Bestselling Authors Collection 2012

by Trish Morey; Day Leclaire; Natalie Anderson; Brenda Jackson; Ann Voss Peterson

  Twenty-four hours later Lorenzo finally went to do some work for a bit—having instructed her to phone down if she needed anything. He paused halfway down the stairs. Rosanna was on her way up, a sheaf of flowers across one arm.

  She waggled her finger at him. ‘You don’t take my best friend home to your place and think you’re not getting me too.’

  He laughed. ‘She’ll be pleased to see you. She’s bored and getting restless.’

  ‘I’ve got some magazines.’

  His grin faded as she got closer. ‘You’re wearing her necklace.’ His throat went tight as he saw it.

  She touched it. ‘Stunning, isn’t it? I bought it at the exhibition the other night. Made sure I did it as soon as I got there. I wanted her to have one “sold” sign really early on.’ She grinned. ‘Not that I needed to worry—she sold most of them in the first hour. But she was so nervous.’

  He nodded. ‘I know.’ He should have thought to do that. That should have been him. But he’d been thinking too selfishly. ‘You’re a good friend to her.’

  ‘Only because she’s wonderful to me. It’s nice to be able to do something for her for once,’ Rosanna said. ‘She does so much for everyone else.’

  ‘Yeah.’ She did. She bent over backwards for the ones she loved. She was bending every which way for him. And he wasn’t happy about it. She deserved so much more. The feeling inside his chest tightened.

  She was going to take him—like this—with nothing extra. She was too generous. And he wasn’t going to let her get away with it. Not any more. No matter the cost to him, she was too important. Her happiness was too important.

  He could do it, sure he could—because she deserved it.

  ‘I’ve got a few other things I need to do for her.’ He swallowed and bit the bullet. ‘Are you up to helping me?’

  Rosanna looked sharply curious. ‘What kind of things?’

  ‘Top secret things.’

  ‘Spend money kind of top-secret things?’

  ‘Lots of money,’ he acknowledged.

  ‘Then you’ve got an able assistant.’

  He’d grin if he weren’t feeling so freaked. ‘Fantastic.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SOPHY let Lorenzo guide her to her seat. Honestly, she was over the cotton wool treatment. Four days since her accident and he was still handling her as if he was afraid she’d break any moment.

  ‘You’re into taking this risk a second time?’

  ‘The first wasn’t such a risk,’ she teased back. ‘It’s not like you’ve asked me for my passport.’

  He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out two small blue books.

  ‘No way.’ Sophy stared at them. ‘You got my passport? How did you do that?’

  He didn’t answer. Just grinned at her in a lazy way.

  ‘That was at my parents’ house.’ She frowned. ‘At least, I think it was. You didn’t break in there, did you?’

  ‘I never did breaking and entering. Not my strength.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’re capable of anything you set your mind to,’ she muttered. ‘It’s scary.’

  ‘Are you scared?’

  She met his serious gaze. ‘No.’ She did up her seat belt. ‘Actually I’m hoping you’re going to make me a member of the mile high club.’

  He laughed but she wasn’t kidding. He’d kissed her since the accident, but they hadn’t had sex. And she needed it—badly wanted to connect with him. There was a distance between them. She sensed his tension, as if he was keeping something back from her.

  ‘Are we going back to Hanmer?’

  He just smiled.

  She was sure of it when they got into the rental car in Christchurch and he took the road north again. Fine by her—she couldn’t think of anything nicer than making love with him in that wonderful warm water again.

  But he turned off on a side road well before he should. Then took another, a gravel road this time. The building appeared out of nowhere. One of those churches that had been built a century ago and now was stuck in the middle of a field with nothing else around—no other buildings, no cars, nothing.

  ‘Sophy.’

  He switched off the engine. He was so pale she was seriously worried.

  ‘Lorenzo?’

  He turned to face her. ‘Will you marry me?’ It was only once he’d asked it that he looked directly into her eyes.

  She blinked, stunned at the question that had come so suddenly out of the blue. ‘Yes. Of course I will.’ Her heart thudded hard enough to burst from her chest.

