by Leslie Pike
Cynthia Wagner is another friend who never fails to be there for me, laugh with me, cry with me, pray for me and inspire me. There are many things about Cynthia I look up to and many things I aspire to emulate. Your friendship is gold, and I know it will last a lifetime.
The women of the Notre Dame High School class of 1969 book club deserve a ticker tape parade. They invited me to be the guest author at one of their meetings, and they put on a splendid luncheon. These are women who are intelligent, thoughtful, accomplished and just plain in a league of their own. We had a wonderful day in Pacific Grove, the setting for The Trouble With Eden. Their discussion was thought provoking and insightful. All boats lift in a rising tide, and I believe my little vessel rose because of who these women are. So thank you, Donna Smith, Karen Jackson, Deborah De La Rosa, Erin Coolman, Judy Fox, Jenny Fox, Kathy Garvin, Vicki Ferrera, Eloise Cavazos, and Monica Hodja.
I’d like to acknowledge the first people who gave me a shot at writing, the “Walker, Texas Ranger” players. I was the wife of a stuntman, who was working on the series. After a while, I had the metaphorical balls to approach the head writer. I asked him if I could give writing an episode a shot. That seems almost unbelievable to me now. We were filming on an old western set, and he sat down on some steps with me, and talked about my proposal. He said to give it a try. And so I did. It took a few years of attempts, many rejected ideas for episodes and permission to present my ideas to him, and the next show runner. That’s how it started. But eventually I heard the words I needed to hear. They were going to buy one of my stories. The fact that it was a slow process served me well. If you want to write badly enough, if you can’t help but do it regardless of your success, then it’s going to be magically rewarding. Even if you’re the only one that feels the magic. So thank you, Gordon Dawson and Bob Gookin. You were so kind and never condescending in your support. I felt like you believed in my dream too. I listened to every bit of advice you gave. Your critiques were honest and invaluable. When you both called me to say CBS was buying another story and my script, I could tell you were as excited as I was. I’ll never forget that conversation. If I never had been able to write another word, that one moment would have been enough. Thank you both, with all the gratitude I’m capable of feeling.
I also want to mention Chuck Norris. I first met him in 1978, when my new stuntman boyfriend was working out with him at his house. Now here we are thirty-seven years later, and I have many memories, and many things to thank him for. Things that are even bigger than my first break. But without his agreement to consider my stories, nothing would have happened. That’s the simple truth. He was deeply invested with his Walker character, and he knew him better than any writer. So he had to see that you knew him too, through the writing. I thank God he saw that in me, because it gave me all the incentive I would ever need to believe in myself as a writer. Thank you, Chuck.
And now for my betas. Jillian Toth, Lara Petterson, Tara Ross, Jamee Wick, Melissa Charlie and Leticia Sidon. You are each so crucial to the success of my stories. I listen to what you have to say and value each note you’ve sent. I wait for your comments, like a kid hoping teacher approves of her composition. It’s so important to hear what a sophisticated reader thinks, of story and characters. Someday, Jillian, Tara, Melissa, Leticia and Jamee, we’re going to actually meet and cement the friendships we’ve started over a book. Until then, know that I prize your contributions more than you could ever know. I hope you will continue to come along with me, as I navigate this world of fiction. Thank you, thank you and then thank you again.
Mandi Beck, Cara Arthur and Keshia Langston, I will forever be in your debt. You have each given me pieces to the puzzle I’m trying to assemble. Pieces I didn’t even know I was missing. And you gave them with such a beautiful spirit of sharing. I am changed because of your actions. As I continue to write, I’ll remember just how impactful your kindness was and try to pay it forward. Thank you.
Nichole Strauss and Christine Borgford of Perfectly Publishable, have walked me through the backwoods of Word. Can’t live with it, can’t delete it. But with these two awesome women as my guides, I make it through. I can honestly say that Nichole has made me a better writer. She sees things I don’t, and leads me to them. They each have mad skills, and I recommend their formatting and editing services with my highest praise. Their unending patience is admirable and something I’ve come to count on. They are true professionals and calm in the face of my panic. Thank you, ladies. That just doesn’t say enough.
Kari March is a wonderful designer, and seeing her cover work is always one of the highlights of the process. She really listens to what a writer wants and always provides different looks for me to choose from. I’m so happy with her work and will continue to use K23 Designs for my covers. Thank you, Kari.
Words of love and appreciation to all the blogs and bloggers out there, who spread the word, discussed the content and helped this new author. Thank you all, for being part of this fantastic journey.
About the Author
Leslie Pike lives in Orange County, California, with her husband Don, and their Pom-Poo, Mr. Big. Before writing her first novel, Leslie worked as a screenwriter on episodic television. She’s traveled the world with her Stuntman/Stunt Coordinator/Second Unit Director husband. They’ve been on movie sets from Africa to Israel, from New York to Los Angeles. Some of Leslie’s favorite things include calligraphy, long walks with her friends and spending afternoons at the movies.
Wild In Paradise is the second book in Leslie’s Paradise Series.
