by Mary Davis
“You’ve occupied her long enough.” Meg turned in surprise to look at Ivan, but before she could refuse, she had changed partners.
She didn’t really want to dance with Ivan Halloway and couldn’t imagine why he should want to dance with her. As with everything else, he was accomplished and skilled, making him a smooth and elegant dancer.
Meg only hoped she didn’t embarrass herself by stomping on his million-dollar toes.
“Do you think that your showing up here will somehow win you favor with my son?” His belittling tone rankled her. “Do you think he is going to beg you to come back? He has never begged for anything in his life.”
She stopped cold and brought herself up to her full height. “I came because I have a job and responsibility, nothing more.” Not caring who was staring at them, she turned and walked away from him. She’d told the truth. She was there because of her job, and for that boorish lout to think otherwise was ludicrous.
An immovable force suddenly stopped her progress. Bruce slid his arms around her, moving her back into a dance. The glare he shot his father’s way gave her the chills. Or was it being in his arms again that made her shiver?
“Are you cold?”
“No.” In fact, she was suddenly quite warm, as though she’d stepped out into a hot August day. His eyes held hers and she was unable to pull away from his intense gaze.
Her mind swarmed with memories like a tornado going round and round and round. She could hear his declaration floating around in her head, “I’m a new creation.”
She thought of the cross he’d given her, which was even now safely tucked in her glove, like she used to do with her milk money on cold school days…she remembered the flowers he’d brought her with an endearing smile.
His smile, just the thought of it made her heart beat faster.
“I am a new creation.”
And then her own words drifted through her mind: “I chose to trust you.” But did she, did she really?
“I am a new creation.”
Dazed by his nearness, her thoughts jumped about and her emotions collided with one another. All her senses seemed to be on alert. Being so close to him was suddenly overwhelming, and she tried to pull out of his grasp, but he held on tightly to her.
“We’ll finish this dance, Meghann. Besides, it’s a little too early for Cinderella to be running out on me.”
His cool words—and his firm grip—left no room for argument.
“Do you think it’s working?” Olivia peered around Gayle Livingston.
Gayle shook her head. “I don’t see how, when they insist on being on opposite sides of the room.”
Olivia saw what Gayle meant. Meg was dancing with a tall, slim man; Bruce was sitting on his red throne sulking.
“I’ll just have to put a stop to that.” Olivia marched over to Bruce and soon he was escorting her to the dance floor. Her plan was obvious, even to Meg, who excused herself from her dance partner before Olivia could trade partners with her.
Olivia watched the object of her son’s affections sweep away and smiled. Point for you this time, Meghann, dear. But the evening is far from over.
And their plan was far from over, as well.
Meg was avoiding him. Bruce was sure of it, and that fact told him all he needed to know; she’d been telling the truth. She hadn’t come for him at all, but out of a sense of duty alone.
Lord, help me know what to do now.
As though in answer to his prayer, the last waltz of the evening began to filter through the room. He jumped on the opportunity, moving to Meg’s side.
“This is our dance, sweetheart,” he said, capturing her arm and leading her to the floor. He held her arm firmly to keep her from escaping. “And it’s no doubt my last chance to explain myself to you.” Like everyone else, he and Meghann had removed their masks during the evening, so now he could see her whole beautiful, sorrow-filled face without any obstructions.
He had put it off until now for fear of sending her fleeing, but to his surprise she didn’t try to get away or object. She simply looked up at him, as though waiting to hear what he had to say.
She’s ready to listen!
His heart all but sang the realization, until another voice threw the cold water of reason on his hope: Either that, or she’s reconciled to having little choice in the matter.
He drew a steadying breath. Whatever the case, she was here, looking up at him. The time had come.
Meghann waited, praying she would be able to bear what Bruce had to say. The hurt she’d felt that day when she saw him holding Charmaine had been so deep. What if Bruce was prepared to tell her he and Charmaine were back together, or that he still cared for her…?
Give me strength, Lord.
Bruce’s voice was low as he began to speak. “Charmaine came to my office with the news that she knew that we weren’t really married.”
So she was blackmailing him into getting back together with her? He could have told her no. Take a hike. Get lost.
“I told her she was mistaken and to go back and check her facts. I told her what we’d shared was long ago, that it was over, never to be resurrected. That I wasn’t the same man. Apparently she felt she could prove me wrong by—” Meg watched in surprise as faint pink tinged his face. He cleared his throat. “She felt she could get a response from me by embracing me. I started to push her away—”
And well you should have!
“Then I realized the only way to get it through to her that she didn’t appeal to me any longer was to let her pull her stunt and see that it didn’t work. I figured even Charmaine wouldn’t be inclined to pursue a man who reacted to her embrace with as much enthusiasm as a dead fish.”
He smiled slightly. “So that’s what I did. I didn’t hold her. Didn’t put my arms around her. In fact, I had my hands in my pockets, telling her I didn’t have time for or interest in her games when you came to the door. After you left, I told her in no uncertain terms that if she bothered either of us again, I would have her brought up on harassment charges.”
