“Good. Because there are three more after this.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We figure each time I get pregnant I’ll divorce the last one and marry the next. By the time I’m done, I’ll call all of them husband with good reason.”
“That’s, that’s—”
“Genius,” she smiled. “Instead of “My Three Sons” we’ll have “My Four Husbands.”
“You’re not seriously thinking—”
She laughed. “Of course not. Well, almost. Cole likes the idea of a reality show.”
“He would.”
“The ratings would be huge. A producer called me about the concept already.”
I groaned. Nothing, but nothing is kept secret in Hollywood.
“Dad, relax. Poly relationships are all the rage now. Have you looked at our client list lately? Being seen as the hip PR company has given us a big boost, even in New York.”
I noticed. I’m not a stupid man, though I feel behind the times. Still, I’m not willing to concede defeat.
“I don’t know why I agreed to this,” I said grumpily.
“Easy. Grandkids,” she said patting my hand.
I looked down the aisle at the four men who own my daughter’s heart, and I wondered only one thing.
How can I get four women?
I mean, I have a lot of time to make up for.
*****
THE END
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The LONG SHOT (A SPORTS ROMANCE)
PREVIEW
The therapist shrugged. “What you need is someone to fuck your brains out and remind you that you’re a woman.”
Diane Hawkins gaped. The woman’s careless tone was as unexpected as the words themselves. Outrage battled with indignation as she stared at the doctor, her cheeks a flaming red.
Dr. Margaret Holmes stared back, quirking an eyebrow.
Diane’s mouth flickered up in a smile and both women burst into laughter. Years of the doctor-patient relationship had stripped all artifice from their interactions. As Diane wiped tears from her eyes, she found herself smiling for the first time in days. “I needed that.”
“I’m not entirely joking.” Margaret pushed her glasses back up her nose. “William, God bless his soul, was a man you adored. He was an attentive husband, and you were a devoted wife. You’ve been an incredible mother to your son, Wolfe, and—”
Diane winced. “We don’t need to talk about Bruce.” The less said about her disastrous second marriage the better.
“You were far more forgiving to him than any other woman would have been,” her therapist continued. “When you realized neither your grown son nor your husband needed your help, you devoted yourself to service to others. You’ve got a track record of humanitarian work that would make Angelina Jolie feel like she was slacking off... In short, you take care of everyone except yourself.”
“What else do you want me to do? I was a society wife! In the early days, I worked hard ensuring Hawkins Pharmaceuticals success by making myself into the perfect hostess. And it turns out I’m great at it. I have the ability to help hundreds of people. I can’t turn my back on them! My socials have raised more funds for New York’s charities than...than—”
The therapist raised a hand. “Take a deep breath.”
Diane realized her shoulders were tense. She breathed in deeply, forcing herself to relax. Inwardly, she was alarmed at her loss of composure. She never raised her voice or was ever impulsive. Good breeding dictated that she be free from any scandal. She was gracious and kind, but there was always a wall she kept between herself and the outside. Margaret’s words had stung, but Diane knew the woman only wanted to help her. She’d been consulting the doctor for years now, even before William’s death had left her a widow. “Sorry, Margaret. I don’t know what came over me.”
“If I was going to guess, I’d say it was the same thing that first brought you to my office all those years ago.”
Diane sighed. “I loved William. I owe him everything. Founding Hawkins Pharmaceutical was his life, but helping people was his dream. He poured every spare minute he had into the company, but through it all, he never forgot me, going without luxuries and vacations himself so that I would have financial security, and that Wolfe would receive the best possible education...”
“And in return, you served him faithfully, as home-maker, hostess, advocate and social darling.”
Diane frowned. She’d never heard Margaret speak so disparagingly of William. “You’re not suggesting he forced me into those roles, are you? I wanted to help him.”
“And you did—by holding yourself to exacting standards for the best part of your life.” Margaret pursed her lips. “If I said this to any other client, I’d be looking at a malpractice suit, but honestly, Diane, I think you need to cut loose.”
Diane shook her head. “You’re teasing me.” She sighed. “I know that I’m simply feeling at a loose end. Now that Wolfe is married—and I couldn’t chose a better wife for him than Miranda!—I’m lonely. That’s all.”
She felt a bittersweet twinge at the thought of her son’s wife. She loved Miranda like a daughter—how could she do anything less? Seeing the way her son’s face lit up any time she entered the room... Diane smiled at the thought of it.
Her smile faded as she remembered that Miranda had fearlessly risked everything to start up a catering business combined with a food kitchen that funneled its profits directly into feeding New York’s most vulnerable citizens. It was a success, breaking new ground in the charity and business arenas. Never in a million years could I have taken that kind of risk...
She looked up to see Margaret’s eyes on her. The therapist’s expression was kind. “Wolfe’s marriage gives you a unique opportunity. This is your time Diane. Take the bull by the horn. Do not confine yourself to the life you’ve lead up until now, or the plaques and citations honoring your achievements. Who are you as a woman?”
