Moving quickly, she went to the master bathroom and pulled open the medicine cabinet, finding the supplies she needed. She slipped the roll of tape and the package of bandages into her scrubs pocket, then pulled a washcloth out of the linen closet and wet it.

  When she returned to the front room, he stared at the brown bottle in her hand suspiciously. "What's that?"

  "Hydrogen peroxide."

  "Uh huh. And what do you think you're going to do with it?"

  With a sigh, she poured some on the cloth and stepped closer. "I'm going to clean the cut."

  He hissed the breath between his teeth and cringed away as the cloth came in contact with his skin. "Ouch. That hurts."

  "Good Lord, Derrick, quit being such a baby."

  He clenched his teeth and swallowed a retort. Then he felt her warm breath blowing on the wound. He imagined her lips puckered as she blew against his fevered skin.

  "There, is that better?"

  "It's great. Kind of like a carnival ride but without the cotton candy. Thank you."

  He heard her moving behind him, heard the sound of the cap going back on the bottle. He felt her fingers graze his skin as she placed a bandage over the cut and taped it to his skin. He tried desperately not to react to her touch in any way, to pretend she was some platonic stranger tending his wound. "You need to ice it. I'll go get some."

  While she was gone, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, seeking some inner steadiness. Why was she here? She quickly returned and gently set a plastic bag filled with ice across his shoulders, then sat on the couch that angled with the chair so that she faced him.

  "You never answered my question," he said, staring at her with those brown eyes that always made her uncomfortable. "What are you doing here?"

  "They're painting my brownstone today and tomorrow. My furniture is under sheets in the middle of the rooms. Robin never told me that you were going to be here." She looked down at her shoes. "I really am sorry, Derrick."

  "I guess I forgot to tell her where I was staying. I thought Tony might've let her know." He reached behind him and shifted the bag of ice. "You would have had to park next to my car in the garage though."

  "I walked."

  He narrowed his eyes. "From where?"

&n
bsp; She gestured at her pastel pink pants, the matching top, and the white jacket with the pastel slashes of color. "Hello? From the hospital."

  "Are you out of your mind?" She opened her mouth to argue with him, but he cut her off. "That's easily four or five blocks. Downtown. On a Friday night."

  "It's not like the streets were deserted or anything."

  "What possessed you to walk?"

  She bared her teeth. "It might have something to do with the fact that my car wouldn't start."

  "Why didn't you call someone?"

  She'd had enough. She was really sorry that she'd whacked him with her umbrella, but the truth was she really couldn't stand the man and never had been able to stomach him. "I've been an adult for a long time, Derrick, and I don't answer to anyone, most especially you. If you'll excuse me, I've had a really long day and I'm going to bed."

  "Sarah …"

  She stood. "No. I'm done. Good night."

  As she brushed by him, his hand came out of nowhere and grabbed her arm. She froze, stared down at him, waiting. "I apologize," he offered with his most velvet voice.

  "I'm not going to fall for the smooth charm, Derrick. Now let me go. I'm tired."

  His jaw clenched as he released her. When he heard the click of her bedroom door shutting, he ripped the ice pack off his back and threw it across the room. He turned and carefully leaned back until his back touched the chair. Then he closed his eyes and sighed.

  Six years later. Six years and he was still completely in love with her.

  He'd hoped it had been a crush, kind of like what he had for Robin, even a touch for Maxine. The sisters had charmed him the second he laid eyes on them, and he loved them for their beauty and their love of life. Except it was more, much more, with Sarah.

  And she couldn't stand him.

  She would never look at him and see anything but the teenager in the ripped leather jacket with the I-dare-you scowl. He'd changed, though, in every way he possibly could. He had cleaned his clothes, cleaned his act, found Christ, and followed God. Like his water baptism cleansed his soul and made him a new person, he shed his past and created a new person. It didn't matter. She still looked down her perky little befreckled nose at him.