Her Dom's Secret Past

by Suzy Shearer

  “I’m afraid she won’t be back until about eleven.”

  “Okay. Can you tell her John called in and…”

  Shit, what could I say? Maybe I was damn stupid to try to get her to change her mind. The guy was looking at me as if to say, “Hurry up or I’ll change my mind about being nice.”

  “Can you please tell her John came and I’ll swing past around eleven-thirty, if she’d like to see me.”

  That sounded all right. Gave her an out if she didn’t want to meet up.

  “Just that?”

  “Yeah.”

  Graciously, he gave a slight regal nod of the head and said, “Then I shall pass the message on.”

  I left the shop, thinking I’d survived a test I’d forgotten to study for and checked my watch—ten-twenty. Okay, I’d go grab a coffee somewhere.

  I found a small coffee shop across the road and settled in to wait. This was definitely not me. I have never chased a woman before, especially one who’d made it clear by not ringing that she didn’t want to see me. But then, never in my life had a woman made an impression on me like Anabelle had, and I’d never honestly been in love before. I loved her more than anything in this world.

  It wasn’t simply the physical attraction to her, it was her caring nature. I smiled, remembering the day she’d insisted on me walking to her villa and relaxing. It was pretty obvious I was in a lot of pain, and she didn’t seem to mind that I couldn’t lift a hand to save myself. She’d even made a suggestion about rubbing cream into my scars and offered to do it. Then when we’d sat and talked in the Jacuzzi, I discovered exactly how smart she was, and funny. I was sure she felt the same attraction as I did. She certainly appeared to, Why the fuck hadn’t she contacted me? I’d left her a clear message.

  I knew I had to face the fact that for her, it was only a holiday fling, even if she’d given me a different impression. Maybe it was because it hadn’t been consummated properly. Perhaps once she got home and got back into “normal” living, she changed her mind. I kept rolling out reasons, pretending to myself there was another excuse why she hadn’t rang.

  These past couple of months had been agony, trying to get to grips with the fact I’d been dumped by the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I’d moped about and even my beautiful new house couldn’t get me motivated. All I thought about was Anabelle. I’d even printed out a couple of photos of her and sat for hours memorizing her lovely face. Well, she’d made her intention plain.

  Get lost, it was nice, but it’s over.

  So why the hell did I have to torture myself by hearing directly from her? Because I wanted to know the fucking reason.

  Oh well, very soon I’d have my answer. I ordered another coffee and checked the time. Still ten minutes before eleven. I took my time drinking and stared at her boutique. It was a very large building and I could see they had several floors as there were gowns on display in the windows of the upper two floors. The ground floor was all glass with only one dress on display. I could see the place reeked of elegance and expense. There had been a discrete sign just near the entry door—By Appointment Only. Sounded like the Queen.

  I let my mind wander again.

  The way she’d laugh. That hair of hers, wild and carefree. I remembered the first time I’d kissed her. Fuck! It was as if I’d been struck by lightning, not only by the waves. I’d heard kisses described as electrifying, but I’d never experienced them until that day. I was sure the hair on my body stood at attention, I knew for a fact one part did.

  Shit. What am I doing?

  Why on earth was I sitting here, putting myself through this pain?

  Here I was pining after a woman who wasn’t interested in me. She’d made it plain by ignoring my letter. I should go home. I had to try to forget her. I got to my feet and left the café. I started walking up the street to where I’d left my car and then stopped. No, dammit, I had to know. Retracing my steps, I crossed the road and went back to the salon. I briefly shut my eyes and took a deep breath before pushing open the door.

  The same big door guardian was lying in wait and pounced as soon as I entered. Damn, I forgot to bring a box of chocolates, a mug of coffee, or maybe a raw steak to appease him. Surprisingly, he appeared friendlier. Weird, this was a much different treatment than this morning’s. I took it as a good sign.

  “If you’ll take a seat, I’ll let Miss Rowley know you’re here.”

