“I’m ready,” she breathed, trailing her hands up his body and linking her fingers around his neck. The ends of his hair tickled her wrists.
“And then,” he snuggled her closer and whispered, “babies.”
Sadie’s breath caught.
Aiden’s fixed smile remained in place. “You’re freaking out,” he observed.
“No, I’m not.” Yes, she was.
“Yes, you are.”
She bit her lip. “A little.”
“Why don’t we start with one baby, and then work our way into multiples?” Aiden stroked her back as he held her, his face growing serious. “You are going to be an amazing mother, Sadie.” Then he kissed her, and she melted into him, pretty sure he could talk her into absolutely anything.
“Come on, you guys.” Shane’s exasperated voice lifted through the living room.
Aiden’s lips left hers. “Go away,” he told Shane, not taking his eyes off Sadie’s.
“Gift exchange time.”
Sadie pulled her hands away from Aiden’s neck and clapped. “Oh! I have the best gift! You’ll want to end up with mine,” she assured Aiden.
“No, you want mine,” Shane told Aiden. “It’s an island,” he deadpanned.
“Yuppie.”
“Hippie.” Shane drained his scotch glass and grimaced. “Come on, Aid, your dad’s making me drink this, and you should have to, too.”
“Right behind you,” Aiden told him.
Shane wandered into the den, calling, “Yeah, yeah,” over his shoulder.
Aiden faced Sadie again. “You’re going to want to get my present.”
She pursed her lips and pretended to consider. “I don’t know…I really could use an island. What’d you bring?”
“Remanned carburetor.”
She grasped the waistband of his jeans and tugged. “Ohh, sexy. You know what I like.”
Aiden’s eyes darkened and a feral spark lit the sea of green. “I do know what you like.”
Sadie’s heart kicked up about three hundred notches.
“I bet we could sneak out to the tree house and be back before they start the gift exchange,” Aiden said. Another whoop came from the den, and Sadie imagined everyone tossing back another mouthful of scotch. “They’ll probably forget we were ever here.”
He kissed her neck as she sighed and weaved her fingers in his hair. So sexy. “But it’s freezing out there,” she protested weakly as his rough jaw abraded her neck.
“I’d keep you warm,” he murmured into her hair, his fingers sliding just beneath the edge of her sweater.
“I bet you will.” She gave him a gentle shove. “Let’s go to the den and open presents.”
He curled his lip in protestation.
“And afterward, we’ll check out the tree house.”
Landon entered the living room next, swaying slightly, probably caused by the drink in his hand. Sadie had never seen him so loose. He looked more approachable with his hair mussed, wearing a casual V-neck sweater. “Shane bought an island? Seriously?” He frowned, gave them assessing glances. “You two at it again?”
“Leave us alone,” Aiden growled, but his eyes danced with humor.
“I’ve never seen my brother so horny until he met you,” Landon told Sadie. “And I knew him when he was fourteen.”
Sadie covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. Aiden looked murderous.
“This one time, our neighbor—” Landon started, then his eyes widened as Aiden tore through the living room after him. Sadie followed. When she reached the doorway, Aiden and Landon were scrapping with one another, each trying to get the other into a headlock.
This was her family now, too, Sadie realized as she glanced around the room. Angel and her husband, Richie, were at the bar, sharing one glass of wine and smiling over the rim at each other.
Evan sat, glass in hand, a cautious half smile on his face. He looked content, which was nice to see, though she wouldn’t go so far as to say he was happy. The happiest she’d seen him was when he’d tucked Lyon into bed after the kid slipped into a sugar coma from eating the contents of his stocking.
Mike leaned on the mantle, his own glass of scotch nearby, watching his brood with a mix of sadness and pride. He missed Kathy, Sadie knew. They all did. Even Sadie, who didn’t need to meet the woman to know the world was less special without her in it.
Crickitt was settled on Shane’s lap, his wide palm covering her middle. Crickitt lifted her mug in a silent cheers to Sadie. Sadie smiled, knowing just how her best friend felt. They’d both lucked into this family. Into forever. It was almost too much.
