“FERN MICHAELS IS SO TALENTED AND
VERSATILE, SHE COULD BE DESCRIBED
AS THE NORMAN ROCKWELL
OF ROMANCE WRITING.”
—Winter Haven News Chief(FL)
Praise forNew York Times bestselling author
FERN MICHAELS
whose “high-quality, homegrown storytelling”
(Publishers Weekly) has won the hearts of readers
everywhere!
PRETTY WOMAN
“Fans will love [Pretty Woman], with its animated characters and exploration of the possibilities of inner strength.”
—Booklist
“[A] likable heroine…a strong finish.”
—Publishers Weekly
FAMILY BLESSINGS
“Another delightful holiday story…. Funny, lively, and filled with down-home charm, this sweet novel will appeal to fans of Debbie Macomber and other contemporary Americana authors.”
—Library Journal
“Winning and humorous…[in the] manner the ever-popular Michaels always employs in her believable and highly entertaining tales.”
—Booklist
#1New York Times bestseller!
THE NOSY NEIGHBOR
“A humorous, rollicking tale of adventure and intrigue.”
—Booklist
“A tense thriller…. Fern Michaels provides an interesting paranormal romantic suspense thriller that never slows down.”
—Thebestreviews.com
CROWN JEWEL
“A wonderfully heartwarming, compelling story about families and the lock the past can have on the future,Crown Jewel is a grand drama of discovery and love.”
—Romantic Times
“Long-buried secrets cause tension and emotion to run high.”
—The Old Book Barn Gazette
“A story of forgiveness and personal redemption…[from] the prolific Michaels.”
—Booklist
NO PLACE LIKE HOME
“Uniquely charming…bursting with humor…this warmhearted confection is as soothing as a cup of hot cocoa.”
—Publishers Weekly
THE REAL DEAL
“Fern Michaels isThe Real Deal when it comes to exciting contemporary romantic suspense…. The exhilarating White House suspense plot is filled with twists…. Will appeal to fans of Nora Roberts and Jayne Ann Krentz.”
—Thebestreviews.com
“[A] fast-paced and engaging story from the prolific and entertaining Michaels.”
—Booklist
“If you are seeking a story of passion, suspense, and intrigue…The Real Dealis the perfect choice.”
—Romance Reviews Today
LATE BLOOMER
“Michaels does what she does best [inLate Bloomer ]…. Entertaining, action-packed…fun to read…engaging romantic suspense.”
—The Midwest Book Review
“[A] feel-good page-turner…. An action-packed plot…. Michaels’s fans will be satisfied.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Heartwarming…Late Bloomeris nothing short of wonderful. You won’t want to put it down.”
—Winter Haven News Chief(FL)
Books by Fern Michaels
The Nosy Neighbor
Pretty Woman
Family Blessings
The Real Deal
Crown Jewel
Trading Places
Late Bloomer
No Place Like Home
The Delta Ladies
Wild Honey
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
Copyright © 2005 by First Draft, Inc.
Originally published in hardcover in 2005 by Pocket Books
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
ISBN-13: 978-1-4165-3152-4
ISBN-10: 1-4165-3152-1
POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Visit us on the World Wide Web:
http://www.SimonSays.com
Prologue
Vickie Winters looked down at the picture she was holding in her hands. It was the last thing to go into her travel bag. Her eyes flooded with tears as her index finger traced her best friend’s likeness, the tears she was desperately trying to hold in check, finally rolling down her cheeks. Best friends since sandbox days. Keeper of each other’s secrets. Inseparable. Better than sisters. Their other friends used to envy them their special relationship. Close as thieves, they’d said. They’d even gone into business together and made a success of that business. But, like all things that were near to perfect, it had ended. Her grief at what she was feeling was so total, she almost blacked out before she managed to get her feelings under control.
Her hands shaking, Vickie wrapped the picture in a pair of sweatpants to make sure it didn’t get broken during the long overseas trip. The sound of the zipper closing on the bag was so loud in the quiet room, she flinched.
All Vickie had to do now was carry the bags downstairs, where a chauffeur waited to take her bags to Adeline Simmons’s house for the early-morning ride to the airport. She was to spend the night at the Simmons mansion with her new employer, but she would go over there later in the evening.
When things had gone sour between her and her best friend Rosie, she’d answered an advertisement for a traveling companion to wealthy heiress Adeline Simmons. The salary was mind-boggling. The lure of foreign travel had attracted her, too. Eating in five-star restaurants was an added plus. In addition, Adeline Simmons was a hoot. In more ways than one, she was actually looking forward to her new job. She was going to miss Rosie, though.
How could a relationship that was so deep, so wonderful, so near perfect, go awry?
She wasn’t going to cry again. She’d shed all the tears she was going to shed for Rosie Gardener. If Rosie wanted to ruin her life, so be it.
Adeline said she needed to say good-bye to Rosie. On the eve of Rosie’s wedding, she was going to her house to say good-bye. How weird wasthat?