  I perched on the edge of an ornate but surprisingly comfortable chair and cracked my knuckles a few times. Stupid habit, but I tended to do it when I was nervous.

  At least she was prepared to see me, otherwise her henchman would have gleefully shown me the door. He returned, giving me a broad smile. He acted as if I were his best buddy now, and it put me on edge.

  “This way.” He beamed at me as I stood and then followed him down a corridor and up a flight of stairs.

  “First door on the left. She’s finishing up a call.”

  I thanked him and walked ahead, hoping he wasn’t intending to ambush me from behind. Tapping lightly as I entered her office, I looked around then at her. Large room with lots of stuff everywhere. She had an enormous wooden work table that was covered in swatches of fabrics, laces, beads, and stuff. There was a drafting board with one of those high chairs in front of it. Her desk was almost drowned in folders, photographs, and even more pieces of fabric. She had a pair of red glasses perched on the edge of her nose and she took them off as I entered.

  Her eyes followed me, her face reflecting many different emotions—happiness, fear, surprise.

  “Okay, thanks, Mr. Hui. I appreciate your assistance. Bye.”

  She stood, came around the desk, and moved very close to me.

  She looked up into my face and whispered, “John.” Her breath catching on the word.

  That was all, but I heard the longing, the desire, and the need in that one word. I held out my arms and she fell into them. I wrapped them tight around her. This was where she belonged, with her head resting against my chest. When she raised her face, I saw her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

  “You found me.”

  “I did.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  I did a double take. What on earth could she mean?

  “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you ring?”

  She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I tried to but the number you gave me was wrong. I tried a few different combinations but…” She shrugged. “I didn’t know anything about you except that you live in Marlow and your name’s John. I couldn’t for the life of me remember your last name.”

  “It’s Ethan, John Ethan.”

  “John Ethan. Well, I had no idea where Marlow was until I found it on a map, and I discovered there’s two of them, both on rivers.”

  I held her away from me, completely puzzled.

  “I don’t get it. I could have sworn I gave you the right number.”

  She wriggled free and went to her desk. Pulling it open, she took out the note I’d left for her and gave it to me. It was crumpled and flimsy, as if touched a million times. I looked at the number. It appeared right, and then I saw it. I’d transposed the middle three digits—instead of 839 I’d written 389.

  Fuck! What a stupid prick I was! I groaned and told her what I’d done.

  “I can’t believe I did that. Mind you, I’d only got the phone and the number the day before I came down, but all the same, I should have double-checked it.”

  I shook my head, picked up a pen from her desk, and wrote the number out correctly.

  “I am so sorry. I … shit. I tried to find you. All I knew was your first name and you owned a bridal salon. Do you know how many bridal places there are in Australia? I searched for all the ones in a four-hour radius from the villa.”

  She giggled and that laugh filled me with such joy, such unbelievable happiness.

  “Tell me, how did you find me?”

  “There was an article in the local paper from last y
ear. It was purely by accident. Yesterday evening I was finally sorting through things and there were a few items I wanted to keep in storage in the garage area. I found a bundle of old newspapers to wrap them in and when I opened one, there you were—Brides by Bella. I saw your photograph and I almost couldn’t believe it.”

  I held out my hand and took hers, raising it to my lips. “I honestly thought you didn’t want to see me again, thought maybe when I’d told you about being a bit bossy in the bedroom you’d decided it wasn’t for you. That the few things we’d done were too much. I figured when you didn’t ring, you’d chalked it up as a sort of holiday fling.”

  “Certainly not. I’m not the fling type. I was devastated when I couldn’t contact you. As for the bedroom thing, I enjoyed the things we did and was willing to try more—and still am, if the offer is open.”

  I was still having trouble getting my head around it. I’d come here expecting to be thrown out and now, now this beautiful woman was telling me she wanted something together.

  “It’s definitely open. Come here.”