  But he didn’t smile. Didn’t look even a smidge more relaxed. He just jerked his head in a sharp negating gesture. ‘But will you marry me right now?’

  She stared from him, to the church in front of them. ‘Now?’

  ‘Right now.’ He sat still as marble.

  ‘Of course I will.’ She answered in a heartbeat.

  ‘You’re sure? You’re absolutely sure?’ He was the colour of marble too.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But are you?’

  He smiled then. It was as if the full power of the sun had burst through the storm clouds—scattering them to the furthest edge of the universe. He got out of the car, strode round to her door and opened it.

  She stepped out carefully, looking cautiously at him as he took her hand and led her to the closed doors of the old church.

  ‘We can’t really get married now can we?’ She climbed the stairs doubtfully. She didn’t think there was a minister in there—there wasn’t a car in the yard, there didn’t seem to be another soul around for miles.

  Unless he meant to do some little personal made-up thing for just the two of them? Well, that would be fine by her. She wanted to be with him. She was happy.

  He pulled the heavy door open and was a half-step behind her as she went in. She blinked in the dim light, suddenly saw the movement. The turning of heads. The smiles.

  The church was full of people. Full.

  She looked at Lorenzo—saw the colour had leeched from his skin again. A tall streak came flying up the aisle to her.

  ‘Rosanna, what are you doing here?’ Sophy asked, utterly shocked.

  ‘I’m your bridesmaid, silly.’

  ‘You’re serious.’ Sophy stared. ‘You’re not serious.’

  ‘I’m dead serious,’ said Rosanna.

  ‘So did you mean it?’ Lorenzo asked quietly. ‘You’ll marry me right now?’

  ‘No, I need at least ten minutes with her first.’ Rosanna again.

  Sophy ignored Rosanna. Took a step closer to him, reached up on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his.

  ‘Five minutes, okay?’ He whispered, cupping her jaw. ‘Don’t be late.’

  She saw the anxiety hidden not so deep in his eyes. ‘I won’t be.’

  Rosanna dragged her by the hand out of the church and around the back to the vestry entrance. ‘Didn’t you hear the man? Five minutes is all we have.’

  ‘You’re not wearing black.’ Sophy stared at her stupidly.

  ‘It’s a wedding, not a funeral.’

  Sophy clapped her hand over her mouth to stop the crazed giggle bursting out.

  ‘Ta da.’ Rosanna held up the hanger.

  Sophy’s jaw dropped and she took a few steps closer. ‘Where did you find it?’

  Rosanna shrugged. ‘Darling, I’m a buyer. I shop for a living—you know this.’

  ‘But, Ro—’

  ‘I know, even for me it’s outstanding. Now strip.’

  Rosanna held the dress for Sophy to step into. Fixing the zip for her and smoothing the skirt, holding the new shoes that were the exact shade to match.

  ‘It all fits.’

  ‘Of course. I am a professional.’

  ‘Oh, Ro—’

  ‘No getting emotional. Not yet,’ Rosanna said tartly. ‘Now, we can do a better job of hiding this bruise.’ Despite her astringent tone, Rosanna swept the brush gently through Sophy’s hair, quickly but carefully put in some clips. ‘A rub of
lipstick. You don’t need any other make-up—you’re glowing as it is.’

  Sophy needed a distraction—otherwise she was going to hyperventilate, or get hysterical, or run into the church right now, half-ready, just to make sure it really was happening. She looked at her friend’s demure French navy frock. ‘Is Vance here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Sophy glanced—that was an arctic-sounding answer. ‘Are you not getting on?’

  ‘We’ve never got on. We just got it on a few times.’

  Yeah, but Sophy had suspected, just for a fleeting second, that maybe Rosanna had finally met her match. ‘So what happened?’

  ‘He told me I had to give up the others. It was him and no one else. An ultimatum, no less.’

  ‘How unreasonable of him,’ Sophy remarked dryly. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said no, of course.’