Ten minutes later, Vickie watched as Adeline Simmons’s chauffeur stowed her trunk and suitcases in the back of the custom Rolls Royce. She waved airily as he drove off. Now all she had to do was drive to Rosie’s house, ring the bell, and if Rosie didn’t kick her butt out the door, say good-bye, and leave. Never to darken her doorstep again. Ha!
Her stomach in knots, Vickie lowered the canvas roof of her Mustang convertible. Maybe the warm June breezes as she drove around the corner would help her calm down. Maybe she should have walked. Too late now, she was already in the car. When she stopped for the traffic light at the corner she looked at the dashboard clock. It was ten minutes past nine. Maybe the reason her stomach was in knots was because she hadn’t eaten anything since she’d wolfed down a stale donut at noon. The idea of a piping-hot pizza and a cold beer suddenly appealed to her. It would also fortify her for the meeting with Rosie.
Her eyes on the late-evening traffic, Vickie slowed for a stop sign, made a left on West Jones and another left onto Tattnall Street where the Crystal Beer Palace was located.
Vickie pulled into a parking space and had one foot out of the car when she heard voices coming from the Porsche that was parked to her right. One of the voices sounded familiar. When the voice turned low and intimate, she looked up and recognized Kent Bliss, the man Rosie was marrying at ten o’clock the
next morning. The only problem was, it wasn’t Rosie hanging on to Kent and kissing him full on the mouth. She dropped back onto the seat. She inched the door closed before wiggling over to the passenger side of the car for a better look at what was going on.
No, it definitely was not Rosie mashing her body against Kent’s with her tongue down his throat.
Vickie cracked the passenger-side door and almost fell out in the process. She was just in time to hear Rosie’s intended say, “What say we have a little quickie before we have our drink.”
“Oooh, Kent, you are so wicked. Naughty and wicked. Okay,” the young voice chirped.
Now what am I supposed to do? Wait till the quickie is over? Go inside and take my beer and pizza with me? What if I’m standing in the lobby when Kent and the young girl enter?Vickie debated all of ten seconds before she fit the key into the ignition and backed out of the parking space, sans lights. She didn’t turn the lights on until she was once again on West Jones Street.
Her thoughts jumbled, Vickie drove by rote until she reached Rosie’s house. She parked, got out, and walked around to the back, where she could see lights. Rosie must be in the kitchen. Maybe she was having a case of the jitters or having a late-evening snack.
Damn, what am I doing here anyway?The last time she’d gone there the visit had ended in an ugly scene. She’d stormed out, leaving Rosie crying hysterically. Both of them had said hateful, ugly things to one another, something they’d never, ever done before.
Before she could change her mind, Vickie jabbed at the kitchen doorbell. From somewhere in the house, possibly the dining room, where Rosie would have her wedding presents set up, she could hear heavy footsteps. “Who is it? Kent, is that you? You know you aren’t supposed to see the bride until right before the wedding.”
Vickie clenched her teeth just as the outside light went on. “It’s Vickie, Rosie.”
“Vic! Oh, God, you came! I am so happy to see you! Come in, come in! Oh, God, Vickie, I wanted to call you a hundred times. Tell me you reconsidered and are going to be in the wedding party. Please tell me that’s why you came.”
Vickie felt her eyes start to puddle. She stared at her lifelong friend, whose freckles made a bridge across her plump face. Her dark chestnut hair was set in giant rollers, and her ample, size fourteen frame was decked out in a scarlet sweat suit. She was in her bare feet. Vickie shook her head slightly. She thought her heart was going to break when Rosie stepped backward, her back stiffening.
“I…I came to say good-bye, Rosie.”
“I’ll be back, Vickie. A honeymoon doesn’t last forever. Seven days is nothing.” Rosie’s voice sounded so desperate, Vickie closed her eyes, dreading what she was about to do.
“Not you, Rosie, me. I’m going away. I got a job, as a companion to Adeline Simmons. We’re leaving for Europe in the morning. It’s a cushy job, and it pays very well. All my expenses are paid. I’m closing up my house this evening and leaving my car in the Simmons’s garage till we get back.”
Rosie’s jaw dropped. “But…but what about my wedding? What about the business? Tell me this is all a big joke. Why would you do…such a thing?”
Vickie shrugged. “Have your lawyer talk to my lawyer. I think that’s how it’s done. I told you the last time I was here, Rosie, that I wouldn’t be at the wedding. My feelings haven’t changed. You are making a serious mistake marrying Kent. I don’t want to go through that whole ugly scene again, okay? I just came to say good-bye and to wish you well. Did you buy him that new Porsche?”
Rosie bit down on her lower lip. “I wish you hadn’t come here, Vickie. And, yes, the Porsche was my wedding present to Kent. Why can’t you be happy for me? Why are you so jealous of me? Did you really think that because I weigh twenty-five pounds more than you, that no one would look at me? So what if I’m a size fourteen and you’re a size six. My weight and size don’t bother Kent. He says it’s just more of me to love.”