  She walked into my arms again and I kissed her. It was the same electricity that we’d shared each time we kissed. My heart skipped a beat, my chest tightened. I had to catch my breath as my arms wrapped around her. I wanted to swallow her and never let her out of my sight again. We finally broke for air, both of us breathing as if we’d run a marathon. I gazed down at that beautiful face, her lips reddened and swollen from my kisses, her cheek rosy from my beard stubble.

  “Anabelle. Hell, I…”

  She smiled and tilted her head. I could only shrug. How could I put into words the way I was feeling? My heart pounded. It seemed to press hard against my ribcage as it tried to escape. I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs as if my body had forgotten how to breathe. I wanted to scream from the rooftops that I’d found her. But more than anything else I wanted to keep kissing her, keep touching her. That would be the only way I’d know this wasn’t a dream.

  “I thought I’d never see you again and it hurt badly.”

  “I was the same. It upset me when I discovered the number was wrong. I couldn’t think of how to find you either.”

  “Oh, Ana, I’ve missed you terribly. Thank goodness we’re together again.”

  “John, I’ve been really miserable. It was as if I’d lost my soul mate.”

  “Me too, Ana, me too.”

  I realized if we were going to make a go of this, there could be no secrets between us. I’d evaded a lot of answers when we met, but now, now I had to be open.

  “Anabelle, there are things about me that I should tell you.”

  She got this horrified look on her face and stiffened. “You’re really married, I knew it.”

  “No. No, I told you the truth, I’m not married, not involved with anyone. I’m a free agent. But there are things I need to tell you about my past life. Can I take you to dinner tonight? I was going to tell you that last night, but then you didn’t come back and I had to leave.”

  “This sounds serious. Maybe you should come to my place. I don’t think I want to have a serious discussion in the middle of a restaurant.”

  “Okay, probably a good idea.”

  She wriggled free from my arms and went to her desk, and then scribbled an address down on a card.

  “This is my business card. It has my number here and don’t worry, the numbers are in the right order. I’ve written my home address and my mobile number too.”

  “Asquith? That’s near here, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, about five minutes away, going toward Berowra.”

  “I think I remember seeing a sign for it. I came onto the M1 at Mount White.”

  “Thank goodness the Marlow you live in is not the one in Victoria. Mount White’s about thirty minutes from my place.”

  “Well, I live on the water about six minutes from Mount White.”

  The doorkeeper arrived, giving a discreet cough.

  “Excuse me, Anabelle, but your midday appointment has arrived.”

  “Thank you, Charlie, I’ll be right there.”

  Mm, he had a name. He actually gave me a friendly nod as he left the room. Maybe he wasn’t that bad after all.

  “Don’t think your doorkeeper was impressed with me turning up without an appointment this morning. He reminded me of Cerberus and I didn’t have a reed pipe to put him to sleep, or a lump of steak.”

  “Ha, Charlie? Well, he’s rather protective of me, and I actually don’t know what I’d do without him. He’s been here since the year after I opened and he is my most valuable employee. He’s also my dear friend.”

  “Ah, in that case, I shall forgive him for any misgivings I may have had.”

  She laughed again, a bright tinkling sound that entered my heart. Was I being silly? Could she possibly be my soul mate? She’d said she thought I was hers. Tonight would tell. If she could handle my background, then maybe we had a chance of happiness together.

  I followed her down the stairs, stashing her address in my pocket. Walking along the hall, she stopped just before an entrance into the salon and turned to face me. I stopped, close enough to smell the perfume from her shampoo. She put a hand to my chest.

  “I’m truly glad you found me, John. I’ve missed you so much these past few months, I thought I would die.”

  I covered her hand with mine. “And I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ll see you tonight. About six-thirty okay?”

  “Sure. I’ll see you then.”

  She peered up into my face and I wanted to sweep her into my arms, but I knew this was neither the time nor the place. Then she stood on tippy-toes and kissed me softly.

