by Avery Laval
The doorbell rang, cutting through the ruckus. One of Marissa’s girlfriends, probably, here to start off the chick flick night for real, and the darn woman was early. She looked over at Marissa, who was staring at the blender, clearly not hearing the door over the din of ice and berries whizzing around the canister. With a shrug, Jenna wiped off the lime juice on a kitchen towel and made for the front door. Without even looking, she threw it open wide.
She gasped. Grant Blakely was standing there, looking as incredible as ever.
“Jenna,” he said, his voice raspy and urgent, like he’d been running, even though she saw his Lexus sitting right there in the driveway of Marissa’s sprawling ranch. “Can I come in?”
Like a reflex, Jenna slammed the huge front door shut, watching his surprised face through the stained-glass panels as the door swung closed with a thud. Startled by her own behavior, and more than a little impressed with herself, she spun around on her heels and went back into the kitchen as if nothing had happened, hoping no one could see her heart beating out of her chest.
Marissa was standing there with her back to the blender, arms crossed and eyes wide as she watched Jenna resume her place at the kitchen counter and begin chopping the cilantro with new fervor.
“Um, excuse me,” the other woman began. “Who was that?”
“Wrong number,” said Jenna, then winced at the idiocy of her reply. Her mind was spinning as fast as the blender. Why was he here? Surely he’d done enough damage already without coming here to take what was left of her dignity in front of her new friend. She felt the hot sting of her tear ducts contracting. Here came the waterworks.
“Wrong number?” Marissa’s shoes clicked on the travertine floor as she approached where Jenna stood. “Honey, put down that enormous knife and tell me what is going on.”
Jenna dropped the knife on the cutting board and turned to face her friend, wanting nothing more than to crumple down to the floor. But she said nothing, her brain racing too quickly to push out any words.
“Jenna?” Marissa asked gently.
“Yes?”
“Is Grant Blakely at the front door?”
“Not anymore.” Tears began to rush down Jenna’s face.
Marissa put her arm around her and looked her straight in the eyes. “Are you crying because he came here or because you didn’t let him in?”
Jenna shook her head, unable to trust herself to speak.
“That’s what I thought. Stay here. I’ll go get him.”
Jenna looked at her friend frantically, her eyes screaming no, but her mouth clamped shut.
“Just hear him out,” Marissa urged. “Hear what he has to say. If you don’t feel it was worth it, I’ll kick him out myself and we’ll be eating that Neapolitan ice cream before you even know what happened.” She turned for the hallway, but Jenna grabbed her arm before she could get anywhere.
“No,” she said. “I can’t—I can’t take it. I can’t bear to face him.”
Marissa set her mouth in a hard line. “Jenna, I will do whatever you want. You know that, right?”
Jenna nodded, her voice missing again.
“But before I send him away, tell me this: Do you love him?” She looked Jenna right in the eyes, demanding the truth.
“I think I do,” said Jenna. “Okay, fine. I love him. Dammit!”
“Then you have to give him a chance. Trust me, if you get a second chance at someone you love, you should never, ever, give that up.”
Jenna thought about her friend’s words. Would this be a second chance, or would it only deepen the loss she already felt? She would have to find out for herself. “Okay,” she heard herself say. “Let him in.”
Marissa hugged her fiercely, brushed the tears off of her cheeks, and headed for the door. Jenna’s stomach clenched as she heard the sound of the front door opening and closing again and then two sets of footsteps in the hallway—one heading off somewhere else, the other moving toward her.
And then there he was. Looking as strong and handsome as he ever had, though there were dark circles under his eyes and a good shave was long overdue. Even standing a few feet away from her, she felt the shadow of his touch on her body, remembered the pleasure he’d shown her, the closeness they’d felt together.
Just the sight of him made her head spin. One look and she knew she loved him more than ever.
