Pure Pleasure

by Ava McKnight

  My gaze flashed to his as his grin widened. “This is a ticket to Seattle,” I said on a sharp breath.

  “Yes. First class. Sorry, but my legs are too long for coach.”

  I shook my head. He was just too much. Which prompted me to ask, “What else?” Because I could tell from that now familiar wicked glint in his sky-blue eyes that he had more up his sleeve.

  “Well, don’t get angry, but I did book us a suite at the Four Seasons. Booked one for your mom too.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes again. “That’s just…way over the top.”

  “Yeah, well,” he said as he took my hand and pulled me to him, so I stood between his parted legs. “That’s just something you’re going to have to get used to about me. If you love me, you have to love all the crazy things I do.”

  This time, I nodded as the drops crested the rims of my eyes. “I can accept that.”

  “And you can believe that your past doesn’t bother me? That it makes me respect you even more for forging your own path and moving away from everything you knew and loved in order to make a better life for you and your mom?”

  Again, I nodded. “You wouldn’t be here if that weren’t true.”

  “No, I wouldn’t, darlin’.”

  He pulled me closer to him and kissed me in that tender yet exciting way that made my heart melt at the same time it sent my pulse racing.

  When he finally broke the kiss, he whispered, “We’ve got a few hours to kill before our flight.”

  I grinned as he brushed the rest of the tears from my cheeks. “My article is done and with the copy editor. I’m free for the rest of the afternoon.”

  He hopped off my desk and took my hand after I put my boarding pass in my bag and slung the strap over my shoulder.

  We said goodbye to the girls and left the building. In typical Ky fashion, however, what awaited us at the curb wasn’t a taxi. It was a stretch Hummer limo.

  With a laugh, I said, “You can’t do anything normal, can you?”

  “But you love me anyway, right?”

  The sparkle in his eyes aside, I knew he was baiting me. It occurred to me that everything he’d done was the equivalent of putting his own pride on the line to chase after a girl who’d thought she wasn’t good enough for him. How ironic.

  So after we climbed into the backseat and the driver shut the door, I said, “Yes, I do love you. And I really like the feeling.”

  He nodded as he poured a glass of champagne for each of us. “Yeah, I’m enjoying it too.”

  We touched the rims of our glasses and sipped. But another thought struck me and I said, “This is all very sweet, what you’re doing for me and for my mother. But what about yours?”

  He eyed me quizzically. “What do you mean?”

  “Are you just going to let her put an ocean between the two of you? I mean, I understand how it feels to lose someone you love. Especially a romantic love—your spouse, even. My mother was devastated and as I said, she hasn’t dated and would never consider marrying again. I feel bad about that, but at least she and I have a relationship.”

  Ky was quiet for a few minutes. Finally, he said, “My mom won’t date either. She was crushed when she lost my dad. Worse, I think she felt it in her bones that his truck would be the death of him. But it was what he loved, so she never put her foot down. I think she feels guilty about that. I think she wishes she’d insisted he not race.”

  I had to consider this myself—its impact on me and our budding relationship—and posed a very important question. “You’re confident in your new roll cage?”

  He took my hand and brought it to his lips. “It’s been tested, sweetheart. I’m not going to get hurt in that truck. At least, not in a rollover.”

  A cautionary tale. I got it. There were other dangers involved.

  He followed this up by saying, “You know the adage—I could get hit by a bus tomorrow. At least if something happens to me in my truck… Well I know that’s how my dad would have wanted to go and I feel the same way.”

  “Which is why you didn’t stop racing after he died tragically.”

  “I told you I wished I’d had the cage done before that day. But the truth is, when racing is in your blood—and it has been for me for four generations—you’d rather die from accidentally taking a wrong turn off a cliff than of, say…pneumonia.”

  I had to weigh that logic as we drove to my apartment. What I discovered as I ruminated over the possibility of losing someone I loved in a racing accident was enlightening to me, because it was based off something Ky had said about his mother.

  “She didn’t put her foot down and say your dad couldn’t race. Would he have given it up for her?”

  He stared at me a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. But she knew he wouldn’t be the same person. That exciting, run-on-the-ragged-edge type of man who attracted her in the first place.”

  I could understand this. But I needed just a bit more. “I think you should invite her to your next race. I’d like to meet her and I think she should see you drive, Ky. My guess is, a part of your dad lives on because you race, and your mother just might embrace that, given your new roll cage. The safety precautions you’re taking should help to put her at ease.”

