MELT

by Deborah Bladon

  "At Matiz. You were in a meeting with Crew."

  "That bullshit meeting? The one where he talked about pizza and beer for almost two hours?"

  "That's the one. I asked him to keep you busy."

  "The handle was cracked and the metal tarnished so I had it fixed up so you can use it again now when you work the counter."

  I kiss her with a need I haven't felt before. I love her. I fucking love Lark Benton more than I love anything in this world.

  "Thank you, baby," I whisper against the smooth skin of her cheek. "I love it."

  "Good," she replies softly. "I want you to love everything I give you."

  "Let me give you something now." I take her by the hand leading her to the counter and the gift that I had made for her.

  She eyes the envelope. "What's that?"

  "You'll open that after you open this." I pick up the box and hand it to her.

  "It's heavy." She furrows her brow. "Is it a book? Did you buy me that new Nicholas Wolf novel?"

  She's recently fallen in love with his work. She bought herself every book he's ever written in early January. She brought one of the books to my place with the intention of reading it each night before she fell asleep. I never let her have the chance. I'd take her after she crawled into bed, giving her the pleasure I know she craves and taking mine from her. The book was a permanent fixture in my apartment for weeks before she finally took it to her apartment to read during the nights she stayed there.

  I started tracking his release schedule then and when he announced he was doing a book signing in Times Square a few weeks ago to celebrate his latest book, I stood in the freezing cold in a long-ass line to get a copy signed personally for her. I told Crew about it and that's when he decided to share the fact that he knows the guy. They went to high school together so the next time he releases anything, I have Crew's word that he'll get me a signed copy.

  The copy I did get signed is wrapped and waiting for her on the bed in my apartment.

  "It's not a book, Lark."

  "Is it a brick?"

  I try not to let my anxiety show. I've never gotten a woman a gift before, other than my mom or grandmothers. It was always easy with them. This was different. I didn't have a lot of time when I picked out Lark's birthday gift, but this time I had weeks. I planned this, found someone to help me bring it to life and now I'm about to see her reaction. "Lark, I need you to open it now. Please just open it."

  She nods. "All right. I'll love it, Ryker. Whatever it is, I'm going to love it."

  She places the box back on the counter before she carefully pulls on the corner of the ribbon. I want to rip the wrapping paper off of it and pull the box open, but it's her gift. I bite on the nail of my thumb while I tap the toe of my shoe on the floor.

  Her heels rise as she stands on her tiptoes and peers into the open box. A piece of red tissue paper flies out and then her hands dart to her mouth. "Ryker, it's beautiful."

  It is. I thought the same and I'm no judge. I didn’t look to anyone for guidance, so I've been running on hope. I need this to take her breath away. I want her to understand where my heart is and this is the way to do it.

  She reaches into the box and tugs. The snow globe comes free of all the tissue paper it's nestled in. She places it gently on the counter before she bends slightly to look at it directly.

  I pick it up to wind up the music box. Silent Night plays softly from it. I start talking because I can't fucking keep quiet. I need to explain so she'll understand the true intention of the gift.

  "That's me and you in there, baby. You're wearing that Christmas dress you like. You know the ugly one with the plaid pattern. I'm wearing my best suit. It's that black one you love."

  She tilts her head, her eyes pinned to the globe.

  "That's the tree in Rockefeller Centre. I know how much you love that tree."

  She looks up and into my face, tears masking her beautiful eyes. "You're on your knee, Ryker. You're holding a tiny box with a..."

  "It's small but that's a diamond ring."

  "An engagement ring?" She looks at the globe before her gaze moves back to me. "Are you going to ask me to marry you?"

  "On your birthday." I reach for her hands and feather kisses over the back of them. "When I told you on New Year's Eve that this was our year, I meant it. I know it's too soon to ask you to marry me today but your birthday is perfect. You'll wear the dress, and I'll wear the suit and we'll go to the tree."

  "I'll say yes."

  I swallow hard. "I want to ask now, Lark."

  "I want you to do it on my birthday." She shakes the globe and snow falls over the scene. "I want this to be our engagement. I want you to ask me to be your wife on Christmas Day."

  "It's a date." I kiss her softly. "You can open the envelope now."

  She picks it up and studies it. Her fingers moving over the paper. "I don't have to open it. I feel keys. You put keys in here."

  That's all I put in the envelope. Two keys, both to my place. "You're not supposed to guess the gift before you open it."

  She laughs at my mock frustration. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"

  "I want you to give up your place and live with me, Lark. I want every today and tomorrow to be with you."

  "I want that too." She rests both her hands on my shoulders. "I love you, Ryker."

  I break then. This is all too good. Life can't be this good. I feel the emotion fighting to come out so I let it. A tear falls from my eyes. "I love you, baby. Let's go home so I can make love to my soon-to-be fiancée."

  Epilogue

  6 Months Later

  Lark

  "Holy fuck, Ryker," I scream. "You can't scare me like that. What the hell?"

  He's nude. So am I. I just had a shower, a cool shower to beat the heat that's been hanging over the city for the past two weeks. I had left work before he did today. He's been putting in longer hours since the holiday campaign is set to launch next month. Ryker's back at Matiz and I couldn't be happier.