“She was here tonight,” she said softly. She was sure he didn’t think she knew about that since it happened before she came. Soon after a woman matching Charmaine’s description had arrived, several people had seen them go off…together! Would he admit it?
He took a slow, controlling breath. “I told her she had better leave of her own accord unless she wanted a police escort out of the building. And she did leave, hopefully for good.”
His gaze roamed her face, and when their eyes met, Meg saw only sincerity there.
“That’s it, Meg. The gospel truth. I’d swear to it on a Bible if you wanted me to, but bottom line, you’re just going to have to decide whether or not you believe me. And we’re going to have to decide whether or not we can trust each other. I hope we can.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but just then the dance ended. As the music faded, Bruce squeezed her hand and moved to make his closing comments to the crowd.
When he finished, he came to escort Meghann from the ballroom to rousing applause. When they were in the hallway, away from the crowd, she turned to him.
“Bruce—”
But he stopped her. “I’m sorry. I have to go someplace right now.” With that, he turned and hurried away. She stood there, staring after him, speechless, then took a step to follow him.
“Miss Livingston?” She halted and turned. A fellow employee stood there, his expression beseeching. “We could use your help here, if you don’t mind. We’re not sure where things are supposed to go…”
With a sigh, Meg followed the man back into the emptying ballroom. For the next hour, she supervised cleanup duties and handled minor catastrophes.
Bruce’s long strides couldn’t get him out fast enough. He pushed open one of the side doors and drank in a long cool breath of fresh air. She didn’t trust him. She just plain didn’t trust him. It was on her face and in her question about Charmaine’s presence earlier this evening. Not
that he could blame Meghann. He was no saint, and even though he counseled himself against it, his hopes had soared with her being here tonight. Logic told him to give up, it was a lost cause, but everything else in him cried out to never let go.
He knew she was reluctant to dance with him, but holding her felt so right. No other woman could ever fill the place in his arms meant for her.
Even as the anguish rode through him, he was devising a plan to win Meghann back. It would start with prayer and end with a proposal. He would marry Meghann or no one, and he had no intention of remaining a bachelor the rest of his life.
Meghann watched the staff and cleanup crew dragging around the room with service carts and garbage bags picking up the debris left behind. Most of the ball guests had left, except a few who were also guests of the hotel. Her mother had gone home early because she was tired. She’d promised to send the limo back for Meg, but a quick survey of the parking lot told her that her mother had forgotten.
Maybe Brock was still around and wouldn’t mind giving her a lift home, but a search of the ballroom, banquet hall, and the other rooms on the lower level offered her no possibility for a ride. Well then, perhaps Brock had gone to Bruce’s office.
The office door was closed but not latched, and she heard nothing from within its darkness. She knocked softly and pushed the door open when she heard no reply. The only light in the room was a small desk lamp, casting strange shadows around the room. Since no one was here, she decided to use Bruce’s phone to call a taxi and crossed the room to the desk.
“This night was a raving success, thanks to you.”
Meghann spun around at the voice in the murky dimness, clutching the receiver to her chest. The light from the hall revealed a form stretched out on the couch. Bruce was still here?
He sat up. “It’s a little late to be making phone calls, unless you’re calling Europe or something.”
She glanced at the instrument in her hand. “I was just calling a taxi. It seems my carriage has turned into a pumpkin.” She couldn’t tell if he smiled at that or not.
“I’ll drive you.” He stood and strode across the room. Her heart took off on a wild dance. “It’ll take too long for a taxi to show up. I can have you home and be back here before one would even show up. It’s the least I can do for a loyal employee.”
She glanced at the couch behind him. “You’re going to sleep here?” She realized he’d done so many times before, during their mock marriage. She felt bad that he had slept on a too short sofa on her account. Why would he do that for her?
“I have to be back here in a few hours anyway and didn’t want to disturb my family.” He stopped in front of her, still in his prince costume minus the coat, and held her in his gaze. “I don’t know if there will be room for the two of us in the ‘Vette with all that gold satin your dress is constructed of.”
She smiled at the thought of stuffing her full dress, hoop skirt and all, into his little sports car.
“You have a nice smile. I wish I could bring it to your face more often.” He sounded downhearted, almost defeated.
Entranced by his fierce gaze, she could neither breathe nor talk. He just stood there unmoving. Her heart thumped so hard against her ribs she thought it might break free.
“I’ll warn you right now, I haven’t given up on the two of us.” His voice had a new earnestness, low and husky. “Meghann Livingston, you are the woman I’ve waited for all my life. I know it as surely as I know my name. And I’m going to hound you until you realize it, too.”
“You are?” His ardent pledge sent her stumbling back into his desk chair. If not for the quick reaction of his strong arms she would have fallen backward into the chair and probably tumbled to the floor.
A slow smile pulled at his mouth as she stood there, motionless, nestled against his chest—the place she was meant to be.
“I am. Because I can’t fathom living life without a young, vibrant woman with hair the color of honey and brown eyes that sparkle with green, sometimes so much there is barely a trace of brown. A woman with a spirit so sweet I couldn’t help but be drawn to her.”