  ‘Oh, Rosanna—’

  ‘Be quiet or I’ll spread lipstick all over your cheeks.’ Rosanna looked down. ‘You know me, Soph. I’m thrilled for you, I am. But you know the whole monogamous happy-ever-after thing isn’t for me. The only time I’ll ever walk down an aisle is right now, as your witness.’

  ‘I know.’ Sophy put her hand on her friend. ‘And you know how much I love you for doing it for me.’

  Rosanna shrugged, reverting back to snappy. ‘It was fun spending Lorenzo’s money.’ She stood back and assessed her handiwork. ‘Okay, you’ve got something old—the dress. Something new—the shoes. Now for something borrowed and something blue.’ She looked sly, undid the clasp on the necklace she wore round her neck.

  ‘Rosanna.’ Sophy’s heart melted even more.

  ‘You have to wear it. He loves it on you.’

  The necklace she’d made. ‘I’m giving it back to you after.’

  ‘Of course, it’s borrowed.’ Rosanna smiled. ‘You look like you’ve put that stuff in your eyes. They’re all big and sparkly.’

  ‘Deadly nightshade?’

  ‘Dad!’ Sophy whirled around.

  ‘You look beautiful.’ He walked towards her, looking super-establishment in his grey suit. But he was smiling that wonderful, proud smile. ‘Would you like me to walk up the aisle with you, Sophy?’

  ‘Oh, Dad.’ She took the two paces and he folded her into his arms. ‘Just the one way.’

  He laughed. ‘Yes, you have the exit covered already.’

  ‘How did this happen?’ She couldn’t believe it.

  ‘Lorenzo’s spent the last three days organising it.’

  ‘But is it legal?’

  ‘I’m a judge, honey. Of course it is.’

  ‘But how?’

  ‘He’s a good man. And he knows how to get things done.’

  Sophy nodded. ‘He’s very strong. He’s wonderful to me.’

  ‘I can see that. It’s obvious how much he cares for you. A person who loves you like that, we’ll always welcome.’

  Sophy bit her lip. Did Lorenzo love her? In his own way she knew he must—he’d never be doing this otherwise. And maybe one day he’d even be able to tell her.

  Her mother came to the door. ‘Hurry up, the poor boy is out there looking paler than a ghost.’

  The poor boy? Sophy choked back the laughing sob and gave her mother a hug.

  ‘No tears, you two,’ her father said gruffly. ‘You’ll both ruin your make-up.’

  ‘Hold it together, Renz. She won’t be a minute.’

  ‘I won’t be happy until it’s done.’ Until she was his. He breathed out a long breath—trying to control the racing pulse, the nerves slowly killing him. ‘Thanks for being here.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Dani is beside herself with excitement. You should have heard her on the flight—”I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it” over and over.’

  ‘I’m sure you figured out a way to shut her up.’ Lorenzo flicked a quick glance to where his friend’s wife sat sandwiched between Kat and Cara, who had her new baby cuddled to her breast. They were out of the neo-natal unit and thriving. Her husband looked like a doting fool. Lorenzo went even more tense—could barely dare hope that he’d be like that one day. His attention swerved straight back to the door at the back of the church. Where was she? Had this all been a huge mistake? Was she working out a way of backing out of it without embarrassing him?

  ‘Relax.’

  Easy for Alex to say. But Sophy was his one hope of salvation. The link to the vulnerable humanity he knew he’d hidden away a long time ago. But with her he had the courage—and the desire—to open up and be everything. To do everything. To embrace all that life had to offer.

  He cleared his throat. Okay, so maybe the courage bit was fading. He needed to see her. Had he done the right thing? Her whole family was here. All thirty thousand of them. There was music all of a sudden and an expectant hush descended. The whole congregation stood for her.

  Lorenzo couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. Decades ago probably, as a kid getting a hiding. But the lump in his throat now was like a burning ball of metal—only instead of melting it was getting harder and harder and bigger.

  He staved off the tears by sheer will—based in the raw desire to see her clearly at this moment. No stupid salty water blurring the vision of her walking to meet him. Man, she was beautiful. The dress was white and slim fitting and frothed to the floor. Her blue eyes, almost painfully bright, looked nowhere but right into him.

  She smiled. And his heart burst open.