  He's happy too knowing that Cremza is running smoothly under the guidance of the manager he hired.

  "I'm sorry, Lark." He fiddles with something behind his back. I can see the reflection of something in the mirror behind him. "I know I promised I'd wait but shit, baby, please."

  He drops to his knee then. My beautiful lover, the man I gave my heart to drops to his knee in the middle of our bathroom as I stand in front of him with my hair dripping all over my shoulders and down my body.

  "Ryker," I whisper. "Are you going to do it now?"

  He leans forward to wrap one of his arms around my waist to nudge me closer. "Come here, Lark. Come close to me."

  I do. I step toward him, my toes touching his knee. "I love you, Ryker."

  "I love you," he repeats before his lips graze my belly. "I love this little man, too. I love him so much."

  I do too. I don't know him yet. Neither of us does, but we talk about him as if he's already here. Our son will be born in the fall. My doctor told us that he was most likely conceived around Valentine's Day. We didn't use a condom that night or any time since. I took my birth control pills, but the doctor said that they're not foolproof. We didn’t care. We were overjoyed when we found out that we were going to have a baby. Our baby.

  Ryker brings his other hand into view and opens it. I see the box. It's the box that he's kept hidden in the top drawer of the desk in his home office. I first saw it in May when I was looking for tape to wrap a gift for my mom for Mother's Day. I opened the small box without realizing what it was.

  It's a beautiful diamond, a stunning solitaire in a white gold setting. I've never thought about what my ideal ring would look like until I saw the one Ryker picked just for me.

  I didn't tell him I found it, but on Mother's Day, he asked me to marry him. I reminded him of our planned Christmas Day engagement and he kissed my still flat stomach and told me that sometimes we have to make compromises.

  "I want you to be my wife no
w, Lark. I want us to be married when our baby comes."

  I stare into his eyes. "I want to be your wife."

  "I wake up every day more grateful than the one before. I get to love you. I get to raise a child with you. I get to grow old with you, Lark. Please marry me. Please let me be by your side forever."

  I hold his hand while I lower myself to my knees. "If I say yes, when do you want to get married?"

  "Next month." He kisses my hand. "I want you to marry me on my birthday."

  "You want to share your birthday with our anniversary?" I look down at the still closed ring box.

  "I finally felt like I was living when I met you, baby. What better way to celebrate my birthday than by marrying the woman I love? Will you marry me, Lark?"

  I look into his eyes as I hear the box open. I feel the cool metal when he holds the ring against my fingertip. I nod. "Yes. I'll marry you."

  "I can finally breathe now." He laughs as he slides the ring on.

  "You knew I was going to say yes." I hold my hand up, admiring the ring. "This is beautiful, Ryker. I love it."

  "You've seen it."

  I shoot him a look. "What?"

  "I've caught you twice snooping around my desk to look at the ring. You even tried it on once."

  I did. I put it on my finger one morning when I thought he was still asleep. "I didn't mean to find it. It just happened."

  "Do you hear that baby boy?" He presses his lips to my belly. "Your mom has no patience. When you get her a gift, you'll need to find a better hiding place than your dad's desk."

  "Can we name him Benton, Ryker? Can our baby be Benton Moore?" I tilt my chin up, my eyes glued to his.

  I see the smile in his eyes before it takes over his mouth. "You like it? I wasn't sure you were on board when I suggested it, but it's perfect. I want that for him, Lark. I want him to carry the name of his mother and his father, of both of us."

  "I want your name too," I say quietly. "I want to be Lark Moore."

  His kiss says it all. I'll be his forever and he'll be mine and three months from now we'll become a family. The family that neither of us could have expected a year ago, but both of us treasure forever with our lives.

  THANK YOU

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  Thank you, for everything.

  Preview of TENSE

  A Two Part Novel Series Featuring Nicholas Wolf

  "Do you like it? Some people have said it's too long. It's actually quite thick when you're holding it in your hands, isn't it?" The tone is low and throaty, emanating somewhere from my right.

  Such is the conversation on subway trains in New York City. You'd think I'd be oblivious to it all by now. Most of those who have lived here for decades have an innate ability to silence the staccato sounds of voices, traffic, and the underlying hum that is constantly hanging in the air in Manhattan.

  For those of us who are considered fresh transplants, the timbres of the city are still part of its irrefutable charm. I never thought I'd get accustomed to the constant buzz of the traffic when I closed my eyes to sleep each night but now it's the lull that helps me drift off. I've only been here two years but I know that I'd long for the frenzied energy of this place if I ever decided to move back home to Florida.

  "I'd like your honest opinion." I feel the slight pressure of a strong shoulder rub against mine. "Chapter seven is my personal favorite. Have you gotten that far yet?"

  I glance down at the thick book resting on my lap. I know, without a doubt now, that he's talking to me. I've already had two, one-sided, conversations today about the book. One was with a woman waiting in line at the dry cleaners. The other was just fifteen minutes ago with the man who runs the bodega by my office. In both cases, I just smiled, nodded and listened to them rattle on about the awe inspiring detective novel I'm lugging around Manhattan with me.

