A Perfect Caress

by Nana Prah

  He snickered. “As if you’d ever let me forget.”

  “Up the stairs. It’s the first door on the left. And...”

  “Yes?” He looked into her eyes. She had to be the most gorgeous woman in the world.

  “I love you, too.”

  Hastening his steps, he resolved to make sure she always knew how much he cherished her.

  Chapter 30

  Dante’s hands displayed a slight tremor when he took the keys to lock Lanelle’s door. After dating for the past seven months, Lanelle knew him well enough to recognize that something was off. He had yet to compliment her on the red satin halter-top dress, which exposed shoulders he liked to kiss without warning. She’d bought it with him in mind.

  “Do you mind if we go to The Cervante for dinner?”

  A strange request, considering he’d never mentioned eating there before, maybe because she knew it more as one of the most elegant hotels in the city rather than a restaurant. “Not at all.” Just as long as they could be together.

  His cool and slightly clammy hand grasped hers. She touched her free hand to his forehead and felt no excess of heat. “Are you okay? We could cancel and stay home if you aren’t feeling well.”

  The rapid shake of his head told her he was hiding something. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”

  Within thirty minutes, Dante handed his keys to the valet. The car ride had been a little unsettling, with Dante rambling on about everything from work and his family to the political candidates from the party he supported for the state election. Not his usual style.

  Once inside, he led her in the opposite direction of the hotel’s restaurant.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  They stopped in one of the many spectacular ballrooms where she’d attended galas and dinners in the past. His eyes shone in the dim lighting of the hallway.

  Lanelle stared at him, attempting to figure out what was going on.

  The room glowed with an iridescent light as he opened the door and led them in. Other than the gleaming marble floor, high-hanging crystal chandeliers and elegant shimmering curtains she wouldn’t mind turning into a formal gown, the room stood empty. Lanelle paused as she waited for him to explain.

  “This is one of my favorite floors.” His hushed tone kept her still. “I worked on it myself, from choosing the slabs to helping with installation.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s original Carrara marble. I flew with it on the flight from Italy ten years ago.”

  Dante moved closer and laid his hands on her hips. “You’re standing on a piece of Italy.” Reaching for her fingers, he walked her farther into the room. Lanelle remained silent and followed. He stopped, pulled something from his jacket pocket, turned and went down on one knee.

  Covering her mouth failed to stifle her gasp when he opened the small box. Her gaze roved from the ring in Dante’s hand to his earnest eyes.

  “Eliana Lanelle Gill Astacio Murphy,” he said with a shaky voice, “when I first met you, I was awed by the intense effect you had on me. I searched for you, only to have you find me. Destiny brought us together, not once but three times.”

  Tears blurred her vision.

  “The two weeks we spent apart after our trip to Italy were the worst of my life. But we endured the misery and my stubbornness and came together stronger than ever. You are my world, Lanelle. My everything. I once again vow to make your dreams come true by giving you the children you desire. Your happiness is my main concern.”

  Lanelle felt sure her heart would burst at any moment. She loved this man so much.

  “Nothing will ever get in the way of our love again. I promise I’ll be a good husband and father to our children. Will you marry me?”

  She laid a hand on her lower abdomen. Was she ready to enter into the world of matrimony again? This time with a man she couldn’t help loving, even when she’d tried to avoid it. He belonged to her, just as she belonged to him. She went down on her knees and looked up into his beautiful eyes, no longer afraid to tell him what she’d known to be true for the past couple of days. “I hope you won’t mind being a father sooner rather than later.”

  It took him a moment to comprehend her words. “Are you pregnant?”

  She nodded, still unable to read anything but shock in his expression. “Only six weeks, but the doctor confirmed it yesterday. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

  His whoop of joy ricocheted off the walls of the empty room. Springing up, Dante wound his arms around her, lifted her off her feet and swung her around. She held on, willing the world to stop so they could experience this bliss forever.

  Panting, he lowered her, steadying her when she wobbled. “I love you so much, Lanelle.” Then he knelt again and spoke to her belly. “I love you, too. You have a wonderful mother waiting to cherish you, so make sure to grow strong and come out healthy to meet her.” He nuzzled his face against her abdomen.

  When he stood again, he had tears in his eyes. “You never answered my question. Will you marry me?”

  How could he doubt what she’d say? “Of course I will.”

  He hugged her tight, then released her to look into her eyes. “You have made me the happiest man in the world. This is for you.” He took the ring out of the box, reached for her left hand and placed it on her finger before kissing her with a gentleness that added more tears to her eyes.