“I’m sorry I startled you,” he began. “I…” his voice drifted off as he noticed the tear that escaped down her cheek like a traitor. “Jenna, please don’t cry.” He walked forward, moved an arm from behind his back and produced a huge bouquet of peonies, which he unceremoniously plopped on the counter next to her.
“Please,” he said, as though it was his heart that was breaking, and moved his hand to her face, rested it there so gently. Softly, he used the pad of his thumb to wipe away the tear on her cheek. “I can’t stand to see you cry.”
“I’m sorry if my crying upsets you,” Jenna said sharply, jerking her face out of reach of his treacherous touch. “Maybe you should just leave.”
Grant straightened his shoulders, let his hand drop to his side. “I’m not leaving. Not until I say what I came here to say.” His voice was deep and strong, the same tone that had seduced her, and she told herself to be firm.
“What if I don’t want to hear it? After all, I’ve had quite enough of your opinions for a lifetime.”
He raked a hand over his hair, heaved a sigh. “Look, I know you’re angry at me, and you have every right to be. I’ve been an utter fool.”
Well, wasn’t that the truth? Jenna thought bitterly.
“But I came all this way to apologize, and I brought you flowers,” he said with a self-effacing smile, gesturing to the peonies. “Please, Jenna. Just give me a chance to speak my heart.”
Jenna’s heart leapt at his words, but she steeled herself. “Is this another case of thinking you can buy me with gifts? Though I must say, after a pair of diamond earrings, flowers do seem quite a step down, don’t they?”
Jenna watched as hurt crossed Grant’s masked eyes. “I never would try to buy you. Or anyone,” he said through gritted teeth. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should go.”
“Maybe you should,” Jenna said, though even as she did, a surge of disappointment washed over her. Her mind swirled. How could she feel disappointment when the hurt and confusion were screaming inside her head?
Grant turned to leave, took two steps toward the door, and then froze. “Wait. No. I’m not going anywhere. I made a horrible mistake—well, a few horrible mistakes, really—and treated you miserably, but even so, I also made you smile, and see the world differently, and made you very, very happy, even if for just a short while. Remember that?”
Jenna’s face flushed as she remembered the pleasure they’d shared, and the closeness she’d felt when she confided in him and opened up her heart to his care. The support he’d given her when they’d visited Justin, and the way he’d held her when she’d cried.
“I see on your face that you remember. I know you care for me on some level. So at least hear me out. I just have to know if you could see your way to feel for me that way again.”
No! screamed Jenna’s brain. Yes! cried her heart.
“I…” she tried, but the right answer wouldn’t come.
“The thing is, Jenna,” Grant began, his fists balled up at his side. “The thing is I am begging you to care for me, because I’ve fallen in love with you.”
Her heart stopped. Then started again, pounding hard, the rush making her dizzy.
Be sensible! she told herself. Think of what he’s put you through.
“How can you possibly know if you love me or not? You have no idea who I am.”
Grant was quiet a moment, and Jenna’s heart fell when he didn’t deny what she’d said. “I know why you’d say that. And not so long ago, that would have been true,” he said softly, a world of regret in his voice. “But you taught me something when you walked out of the office tha
t day and left me standing there blustering like an idiot. You taught me that the snap judgment I’d made about you—and probably a lot of other people—was dead wrong.
“Yes, I thought I wanted to get rid of you at first, and I told myself that was all I was feeling for you. But the truth hit home when my father came back to my office and told me you were running some sort of scam.”
Jenna gasped at this, horrified, but before she could protest Grant stilled her arm with a touch.
“I didn’t believe him for a second,” he said. “Not even an instant. And I knew, right then, that I trusted you as I hadn’t trusted anyone in a long, long time. And you had earned that trust ten times over if I had only let myself see. The only thing I didn’t trust was my own emotions—and then it hit me. If I didn’t do something fast, I was going to let the most amazing woman I’d ever met walk out of my life forever.” He grasped her hands, pulled them to his chest. “That wasn’t something I could let myself do, no matter how hard it was to admit to myself that I’d been wrong.”