Aiden came to Sadie a second later, smoothing his hair and issuing an empty warning at Landon, who uttered the very un-CEO-like retort of, “Whenever you’re ready, bro.”
“Miss me?” Aiden asked, pulling her attention from his family. He dropped a kiss on her lips as Landon and Shane booed, and Evan insisted they “get a room.”
Angel and Crickitt argued they thought it was sweet.
Sadie crooked her finger and Aiden leaned down so she could whisper in his ear. She grasped his face and whispered, “We would make beautiful babies.”
He lifted his head so he could look at her, the emotion in his eyes leagues deep, and filled with desire.
Finally, Sadie had let herself want all the things she’d longed for deep in her heart. And, finally, she believed she could have it. With Aiden, she could have anything. She could have everything.
There never should have been any doubt.
About the Author
Jessica Lemmon has always been a dreamer. At some point, after she decided head-in-the-clouds thinking was childish, she went out and got herself a job…and then she got another one because that one was lousy. And when that one stopped being fulfilling, she went out and got another…and another. Soon it became apparent that she’d only be truly happy doing what she loved. And since “eating potato chips” isn’t a viable career, she opted to become a writer. With fire in her heart, she dusted off a book she’d started years prior, finished it, and submitted it. It may have been the worst book ever, but it didn’t stop her from writing another one. Now she has several books finished, several more started, and even more marinating in her brain (which currently resides in the clouds, thank you very much), and she couldn’t be happier. She firmly believes God gifts us with talents for a purpose, and with His help, you can create the life you want. (While eating potato chips.)
Jessica is an ex-meat-eater, writer, artist, dreamer, wife, and den mother to two dogs.
Business or pleasure?
See the next page for an excerpt from the first book in Jessica Lemmon’s Love in the Balance series
Tempting the Billionaire
Chapter 1
Oscillating red, green, and blue lights sliced through the smoke-filled club. Men and women cluttered the floor, their arms pumping in time with the throbbing speakers as an unseen fog machine muddied the air.
Shane August resisted the urge to press his fingertips into his eyelids and stave off the headache that’d begun forming there an hour ago.
Tonight marked the end of a grueling six-day workweek, one he would have preferred to end in his home gym, or in the company of a glass of red wine. He frowned at the bottle of light beer in his hand. Six dollars. That was fifty cents an ounce.
The sound of laughter pulled his attention from the overpriced brew, and he found a pair of girls sidling by his table. They offered twin grins and waved in tandem, hips swaying as they strode by.
“Damn,” Aiden muttered over his shoulder. “I should have worn a suit.”
Shane angled a glance at his cousin’s T-shirt and jeans. “Do you even own a suit?”
“Shut up.”
Shane suppressed a budding smile and tipped his beer bottle to his lips. It was Aiden who’d dragged him here tonight. Shane could give him a hard time, but Aiden was here to forget about his ex-wife, and she’d given him a hard enough time for both of them.
>
“This is where you’re making your foray into the dating world?” Shane asked, glancing around the room at the bevy of flesh peeking out from beneath skintight skirts and shorts.
“Seemed like a good place to pick up chicks,” Aiden answered with a roll of one shoulder.
Shane tamped down another smile. Aiden was recently divorced, though finally might be a better term. Two years of wedded bliss had been anything but, thanks to Harmony’s wandering eye. Shane couldn’t blame Aiden for exercising a bit of freedom. God knows, if Shane were in his shoes, he’d have bailed a long time ago. This time when Harmony left, she’d followed her sucker-punch with a TKO: the man she left Aiden for was his—now former—best friend. At first Aiden had been withdrawn, then angry. Tonight he appeared to be masking his emotions beneath a cloak of overconfidence.
“Right,” Shane muttered. “Chicks.”
“Well, excuse me, Mr. Moneybags.” Aiden leaned one arm on the high-top table and faced him. “Women may throw themselves at you like live grenades, but the rest of us commoners have to come out to the trenches and hunt.”
