Is he? Oh Lord, he’s keeping her distracted so I can make a break for it. Not daring to breathe, I kick my shoes off, gather my dress and bolt for the door, coming up short, freezing when a loud boom cracks the air and the door beside my head splinters, tiny wooden shards hitting my left cheek.
“Turn around now.”
I obey and almost collapse when she comes directly at me, her face a mask of unfettered fury.
“This is all your doing! You fat little nobody.”
I close my eyes when she stops about ten paces away and points the gun. The next shot is as loud as a canon boom, and for a moment, one brief period in time, I feel every cell in my body stop and then start screaming as adrenalin bombards my bloodstream.
My eyes crack open slowly, and I gasp, almost retching at the sight of Robert, lying over her, pinning her struggling body to the floor. Blood, blood pouring, gushing from a wound, a wide, gaping hole over the top left section of his back.
I’m gasping, crying, frozen in shock when he struggles up, using what little strength he has left to punch Letitia, knocking her out cold. That done, he falls to the side, his blue eyes meeting mine.
I scamper over, pressing my hands over his wound, frantic when I feel his blood pump over my fingers.
“I didn’t push you. I…swear it. I…reaching to grab you.” He gasps, struggling for breath. “Never hurt little Angelica. Never.”
“I know,” I whisper, hardly hearing the commotion outside before the door bursts open and a frantic Cameron is trying to tug me away.
“You fucking bastard!”
“No Cam! Wait. Just wait. Robert, why did you do it?”
My face is ravaged with tears, my eyes swimming, as he takes my hand and smiles softly, a smile I wish I remember but don’t.
“You…don’t deserve…never wanted to hurt…so sorry.”
Strong arms pull me away when his eyes go blank, letting me know that Robert, my enemy, my savior in those last seconds, is dead, truly dead.
“He saved me.”
It’s all I get out before Cameron is kissing me and holding me so tightly that I feel every shudder and tremor that wracks his body.
“I love you, Cameron.”
“And I you, Shaw Stone. I love you, too.”
With his arms holding me up, I finally let the last tear fall and allow him to drag me from the room, my hand securely fitted in his larger one. It’s funny. This all started with Robert, my life changed by his one careless act. Now it’s ending with him finally doing the right thing, giving me back to the man I was destined to love.
Epilogue
“Ducky?”
I lift my head from the toilet seat and glare at Cameron, my mouth sour as I take another long look at him before turning back and hurling my guts out into the freaking toilet. After what feels like the loss of a few necessary organs and part of my throat lining, I rise shakily from my knees and lean against the counter.
He brings me a glass of water and a washcloth, tenderly wiping at my tear-stained cheeks and whatever is left on my mouth.
“I swear to God; this is the last one, Cameron Stone,” I mutter, swallowing another round of bile and hoping that I don’t start up again.
He smiles, as he does every time he’s found me this way and realized he’s knocked me up. Again.
This is the third and hopefully last since my nursery is full with Angelica, Robbie, and Victoria.
“This is so not funny! How do I always get knocked up three months to the freaking day after giving birth?”
Seriously, is his sperm on a freaking schedule!
My surly moping only makes the ass laugh harder before he pulls me in for a kiss that rocks me to my toes, swiftly making me forget everything but the feel of his strong body and his oh so skillful tongue.
“Ew, Cam. I haven’t brushed my pukey teeth yet,” I mutter, trying to push away.
“Don’t care, Ducky. Need to love on you,” he says with a purr, kissing me even harder.
By the time I’ve regained my hussy senses, I’m on my back with Mr. Super-Sperm looming over me, his blue eyes gleaming wetly as he gazes into my eyes.
“I love you so much, baby.”
“Yeah, and everyone freaking knows it since you keep knocking me up.”
I’m smiling though because despite the terrible time I have of it at first, I still love knowing how happy he gets with every kid. Doesn’t hurt that he goes nuts the bigger I get.
The guy really has a thing for my swollen pregnant belly.
