Take Me I’m Yours
By Michelle Miles
Copyright 2013 Michelle Miles
Cover art by Laura Morrigan
Amazon Edition, License Notes
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use, then please return to Smashwords.Com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
For Ms Jill
May you dance among the angels forevermore
Acknowledgements
There are always people I need to thank for supporting me throughout this writing endeavor. My awesome critique partners, Misty Evans and Bonnie Johnston. Thank you for your continued support and help with brainstorming and making me a better writer. My proofreader, Nickie Wallace, who keeps telling me we’ll be wearing Coach Sunglasses when I hit a list. My husband, Robert, who is not only my line editor but also my biggest fan. I could not do this without his love and support. It means more to me than words can say. My Plotting Princesses who are always there for support and encouragement! You gals understand all the trials and tribulations of this crazy business and I don’t think I could survive without you. Y’all are the bomb! And, of course, my family. Love and thanks to you all, always!
Table of Contents
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
About the Author
Other Titles by Michelle Miles
Sneak Peek of Tempting Eden
Chapter One
“Crowning time,” Delilah Storm announced.
The bridesmaids squealed with excitement. Delilah rolled her eyes.
Marion Parker’s best friend and maid of honor held the sparkling tiara and veil in one hand while gathered bobby pins with the other.
“Don’t mess up my hair,” Marion warned. She air-patted her perfect coif. She’d spent six hours at the salon on her hair and make-up. Her auburn tresses were piled high on her head with baby’s breath in the curls.
“Yes, bridezilla.” Delilah gave her a sour look with pursed lips.
Marion stood in her white dress and admired her reflection. The dress was perfection right down to the last hand-sewn glass bead along the hem and chapel-length train. She searched for months for the perfect dress, dragging her mother and Delilah to every bridal shop and bridal show in town. Delilah was not the bride-y type and hated every second of it. But she went along anyway as a good sport. She’d already been married once. It hadn’t ended well. She vowed she would never marry again.
A blush-colored sash accentuated Marion’s small waist. Around her neck she wore her grandmother’s pearls as her “something old.” Pearl teardrop earrings served as her “something borrowed” from her mother. The “something blue” was a secret on her thigh she wanted Ethan to find and gown served as the “something new.”
Her bridesmaids giggled and helped each other dress in their conservative pale blush gowns. Well, except for Delilah. She was a no-nonsense kind of gal and picked a strapless sexy number much to Marion’s chagrin.
Everything was perfect for Marion’s special day and she couldn’t be happier. In just a few hours, she would be Mrs. Ethan Michael Baxter III. She sighed wistfully.
Glancing down at the two carat diamond ring, she saw promises of a future with the man she loved. Of that house with the white picket fence and kids running through the yard. Cartoons playing during morning breakfasts. A dog. Maybe a cat.
Behind her, Delilah carefully placed the crown with miles and miles of tulle on her head. “Now hold still.”
Delilah insisted on wearing a pair of four inch Christian Louboutins for the big day—in pale blush to match the dress exactly, of course—which meant she stood at six feet tall. She had no problem seeing the top of Marion’s head as she fumbled with the bobby pins. She had a pin pinched between her dark red lips and Marion idly wondered if she’d leave lipstick behind. She knew better than to say anything, especially when Delilah stabbed her scalp.
“Ow!”
“Hold still. Almost done.” Delilah muttered around the pin.
In the reflection, Marion watched Delilah carefully position the glittering tiara on her head. She winced as another bobby pin stabbed her scalp.
“Sorry, Mar,” Delilah said. “There. Does that feel secure?”
“Yes. Thanks, Sweeney Todd.” She smoothed strands of hair upward.
“Har. Har.” Her maid of honor stuck out her tongue in Delilah fashion before grabbing a can of hairspray. “One more coat should seal it.”
She sprayed liberally, leaving a cloud hanging in the air and Marion choking on the fumes. “Del, I think that’s good.”
“Just trying to make sure you’re perfect for your day,” Delilah said in a sing-song voice. She turned toward the mirror and fluffed her wavy strawberry blonde locks. “You look calm.”
“I am calm.”
She had never been so sure about anything in her life. Okay, so she had a few butterflies. She looked forward to spending the next week on her honeymoon with her new husband. Just her, Ethan and a Jamaican beach. Bliss.
Ethan was everything she ever wanted. Kind, thoughtful, sweet, caring. Not to mention handsome. She tried to ignore the niggling thought at the back of her mind that things hadn’t been so picture perfect lately. He’d withdrawn from her. She’d decided it was wedding jitters and that was why she and Ethan hadn’t slept together in a few months. She felt certain once they walked down the aisle and pledged their love for each other all that would change.
Delilah handed her the oversized bouquet. “You look fantastic, Mar,” she said, smiling at her reflection.