  He followed the minister’s instructions—repeated the words, listened to her cool, clear voice say them back to him.

  So he could kiss her now. But there was something he needed to do first—here and now and in front of a hundred witnesses.

  He cleared his throat, took a deep breath as he turned to face her, gazing right into her beautiful blue eyes.

  And finally he said it—the thing he’d never said to anyone before. Had never dreamed he’d ever be capable of saying, let alone actually feeling.

  ‘I love you.’ Suddenly he was freed from the terrible tension he’d felt for ever. ‘I love you.’ He said it again with a smile—louder that time as he recognised it as the beginning of a whole new meaning to his life.

  She crumpled and he caught her to him, tasting her tears as he kissed her.

  He did. He really did love her—the power of it was beyond anyone’s control. Certainly his. But that was okay. That was better than okay.

  Sophy heard him whispering it again as he held her in a bear hug so tight she couldn’t breathe. But she wasn’t letting him get away with just one kiss. Not after that. She put her palms on his face, blinking through the tears, feeling her soul sing as she touched her lips to his. She was tight in his arms again, literally swept off her feet as they kissed.

  There was cheering and clapping and, for her, utter reluctance as they drew apart. Sophy turned, faced the sea of smiles and sparkling outfits for only a second. Then she turned back to him and was centred again. He was her anchor. And she his. Together they’d form a foundation from which they could do anything.

  He kissed her again, the way she needed to be kissed—with love and heat and fierce intensity.

  ‘I love you, Lorenzo.’

  He smiled, that rare, shining, carefree smile that she hoped would now be much more common.

  She’d known there were people. As she’d walked up the aisle she’d seen them in her peripheral vision. But all her attention had been on the man waiting for her at the altar. Stock-still, pale, looking at her as if she were an illusion—as if fearful she’d disappear in a wisp of smoke if he so much as blinked.

  Now, as they walked back down the aisle together, her arm tightly clamped to his side, she saw them all properly—her parents, her brother and sister, aunts, a few cousins, Rosanna’s boys, several other friends. And she recognised the Wilsons, Vance, Kat, Cara, some others who she guessed were vineyard workers. All were here to celebrate with them.

  From somewhere—who knew where?�
��a couple of large buses had appeared out the front of the church. They all climbed aboard and were taken to the reception in a marquee in the middle of the Wilsons’ vineyard. They dined and danced and laughed. It seemed Lorenzo really had impressed her father. The two of them bonded over fine wine and possible investments. Her mother was just floored by him. Sophy understood that all too well. Sophy gazed round at the gleaming silverware, the white and silver decorations making the room sparkle.

  It was the grandest gesture anyone had ever done for her. She who’d organised this and that—the surprise parties here, the celebrations there. The biggest day of her life had been arranged by all who loved her. In an old church in the middle of nowhere the man she loved had given himself to her—unreservedly.

  ‘I can’t believe you did this for me.’ She gazed up at him as they danced together on the specially constructed wooden floor.

  ‘I wanted to do something nice for you.’ He smiled faintly.

  ‘You’ve done a lot of nice things already, Lorenzo—you gave me workshop space, you gave me time in Hanmer, you did those designs for me.’

  ‘But it was all with conditions. There are no conditions on this.’

  ‘Other than that I promise to be your wife and to love you always.’

  ‘Just that little thing, yeah.’

  ‘Unconditionally given.’

  He pulled her closer. ‘Do you mind not getting to organise your own wedding?’

  ‘Mind?’ She laughed. ‘I’m so relieved I don’t have to. No stress. I could just enjoy it.’

  ‘Rosanna was fantastic.’ He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. ‘So were your parents.’

  ‘Thank you so much.’

  ‘They love you.’

  She nodded, unable to speak any more.

  ‘Sophy?’

  She turned into his arms, hiding her tears in his neck.

  ‘I love you.’

  She looked at him then. He was smiling, his face light, his eyes warm and free of shadows. ‘If I’d known how good it felt to say it, I’d have said it back that day when you rang for the doctor in my apartment. I wanted to make love to you then—I’m going to now.’