I take his face in my hands and turn it back to mine. I kiss him, putting every atom of my heart and soul into it, and then murmur, “I think you can focus for a few minutes, love.”
Hearing that word on my lips makes Parker’s eyes come alive. He gazes at me in adoration. A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth.
I add, “I mean, if I have to ignore that flaccid cowlick under your nose every time you kiss me, you can certainly ignore my cat.”
“Flaccid? Oh, you’re gonna pay for that,” he breathes, flexing his hips.
I feel him between my legs, hot and hard, and my laugh is throaty. “Promises, promises,” I reply, and pull his head down to kiss him voraciously once more.
EPILOGUE
A few years later
“It’s going to be fine, baby.”
I stare out the window, watching houses and trees and cars flash by in the bright spring day, seeing nothing. “I know.”
Parker reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You don’t look like you know.”
I gulp a few deep breaths, trying to slow my heartbeat. I squeeze Parker’s hand so hard he chuckles.
“Sweetheart.”
I look over at him in the driver’s seat. He’s smiling. His eyes are wonderfully soft. “I promise you, it’s going to be fine. OK?”
My brow furrows. In a tiny voice, I say, “But what if it isn’t?”
He says firmly, “It will be.”
“Think of everything that could go wrong!”
He shakes his head. “Think of everything that could go right.”
I drop my gaze to our joined hands, to the diamond glittering on my ring finger, and say a silent prayer that he knows what he’s talking about. Because at the moment, I’m about as stable as a lit stick of dynamite with a short fuse. A slight change in the wind could set me off.
In what I know is an effort to distract me, Parker switches on the radio. Ranchero music fills the cab of the truck. It’s a big, macho black Chevy that Parker bought after moving permanently to Mexico with me. His beloved Porsches couldn’t handle the country roads, so he made up for losing speed and performance by gaining burly engine noise, terrible MPG, and tires so big they look like they belong on earth-moving equipment.
Perdón takes every available opportunity to pee on them. I don’t think he’s quite yet adjusted to having another male around.
To cover my anxiety, I ask Parker how Tabby’s doing. As he does every time her name is mentioned, he laughs.
“Did you know that Hello Kitty’s real name is Kitty White, she’s a Scorpio, and that she loves apple pie?”
“Oh dear God.”
“And she has a twin sister named Mimmy. Apparently she also lives outside London. All of which I discovered after Tabby attended the Hello Kitty retrospective at the Museum of Contemporary Art in LA.”
I stare at him. “You’re making that up.”
Grinning, he lifts a hand in the air. “Hand to God, I’m telling the truth. It seems our beloved Tabitha isn’t the only person with an unhealthy obsession with this particular cartoon character. She said the opening was mobbed.”
I try to picture thousands of Tabby look-alikes swarming through a museum filled with Hello Kitty memorabilia, and fail. “I wish I could’ve seen that.”
Parker pulls his phone from his shirt pocket and hands it to me. “Check out her Instagram account. Though I warn you: prolonged viewing might make your eyes bleed.”
I take his phone, open the app, and navigate to Tabby’s page. Within moments, I’m laughing out loud. “How did she convince Darcy and Kai to go with her?”
“Well, apparently Ms. LaFontaine couldn’t pass up the opportunity to blog about the food at the event—which included such culinary delights as petit fours with Hello Kitty’s face on them and ten-dollar donuts with a frosted pink bow—and as Darcy’s fiancée refuses to go anywhere without her, Kai tagged along.”
Thinking of Darcy and Kai, I can’t help but smile. “That wedding is going to be outrageous.”
Judging by the invitation alone, whose first line read, “Shit just got real.”
Of course I won’t be attending. Parker will, though, and I’ll get to see all the pictures and hear all the stories. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than nothing. And under the circumstances, I consider myself lucky to have even that.
We’ve been extraordinarily careful in our communications, relying on Parker to ferry messages back and forth when he goes on the occasional business trip to the States to check in on his restaurants. Normally I’d have pounced on Parker for information as soon as he returned from a trip, as he did last night, but I’ve been so tied up in knots about today that I simply gave him a kiss when he walked through the door, and led him straight to bed. He did his best to wear me out so I could sleep, but my mind ran on a hamster wheel all night.
I haven’t been this terrified in years. Maybe ever.
The truck slows, and then pulls to a stop. When Parker says quietly, “We’re here,” my heart jumps into my throat. I set the phone on the seat and look outside.
We’re parked at a curb on a lovely, tree-lined street. The lawns are green and the lots are large; this is the good part of Laredo. The house I’m staring in terror at is a pretty two-story flanked by a pair of big Weeping Willows. Yellow rosebushes in full bloom line the brick path that leads to the front door.
“Baby.”
Wide-eyed and trembling, I look at Parker. He reaches out and caresses my cheek.
“She’s gonna love you.”
My hands shake. My stomach churns. I’m having trouble catching my breath. “What if she doesn’t?”
His smile warms me straight through. “How could she not?”
