“You love my ass in this pantsuit,” I counter.
“I love all of you in that pantsuit.” I hear him take a breath. “I love you.”
I turn to face him. “What?”
He smiles. “You heard me, but I’ll say it a million times if need be. I love you, Raelyn Walsh.”
Resting my hands on his chest, I look into his eyes. “I love you, Calder Frost.”
He stares at me. His gaze travels my face as if he’s seeing it for the first time.
“I want you to marry me one day.”
The words don’t scare me. They only offer comfort and hope. I know I belong with him. I know he’s my destiny. “I want the same thing.”
“Move in with me.” He looks around the studio. “You’re here almost all of the time. Work here. Live here. Be here…with me.”
Nodding, I don’t hesitate as I answer. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”
Cradling my face, he kisses me softly. “You’ve made me happier than I deserve, Rae.”
“You deserve every happiness life can offer. I hope I’ll always be a part of that.”
“Always,” he says before another kiss. “I have a gift for you.”
“I told you I don’t want the painting back.” I sigh. “We’ve talked about this, Calder. The painting is yours now.”
“It’s our painting,” he corrects me.
“Our painting,” I repeat.
“This is something else.”
Calder has already given me so much. He listened when I complained about Eleni never answering my calls until she did. He sat next to me as I told her how devastating it was when she stole my painting. She sold it without my permission, and her only excuse was that she was drowning in debt at the time and needed a quick fix. She wired me the money since that call and sent a note wishing me well as if our past could be erased with scented stationery and a heart drawn in red ink in place of her signature.
Calder has also helped me understand the value of my work. The appraisals of my paintings were higher than either of us imagined they would be. Within a week, I had signed a contract to feature them at one gallery. The following week, another in Tribeca wanted to place four on display for sale.
“It’s under the tree.” He points at a box covered in gold wrapping paper. It’s partially hidden beneath a tree branch.
I bend down to pick it up. It’s heavier than I thought it would be so I push it at Calder. “Hold it while I open it.”
“That would be my pleasure.”
I stop and admire the way the light is framing his face. As gorgeous as he is on the outside, it’s what’s beneath the surface that makes me love him.
I pull the top of the box off and toss it on the floor.
Calder smiles. “I hope you like what’s inside.”
“It’s coming from you, so it’s perfect.”
I look into the box. Pushing the gold tissue paper aside, I tilt my head to get a better look.
“I made it for you,” Calder whispers. “For us and for the family we’ll have one day.”
I scoop both hands into the box and pull out a sculpture. It’s breathtaking. I hold it in front of me, marveling at the beauty of it.
“It’s an angel for the top of our tree.” Calder takes it from me. “Do you see it, Rae? That’s her face and her wings. Her halo is on top.”
I stare at it, taking in each curve of the metal and every edge that’s bent just enough so the light bounces off of it, giving it dimension.
Calder drags a chair from the corner, stands on it, and positions our angel at the top of our tree. When he jumps down, he nods his head, satisfied.
Curling his strong arms around me, he holds me next to him. “This is just the beginning of our life together. I’m going to ask you to marry me the day before Valentine’s Day.”
I smile. “Why the day before?”
“I’m different like that,” he quips.
“I’ll say yes.”
He kisses me tenderly. “Every year we’ll add something new to our tree. And when we have kids, we’ll keep adding until one day we explain to them that during a snowstorm, fate brought us to each other, and it kept us together until the end of time.”
“Every Christmas will be better than the last, Calder.”
“It will.” He looks into my eyes. “I promise you that, my love.”
Preview of Game Changer
Sneak Preview of GAME CHANGER, a new refreshing standalone romance.
I’m not the kind of guy who will kidnap you and hold you prisoner on my yacht. I could. I have a yacht, but we should talk about it first.
We can get kinky if you want, but my dungeon isn’t red. I went with something more nuanced.
I’m polite, I’m generous, and I always call after we spend the night together.
But don’t be mistaken – this gentleman still knows exactly where to bite, lick, touch, and suck.
I’m William Knight.
Professional Wingman. Master of Sex. The Dating Doc.
My official title is Personal Advisor. At least that what’s my business card says.
I’ve built a very successful career helping men get the women they desire, while schooling them in the lost art of respect and chivalry.
I have it all. Money. Power. Respect.
Until I meet her.
Opal Waverly is the game changer. Not only is she smart, successful, and witty as hell, but she’s kind. She’s the type of kind that sneaks into your heart and cracks it open far enough that love slips in.
Hear that? That’s me waxing poetic while I drown my sorrows in a glass of scotch because Opal is the object of another man’s desire.
And he’s paying me an obscene amount of money to make her fall in love with him.
Author’s Note: This breathtakingly refreshing romance does not contain any cheating or a love triangle.
Chapter 1
William
“If you asked me to go home with you, I would.”
I shift my gaze to the right so it lands on the woman who just uttered those words to me. She’s cute. Blonde hair, blue eyes, lips that look like something other than nature played a part in their fullness.