“Why are you surprised?” Marion teased.
“I shouldn’t be after seeing your analness in full swing,” Delilah replied. “You’re kind of a micro-manager.”
“I want perfection. After all, I’m only doing this once.”
There was a quick knock on the door before it opened and her mother entered.
“Oh, darling!” she gasped. “You look breathtaking.” She kissed her soundly on the cheek.
“Mother, please,” Marion groaned. “You’ll muss me.” Her mother rubbed the lipstick imprint from her cheek.
“I’m sorry, dear. But you do look breathtaking.” She stood back, clasping her hands together, looking at her with a wistful smile. Marion was sure she saw the glimmer of a tear there.
“Thanks.” Marion forced a smile on her face. She was ready to get the show on the road. What was the hold up?
“I think it’s about time, isn’t it?” her mother said cheerfully, holding her by the shoulders.
“Yes, it is,” Marion said tightly. “Where’s Dad?”
“Waiting in the foyer,
dear.”
“I think we should head that way,” she suggested.
Before her mother could reply, there was another knock on the door. This time, the best man, Graeme Butler, poked in his head. His large, six-foot frame filled up the entire doorway. He had an odd look on his face, one Marion couldn’t quite read. Worry? Nerves?
“Can I come in?” He forced a smile as he peered into the room.
“Hi, Graeme. Yes, yes. Come in.” Marion waved him inside.
She couldn’t help but notice how smashing he looked in his tux. Especially since all she ever saw him in were jeans and T-shirts. He even wore the pale blush cummerbund and bow tie. She wasn’t sure he would after making such a ruckus about it being too “feminine” for him.
“You wore it.” She pointed to the pale-colored tie.
Graeme glanced down, ran his hand down his shirt. “I knew you’d have my head if I didn’t.” They shared a laugh and then he turned serious. “Can I, uh, talk to you a second, Marion? Alone?” His shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he stood in the doorway, that same weird look on his face.
Alarm bells suddenly rang in her head. “Why? What’s wrong?” She clutched the bouquet tighter in her hand. Heat flashed through her entire body and sweat broke out on her palms.
“I need a minute.” Graeme couldn’t look her in the eye. Her stomach plummeted to her toes.
“We’ll wait outside.” Her mother bit her lower lip as she waved the bridesmaids toward the door.
“I’m staying,” Delilah said. She put one hand on a slender hip.
“I really need to talk to her alone,” Graeme insisted.
“I’m not leaving,” Delilah said with a shake of her head.
“Graeme, you can talk to me in front of her.” Marion knew her friend well enough to know she wouldn’t back down.
Her mother ushered the girls out of the dressing room. Once they were gone, Graeme closed the door quietly and still looked at her with that odd look.
“What’s this about?” she asked. When he remained silent, she prompted him. “Graeme?”
Still with his hands in his pockets, he finally lifted his gaze from the floor. Then he glanced at Delilah and back to her again. He took two giant steps toward her, removing one hand from his pocket. He held a crumpled piece of paper in his fist.
Time stopped and for a split second all she could hear was the rustle of the paper and the heavy breath she expelled. Her stomach clenched in a tight knot. Her throat constricted. Every bit of calm drained from her making her light-headed. Was his hand shaking or was it her imagination? And what did he have to be so nervous about?
“See, it’s like this.” He was a mere breath away from her. “Maybe you should sit down.”
She feared the worst when she saw that paper. Feared what it could be. It had to be from Ethan and only moments before they were to be married. Her next question was why?
“I don’t want to sit down, Graeme. Give it to me.” She held out her shaking hand palm up. Delilah hadn’t budged an inch next to her.
With a grimace, he pushed the paper into her hand. She held it a moment, her heart throbbing madly, afraid to open it. But she had to, didn’t she? She handed the bouquet to Delilah and unfolded it. Ethan’s handwriting scrawled across the page in a hurried, sloppy script.
Marion –
I’m sorry. I can’t.
Ethan
“What the hell is this?” Marion crumpled it in her fist. Much like he had moments ago. “What does this mean, he can’t? He can’t what?” She shook it at Graeme.
“Marry you,” Graeme said, his voice strained. He avoided her gaze. Looking everywhere but at her.
“Let me see that.” Delilah pried it from her shaking fingers.
Her heart burst into flame before plummeting into her stomach and burning a hole right through it. Her limbs trembled. This couldn’t be happening.
“He’s kidding around.” A half-sob, half-laugh hitched in her throat. “Isn’t he?”
“He’s not.” His blue gaze was steely and unwavering.
“What a cowardly bastard!” Delilah said.
“Delilah…” Marion trailed off. He was still her fiancé.
“Well, he is.”
Graeme stared at her with an apologetic look. Tears stung the back of her throat, burning her eyes. But still, there was some part of her that believed this might be a joke. A cruel joke.
