by Rye Hart
"Likewise," Georgina said quietly before she turned and entered the darkened apartment.
As the door clanged shut behind her, she knew that that this would be last time she saw Carter Heath. They both knew that come dawn, she would already be on her way back home.
Chapter Six
"This is complete horse —"
"Language!" Georgina cut Devon off before he could finish.
Devon growled. "San Francisco: A Growing City of Opportunity and Entrepreneurs! This isn't the article I asked for!" He threw the neatly written article back down on his desk. "Where is Mia Barrington? Where is my exposé on the seedy underbelly of the mail order bride business? Where is the dirt?" he said with decisive force.
"What kind of journalist do you think I am?" she raised her voice as she moved toward him. "This is an excellent take on a growing city in the west, a place that is attracting a lot of attention and potential," she argued. "Mia is gone and Mr. Barrington needs to accept that. As for the seedy mail order bride business, my time with the company was a comfortable enough experience."
"Do you realize how much this article cost me?" Devon seethed. "Barrington agreed to cover the expenses only if you found Mia, and since you failed to do that, I am going to be the one footing the bill."
"Not my problem," Georgina said with a defiant tilt of her head.
"No," said an older male voice behind her, "It is my problem."
Slowly, Georgina turned to face the man that had spoken. It only took a second for her to realize who was standing before her.
"Mr. Barrington," prattled Devon nervously, "I want to apologize for the failings on the part of my journalist."
"Forget it," the older gentlemen said with a dismissive twist of his wrist. He was well dressed, tall, and had a full head of white hair. He walked with a cane and appeared to be every bit of an entitled businessman that thought money could buy him anything.
"So this is the man that sent me on a cross-country chase to find his daughter," Georgina mused. Barrington didn't frighten her one bit. She was used to handling his type, but he most definitely wasn't used to handling a woman like her.
"I see you failed to bring her back," he drawled. His gaze assessed her.
"Perhaps if you had been a bit more clear on why you wanted me to find her, I might have made better use of my time," she challenged.
Barrington chuckled, but not from a place of joy, but from dark amusement. "A female journalist, what a novel idea. Perhaps where I went wrong, was sending a woman in to do a job a man should have done."
Georgina's eyes flared, but she pushed the comment aside in order to keep her cool demeanor. "But you already sent a man," she mocked, "and where is he now?" Barrington had employed Carter to find Mia, and from what Georgina knew, Carter never gave up Mia and Mark's location.
"How dare you!" Barrington exploded, his aged face mottled purple with rage. "As long as I am still alive, I will never stop searching for my daughter," he breathed hotly.
"It's over Mr. Barrington," Georgina said flatly. "Mia is gone now and you need to accept that."
Georgina braced herself for the violent reaction, readied her resilience for his comeback.
It never came.
Instead, with a heavy sigh, the imposing Mr. Barrington began to sob.
Georgina was taken aback by the sudden emotional response of the older gentlemen. She had expected anger, rage, maybe even a bit of violence from the intense man. But instead of her words inciting an angry response, it seemed to have hit him more fiercely than she could have ever anticipated. With a surge of her own heart, Georgina moved forward to comfort the very man she had insulted.
But as she moved forward to comfort him, a soft female voice rang through the intensity of the atmosphere in the room.
"Daddy?" said the petite Mia Barrington.
"Mia, darling?" replied the shaky older man.
Mia stood in the doorway of Devon's small office. A handsome young man stood protectively next to her, his eyes warily watching the situation.
"Yes Daddy, I've come back," Mia said softly.
"I'm so sorry," Barrington said with a timid voice. He tried to hold back his sobs as he turned to face his daughter.
Mia didn't waste a second before she rushed toward her father and embraced him. "I forgive you," she said in a voice that rang heavy with emotion.
"I thought I had lost you," Barrington confessed. "I was angry with myself for allowing my own stubbornness to drive away my only little girl," he whispered against Mia's hair as he embraced her.
"I was worried I had lost you too," she cried into his shoulder.
Georgina figured now would be a good time to make her exit. The room was heavy with the emotions of the reunion, and she knew that it wasn't her place in this family affair.
She stole a glance at Devon, who remained awkwardly at his desk, before she quickly squeezed past the embracing family and out the door.
She quickly made her way past the maze of desks in the small newspaper office, a bittersweet moment as she looked on at the place that had been like her second home for the past few years. She knew that it was time that she moved on, although she wasn't quite sure where she would go yet.
When she opened the door that led out of the building and into the street, she stopped when her gaze locked with an all too familiar one at the bottom of the steps.
"If it isn't my wife," teased the handsome and cocky Carter Heath.
"I'm not your —" she stopped when his gaze turned decisively heated. It threw Georgina off, but only for a moment. Well two can play at that game, she thought darkly to herself.
She glided smoothly down the stairs, her gaze not breaking from his for a second, until she stood at eye level with him.
"Must have been a bit of a long walk all the way from San Francisco?" She took her hand and ran it along his arm. "You must be exhausted," she winked at him playfully.
"It wasn't too bad," he shrugged. "I had the thought of our kiss and the promise of another as incentive to keep going."