He leans over, gives me a quick kiss, and then exits the truck. He comes over to my side and opens my door, holding out a hand. He steadies me as I wobble getting out.
“Easy, tiger,” he murmurs, pulling me against his side. “Take a few deep breaths.”
Breathing is something that has suddenly become quite challenging. As is staying upright; thank God for Parker’s calming strength, because without his support I’m not entirely sure I could remain standing.
“We’re breathing,” he gently reminds me when I remain frozen and breathless.
“Right. Deep breaths. Here we go.”
My exaggerated inhalation and exhalation make Parker chuckle. “OK. It’s a start. Let me know when you’re ready.”
I close my eyes, take a few more breaths, and then nod. “Let’s do this.”
He presses a kiss to my temple. “That’s my girl,” he whispers. He closes the door, turns, and leads me up the brick path with his arm firmly around my shoulders.
He rings the doorbell.
When I hear a faint female voice from inside excitedly call, “I’ll get it, Mom!” I nearly faint.
“Breathing,” Parker murmurs.
The door flies open. In it stands a stunning young woman. She has long, honey-blonde hair, hazel eyes, and dimples that are on full display because she’s grinning.
She looks so much like her father I’m breathless all over again.
“Hi!” She sticks out her hand. “I’m Eva. And you must be Isabel.”
Feeling as if I’m in a dream, I take my daughter’s warm hand in mine, and shake it.
“Yes,” I hear myself say. “I’m Isabel. And it’s…so nice to finally meet you.”
Eva’s grin grows even wider. She turns to Parker. “And you’re Parker.”
They shake hands, grinning at each other with identical smiles, and I suddenly know, with bone-deep conviction, that Parker was wrong.
Everything isn’t going to be fine.
It’s going to be flat-out amazing.
ACNOWLEDGMENTS
This book would not have been possible without the slightly befuddled yet unwavering support of my best friend, Jay, who I’ve spent the last twenty years causing trouble with, and also happen to be married to. There is no greater gift fo
r a woman than a man who loves and accepts her, warts and all; I’m truly fortunate. (I know you think I might snap and murder you at any moment honey, but, rest assured, if I do I’ll definitely regret it. For at least several weeks. No other man would ever hold hands with the cat the way you do.)
Big thanks to my beta readers, Donna, Kimber, Zita, Louise, and Yida, who generously volunteered their time to slog through the early version and provide helpful feedback. Thank you to Shannon and Scott of SS Media Co. for creating a beautiful cover and partnering with me for over ten years on my various websites, and to the e-book Formatting Fairies for assisting me in my first indie endeavor! You guys rock.
To my book club who listens to my random romance ideas with good humor and patience—even though none of you own a vagina and you’d all rather eat road kill than read a romance novel—and in particular to Stephen Dolainski who had wonderful ideas for streamlining the rough product description, thank you. Anthony Vigliotta, you are a saint. (Saint Carmen Mirambo.) But if you don’t give me the recipe to that pizza tart thingie you served at the August book club meeting, you and Jay might be meeting the same fate.
Thank you to Geissinger’s Gang, my fan club, for supporting my books so enthusiastically, and for being a fun, safe group I can bounce my crazy ideas off.
UPCOMING RELEASE
Make Me Sin, coming January 12, 2016, Book #2 in the Bad Habit Series
Chloe Carmichael’s life feels pretty sweet—she’s both maid of honor and florist for her best friend’s A-list wedding, things are getting serious with her boyfriend, and her flower shop is about to get a spread in a national magazine. But it all quickly turns sour whenever the best man, Bad Habit drummer A.J. Edwards, shows his face…his handsome, unforgettable face. A.J. is everything Chloe doesn’t want: tattooed, selfish, and all-around bad news. So why can’t she stop thinking about him?
Goody Two-Shoes Chloe isn’t exactly A.J.’s type, either, but the chemistry between them is undeniable. A.J. will be the first to say he isn’t a saint, but there’s something he’s not saying—something that would devastate Chloe. The only way he can protect her is to push her away, but the drummer finds he needs her now more than ever. When a wedding-day confrontation reveals secrets they’re both hiding, will Chloe and A.J. ever find their rhythm again?
"WOW!! Raw emotion, hot sex scenes, and some of the most hilarious banter I’ve ever read."
- The Book Enthusiast
BUY LINKS:
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Audible
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
J.T. Geissinger is an award-winning and #1 internationally bestselling author of smart, sexy romance.
She is the recipient of the Prism Award for Best First Book and the Golden Quill Award for Best Paranormal/Urban Fantasy, and was a finalist for the prestigious RITA® Award from the Romance Writers of America. Her work has also finaled in the Booksellers’ Best, National Readers’ Choice, and Daphne du Maurier Awards.
Sign up for J.T.’s mailing list for giveaways and new release news at http://www.jtgeissinger.com
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Table of Contents
Copyright
Also by J.T. Geissinger
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter-Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Upcoming Release
About the Author
Wicked Beautiful Page 31