“You’re irresistible.”
“Huh! You’re so lucky I’m easy for flattery, mister.”
“Yeah, I really am,” he whispers, kissing me again, this time slowly, showing me his appreciation, his utter joy that he and only he can do this to me.
I never got my memory back, and these days I’m not stressing about it anymore. I got my fairytale story to tell the kids. After Robert’s funeral—don’t get me started on the field day the press had with that story—Cameron had surprised me with a fairytale wedding complete with my Big Ben cake, my carriage, and every other insane thing my mind could dream up.
Tackiest, coolest wedding ever! He’d stood at the altar, smiling brightly as I waddled toward him that I’d literally cried like sap by the time I said, “I do” and accepted his ring.
We’d discussed hypnotherapy, something that could maybe get me some of those missing months back, but I’d declined. I have all the memories I need—and I’d said so.
Now I’m completely content to spend my days waddling around with one in the oven while Cameron’s other terrors do their utmost to run poor Marge and Vic ragged.
I visit Molly and coo over her baby, Libby, and tease the cousins mercilessly about Fanny and her eagle eyes.
Now mostly I spend my days loving Cameron and thanking God for the disaster that brought us together.
That’s two things I have to thank Robert for—so I guess I can forgive him. Maybe.
“Love you, Ducky,” he whispers again, his eyes so bright I feel myself tearing up. Damned hormones.
“Love you too, Stone.”
Bonus Books...
TROUBLE
Chapter One
“I need the Gillespie reports by this afternoon, and don’t forget to call Margery and reschedule lunch.”
I take down the monumental list of tasks that I have to get through and watch as my boss, Jordan Farns, fiddles with the stack of messages on his desk.
I hate my job most days, and not because it’s not a great job or because I can’t do it with ease. No, my boss, since I’ve been promoted to the ninth floor, is a total asshole who wouldn’t know how to read a report if it bit him in the ass.
So, in reality, I am not only a PA but an executive, too. I just don’t have the title or the money to prove it.
“And don’t forget to go pick up my dry cleaning, Hannah,” Jordan barks as I open the door to go back to my little office.
I want to tell him to fetch his own goddamned dry cleaning like a civilized human being, but I hold my tongue and nod, closing the door with a soft click instead of the bang I wish for.
Lucy, Mr Owens’ PA, is sitting on a corner of my desk as I enter my office, and I grin at her as she waves the middle finger at Jordan’s door.
“That idiot still getting you to do his job?”
“What’s new? And I am now responsible for organizing the Gillespie account on top of everything else, too.”
I don’t really mind doing it. I love hands-on learning and the opportunity to make my chops on such an important account. I just don’t know how I’ll manage it while running Jordan’s life as well.
“God, I am suddenly really grateful I got Mr Owens and not Farns.”
I’ll bet.
“So what brings you all the way up here? May still giving you grief about the office supplies?”
“No, thank God. Actually, I came up here to dish about the new client, Lucas Ships. You should see this guy, Han! He is fine with a
capital F,” she gushes, and I roll my eyes at her.
Lucy can’t resist a pretty face and the opportunity to flirt. Thank God the woman is in a long-term, committed relationship, or I’d be hearing about office romances.
“I don’t care if the man is hot or not. Anyway, I’ll probably never meet him. That account is being handled by Jack and his team, isn’t it?”
I wish I’d pulled Jack as a boss. The man is a machine, but he’s fair, and I bet he does his own work instead of leaving his assistant to do it while he plays golf twice a week.
“Nope. Jack got the Freefall account. Word from the top is the account is coming to Farns.”
Shit. That means I’ll have two major accounts on my hands, and I’m barely coping with my workload as it is.
Just keep things organized. You can do it.
“Great.”
“So lunch?”
“Sorry, Luce. Rain check. I’m so busy today I don’t know if I’ll have the time.”