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Also By Leslie Pike
Sexceptional
Santini Series Novellas
Destiny Laughs
Destiny Plays
Destiny Shines ( May 2018)
Playlist
“Sexy Back” Justin Timberlake
“Brown Sugar” The Rolling Stones
“Feel” Robbie Williams
“Wild Thing” The Troggs
“3” Brittney Spears
“Rude Boy” Rihanna
“Cockiness” Rihanna
“The Stars And Stripes Forever” John Philip Sousa
“I Want To Know What Love Is” Foreigner
“One Of Those Nights” Tim McGraw
“Breathe” Faith Hill
“No Diggity” Blackstreet
“Ball and Biscuit” The White Stripes
“Glory Box” Portishead
“Crazy In Love” Sofia Kariberg
“I’d Love To Be Your Last” Gretchen Wilson
The Road To Paradise
Copyright 2018 by Leslie Pike
All Rights Reserved
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication, may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, brands, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Editing by:
Nichole Strauss, Insight Editing Services
Cover design by:
Kari March of Kari March Designs
Dedication
For my sister, Cathy,
The witty, blue-eyed goddess and her beautiful thirsty heart. Let’s do this again next life.
Chapter One
NICKI
I may be thirty-three years old, but if I could get away with it I’d be sucking my thum
b right now while pitching a hissy fit. Instead I sit motionless on my toilet, eyes closed. I’m pretending to ignore the fact my life is about to implode. It’s the Japanese markers in my DNA that I remain cool and calm. But the Portuguese side of me is already envisioning the ticker-tape parade my family will hold in my honor. Never before have I felt such a mixture of joy and dread. There’s a real possibility that at any moment I may start laughing or crying hysterically like a mad woman. It’s anyone’s guess. All my emotions are racing to the surface at once. Choose me screams my panic, fear and hope. It’s a mosh pit of sensations.
And what about my Jack? I’ve learned over the last two years just how rarified the life of a film star can be. He’s used to having things his way. The man’s catered to every day by many people, and it’s truly amazing he’s grounded. He knows exactly how he likes things to go, and his days are shaped by those preferences. I may be the first person in Jack’s life to be put ahead of himself. Before me, there was no wife to factor into his choices. But he’s done a beautiful job of including me in every important decision. Our love is made of equals, each of us placing the other ahead of ourselves. I wouldn’t have been with him if it was any other way. Now there’s going to be a new twist in our story, and it could change everything. I hope to God he’s as adaptable as he’s been in the past.
I put one hand in front of my face and spread my fingers to control how much or how little I see. I’m trying to dull the shock, as if I’m watching a horror film and the monster’s about to jump out from the darkness. Okay, there’s the plastic wand’s rounded end, and the edge of the tiny window that will reveal my fate. Correction, our fate. I tilt my head just a fraction of an inch to look between my thumb and forefinger. Then I see it. The scary beast has jumped out from the shadows. It’s undeniable and indisputable.
I’m pregnant.
Somehow I get the strength to stand although my legs feel weak, and I have the unsettling awareness of my own heartbeat. I look in the mirror. “You’re having a baby,” I whisper, just to try the idea on for size. My throat tightens with emotion. The tearful, smiling reflection tells me what I need to know. Composure be damned. My destiny has arrived. I’m going to be a mother! It doesn’t matter that it’s unplanned, or that I wasn’t even sure I wanted children till this very moment. I know this; it feels right. My thoughts are interrupted by a loud knock on the door and Jack’s voice.
“Nicki, let’s get going! I don’t want to make him wait. By the way, what are you doing in there? Can I be of assistance?”
His offer is heavy with innuendo. I hear his laughter through the door.
“You’ve got a dirty mind, husband. I’ll be out in a minute. Amuse yourself.”
I turn on the faucet to stall for time, then wrap the pregnancy test in a washcloth and stick it in the back of a drawer, saving it so we can take a picture later. With one last look, I make sure my eyes are dry and won’t give me away. My hands move to my stomach, perfectly toned and taut. Not for long. There’s a baby in there. Our sweet baby.
How will I tell Jack? I need to make the big reveal memorable. But it’s killing me that I can’t shout it to the heavens. A few tears trickle down my cheeks, but they’re quickly wiped away. I center myself then open the door to find handsome Jack waiting. He takes one look at me, cocks his head to the side and a quizzical expression spreads over his face. His eyes narrow. “What?” he says.
“Nothing. What are you talking about?” I say as nonchalantly as possible.
He nods toward me and lifts a finger, tracing the outline of my face in the air. “This. This right here. Something’s up.”
He’s very adept at reading me, damn him. I’m acting perfectly normal and my face is practically expressionless. I move his hand away and keep walking.
“You’re hallucinating,” I say. “I just went to the bathroom, Jack. Let me get my purse, and you can tell me all about your friend we’re going to visit while we drive.”
He catches up to me, swinging me around and locking me in his strong embrace. “Give us a kiss good morning first.”
Then he takes it without waiting. It’s a slow indecent kiss to start our day. But when we part, he still has questions in his eyes. “Okay, if you’re not going to tell me now, I’ll have to get it out of you later. I can wait. I don’t want to hurry your confession or your punishment.”