“And you believe that! Rosie, open your damn eyes! He’s a loser. He owes everyone in town. He chases anything in a skirt. I just saw him having a quickie in his brand-new Porsche just ten minutes ago. Don’t ask me how he’s doing it in that racy car, but he’s doing it. I saw him, Rosie. With my own eyes. I can even tell you who he was with, Sara Armstrong. She just turned eighteen two weeks ago. I saw the announcement in the paper because her parents threw her a wingding birthday party. She and Kent were at the Crystal Beer Palace. Read my lips, Rosie. You’re marrying him tomorrow morning, and he’s out there screwing an eighteen-year-old the night before! What’s wrong with this picture?”
Rosie Gardener sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. Her expression was sad when she said, “I had no idea you hated me so much. I can’t comprehend your jealousy, Vickie. Why did you come here? Can’t you stand to see me happy? I would be delirious if it was you getting married. I think you should leave now, Vickie.”
She had to try one more time. “Rosie, listen to me. I don’t hate you. I love you. We were best friends. And because of that relationship, I take it personally when I see someone bent on hurting you. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t try to warn you? I do want you to be happy. You’re so desperate to get married, you’re settling for that loser. He’s going to milk you dry if he hasn’t already. That’s all I have to say. Bye, Rosie, have a good life!”
“You have the nerve to say that to me after what you just told me! Get out of my house! I never want to see you again. Never. Do you hear me, Vickie?”
Vickie turned at the door. “If you ever really need me, Rosie, my lawyer will know where I am and how to reach me.”
“You don’t have to worry about that, Vickie Winters. It will be a cold day in hell before I call on the likes of you,” Rosie vowed through her tears.
Vickie quietly closed the door behind her. She carried the sounds of her friend’s sobs with her out to her car. She felt lower than a snake’s belly as she drove away. She wasn’t wrong about Kent. Knowing that might make it a tad easier to live with what she’d done.
As she drove around the corner to her own little house, Vickie tussled with the memory of her and Rosie walking hand in hand on the first day of school. They were both excited and yet scared at the same time. Right before they walked up the steps to the school, they’d stopped, hugged each other, giggled as they swore to each other that they would be best friends for life. Then they’d galloped up the steps for the first big adventure of their lives.
It was all so long ago, but the memory was just as vibrant and fresh as that day so many years ago. Maybe she didn’t have any right to expect a childhood promise to last forever.
1
Three Years Later
Rosie Bliss feigned sleep in the early-morning light. There had been a time when she’d loved lying in bed watching her husband get dressed for the day. Two years and fifty-one weeks ago. Now, she dreaded opening her eyes in the morning to watch him fuss and fiddle and primp like some movie star.
Oh, Kent had the looks of a movie star, that was for sure. He could have doubled for George Clooney with his dark unruly hair and bedroom brown eyes. It was the rest of him that didn’t go with the image. She’d found that out, too, two years and fifty-one weeks ago.
She sneezed. The jig was up. Rolling over, Rosie turned on the bedside lamp and sat up. She hugged her knees close to her chest. No mean feat with the extra pounds she’d put on over those two years and fifty-one weeks. She waited now for the verbal onslaught she knew was coming. When she finally got tired of waiting, she said, “Well, let’s get on with it so we can both start our day.”
Today he wouldn’t look at her. She wondered whatthat meant. Once she had cared about every little thing he did. She’d done everything but turn herself inside out to please the man she’d married. It had taken her exactly seven days, the length of their honeymoon, to figure out it was never going to happen.
The realization that her friend Vickie had been right made the knowledge all the more bitter. So she’d do
ubled her efforts to win her husband’s love. She’d bought him outrageous gifts, mountains of pricey clothes, a Rolex, a Mont Blanc pen, a speedboat, a flatscreen television set, any number of electronic toys, the memberships at the country club and the Olympus Gym in the hopes of a smile and maybe a lovemaking session. It never worked.
Rosie wondered if Kent even remembered that it was their wedding anniversary. She bit down on her tongue to make sure she didn’t blurt it out. Instead, she let her gaze go to a small television set perched on the corner of the dresser. Kent liked to hear the local news while he got ready for his day. Her ears perked up when she heard him make a sound. Maybe it was a grunt. He rarely spoke so early in the morning. He did point to the screen. She grimaced as the morning news anchor rattled on about the Wonderball lottery drawing that was going to be held that night. Someone, the news anchor said, was really going to win 302 million dollars, the largest Wonderball drawing ever. He went on to say people were coming to Savannah from other states, mostly South Carolina and North Carolina, to buy tickets. The wait in line, according to the newsperson, was up to four hours.
Rosie blinked when she heard her husband say, “I bought a hundred dollars’ worth of tickets yesterday. Man, I could spend that money in a heartbeat.”
Rosie swung her legs over the side of the bed. “It’s always about money with you, isn’t it, Kent?” she observed quietly. “Between the two of us we make almost half a million dollars a year.” There was no need to remind him that four hundred and fifty thousand of the half million dollars was money she earned. Kent just played at selling real estate and looking nice for the customers he drove around all day long in his Porsche.
Rosie stood up, moved closer to her husband. He deliberately inched away. He still wasn’t looking at her. Today of all days. She bit down on her bottom lip again to prevent herself from mentioning their anniversary. She sniffed his aftershave. She loved the way he smelled so early in the morning. Rather like a woody glen on a clear summer day.
Pretty Woman Page 1