Georgina gasped before her lips curled into a seductive smile. "And how were you so sure you would get another?" she asked.
"Well," he suddenly caught her arm as it glided across his and used it to bring her closer to him. "I have an offer for a beautiful woman," he said.
"And what is that?" Georgina asked him from under her hooded lashes.
"If she would like to go into business together and open a newspaper, focused on investigative exposé, in a growing city."
Georgina blinked. Her mind was not only swimming with the dizzying awareness of Carter's body, but now her adventurous brain was intrigued by the prospect of running her own paper. "Really?" she breathed excitedly.
Carter's gaze softened. "Do you think I would come all this way just to tease you about something like that?" he asked.
"I thought you came here for a kiss?" she corrected.
"Since that didn't work out, I figured the business proposal was the next best option," he chuckled.
Georgina laughed, "What am I going to do with you?"
"Whatever you may please," his gaze turned heated once again.
"Then maybe I should just kiss you and end your suffering?" she wondered aloud.
"It would be the more merciful option," he said as he brought his lips a hairsbreadth away from hers.
"Done," she breathed.
In the next moment, their lips collided with an unbridled passion. Georgina didn't care that they were kissing on the side of public walkway. All she could think about was the roughness of his lips against hers, the way he brought his strong arms around her small waist in an embrace, and the fire that crackled between them. A mutual fire that she knew would carry them through the many adventures to come.
The End
Amelia
Chapter One
Amelia Wellington would never have described herself as a snob. But whenever James Evans came near her, she couldn't help but turn her nose u
p at him.
He was a country boy who dreamed of nothing more than the simple life provided by her brother-in-law's cattle ranch.
Amelia dreamed of becoming an artist. Her world was occupied with thoughts of grand overseas adventures, cultured entertainment, and the pursuit of beauty through art.
James was not the type of man that she fantasized about. She liked a man to be a refined gentleman. James was nice enough, but he couldn't tell the difference between a Monet and a Renoir.
When Amelia's elder sister, Marianna, had written to inform her that she would be bringing the children for an extended visit, Amelia had been excited. She hadn't seen Marianna in a few years, and had yet to meet the newest addition to the Dover household. The past few years had been quite lonely in the house with just her mother, after father’s passing last year. Amelia saw her sister's visit as a much needed distraction from the boredom of daily life in Valley Springs.
Amelia had expected Marianna’s husband Larsen would have accompanied his growing family, but as it turns out, he was needed to stay behind to manage the ranch. So instead, the Dover's relied on James Evans — who was more like family than a longstanding employee — to accompany Marianna, Elijah who was ten, Lilly who was four, and baby Gabriel to Valley Springs and stay with them for the duration of the summer, while Larsen and his eldest son Marshal stayed behind.
But that didn't explain why Marianna had been insistent that James accompany Amelia to the art show. At nineteen, Amelia was used to being on her own. And ever since Amelia's second sister Georgina moved to San Francisco with her husband to start her own newspaper two years back, she hadn't been accountable to anyone and she wasn't about to start now.
She had met James once before, five years ago, when he had accompanied the new Dover family on the first trip back to Valley Springs. She hadn't really liked him then, as he had spent the entire trip admiring Georgina. It had made Amelia's blood boil, that he had ignored her because she was youngest.
Amelia hated being treated like the baby of the family. She hated it even more that everyone around her thought they could boss her around. And she hated dragging the uncivilized Texan rancher to a classy event.
She hoped that maybe he would get bored and leave. But no amount of pouting was going to get her out of this one. She would have to just make do.
"So, James," Amelia looked slyly at the man walking confidently next to her. "Do you enjoy art?" He was tall, with thick auburn hair, and bright green eyes that were filled with an excitement for life that was rarely seen around the dull town of Valley Springs.
"As much as the next fella," he spoke with that Texan drawl. Had Amelia not already been set in her ways against him, she might have found it charming. Might have. "I'm usually too busy trying to survive what nature throws at us to spend time admiring a painting of it," he said with a small chuckle.
Amelia blinked. Was the Texan making a joke? "So you haven't heard of the impressive artist, Thomas Florian?" She already knew that he hadn't, but she wanted to make sure that the Texan knew how out of place he really was.
"Old Florian? Of course, we're buddies," he winked mischievously at Amelia.
"Very funny," she rolled her eyes at him. What am I going to do with you? She knew she was being a little mean, but she couldn't help it where James was concerned. Every time she looked at him, all she could see was his stupid sixteen-year-old face looking dumbstruck at Georgina. It doesn't matter that it was almost five years ago, she thought. She still felt he needed to be punished for it.
"So it's this Florian fellow whose work we are going to see?" he asked her.
"Yes," she answered. "He is very well known in Europe and it was amazing that he chose Valley Springs for his traveling art exhibit." As she spoke, her voice lit up with excitement as she began to speak of a passion that was her only means of escape from the dreary life she led.
Apparently, James didn't miss the sudden change in her voice. "So your sister tells me you are passionate about art," he prodded gently. "Do you create some yourself, or do you just enjoy admiring the work of others?" he asked.