Shane gave him a dubious look, in part for the sloppily mixed metaphor, but mostly because dodging incoming women didn’t exactly describe his lackluster love life. If he’d learned anything from his last girlfriend, it was how to spot a girl who wanted to take a dip in his cash pool.
He only had himself to blame, he supposed. He was accustomed to solving problems with money. Problem-free living just happened to be at the top of his priority list. Unfortunately, relationships didn’t file away neatly into manila folders, weren’t able to be delegated in afternoon conference meetings. Relationships were complicated, messy. Time-consuming.
No, thanks.
“I can pick up a girl in a club,” Shane found himself arguing. It’d been a while, but he never was one to shy away from a challenge. Self-made men didn’t shrink in the face of adversity.
Aiden laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t embarrass yourself.”
Shane straightened and pushed the beer bottle aside. “Wanna bet?”
“With you?” Aiden lifted a thick blond eyebrow. “Forget it! You wipe your ass with fifties.”
“Hundreds,” Shane corrected, earning a hearty chuckle.
“Then again,” Aiden said after finishing off his bottle, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in action, learn what not to do now that I’m single again. Find a cute girl and I’ll be your wingman.” Before Shane could respond, Aiden elbowed him. “Except for her.”
Shane followed his cousin’s pointing finger to the bar, where a woman dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. She looked so delicate sitting there, folded over in her chair, an array of brown curls concealing part of her face.
“Crying chicks either have too much baggage, or they’re wasted.”
Says Aiden Downey, dating guru.
“Drunk can be good,” he continued, “but by the time you get close enough to find out, it’s too late.”
Shane frowned. He didn’t like being told what to do. Or what not to. He wasn’t sure if that’s what made him decide to approach her, or if he’d decided the second Aiden pointed her out. He felt his lips pull into a deeper frown. He shouldn’t be considering it at all.
A cocktail waitress stopped at their table. Shane waved off the offer of another, his eyes rooted on the crying girl at the bar. She looked as out of place in this crowd as he felt, dressed unassumingly in jeans and a black top, her brown hair a curly crown that stopped at her jawline. In the flashy crowd, she could have been dismissed as plain…but she wasn’t plain. She was pretty.
He watched as she brushed a lock from her damp face as her shoulders rose and fell. The pile of crumpled napkins next to her paired with the far-off look in her eyes suggested she was barely keeping it together. Grief radiated off of her in waves Shane swore he could feel from where he sat. Witnessing her pain made his gut clench. Probably because somewhere deep inside, he could relate.
Aiden said something about a girl on the dance floor, and Shane flicked him an irritated glance before his eyes tracked back to the girl at the bar. She sipped her drink and offered the bartender a tight nod of thanks as he placed a stack of fresh napkins in front of her.
Shane felt an inexplicable, almost gravitational pull toward her, his feet urging him forward even as his brain raised one argument after another. Part of him wanted to help, though if she wanted to have a heart-to-heart, she’d be better off talking to Aiden. But if she needed advice or a solution to a tangible problem, well, that he could handle.
He glanced around the room at the predatory males lurking in every corner and wondered again why she was here. If he did approach her, an idea becoming more compelling by the moment, she’d likely shoot him down before he said a single word. So why was he mentally mapping a path to her chair? He pressed his lips together in thought. Because there was a good chance he could erase the despair from her face, a prospect he found more appealing than anything else.
“Okay, her friend is hot, I’ll give you that,” Aiden piped up.
Shane blinked before snapping his eyes to the brunette’s left. Her “hot friend,” as Aiden so eloquently put it, showcased her assets in a scandalously short skirt and backless silver top. He’d admit she was hard to miss. Yet Shane hadn’t noticed her until Aiden pointed her out. His eyes trailed back to the brunette.
“Okay,” Aiden said on a sigh of resignation. “Because I so desperately want to see this, I’m going to take a bullet for you. I’ll distract the crier. You hit on the blonde.” That said, he stood up and headed toward the bar…to flirt with the wrong girl.