Jenna looked up, locked eyes with Grant. He was telling the truth, she realized with a start. The man she’d gone and fallen in love with was standing in front of her telling her he loved her back, and it was nothing but the pure honest truth.
And he didn’t stop there.
“Because you’re none of the things I thought you were,” he said. “You’re smart, and capable and braver than hell, and dammit, Jenna, but you’re so incredibly lovable that it’s amazing to me that I didn’t have to wait in a long line just to come here today and tell you how I feel.” He paused. “I loved you even when I didn’t know why. I loved you when you weren’t who I thought you were. And I love you now that I see you for you—I love you more than I thought I could ever love a woman. Jenna, you taught me how to trust.”
Jenna’s heart swelled. Her eyes welled up anew, with a different sort of tears altogether.
“No, Jenna, please, I can’t stand it if I’m making you cry.”
She shook her head, looking for words. “You asked me if I cared for you,” she said at last. “I wish I could say all I did was care for you, Grant. I wish I could feel something as innocent and easy as care. But I love you. I want you and crave you like I crave water when I’m thirsty. Even a week away from you has been way too long.”
In an instant he grabbed her, kissing her passionately, lighting her heart on fire all over again. “The worst week of my life,” he agreed. “Let’s make sure it never happens again. Let’s be together forever, Jenna. I know it’s a whirlwind, but if I’ve learned anything from you, I’ve learned that this isn’t the time to research and plan and overthink things until I’m blue in the face. This is the time to trust my heart. My life has changed, irrevocably, in a week. I don’t want it to stop changing again. Ever.”
“What?” Jenna couldn’t believe her ears. But her heart raced faster still, wanting him to say the words again, for them to be real.
And they were. Grant knelt on the hard kitchen tile and produced a small box from his jacket pocket, opened it to reveal a stunning diamond engagement ring. “It’s early, and fast, and you don’t have to answer now. In fact, you’re not allowed to answer. But I’m ready to ask. Marry me. Keep me in your heart, Jenna, and let me be by your side forever. Trust me, as you’ve shown me how to trust you.”
“Are you crazy?” Jenna cried, even as her heart began to burst open. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Now that I know how good it feels to love you, I plan to keep loving you for as long as I live.”
“But it’s so quick, and I—”
Her words were stopped by the most devastating kiss she’d ever experienced. Her toes tingled, and her heart missed at least one beat. When he finally set her down, let her catch her breath, she grabbed his face in both hands and pulled him back to her for one more quick kiss before she cried, “Grant Blakely, you’re an idiot. And a terrible boss! And I never ever want to work for you again. But the other stuff,” her eyes widened with desire. “You’re pretty good at that other stuff,” she said with a wicked smile.
Then, suddenly remembering herself, she leveled him with the hardest stare she could. “Just say you’ll learn where work ends and life begins. I’m not interested in second place.”
He laughed. “I learned that the hard way, Jenna. I promise not to forget. And will you promise to consider spending the rest of your life with me?”
She paused. Crossed her arms. “I’ll consider it.”
Grant grinned. “That is all I can possibly ask for.”
“For now,” amended Jenna. “Live up to your promises and I’ll do a lot more than consider.” She grabbed him in her arms and held her face to his chest, breathed in the scent of him, and let her heart explode in happiness.
“Luckily, this is Las Vegas, so the minute she says yes, you can marry her on the strip!” said a new voice. Jenna broke her embrace to look over and see Marissa, and six other women, standing in the hallway grinning like idiots at their romantic exchange. “Hey, this is way better than any chick flick,” Marissa said with a disarming smile and a shrug. “Let us have our moment.”
Jenna smiled back, happy tears running down her face. “Fine, but let us have ours, too,” she said with a grin, and then grabbed Grant by the hand and pushed past their happy onlookers through the hall, out the front door, and into the sleek black car. She turned to face him and kissed him with all her heart one more time. “Drive, Grant Blakely. Just drive. I don’t care where. I’ll go with you anywhere.”