Diane shook her head. “I’m not dating again. Bruce was enough.”
“I’m not talking about dating,” Margaret said. “I want you to stop thinking about how others will see you, and experiment. Take risks. Try new things. Dare I say it, mess up a few times.”
Diane snorted. “It is too late to learn skydiving.”
“You’re a mature woman. Not a senior citizen. It’s high time you lived a little.”
Diane shook her head. “That’s for the young.” And the brave.
The therapist frowned. “You’re a beautiful and desirable woman, Diane, an exotic flower kept apart from the rest of the world in a glasshouse. But no one can come close or touch you. It is a lonely existence.”
“Can you imagine the scandal if I actually let loose?” Diane blanched. “This is New York City. I have acquaintances everywhere. They’d think I was going senile. The damage to the Hawkins name….”
“So move to another city. Move to another country. I don’t care… Go as far away as necessary so that you feel like you have room to be yourself. Not William Hawkins’ perfect wife or Wolfe Hawkins’ celebrated mother. Whatever it takes, go where you can be simply Diane.”
Simply Diane. She tried to think of the last time she hadn’t worried about what someone thought of her and discovered she couldn’t. Diane sighed as she glanced at her watch. Her hour was almost over. She stood to go. �
��Are you really prescribing me a move to another country?”
Margaret beamed. “If that’s what it takes for you to figure out what you really want from life, I will.”
“I pay you good money to give me all this shit?” Diane pretended exasperation.
To her surprise, Margaret stood, drawing her into a hug. “You pay me good money to tell you the truth. Please, Diane. Do this—for you.”
***
Diane sat cross-legged on a yoga mat on the terrace of her new beachfront apartment. She’d fallen instantly in love the minute she stepped into her new home. It had five bedrooms, four bathrooms, a variety of terraces and a private path to a small secret beach. The house offered a magnificent sea view in every window with the waves of the Mediterranean Sea crashing onto the shore leaving a froth of sand and foam on its wake that reminded Diane of a foaming frappucino.
It’s a good thing you need less sleep as you age...because it would be criminal to miss a morning like this. She breathed in the sea breeze appreciatively, feeling the morning sun on her face. She had hoped that without the New York traffic in the background, she would finally sleep longer. However, on this morning, her first in her new home, she’d been unable to resist the siren call of the waves and the seabirds.
Diane assumed the downward dog position, supporting her weight on her hands and toes, her bottom stuck in the air. As she exhaled deliberately, she felt some of her anxiety ease. Moving to Spain had been full of challenges. First and foremost: convincing herself she hadn't lost her mind. Margaret’s words came back to her. “Whatever it takes, go where you can be simply Diane.” She thought it was an impossible suggestion until she received a letter seeking financial support for an ailing medical facility in Torrevieja, a town thirty minutes away from Barcelona. A crazy idea took root.
She couldn’t ignore the opportunity. She loved her charitable work, and restoring the medical facility was just the challenge she needed. Most importantly, it would be a fitting tribute to the love of her life, The William Hawkins Cancer Research Facility. She would move to Spain and acquire the medical facility, hire scientists and medical personnel who would devote their time to cancer research. It was perfect.
Spain was far enough away that she’d have to do it alone, without the contacts and friends she’d made in New York. Moving meant she wouldn’t be constantly intruding into Wolfe and Miranda’s lives. The fact that it was removed from anyone who knew her was just an added bonus. Several emails later, the crazy idea was a fully-fledged plan. In less than a month she had found her new home in Barcelona.
As she exhaled, she became aware of a mysterious sound, almost like singing. She frowned. It must be my imagination. This is a private beach! Certainly she hadn’t seen another person since she’d slipped out of bed.
As Diane listened, she heard the sound again, closer this time. A cacophony of male voices joined together in a chant. Then they came into view, a cluster of male joggers plodding down the shoreline. The rising sun glistened on muscled legs as they thundered along the wet sand, never breaking the musical tempo. Their footprints left indentations on the sandy shore like pockmarks on the moon. Diane’s eyes widened as the group grew closer. Her vision was intruded by the one-piece-jogging-suit that left nothing to the imagination. Her cheeks flooded as she inadvertently took in the bulge beneath pair of tight shorts. That is way more information than I wanted!
Her sudden presence must have surprised them as well because they slowed down and looked her way. Voices raised in unison. “Hola, como estas?” A wolf-whistle followed.
Flushing, Diane hastily sat down. What a way to meet my new neighbors...wearing only yoga clothes and with my bottom in the air! Summoning her usual calm, she gave the men a tentative wave. The men exchanged grins, then, as one, returned to their exercise. Their faces took on a look of concentration, focused on a finish line somewhere in the distance.
Diane rolled up her yoga mat and stood, watching them disappear. The first thing to do would be to complain. Didn’t these men know that Diane Hawkins was not to be whistled at?
Diane paused. They didn’t know. She was in Spain, not New York. Spain had a different code, far from her personal measure of appropriateness.