The platitude of only having one chance to make a first impression flitted through Shane’s head. He called Aiden’s name, but his shout was lost under the music blasting at near-ear-bleeding decibels. Aiden may be younger and less experienced, but he also had an undeniable charm girls didn’t often turn down. If the brunette spotted his cousin first, she wouldn’t so much as look at Shane. He abandoned his beer, doing a neat jog across the room and reaching Aiden just as he was moving in to tap the brunette’s shoulder.
“My cousin thought he recognized you,” Shane blurted to the blonde, grabbing Aiden by the arm and spinning him in her direction.
The blonde surveyed Aiden with lazy disinterest. “I don’t think so.”
Aiden lifted his eyebrows to ask, What the hell are you doing?
Rather than explain, Shane clapped both palms on Aiden’s shoulders and shoved him closer to the blonde. “His sister’s in the art business.” It was a terrible segue if the expression on Aiden’s face was anything to go by, but it was the first thing that popped into Shane’s head.
The music changed abruptly, slowing into a rhythmic techno-pop remix that had dancers slowing down and pairing up. Aiden slipped into an easy, confident smile. “Wanna dance?” he asked the blonde.
The moment the question was out of his mouth, the scratches and hissing of snare drums shifted into the melodic chimes of the tired and all-too-familiar line dance, “The Electric Slide.”
Aiden winced.
Shane coughed to cover a laugh. “He’s a great dancer,” he said to the blonde.
Aiden shot his elbow into Shane’s ribs but recovered his smile a second later. Turning to the blonde, he said, “He’s right, I am,” then offered his hand.
The blonde glanced at his palm, then leaned past Shane to talk to her friend. “You gonna be okay here?” she called over the music.
The brunette flicked a look from her friend to Shane. The moment he locked on to her bright blue eyes, his heart galloped to life, picking up speed as if running for an invisible finish line. Her eyes left his as she addressed her friend. “Fine.”
It wasn’t the most wholehearted endorsement, but at least she’d agreed to stay.
Aiden and the blonde made their way to the dance floor, and Shane gave his collar a sharp tug and straightened his suit jacket before turning toward the brunette. She examined him, alm
ost warily, her lids heavy over earnest blue eyes. He’d seen that kind of soul-rendering sadness before, a long time ago. Staring back at him from his bathroom mirror.
“That was my cousin, Aiden.” He bumbled to fill the dead air between them. “He wanted to meet your friend.”
“Figures,” the brunette said, barely audible over the music.
He ignored the whistling sound of their conversation plummeting to its imminent death. “She seems nice. Aiden can be kind of an ass around nice girls,” he added, leaning in so she could hear him.
She rewarded him with a tentative upward curve of her lips, the top capping a plumper bottom lip that looked good enough to eat. He offered a small smile of his own, perplexed by the direction of his thoughts. When was the last time he’d been thrown this off-kilter by a woman? Let alone one he’d just met? She shifted in her seat to face him, and a warm scent lifted off her skin—vanilla and nutmeg, if he wasn’t mistaken. He gripped the back of the chair in front of him and swallowed instinctively. Damn. She smelled good enough to eat.
She dipped her head, fiddled with the strap of her handbag, and Shane realized he was staring.
“Shane,” he said, offering his hand.
She looked at it a beat before taking it. “Crickitt.”
“Like the bug?” He flinched. Smooth.
“Thanks for that.” She offered a mordant smile.
Evidently he was rustier at this than he’d thought. “Sorry.” Best get to the point. “Is there something you need? Something I can get you?”
Her eyes went to the full drink in front of her. “I’ve had plenty, but thanks. Anyway, I’m about to leave.”
“I’m on my way out. Can I drop you somewhere?”
She eyed him cautiously.
Okay. Perhaps offering her a ride was a bit forward and, from her perspective, dangerous.
Hard to Handle Page 22