"I would love to be a famous artist. I think I could forgo the tortured life story like a lot of them seem to have, although living in Valley Springs is pretty tragic," she laughed. "But yes, to answer your question, I sketch."
"That's pretty incredible," James said. "But not about the whole tragic life story part," he laughed nervously. "I mean," he cleared his throat roughly. "Valley Springs seems like a really nice place, can't be much tragedy here."
"You don't think a life of boredom, cooped up in a house all day, is tragic?" she questioned.
"Beats worrying every day if said house might be blown apart by a tornado, or burned down in a fire, or even repossessed by the bank because the cattle drive was a failure and you weren't able to pay your loans," he said.
Amelia wondered what James was talking about. "How could you think that is worse?" she wondered aloud. "The thought of every day, waking up and wondering what you will face — why that's real living!" she argued.
James stopped walking and turned to survey Amelia. She stopped with him and cocked her head in response to his peculiar action. "Why did you stop?" she asked.
"Because I wanted to remember this moment," he said mysteriously.
Amelia rolled her eyes and sighed. "Well you can keep remembering this moment on the side of the street if you like, but I'm going inside to admire some real culture," she said abruptly. As she turned, she heard James give a low whistle.
Barbarian, she thought.
Chapter Two
Amelia didn't think twice about leaving James on the curb. She had places to go and cultured people to become acquainted with. These types of people rarely came to Valley Springs, and they were her only glimpse into the outside world. If she could get to know some of the people in the business, they might take a look at her work, tell her what an undiscovered talent she was, and the next moment she would be sipping tea with the Queen of England.
She had her whole plan mapped out, and it definitely did not include James Evans.
She took a quick look behind her; he hadn't followed her in. Good, she thought. Now she would be able to gain the undivided attention of the people that really mattered.
She stopped before a lavish landscape. It was a breathtaking scene of a blue-peaked mountain that overlooked a crystal clear river. The details were stunning and presented at a level she aspired to achieve one day.
I wonder, she thought.
"It's a dangerous thing, when a beautiful woman thinks," echoed a deep voice with a thick British accent.
Amelia was startled out of her thoughtful trance by the man's bold statement. "Pardon?" she asked before she turned to face him.
Her stomach dropped a bit the moment she beheld him. He was classical looking, with round-rimmed spectacles, floppy brown hair, and a dazzling smile. He was a bit older, perhaps in his mid-thirties, and wore a well-fitted suit. He was exactly the type of distinguished, artistic gentleman that she had envisioned in her fantasies. The type of man that would take her on has his muse and teach her the secrets to creating beauty.
"A dangerous woman," he chuckled softly. His blue eyes flashed behind the clear rims of his glasses. "
Amelia cocked her head and batted her eyelashes in response to his attention. "You are very bold to make such a statement sir," she replied.
"Forgive me," he apologized, "but when I see such sharp intelligence in a woman as beautiful as you, I can't help but voice my observation."
Amelia felt herself smile in response. "I'm sure you've used that line on every woman," she said.
"On the contrary." As he spoke, he reached down to capture her hand and bring it up to his lips. His attentive eyes met hers in a heated gaze, as his lips brushed against the back of her hand. "I only use that line when I absolutely mean it," he said as he kissed her hand.
Amelia shivered under his touch. She found his attention exhilarating, the intensi
ty of his gaze made her feel alive and womanly. She rarely had the opportunity to experience the company of men; especially men like —
"I'm sorry," she said as it dawned upon her that she did not know who the man was. "I'm afraid I did not catch your name."
"Thomas Florian," he said with a flourish. He let go of her hand and performed a formal bow. "And does the beautiful creature have a name?"
"Amelia Wellington," she all but stuttered. She couldn't believe that this was the Thomas Florian, the famous artist who's worked was being exhibited. She had dreamed of this moment, fantasized about how she would approach such a distinguished cultivator of the arts. Even in her wildest fantasies, she hadn't imagined it quite as flirtatious as this. "It is a pleasure to meet you," she added once she had regained her composure.
"Likewise," he nodded.
"I've admired your work for a long time," she said in an excited rush. She still couldn't believe that she had met Thomas Florian.
"Well, it is always reassuring to know that there are still people like who you appreciate true art," he stated. "Are you artistically inclined?" Thomas asked with a slightly teasing air.
"I sketch," Amelia answered.
Thomas raised a curious eyebrow. "Really?" he said. "I would love to see your work," he stated coolly.
Amelia was about to reply, when James interrupted her.
"This place is fascinating," he said with excitement.
Thomas took an assessing look at James, before proceeding to excuse himself. "I am afraid I must make my rounds," he said politely. "But Miss Wellington," he captured Amelia's attention once again with his intense gaze, "perhaps we can make arrangements sometime to view your work."
"Of course," she said enthusiastically.
Thomas made a quick nod toward Amelia and James.
Once Thomas had left, Amelia couldn't help but direct her frustration toward the man that had interrupted her conversation.
"James!" she seethed through gritted teeth. "Didn't you see that I was busy?"