Diane found her gaze lingering on the men as they continued down the beach. She was intrigued by their casual indifference about their bronzed bodies, exchanging banter as they ran. Even without understanding the words, she knew it was companionable. A sports club, maybe? Would they do this every morning?
Diane’s heart sank at the thought of being subjected to the frank gazes of the confident young men a second time. Then she steeled herself. That was the old Diane. The new Diane would do her yoga practice anywhere she wanted.
A delicious smell joined the fresh sea air. Coffee. Diane returned inside, leaving the door open behind her so that the sea breeze would fill the house.
As she entered the kitchen, her cook, Magdalena gave her a broad smile. “Good morning, Señora. Did you sleep well?”
“Wonderful, thank you. But I was wondering. I just saw a group of men jogging on the beach. Are they local?
Magdalena nodded. “Football players. Our local team.”
“Oh, soccer players, you mean?” That explained their excellent physical condition.
“Si…Around here they are considered gods. They certainly have the bodies of gods, no?” Magdalena giggled. “What would you like me to bring you for breakfast?”
A hot Spanish man hung like a horse? Diane had a hard time keeping the smile off her face. The sea air must be making her giddy for such a thought to even occur. “Coffee and some toast with butter. Thank you.”
The curtains ruffled, drawing her attention to the vivid azure ocean and the sunlight dancing on the sandy beach. Diane felt a reckless feeling rise up inside her.
“Coffee and toast with butter,” Magdalena repeated with a bow.
“You know what… This is a special morning. The first day of my new life. I think I’d rather have champagne and Sobrasada sausage.”
Magdalena’s eyes sparkled. “Si, Señora. You will be happy here, I think.”
Diane smiled. “I already am.”
***
“The check for twenty million dollars will be sent tonight. I want Vicente Alves’ signature on the dotted line and his presence at football practice tomorrow.” Leon abruptly ended the call.
As he jotted down a note to himself to call the bank, he reviewed his decision. Vicente Alves was a magnificent player and worth every penny of the twenty million dollars. Not only was the young athlete hotly contested by several other clubs, but Alves would be a good replacement of his current star defender, Jesus Rodriguez, if the guy didn’t clean up his act. The presence of a potential challenger always made his players work harder.
The visitor waiting by his desk cleared his throat. “Congratulations on your latest acquisition, Señor Alvaro.”
Leon shook the man’s hand. “I consider it more of an investment. Alves will be good for us on the field, but off it as well.” As manager and owner of the team, he had to be a step ahead of any potential trouble. “Welcome, Martinez. I apologize for making you wait. ”
Martinez was the official representative of the owners of a medical facility in Torrevieja that Leon was eager to buy. He hoped the lawyer’s presence indicated they were to close the deal today. “We can discuss the terms of the facility sale now. I’m ready to make the payment,” he added, reaching for his checkbook.
The lawyer blanched. “I’m afraid we can no longer offer you the facility, Señor Alvaro.”
“What do you mean? Didn’t you get my endorsement from the Mayor of Torrevieja?” Leon’s green eyes flashed dangerously and his bushy brows bunched together in a frown. His nostrils flared in irritation as he waited for a reply.
Martinez trembled; sweat staining the armpits of his shirt. “Si, Señor. We received the letter. Unfortunately, we had already closed the deal with the Señora from America.”
&nb
sp; “Why wasn’t I informed earlier that you were selling? We could have closed the deal months ago…long before this...this American dilettante came into the picture.”
“We are very sorry, Señor…but we did inform the Mayor and he assured us we would hear from you. But when months passed, we came to the conclusion you weren’t interested.”
“Mierda!” Leon thumped his fist on the desk between them. He saw the lawyer jump, and forced his irritation aside.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Spanish bureaucracy was rooted deeply in the mañana habit. Everything was put on hold for tomorrow. The Mayor must have forgotten until the offer was made to someone else. Leon rubbed his forehead. “I need that facility. I made a sacred promise on my mother’s deathbed not to let her death be in vain.”
Leon saw all the plans he’d made to immortalize his mother’s memory turning into dust. “No! I do not accept that. I will do everything in my power to stop you selling to that woman. Who has more right than me? This is my country—the facility is a landmark of my town! And she—who is she anyway? Some wealthy American who wants an ailing facility so she could claim a contribution to mankind? She’ll probably get bored and abandon it.”
“Señor, she is well-known in New York City and has run many successful foundations.” The lawyer caught sight of Leon’s expression and added hastily, “Of course, the owners would have preferred you...But our hands are tied. If we do not proceed with the sale, she can sue us. The whole town of Torrevieja will lose. We could be locked in legal battle for years to come. In the meantime, the facility will deteriorate till it is no longer useful…even to you.”
“I cannot just sit on my ass and watch a foreign woman trample on a promise I made at my mother’s grave.”
The lawyer squirmed. “Señor, I-I have a suggestion…if you will hear me out.”
Leon gave the man a flat look. “What?”
Daddy's RockStar Friends ( A Reverse Harem Romance) Page 10