His words washed over her, and she felt the final remnants of her doubts slip away. This was true. This was solid and real and what mattered most—Bruce’s feelings for her; her feelings for him.
As for Charmaine…she was the fantasy. The mirage that deceived her into seeing things that weren’t there. Bruce had told her the truth; Meg was certain of it, deep inside.
He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers and leaned closer. “I love you, Meghann Livingston, now and forever.”
She basked in the feel of his hand on her face and covered his hand with one of her own. “I lov—” but her declaration was lost in his tender kiss.
And at long last, Meg felt as though she’d come home. Now and forever.
Epilogue
IN THE SIDE ROOM DESIGNATED FOR THE GROOM, BRUCE straightened his tie in the full-length mirror. This was a perfect day. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Today he would marry the woman of his dreams. The six months since the masquerade ball had seemed like an eternity.
Brock slammed through the door, out of breath. “Bruce, you have to come quick. Our father is at it again. He has Meghann cornered.”
Bruce grabbed his tuxedo coat and swung it on as he rushed out the door after Brock. His father had been more agreeable since they had their altercation over his attempt to bribe Meghann to walk out of Bruce’s life. And the last time his father visited, he hadn’t stocked Bruce’s junk food bar with liquor. He’d really expected his father to behave himself. He sure hadn’t expected him to try and pull something today.
He followed Brock through the church to the bride’s dressing room. He charged into the room without fear of catching anyone only half dressed. If his brother had been in here and his father was in here, it was safe.
“Bruce, what are you doing here? You aren’t supposed to be in here.”
He ignored the women’s protests; he didn’t believe that nonsense anyway and searched out Meghann. There, in the corner, behind his overbearing father. He crossed the room quickly and plucked the prenuptial agreement from her hands.
“I don’t mind signing it.” There was laughter in her voice as she gazed up at him lovingly.
She took his breath away, and for a moment he forgot why he was there. But the papers in his hand reminded him. “Our marriage is going to be based on trust. When I marry you, it is for life. We don’t need this.” Bruce held up the distasteful document in the air.
“I know. That’s why I don’t mind.”
“I do mind.” He tore it in half and handed it back to his father.
“It’s your funeral, son,” Ivan said brusquely.
Bruce looked his father in the eye and said firmly, “No, it’s my wedding.” Bruce turned to Meghann. “You ready?”
She nodded enthusiastically and took his arm.
“I hope that God of yours is as great as you believe,” his father called after them. “You’ll need it.”
“He is and more.” Was that really his father mentioning God? Maybe he was softening and there was hope for him after all. But he couldn’t think about that right now; he had the love of his life to marry.
He slipped a paper of his own from his inside jacket pocket and handed it over to her.
“Don’t tell me you had your own prenuptial drawn up?” Her eyes sparkled with laughter.
“No, darling. It’s your wedding gift: the deed to our home.”
Her eyes widened. “The house we looked at with Mom?”
“Unless you want a different house?”
Her squeal—and the way she grabbed him around the neck in a hug—gave him all the answer he needed.
He would gladly give her the world if it made her happy. Holding on to her tightly, he kissed her soundly.
“Hey, you’ll have plenty of time for that later, brother.”
Bruce let go of Meg and smiled at Brock. “I sincer
ely hope so.”
Brock shook his head, an indulgent grin on his face. “Newlyweds, can’t live with ’em—” he winked at Meg—“and that pretty well covers it.”
She laughed and batted at him. Watching them together, Bruce was thankful he didn’t feel even a twinge of jealousy. Just gratitude that his soon-to-be wife and his brother were so fond of each other.
Meg came to loop her arm in his. “God has given us so much, hasn’t He?”
“More than I ever dreamed possible.”
“All things really do work together for good, don’t they?”
He tucked her into the crook of his arm. “They do, indeed, my love.”
“Promise me one thing, Bruce.”
At the somber request, he gazed down at her. “Name it.”
“No more games. No pretense. No lies. We do this God’s way, all the way.”
His heart filled with gratitude for the woman God had given him. “I promise. No more games. Just a lot of years of love and honor and remembering how blessed we are.”
He cupped her face in his hands and bowed his head, reverently sealing his vow with a kiss.
“Well, I’d say our plan was a total success.”
They looked up to see Olivia and Gayle standing there, faces beaming.
“Oh yes, indeed,” Gayle was agreeing. “It worked like a charm.”
“Your plan?” Meg tilted her head as she asked the question.
“To get you two back together.”
“Mother!” Meg’s hands came to her hips. “You promised not to meddle!”
Gayle didn’t look the least bit repentant, and Bruce had to fight back a smile. “But I’ll bet you’re glad I did this time—” Gayle looked from him to Meg—“aren’t you, sweetie? Just look at the lovely husband I found for you.”
“Mom…”
Waving at her daughter, Gayle reached out to loop her arm with Olivia. “Now, all we need to do is work on the issue of grandchildren.”