  “It’d be nice for her to see, firsthand, what I’ve done. She’d feel much more comfortable about me racing.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “You should as well.”

  “I trust you.” Besides, everything he’d said was true. He’d done his best to control and safeguard his racing environment. But no one really had absolute control over their destiny. The Hummer we were currently riding in could wreck. Our plane to Seattle could crash. That wasn’t a pessimistic viewpoint, it was a reality check. Ky could race for the next forty years and never injure himself. I could get cancer tomorrow, similar to my dad.

  “Do what you love,” I told him as I reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I can accept that about you.” Lord knew he had no qualms over my life. However, I did add, “But find some way to bridge the distance with your mom. You won’t forgive yourself if something happens to her before the two of you have a chance to reconnect. And vice versa.”

  He nodded as he set aside our glasses. Then he gathered me close to him and said, “Do you know that you continue to amaze me?”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. I gazed up at him, thinking I was—hands down—the luckiest girl in the world. Not because I’d landed a rich guy. Because I’d fallen in love with the right guy. A man who had boyish fun on the racetrack, while taking the safety of himself and his competitors seriously. A man who ran a successful business. A man who didn’t want anyone, especially me, to think of him as a hotshot daredevil or playboy.

  He was a million wonderful things all wrapped up in one gorgeous, sensuous package I very much wanted to undress.

  So when the Hummer arrived in front of my modest apartment complex, I said, “Why don’t you send the driver away for a while? I think we’re going to need extra time to…pack…before we leave for the airport.”

  Ky grinned as his head dipped. He kissed me again and I instantly went into sensory overload. I was still feeling emotionally charged from our reunion, and his very slow, sexy kiss charged me sexually. I was eternally grateful he’d not found anything unsavory about my past, and that he’d felt as strongly connected to me as I was to him. Enough so that he’d come to Scottsdale to prove how much he wanted me. Not just in his bed, but in his life.

  When he pulled away, I was breathless.

  “You really should learn how to kiss a girl,” I teased as I fanned myself with my hand.

  “I’m not kissing a girl, darlin’.” He winked at me.

  Then he helped me out of the limo when the driver opened the door. We walked hand in hand to the foot of the steps that led to my second-floor unit.

  There, he stopped and asked, “Did you want me to consider moving here when we were together on my boat?”

  I remembered asking him if he enjoyed Texas and p
rematurely wondering if he’d relocate for me. But that was the furthest thing from my mind now.

  “No, I don’t want you to relocate. However, if you asked me to…” I shrugged a shoulder and bit back a grin.

  “I do want you to,” he was quick to say. “Not just for me. Well, okay, yes for me. But for you as well. I think you’d like Austin.”

  “I’m willing to give it a try. Scottsdale never grew on me.”

  “In that case, I have to tell you that Dan Peters from Off-Road Rally thinks you’d be a great addition to his magazine, if you decide to follow me around to all my races.”

  “A job offer?” I asked, shocked.

  Ky nodded. “He’s the publisher. He checked out your articles online and thinks you’re pretty talented.”

  “Wow, that’s…so cool. I could totally go for that.” I was now a fan of the sport after all. And it’d be just one more thing that strengthened my connection to Ky.

  He kissed me again, and I knew as long as I stopped obsessing over my past, I’d have a very bright future ahead of me.

  Epilogue

  As it turned out, I ended up with the best of both worlds when it came to my career. Melodie asked me to stay on at the magazine as a correspondent who wrote a monthly column on the places I visited with Ky. There were plenty of interesting hot spots around the racing locations, and it was fun to explore them while Ky was working on the truck or attending contingency.

  Then I’d catch up on the happenings at the race and be there to see him win—and cover the entire adventure for Off-Road Rally.

  One balmy spring day, only a few months after we’d met, I settled into a chaise lounge chair with Ky on one side of me and our mothers on the other side. We sipped margaritas and watched a spectacular Mexican sunset from the private patio of the condo Ky had rented for a race in Puerto Penasco, an hour or so from the Arizona border.

  “Congratulations on another win,” his mom said, her pride evident in her tone. She’d hedged on attending this race, but Ky had kept at her for weeks and she’d eventually caved.

  “I’m glad you came,” he told her.

  My head rolled on the thick cushion to look at her as I added, “He really is a persistent sucker, isn’t he?”