I hate missing lunch because I am pedantic about routine and keeping things scheduled to the minute, including my own life, but it’s not like I can’t afford to lose a pound or two.
“I’ll bring you back a chicken wrap. Don’t work too hard, Han, you need to unwind a little,” she says, jumping to the floor and leaving with a wave.
By twelve thirty I’ve made inroads into my inbox and I have time for a quick coffee. When I get back to my desk I find a scowling hunk of a man restlessly tapping his foot as he perches on the edge of my desk.
“Uh, can I help you?”
As I wait for his reply I allow my eyes to take a wandering look from the top of his honey blonde head all the way to the tips of his designer loafers. Goodness, now this is what I call a man.
When my gaze comes up, it’s to meet a sardonic smile that reveals two shallow dimples and sherry brown eyes that are crinkled, as if he smiles a lot.
I bet it’s usually at other people’s expense.
“I’m Gregory Lucas. I have a meeting with Jordan, or at least I had a meeting with Jordan. He doesn’t seem to be around.”
Gregory Lucas? As in the Gregory Lucas, shipping mogul and number three on the Forbes richest men list? God, now I know why Lucy had been having a meltdown just at the sight of him.
He really is fine with a major, huge, gigantic F.
Unfortunately I am now going to be working closely with him, so fine or not, it’s hands off.
“Are you sure? I don’t remember scheduling anything for today,” I say, setting my cup down to scan today’s appointments. If this man had an appointment I’d know it.
“Trust me, I have one. We agreed to get together when I ran into him yesterday. He must have forgotten.”
I see him frown, and cringe inwardly. It makes a terrible impression that Farns has forgotten a meeting with such a huge client, especially if the client has only just signed on.
“I am so sorry, Mr Lucas. Mr Farns had a last minute meeting to attend. I’m sure he feels terrible about this. How about I reschedule for tomorrow and I’ll have him come to your offices?”
He considers me silently for endless minutes, and I can almost feel his eyes like a caress as he sweeps the knee length pencil skirt and soft pink shell I’m wearing. I look good, I know, but certainly not good enough to engender such a thorough inspection.
As pinpricks of desire tingle through every part of me his eyes touch, I know this is going to be a huge problem. I will not get in any way involved with a client or co-worker, and the fact that the man is good looking enough to make me want to, is not good. Not good at all.
My nipples bead, forcing me to hunch my shoulders, until eventually his eyes come back to my face and meet mine.
“Tell Farns to call me. Please. And next time your boss drops the ball, let him try to pick it up himself instead of making his apologies, darlin’,” he drawls seductively, and I hear a slight twang.
Oooh, Southern. Darn it. I love Southern accents.
“Yes, sir.”
There’s nothing left to say, and as I watch him stroll to the elevator and enter it I am unable to tear my eyes away from the raw strength I see in the rippling muscles beneath his three piece suit.
Goddamn.
“You have a nice day now, Miss Newman. I look forward to working with you.”
As the doors close, finally breaking the connection, I snap out of the mortifying daze I’ve been in and fall into my chair with a huff of annoyance.
How the heck am I going to work with the man and keep myself from becoming an embarrassing fool? I have enough on my plate as it is. I’m paying for Nana’s nursing home fees, my sister is on the brink of losing her bakery, a lifelong dream that hasn’t been as successful as hoped, and my boss is a slave driver.
No, I do not need this kind of distraction in my well-ordered life, and as far as I’m concerned Gregory Lucas is more than hot. He’s trouble with a capital T.
For the rest of the day I work until nothing but a few copy orders and a message are left in my inbox. Five rolls around, and by the time I shut my computer down and grab my purse I am starving, grumpy, and in no mood to be bothered.
Unfortunately my boss has no concept of time, and he strolls in just as I’m about to leave, his light blue golf shirt sweaty and wrinkled.
“You missed a meeting with Mr Lucas this afternoon.”
“Shit! I totally spaced on that. Did you cover for me?”