  "I haven't," I say quietly without looking at him.

  No eye contact will make it easier for me to ignore him if he persists. I'm not a rude person but I do know how to protect myself with a perimeter of ignorance. Men give up easily if you pretend they don't exist. Most men do, that is. This one doesn’t seem to be taking the hint.

  "Have far are you?" A large hand brushes against my skirt. "You at least got past the first chapter, right?"

  Physical touching is a no-no. I scoot more to my left, trying to gain even a few more inches in distance from him. This train is bursting at capacity with commuters. Part of that is the time of day and the other is the route.

  It's early evening and I'm headed for Times Square, one of the few places in the city I'd be happy never seeing again. It's too much for me. There are too many people, too much noise, the smells overwhelming and the energy frenetic.

  "I'm not trying to accost you." He laughs. It's a sexy growl and a few women actually turn to see the source. Judging by the way they linger when they look at him, he's not hard on the eyes.

  "I'm just trying to get to a book signing," I confess, hoping he'll leave me alone if I tell him, politely, that I'm not looking to hook up. "I need to get this signed for my boss. It's a gift from his wife."

  "You're hoping to meet the author? Nicholas Wolf? I heard the line for the signing was around the block already. People have been waiting all afternoon to meet him."

  "Shit." I finally turn to look at his face. "You're not serious, are you?"

  He's as good looking as I imagined him to be based on his voice. Seriously hot. Like seriously, I will give this man my number if he asks me for it, hot.

  Black hair, blue eyes, and just the right amount of stubble on his face are the appetizer. His perfect teeth, rugged jaw and his lips, oh those lips, are the main course. He's wearing a wool coat and jeans so who knows what dessert is, but it would be delicious. I know it would be so delicious.

  "I'm serious," he says. "If you get in line now, the store is going to close before you'll get that book signed for your boss."

  I roll my eyes. "I don't get the appeal. I have no idea why Gabriel likes it so much. He told me to read it so I read the first chapter and..." I point my thumb towards the floor.

  "Thumbs down?" He cocks a dark winged brow. "You didn't like it?"

  "It's too wordy. I was too bored to finish it."

  He stares at the book before he speaks again. "I take it Gabriel is your boss? You're getting it signed for him?"

  I nod sharply.

  "Give it to me. I'd like to show you something."

  It's not my book and since we're moving at breakneck speed inside a subway car, it's not as though he can grab it and run. I slide it from my lap to his.

  "What's your name?" he asks as his hand dives into a leather bag sitting on the floor at his feet.

  I watch his every movement. "Sophia. My name is Sophia. What's your name?"

  He pulls a silver pen from out of the bag and before I can protest, he opens the cover of the book and starts writing.

  Well, shit. I bet it's his number. I'm not going to stop him. I'll just buy another book for Mr. Foster and keep this one for me.

  He closes the cover of the book, slides the pen back into his bag and turns to look at me.

  "My name is Nicholas. Nicholas Wolf."

  Coming Early 2017

  Preview of WORTH

  A Two-Part Novel Duet Featuring Julian Bishop

  I notice him immediately. It's impossible not to. Julian Bishop is the man of the hour, after all. This celebration, complete with
expensive champagne and stiff-backed wait staff, has drawn the crème de la crème of Manhattan's social elite. It's the place to be tonight, and with a lot of crafty manipulation and a fair bit of luck, I'm standing in the midst of it, wearing a killer little black dress and diamond earrings I borrowed from a broker who has sold more than her fair share of apartments with Park Avenue addresses.

  "I got you another glass of champagne, Maya."

  I turn toward my date for the evening, taking the tall crystal flute from his hand. I enjoy a small sip while I look at his hands. They're adequate, not too large, and not too small. Those hands, along with the brief kiss he gave me when he picked me up tonight promise a night of passion that would be forgettable at best. He's nothing to write home about or to write about at all, for that matter.

  "Thanks, Charlie," I purr. "Where's your drink?"

  He nudges the sexy-as-all-hell, black-rimmed glasses up his nose with his index finger. He has a nerd with a side of male model look. That's what made me stop at his desk two weeks ago to ask if I could borrow his stapler.

  I don't staple. If I did, I'm sure I'd find one in my desk, hidden underneath the three dresses and two pairs of shoes I have tucked in the drawer. I never know when a change of wardrobe is called for. A girl has to be ready for anything when she's trying to claw her way up the hierarchy of the Manhattan real estate market.

  "I had one. That's my limit." He squints as he looks at the bar. "Is she here yet? I heard someone say she's going to make an entrance."

  I heard someone say she's a dirty, dirty slut.

  That someone was me. I said it to myself. She's far from dirty or slutty. She's a lawyer, Harvard educated, with looks to rival her brains. Jealousy is a filthy accessory and I don't wear it well at all.

  "I don't think she's arrived." I turn back to where Julian's standing. He looks identical to the way he did when I first laid eyes on him. That was a year ago. I was helping a friend and he was offering her a job. Our paths crossed, the energy flowed and then he left. I never saw the man again.