The tight black dress she’s wearing fits the occasion. I’m at a fundraiser because I do my part to contribute when it’s needed. Tonight, it’s a gala to benefit an observatory on Long Island that is crumbling under the weight of its age. The host is a man I did business with two years ago. The woman he married last month is an astronomer, so he took on the role of raising money even though he can cut a check for millions, and it wouldn’t leave a dent in his bank account.
“What do you say, handsome?” The woman next to me trails a finger up the arm of my tuxedo jacket.
I say no.
It’s not because she’s not desirable. She’s pretty, but she also has a tan line wrapped around the ring finger of her left hand. Either she’s married and looking to score some tall, dark-haired, chiseled jaw handsomeness on the side, or she’s recently divorced. She could be a widow, but I doubt like hell she’s in mourning.
She saddles up closer to me at this makeshift bar in the corner of the ballroom at one of Manhattan’s most luxurious hotels.
“Do you have a roommate?” Her finger reaches the top of the collar of my white button-down shirt. “You can’t take a woman home, is that it? I can get us a room here if that’s the case.”
I turn so I can give her my full attention because women deserve that.
Her eyes trail over my face.
I’m better looking than most men in this place. That’s not ego talking. I know that I was blessed when it comes to good bone structure and height.
I’m gifted in other ways, but she won’t enjoy that tonight.
“I’m flattered.” I flash her a smile to lessen the blow of the next words out of my mouth. “I’m not interested.”
I could have played it kinder and told her that I’m tired or in a committed relationship.
B
oth the former and the latter are lies.
I don’t see the point in lying to a woman who is putting herself out there. She’s being straight with me by telling me she wants me. I’m being clear with her by explaining that she’s not what I’m looking for.
“What do you mean you’re not interested?” She arches her back to bring her ample tits into the conversation.
My eyes drop to them briefly because breasts…but I shift back to eye contact immediately. “I’m not interested in fucking you tonight.”
“Ohhhh,” she drags that one-syllable word out to within an inch of its life. “You’re busy tonight, so another night works better? I’m free tomorrow.”
She’s making this harder than it needs to be, and I’m not talking about my dick. It’s still taking it easy. Nothing about her is getting a rise out of me.
“I’ll never be interested.”
Her blue eyes widen in shock. “Why not?”
I imagine if she’d snap her fingers many men would come running, but I’m not one of them. “I know what I’m looking for, and you’re not it.”
“I could be it,” she says hopefully. “I’m not interested in more than one night.”
In my experience, if a woman tells you that, she’s lying. The tan line on her ring finger suggests she was interested in more than a one-night stand at some point in her life; some recent point in her life.
If I take her to bed, she’ll want more.
Again, my ego is not driving this train, but women love good sex. They dream about great sex, and when they get phenomenal sex, they latch on.
I’m a notch above phenomenal.
I pick and choose the women I sleep with very carefully. I vet them if you will, so when we part after we’ve both had our fun, they aren’t going to chase me down looking for more.
My work keeps me too busy for a social life, and my commitment choices keep a lasso wrapped around my heart.
I’m self-aware. I’m not flailing through life avoiding a relationship because I have issues that reach back to my childhood.
To put it simply, I’m happy living alone. I’m happier when I’m fucking different women.
There’s no need to delve deeper than that.
“When was your divorce finalized?” I question.
Her gaze drops to her hand. “What?”
“Your marriage ended when?”
“It’s not officially over.” She rolls her eyes. “We separated last week.”
Nodding, I scan the room. “Is this your first time out since you two called it quits?”
Her shoulders slump forward. “Yes, and it’s hard.”
“What’s your name?” I ask not because I want to know this woman, but because she needs to feel something from me. Outright rejection will put her on a path of destruction.
“Holly.” Her smile brightens. “What’s your name?”
“William.”
“I like that.” She flutters her extra-long eyelashes. “What are you looking for, Will?”
For starters, I’m looking to be called William, not Will.
I let it slide because Holly and I are about to part ways after I give her some sage advice. “Take some time to figure out what you want, Holly. Don’t jump into bed with a random because you’re trying to prove that you’re still able to turn heads. You’re beautiful. You’re also vulnerable right now, so give it a minute to sink in that you’re single.”
Her bottom lip trembles. “My ex told me I’d never find another man.”
“He’s a lying bastard,” I retort. “You’re going to have them lining up to take you out.”
Her brows perk. “You think?”
“I know.” I push away from the bar. “Give it some time and take care of yourself.”
Her eyes scan my face. “I would have slept with you.”
I know.
“It wasn’t meant to be.” I button my tuxedo jacket. “If you excuse me, there’s someone I need to speak with.”
With one last glance over my six-foot frame, Holly sighs. “She’s one lucky lady.”
I can’t agree with that, but that’s not for me to judge. I’m here to do a job, and it’s time I got to work.
Coming in 2021
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Deborah Bladon has never read a romance hero she didn't like. Her love for romance novels began when she was old enough to board the bus, library card in hand to check out the newest Harlequin paperbacks. She's a Canadian by heart, and by passport, but you can often spot her in New York City sipping a latte and looking for inspiration for her next story. Manhattan is definitely her second home.
She cherishes her family and believes that each day is a gift for writing, for reading, and for loving.
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