“This is a mistake.” She shook her head slowly, her nerves shattered. Every part of her broken inside.
“I’m afraid not,” Graeme said, his words hard and cold.
She searched his face for an unwritten explanation, anything that would tell her this was a mistake. Graeme’s expression, though, held nothing but remorse. And Delilah still held the crumpled note of her shattered dreams.
“I don’t…I don’t understand.” Tears slipped down her face, ruining her perfect expensive make-up she had sat so patiently for at the boutique.
“That son of a bitch.” Delilah breathed the words in a fierce whisper. She flung the bouquets and note on a nearby table, delicate petals scattering across the hard surface, and started for the door. “I’ll take care of him.”
“No.” Graeme caught her arm before she reached the door. “That will make things worse.”
“Worse than leaving Marion at the altar?” Delilah nearly shouted, her cheeks red with her anger. “I don’t think so. That bastard needs to pay for this.”
“Delilah—” Her breath hitched on a broken sob. She wanted to tell her to stop, not to worry about it. What was done was done. But the words wouldn’t come.
“I’m sorry, Marion.” Graeme reached for her, then seemed to think better of it and dropped his hand.
“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Delilah said. “That bastard—”
“Yes, he’s a bastard,” Graeme snapped. “But causing a scene in front of the entire congregation won’t solve anything, Delilah.”
Marion hiccupped. She brushed away the tears that continued to fall. “He’s right. How long have you known about this, Graeme?”
“He handed me the note when I got to the church today.”
She picked up the paper and turned away from him, her heart fluttering hard as she blinked away the tears. “Graeme, you’re his best friend. Why is he doing this?”
“I don’t know.”
And how could he do this? Leave her this way? With hundreds of guests waiting beyond those doors to witness a wedding? To see them pledge their love for each other forever? That wasn’t going to happen now.
Rage flooded her and she turned on him, her dress swishing with her sudden movement. “You mean you don’t want to tell me.”
“Marion—” He reached for her again, only to have her slap away his hand.
“Get out!” She clutched the paper in her fist and threw it at him. The wad hit him square in the chest.
He continued to stand there looking forlorn, his hands in his pockets and making no move to exit. What did he expect from her? Was he waiting to see her shatter into a thousand pieces?
“You heard her.”
Delilah moved to stand between her and Graeme. They stared each other down until finally he turned and left the dressing room. Her knees gave out and she crumpled to the floor and wept. Her best friend was at her side, hugging her close, trying to console her. But all Marion could think about was her perfect life with Ethan was shattered.
Chapter Two
Six Months Later
“Hello, Marion.”
Her heart tumbled at the sound of his voice. She looked up from her book to confirm her suspicions. There he stood in front of her table at the Bonjour Café, looking at her with a small grin and the sun at his back. There he was—the average man with the average looks and the average size penis that did above-average things to her. Correction. Had done. Past tense. She had once thought Ethan handsome and charming, but the past few months had jaded that thought.
She swallowed hard, her thr
oat suddenly dry, and pinched her lips together to keep them from quivering. Every instinct wanted her to flee but instead she stared him down. To maintain eye contact to prove to him he hadn’t hurt her as much as he really had. That he hadn’t sliced a knife through her heart. That he hadn’t nearly killed her that day in the church.
She never expected him to cross her path again. Disbelief tingled in the center of her chest, threatening to open that old wound. Threatening to let her bleed out here on the table. She cleared her throat.
“Ethan,” she finally managed around the cotton on her tongue. It took all her strength to maintain a civil tone. She had never wanted to speak to him, much less see him, again.
It pained Marion to look at him. She’d come to despise and hate him over the last few months. She hated the way his dark brown hair ruffled in the breeze. She hated his chestnut brown eyes threatening to draw her back into his web of deceit. She hated his crisp white shirt open at the collar hinting at the muscular chest beneath.
“Mind if I join you?” He reached for the metal chair and sat before she could say no. It scraped along the concrete. Like nails on a chalkboard, it grated on her nerves.
She reached for her sweating water glass and took a swig. She put aside the book she’d been reading, crossed her legs, tucked her hair behind her ear and took a deep breath. How dare he show up at this sidewalk café on a sunny Saturday morning to ruin her brunch? Her disbelief quickly dissipated into anger. Her body tensed and she ground her teeth. Wasn’t it enough he’d ruined her life, now he had to ruin her breakfast?
“What do you want?” Her voice was low and controlled.
“I wanted to see how you were.” He leaned on his forearms, giving her a small smile as if they were old friends. As if they were catching up after years apart.
Small talk. She couldn’t stand the small talk. And he knew it. He continued to give her that same grin. She hated that grin.
“Never better, thanks to you. I narrowly missed making the biggest mistake of my life.”
Take Me I'm Yours (Coffee House Chronicles) Page 1