  “Tonight.”

  I nodded and we went into the salon. I noticed Charlie had seen the kiss, and his face was a picture of curiosity. I said goodbye to him as Anabelle held out her hand to greet three young women. When I went out onto the street, grinning, I wanted to act silly like a young teenager. I wanted to run and sing and shake hands with everyone I passed. I only hoped she wouldn’t turn against me when she learned what I’d done for a living and how I’d actually gotten my injuries.

  Chapter Eleven

  Anabelle

  I had no idea how I managed to conduct the interview with my prospective client. It were as if I was operating on two levels. One level, I was listening, offering suggestions, and discussing fabrics, but on the other my head was filled with John. My heart bounced around my chest, leapfrogging, making me a little light-headed.

  Whenever I glanced up, Charlie was scrutinizing me rather speculatively. I knew once this client left I’d be in for the third degree. These past few months I’d skirted around whenever he or Justin asked me what had happened. Both men respected my privacy and didn’t press for answers, but I knew they were both as worried as Becky and Cass. Our meals together were a little strained, but I loved them all dearly.

  I recalled the conversation with Charlie this morning when I’d got back to the boutique.

  “A strange man was in here asking for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that. A man came in here asking if he could see you. He didn’t have an appointment.”

  “And?”

  He fluttered his eyelashes at me only because he knew how much it annoyed me. I stood threatening to wring his neck if he didn’t answer.

  Pouting, he said, “I asked if I could help but he told me it was personal.”

  “Get on with it, Charlie, what did he want?”

  “I have no idea, but he told me he would be back about half past eleven and to tell you his name was John.”

  My heart skipped a dozen beats as I grabbed Charlie’s arm. “John? His name was John? What did he looked like?”

  Even to me my voice sounded slightly maniacal.

  “Hey, calm down, Belle.”

  I dropped my hand and he’d said rather dramatically, “Is he dangerous? Shall I call the police?”

  Charlie was—well, Charl
ie. He tended to love playing the stereotypical “gay” guy merely to annoy me. Yes, he was gay, but he was also extremely butch, six foot three of solid muscle. I often saw our female clients sizing him up, even some of the brides gazed at him wistfully—he was a very hot sexy guy. Unfortunately, at the moment he was playing “I’m gay” to the hilt. Little gasps, hands covering the mouth, eyes wide open. Had to admit, when he acted the part, he did it well.

  I angrily demanded, “Quit the gay act. Just tell me what he looked like, Charlie Lyton, or I’ll fire you!”

  Charlie had put a finger to his lips and exhaled loudly through his nose. He’d given a dramatic eye roll and moaned, “About six-foot-five of pure hot chocolate.”

  My knees felt wobbly and I almost fell. I actually staggered and Charlie grabbed my arm with real concern.

  The “gay” persona immediately dropped as he gasped in fear, “Belle!”

  “I’m okay, Charlie. As soon as he comes, you get him up to my office.”

  “So you actually know this hunk of chocolate gloriousness?”

  “Yes.”

  I kind of daydreamed for a second then said, “Yes,” again.

  “Ah ha, this is Mr. Holiday Hunk, isn’t it?”

  I glared at him. I hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he’d seen through me.

  “It is! Whoopee.”

  I shook myself internally and got back to the present, realizing the bride-to-be had asked me a question and I’d completely ignored her.

  “I’m sorry. I was thinking about fabrics. What did you say?”

  “That’s okay. I was asking if you honestly thought the chiffon would be better than tulle.”

  “For the design you’re thinking about, yes, much better. It would flow and swirl whereas the tulle is more static.”

  “Oh, I see. Can you draw me up a few designs to look at?”

  “Most certainly.”

  “I understand there’s a non-refundable deposit once I get you to draw designs.”

  “That’s right. I can show you other designs I’ve done, but if you want me to design something exclusively for you, I need time. That means I can’t do anything else.”