I answer his sweet threat with a mysterious smile. “Better be nice to me. I’ve got a really good present for you tonight.”
Now he’s intrigued. He leans in and whispers in my ear. “Does this gift have anything to do with my dick and your pussy?”
“Actually it does.” Technically that’s true.
He’s happy with the thought and releases his grip. “That’s all I need to know. I love it already.”
I’m hoping to hear those same words tonight.
It’s only about twelve miles from our house in Laguna Beach to where we’re headed in Lake Mission Viejo. As we get in our car, I’m hardly registering the stunning lavender Jacaranda trees or the draping bougainvillea putting on their August show. I’m more interested in observing Jack as he’s talking. I’m looking with new eyes. Will the baby look like him? Or me? Will he have his wild thick mane of blond hair, which stands up like a free form sculpture? Or will she have jet-black stick-straight hair like mine? Whose eye color will dominate, my blue or his hazel? Will the child favor my Japanese ancestry or Jack’s English/Welsh roots? Oh my God, what if the baby looks Japanese with untamed blonde hair sticking straight up, and one blue eye and one brown? I can’t help but let out a little laugh at the thought. I catch Jack looking at me. He’s stopped talking.
“Where are you today, Nicki? I’d love to be part of the conversation that’s going on inside your head.”
I recompose myself, return to Earth and think fast. “Sorry, honey. I was just thinking about how we met.”
I know I can always get a response with this subject.
“Well, you screwed me that first night. That was amusing,” he says bragging.
I playfully pinch his arm. “You screwed me that first night too. So what’s your point?”
He just laughs that adorable laugh of his. “No point, except to say that’s one of the things I love about you. You know what you want and you go after it. Good sense and moral code be damned.”
He knows exactly how to push my buttons. “Are you delusional?” I say two octaves higher than my normal voice. “First of all, I’ve never used sex as a bargaining chip. And secondly, don’t you dare question my moral code, you misogynistic ass. It was you who benefited from my decision to honor you with my body. Yes, I said honor. And it was you who pursued me, remember? I was the prize in this equation.”
He takes my hand in his and brings it to his lips for a kiss. “You’re right. You are the prize. The only one I’ll ever want or need.”
He gets back to his driving, and I get back to my daydreaming. In a few hours he’ll have to factor in another person, and he’ll know it’ll never be just him and me again. Make room in your heart, my love, now there’s the three of us.
Jack finds a break in the traffic and picks his spot to merge onto Pacific Coast Highway. He’s on the alert for paparazzi, and we spot two almost immediately, jockeying to get close to our car. The white SUV is winning the battle with the red Fiat. Our tinted windows won’t let them see anything so I really don’t know what they’re hoping for. There’s no parking in front of the beachfront homes along PCH, but the photographers either walk from whatever access they can find, or they park in the Aliso Creek Beach parking lot and wait till they see one of us leaving. Then the chase is on. We’ll lose them today when Jack takes a cut through the gated homes next to the Ritz Carlton. He’s made alliances with the guards who understand his frustration and let the movie star pass through. We have such little control over the violation of our personal space that we have to use whatever tools we can. Jack has tried to protect me from the vile comments and false stories I coul
d read every week. I’ve learned to look away, and I’m growing a thick skin with the passage of time. But how’s he going to shield the baby?
Once we’re free of the chase, he drives with a cool ease. I love how quickly he can let go of things. Not like me. I must have elephant brain cells because I never forget. It’s not my most admirable trait because forgiveness comes slowly for me. I can’t forget what I know to be true. Time does not heal my wounds. And so I’m trying to take a page from Jacks personality. We’re different in so many ways. He’s funny and an extrovert. I’m on the quiet side, with a small but true circle of friends. He can walk in to a room full of strangers and quickly become the center of attention. And not because of his celebrity. It’s his joyful self. He’s happy and I think that spreads to the people in his force field. When you’re around Jack, you’re going to have a great time. More intimate gatherings are my speed. How odd that our two spirits recognized each other that first night when Bliss and Steven introduced us. We clicked and meshed and knew instantly we had found our other halves. It was only a short time till he proposed, shocking even the people closest to us. Maybe especially them. Neither one of us had any intention of marrying. Not until the magic happened.
Like two high schoolers who have no clue what it takes to commit for life we just jumped in. There was an urgency about coming together, as if one wasted moment apart was too much. The question of having children or any of the other absolutely crucial things couples should weigh before marriage wasn’t fully explored. I may have implied children weren’t on my radar but I never gave a definitive decision. I can’t remember him saying anything about the subject. Both pushing it aside for more important things like making love and just being together in each other’s orbit. Jack and I were hopelessly caught in the unstoppable rush of love that makes all other issues seem like details. It was stupid and impulsive but true. Both of us knew we would bend to the others will if it was important enough. I guess I’ll find out tonight just how true my instincts were, when I tell Jack he’s going to be a father at fifty-four. I note the gray creeping from his temples and think about the fact that when the baby’s twenty-one Jack will be seventy-six. That’s not so old. Not really. Yikes.