  She smiled at me. “Yes. Very much like his father.”

  I recognized the flash of pain in her eyes. I’d seen it plenty of times in my own mother’s eyes, and in Ky’s. I suspected they all saw the same emotion in mine too, when we talked about my dad.

  But the flicker of agony vanished and she continued. “I think he’s actually a better driver than John was, which is really saying something.”

  “I was certainly impressed,” my mom said, from one chair over. “This whole weekend has been a treat. Thank you all so much. I’ve never had so much fun…nor have I ever seen such a beautiful sunset.”

  She’d been as hesitant as Ky’s mom to come to Mexico, though for different reasons. As had been the case when Ky had whisked my mother off to the Four Seasons with me still in awe of his generosity and good intentions, she had insisted she’d never done anything to deserve this kind of self-indulgence. Ky had assured her she had—by raising me so well.

  He never failed to tug on my heartstrings or catch me off guard with his fabulous ideas.

  But I was the one with the surprise this evening. I rummaged around in the tote bag next to my chair and pulled out a box of truffles I’d bought at Fran’s. I had two jobs now, and I was working on a novel—purely for the enjoyment of it. Whether it was ever published or not, I at least had to give myself credit for the work I was putting into it and for the fact that I was doing it because I loved writing, not because I was desperate to sell it in order to cover my bills. I had that well under control with my dual income.

  As I passed around the decadent chocolates, Ky said, “While the four of us getting together is certainly a cause to celebrate with ridiculously expensive candy, I think we could make it an even more memorable occasion.”

  I eyed him curiously as he reached into the front pocket of his jeans and extracted a ring.

  A stunning masterpiece that made the sweet and salty taste of the chocolate bursting in my mouth all the more thrilling as excitement shot through me and my toes curled in the sandals I’d ordered off eBay a week and a half ago.

  With his devilish smile, Ky handed over the ring. He swung his long legs over the side of his chair to face me as our mothers sprang from their loungers and gathered around.

  He said, “I had it designed for you. It’s one of a kind. Never owned or worn by anyone else.”

  Tears instantly filled my eyes. The cushion-cut diamond sparkled brilliantly under the soft glow of the patio lights and the intricate platinum setting was polished to a high sheen.

  “It’s breathtaking,” I whispered as fat drops rolled down my cheeks.

  “I’d hoped you’d like it,” he told me.

  “I love it.”

  He shifted off his lounge chair and knelt in front of me. Taking my hand in his, he asked, “Will you marry me, Giselle?”

  Oh my God. How had I, of all people, become Cinderella?

  With a nod, I said, “I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else.”

  And I suddenly understood, to the depths of my soul, why our mothers chose to live alone, rather than find someone else. For me, no one but Ky would ever own my heart.

  He took the ring from me and slid it onto my finger as the two women standing beside us clapped their hands and then hugged each other. They’d not only formed an instant friendship when they’d met, but we’d all become a family.

  I officially had all the things I’d never dared hope for, but which meant the world to me. I didn’t care about the money—I cared about the people surrounding me. And though I would proudly show off the gorgeous rock on my finger, I’d still shop eBay.

  “I love you,” Ky said as he held me tight.

  “You continue to amaze me,” I told him. “And I love you with all my heart.”

  Not only had I become a fan of off-road racing, I was now a firm believer in fairytales and happy ever afters.

  About the Author

  Multi-published and award-winning author Ava McKnight’s love of romantic fiction began as a teenager. She holds degrees in General Studies and Communications and has worked on newspapers as an editor and reporter. Most recently, she worked in PR, writing speeches and Congressional testimonies.

  Ava is a member of Romance Writers of America and one of its Phoenix chapters, Desert Rose. She has served as a Board member, Newsletter Director, National Contest Chairperson and Arbitration Co-Chair. She is also published in romantic fiction as Calista Fox.

  Ava welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

  Tell Us What You Think

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  Also by Ava McKnight

  All for Shayla

  Island Fantasy

  Jordan Tamed

  One Spark

  Right Moves

  Satisfying Sophie

  Scandalous

  Vaughn’s Bidding

  Worth the Wait

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Pure Pleasure

  ISBN 9781419940873

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Pure Pleasure Copyright © 2012 Ava McKnight

  Edited by Briana St. James

  Photography by fotolia.com

  Electronic book publication June 2012

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