And with that, he pulled out of the driveway, stopped to kiss her again, and then put the car in drive and stepped on the gas.
Sneak Peek: A TYCOON’S RUSH
Coming in Spring of 2018
Natalie Schaffer, an assistant to a sports agent, is sent to Europe to make a last-ditch effort to bring U.S. ski champion Charlie Ahlers back into the fold. Natalie’s career is on the line, and so is Charlie’s future. But when they meet in an Italian ski town, sparks fly. The last thing on Natalie’s mind, or Charlie’s, is business. But the stakes get higher than either of them could have predicted.
Read on for a preview of A Tycoon’s Rush.
A TYCOON’S RUSH: A Sin City Tycoons Novella
April in Sestriere, Italy. Like the end of the season in every winter resort town Charlie had ever been in, and he'd been in a lot. Spring was on its way up, and it brought quiet, desolation, blessed, blessed solitude. The snow was growing slushy and overskied. The lifts were closing early. The women were getting desperate. The bars were emptying out.
Especially this bar. Miles from the closest piste, miles from everything, for that matter. A person only came to this bar to escape something, and that's exactly why Charlie loved it so much. Had been in it every night for a month, mostly not to drink, though tonight he did nurse the prettiest little glass of scotch for warmth, but to be around people without having people around him. If that made any sense at all. Most things Charlie Ahlers thought these days didn't make sense, even to him.
Like the stupid idea that he might want to jump again. That made no sense whatsoever. He loved the sport, sure. But he loved his brother more. Wanted him back home, safe and happy, in turn keeping his parents safe and happy, letting Charlie himself sleep well again at night.
So jumping was in his past. His future was uncertain. Going back to the states? figuring out if had what it took to go to law school? Getting an MBA? Sure, he was only thirty, but somehow, his college days seemed decades behind him, not years. So much had happened since then. The medal, yes. But more than the medal: the training, the slopes, the sheer hours upon hours passed in joy of his sport. Win, lose, as long as he was on skis, Charlie had never much cared. Even when he'd had to take time off for an injury, he'd been happy knowing more skiing was ahead of him.
And now it was all behind him.
So maybe he, like the rest of the bar's patrons, was here to escape something too. It was tha
t future without passion that he wanted to escape. If you wanted to get all shrinky about it. Which he didn't.
He looked up and down the bar. The options tonight were bleak, but it was just as well. Though he'd once thought there was no such thing as too many women, he'd been with more than he liked over the last six months. More escapism, probably, through his healthy sex drive and the world's best pick up line—want to see my gold medal? The women certainly hadn't been about love or connection—he barely spoke Italian, after all. Or French. Or German.
But the sleeping around had grown old. Truth was, he liked getting to know his dates before taking them home. He liked women who didn't agree with everything he said, who had things to say themselves. The women he'd really fallen for in the past, and there'd been a couple, of course, though nothing that had him on bended knee, hadn't been nuclear physicists or political speech writers, but they could think, and reason, and argue when it mattered.
Didn't seem like too much to ask, really.
Now, this girl, coming in now, she had that certain look about her. The interesting look. She was middling height, beautiful build—just slim enough to be called thin, but with something intense happening in the curves department and a waist that nipped in under a white belted ski parka. Her dark brown hair was short, spiky, almost elfin. And if she hadn't been taking in the men in the bar one by one like her panties were on fire and they were all firemen, he would have thought she had the aura of a thinker about her. That, he supposed, was the eyes, wide, searching, yet narrowed slightly, eyebrows lifted as though she were the tiniest bit skeptical. Yeah, ok. To make a long story short, she was sexy.
Then her eyes locked on his. Damn. Busted checking her out. But she was smiling at him now, apparently all too happy to be noticed by him. She threw her bag over her shoulder and made straight for him. Charlie sighed. Couldn't they even pretend to be slightly hard to get? Was that too much to ask?