It’s not exactly a lie when I nod. Jordan does not need to know that Gregory Lucas fell for my excuses about as easily as a fish walks on land, so I keep my mouth shut and spare myself a tantrum.
“He wants you to call him tomorrow for a reschedule.”
I turn to leave, wanting enough time to go home and grab a quick shower and change of clothes before I have to make the hour long drive to Gable Jones, the nursing home where my grandmother currently resides.
“I’ll need everything you have on Lucas Ships on my desk first thing tomorrow,” Jordan barks, slamming into his office without so much as a please.
“But—”
Oh, save it, I tell myself, dropping my purse back into the drawer and firing my computer back to life. There’s no way I’ll have everything ready that early and the idiot knows it.
I call the nursing home as I start pulling up files, and the director answers on the fourth ring.
“Miss Newman, we really have to talk about your grandmother’s conduct. She’s been sneaking into our male residents’ rooms again, and you know it’s against policy.”
This problem has been a thorn in my side for months, and no matter how many times I talk to her, Nana blithely ignores my reprimands and keeps playing the field as if she’s eighteen instead of seventy-three.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs Ludwig. I’ll have another talk with her. I can’t make it tonight, so it’ll have to be tomorrow.”
I hear a deep sigh of annoyance and grind my teeth.
Do not get Nana kicked out of another nursing home, Hannah. But it’s so unfair. I’ve been through this for six years, since Mom passed away and Nana’s care fell to me. I love the old bat, but she’s randier than a goddamned billy goat, considering her age, and she keeps getting kicked out.
If they boot her from this one I’ll have to get her a place on freaking Mars.
“We’ll see you tomorrow then. Please try to talk to her. Another infringement will result in expulsion.”
I slam the phone back into its cradle and focus on the task at hand, reminding myself that keeping order in my life is the only way to keep myself together.
I just wish everyone saw it that way.
Chapter Two
My morning is going about as perfectly as a broken down jalopy. It sputters to a start at six, when I get a call from Amber about needing to borrow money to cover her payroll, and gets worse after I walk into my office.
Jordan, as usual, is running late, and the meeting he’s set up with Mr Lucas is in five minutes, with Jordan nowhere near ready t
o present a pitch for the shipping company’s latest campaign.
I like every aspect of putting together a proposal, but I am no ad exec, and now it’s up to me to pretend the guy has actually done his job. I know nothing about shipping or even why a company like Lucas’ would need a campaign, so I am not exactly the right person to be doing the job.
Mr Lucas arrives five minutes early, while I am frantically trying to gather as much data on the previous campaigns as possible. Jordan, of course, has hidden the info I put together last night, and now I am scrambling to get something in order.
I hate this. I hate chaos and disorder and the repercussions of not being prepared. This is why I’ve divorced my ex-husband Tom and imposed such strict control over my life.
Things are so much easier without complications, and I live to ensure my life is as clutter-free as possible. I’ve put Nana in a nursing home instead of hiring on a nurse for just that reason.
My life is perfectly ordered.
Or it should be. Go figure, my boss, my job, would be one of the areas in my life that is becoming uncontrollable.
“Good morning, Miss Newman.”
I look up from the folder I have put together and make an effort to smile as butterflies invade my belly.
“Good morning, Mr Lucas. May I get you something to drink or eat while you have a seat?”
God, please say yes, I beg silently, striving for a calm I do not feel in his presence. The man makes my knees weak with nothing more than a smile, and I know I am not capable of presenting anything worthwhile to him while he keeps that steady sherry gaze on me.
“He’s late, isn’t he?” he asks sardonically.
What can I say? He’ll see right through a lie, and making excuses for a man who can’t tie his own shoes without help is not in my job description.
“Yes.”
“Coffee then, if you don’t mind,” he finally says, holding my eyes captive as he hikes his pants and lowers himself onto the sofa across from my desk.
I practically run from the room to get away from that penetrating stare, and return a few minutes later with a cup of Italian roast and a fresh blueberry muffin.
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