  When he ended the kiss with one sweet, soft peck on her forehead, Lanelle whispered, “If there were more powerful words to express how I feel about you, Dante Leroy Sanderson, I’d use them. I love you.” She looked down at her flat belly. “My dear child, you have a father who will do anything in his power to make sure you always know you are loved.” She chuckled. “I won’t let him spoil you too much, though. Do your ultimate best to come out and meet the best man your mother has ever known.”

  She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him in a way she was sure would leave no doubt in his mind as to how much she treasured him and the gift he’d bestowed.

  When Lanelle ended the kiss, she stared at the solitaire emerald-cut diamond. “It’s stunning. It looks like the same ring I chose when I played the ‘if money were no object’ game with Vanessa on the shopping excursion in Rome.”

  “It’s the very same one. My niece is a cunning rascal. I think she knew long before either of us that we’d end up together.”

  “And you remembered?”

  “How could I not? Vanessa took a picture of it and sent it to my phone, saying, and I quote, ‘This is the ring you’re to buy for Lanelle when you propose. Don’t mess it up.’”

  Lanelle burst out laughing as she caressed his face. “And you didn’t. It’s perfect.”

  “Just like our lives together will be.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from ONE MISTLETOE WISH by A.C. Arthur.

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  One Mistletoe Wish

  by A.C. Arthur

  Chapter 1

  “Bah, hamburger!” Ethan Malloy shouted. His skinny arms were wrapped around his chest, lips poked out and still red from the punch he’d had during the break.

  Morgan Hill rubbed her temples and held back a sigh.

  “It’s humbug, Ethan. Say it slower this time and remember the word is humbug.”

  He wouldn’t remember. Or rather, he did know the correct pronunciation, but Ethan thought he was a five-year-old Kevin Hart, minus the cursing. So everything he said or did was in search of a chuckle or a laugh from those around him—his audience, so to speak. His personality worked Morgan’s last nerve. She’d chastised herself more than once about feeling this way about a little boy. She was trained to deal with children, as she’d gone to the University of Maryland and received her bachelor’s degree in elementary education. Unfortunately, there were no classes that would have prepared her for Ethan Malloy.

  He was the only child of Rayford Malloy, the sixty-three-year-old president of the Temptation town council, and Ivonne Danner-Malloy, his twenty-five-year-old video-dance-queen wife. Between his father being too busy and too tired to discipline him and his mother being too young, too conceited and too everything else to be bothered, Ethan never had a chance. Those were the reasons Morgan used a good portion of her patience with the child. Morgan’s granny always said—whenever Ida Mae Bonet had the displeasure of being in the presence of her brother’s children—“we don’t get to choose who our parents are.”

  That was certainly the truth, Morgan thought as she watched Ethan continue with his rendition of the scene where Ebenezer Scrooge continued to refuse heat or any other comfort for his only employee, Bob Cratchit, played by seven-year-old Wesley Walker. Wesley, unlike Ethan, knew his lines and probably the lines of everyone else in the play. He was a perfectionist and determined to prove himself to everyone in this small town, despite the fact that his father had run off and left his mother with four kids, a broken-down old Nissan and a mountain of debt. It was a shame, Morgan thought as she watched the young fella on stage, walking around and holding his head up high—even though Bob Cratchit wasn’t such a proud man. But a boy at such a tender age shouldn’t be faced with the gossip and cruelty that could be dished out in a small town.

  They lived in Temptation, Virginia, population 14,364 as of the last census, two years ago. Temptation had a rich history and struggled to catch up with the modern world. With its ten-member town council—the majority of whom were descendants from families that had been around since the town’s inception in the 1800s—and the newly elected mayor, Cinda Pullum, going toe-to-toe in battles over everything from revitalizing Mountainview Park to the weekly trash pickup, Temptation could be as lively as any of the reality shows that littered today’s television channels.

  The town could also be as traditional and heartwarming as an old black-and-white movie with things such as the annual Christmas Eve celebration, which included the play that Morgan and her crew of youngsters were now painstakingly rehearsing. There were two things Morgan loved about living in Temptation—the traditions and the resilience of the citizens. No matter what the people of this town had gone through—from the Civil War to the dark days of the Great Depression and the hostile times of the Civil Rights movement—they’d always bounced back and they never stopped doing the things that made the town so special in the first place. The families were the heart of Temptation, as they were determined to live in harmony in their little part of the world. More recent and localized catastrophes had hit Temptation and now, sadly, Morgan found herself living through her own test as a citizen of the town.

  “You should put him out, Mama.”

  The soft voice of Morgan’s five-year-old daughter, Lily, interrupted her thoughts.

  “What?” Morgan asked.

  Lily looked up from where she was sitting cross-legged on the floor with an unruly stack of twinkle lights in her lap. Her little hands had been moving over the strands in an attempt to separate the tangled mass for the last half hour. There hadn’t been much progress but Lily was much more patient than Morgan would ever claim to be. She was also the prettiest little girl Morgan had seen in all her twenty-eight years.

  Her daughter shook her head, two long ponytails swaying with the motion.

  “He’s a mess,” she told Morgan. “A hot mess, like Aunt Wendy says all the time.”

  Morgan couldn’t help it, she smiled. Wendy, her older sister by barely a year, talked a mile a minute and Lily always seemed to be around soaking up each and every word that fell out of Wendy’s mouth, good or bad.

  “He’s trying,” Morgan told her, knowing without any doubt who her daughter thought was a hot mess. “We have to give him a chance.”

  Lily shook her head again. “No, we don’t. You’re in charge.”

  She was, Morgan thought, even if she didn’t feel that way. She hadn’t wanted Ethan for the lead in the play in the first place. But Rayford had stopped by her house the Monday before Thanksgiving and told her in no uncertain terms that he expected his “boy” to have a prominent part in the play this year. Especially since this was most likely the last year the community center would be open to house the play and the Christmas celebration. Morgan and a good majority of the town had been worried about this hundred-year-old building and two others—the Plympton House, which had been converted into a hospital during the war, then restored, expanded and renamed All Saints Hospital in the sixties, and the Taylor House, a now almost dilapidated Victorian that had once been the home of the town’s biggest financial benefactor. She’d been so concerned with the possible loss of three of the town’s historic buildings that she hadn’t had the energy to fight with Rayford about something as trivial as his son’s part in a play. Now, however, she wished she’d mustered up some resistance because Lily was right, Ethan was a hot mess.

  “I wanna load the presents,” another child’s voice called from behind Morgan and before she could move a hand, there was tugging on the hem of her shirt.

  “Didn’t you say it was my turn to load the presents in the sleigh, Mama? You told me last night, ’cause I’m tall enough to do it.”

  Morgan turned around ready to reply to her son with his dark brown eyes—slanted slightly in the corners as a result of his father’s half Korean, half African American heritage—and butter-toned complexion, courtesy of Morgan’s mother and grandmother, who were descendants of the Creole-born Bonets of Louisiana. His twin sister had the same features. Jack and Lily were different, not only by their gender, but they also had opposite personalities. Where Lily was quiet and somewhat serious, Jack was boisterous and playful. They were sometimes like night and day, but always the very best of Morgan and her late husband, James. Each day she looked into their precious little faces she was reminded of that fact and, at the same time, overwhelmed with love and grief.

  James Stuart Hill had been a wonderful man. Kind, loving, compassionate and totally committed to his young wife and family. Morgan had met him in Baltimore, during her senior year of college. He’d be
en on leave from the army to finalize the sale of his late mother’s convenience store and her house. An American-born Korean, Mary Kim had raised her only child alone, after his African American father had been shot to death in an attempted robbery. Although Morgan had never met Mary, she felt she’d known the woman through the great man she’d raised.

  Their courtship had been fast and passionate and by the time Morgan graduated from college, she’d learned that she was pregnant. James was leaving for a year-long tour in Hawaii two weeks later. So they married quickly in Granny’s backyard and then traveled to Honolulu, where she gave birth to her two precious jewels. A year later James received a temporary assignment in Virginia and Morgan came home to Temptation with her twins, where the four of them had lived a happy, normal life. Until James was shipped off to Afghanistan. He was killed a week before the twins’ second birthday. Three years later, the pain of that day still had the power to take Morgan’s breath away.

  “Some people are only in your life for a season,” Granny had said as she’d stood leaning on her cane.

  They’d been at the cemetery then, the one in Maryland right next to where James had buried his mother. Hours later they were back in Temptation and Morgan was tasked with raising her two young children alone. With the love and support from her grandmother and her sister, she’d managed to make it through those first tough weeks. She’d taken a job as a first-grade teacher at the elementary school, went to church on Sundays and played all day with her babies on Saturdays. Her life had managed to move on even though there were still some days when all she wanted to do was cry for all the possibilities that had been lost.

  “Marley’s coming! Marley’s coming!” Alana, a six-year-old playing one of Bob Cratchit’s children, yelled from where she was sitting at the end of the stage.

  “It’s not time yet,” Ethan complained. “I’m not finished saying ‘bah, hamburger.’”