by Lori Leger
Giselle’s hand flew up to her mouth as she began to sob openly.
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Drake had listened to the entire exchange, all the while watching Annie grow more and more emotional. She finally broke away from the crowd that had gathered around the two couples and rushed out to the patio. Drake wasted no time in following her out.
“Are you okay?” he asked, seeing her jump at the sound of his voice.
“I’m fine, damn it, but must you follow me wherever I go?”
“Well, you ran out of there like a thoroughbred draggin’ a tail full of barbed wire…I was concerned.”
“You don’t need to be,” she said, turning her back on him. “Now, go away. You’re annoying me.”
Drake ignored her and walked closer. “That’s some story, isn’t it?” He waited for a response from Annie, who remained silent, for a rare change. He crept nearer and realized she was crying quietly. Without saying a word, he wrapped her in his arms and did his best to comfort her. Damn it felt good holding her again. It felt so right, and just for a moment, he thought she’d give in to it—accept that they could be good together. But then she pulled away from him.
“Let go of me,” she said.
Drake smiled as she turned away from him. “I only want to help, Annie. I didn’t realize you were so soft-hearted.”
“Well, I am—I get it from my mom, so there,” she said, sounding as upset with herself as she was at him. “Things like that,” she waved her hand at the house, “it’s just so sad—what their parents did to them.”
“But Melinda and Greg got back together. And if your mother is to be believed, and personally I think she knows what she’s talking about, it looks like they may have found their daughter.”
“But look at all the time they lost! Giselle is thirty-three years old for God’s sake. They’ve missed out on a lifetime of seeing their child grow!” She swiped uselessly at the tears running down her face. “It’s just so sad,” she said, taking the tissues he offered.
He couldn’t help but smile as he watched her sniff and dab at her tears. “Yeah, it’s a sad thing when people miss out on a chance for happiness, but at least they can say that it was out of their control. It wasn’t because of his or her stubbornness,” he said quietly, hoping to get his point across.
She turned her back on him again. “Just give it a rest, would you?” she said between sniffs.
“Not if there’s the slightest chance of wearing you down.”
“It’s not going to happen, Drake,” she said, turning angrily on him again. “You need to face that—and stop tormenting me!”
“What are you so damned afraid of Annie?”
“I’m not afraid.”
“That’s not what you said at the club that night in the parking lot. You said I scared the hell out of you.” He walked up to her and put his hands on her arms then bent down to look into her eyes. “So what is it? Are you afraid of being happy?”
“I am happy!” she said, twisting out of his hold. “I’ve got a wonderful career just starting and a full life ahead of me. I don’t need to be side-tracked.”
“But we could at least be friends,” he said, willing to take that…for now.
She snorted. “We couldn’t just be friends if our lives depended on it, and you damn well know it. This is how it has to be. I’m not putting my life on hold for you, or anybody.” She walked back inside, leaving Drake to stare after her.
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Inside the house, it was a regular tear fest as Melinda and Giselle both tried to console a sobbing Tiffany.
Red, seeing his wife from across the room, rushed over to her. “Babe, what’s wrong?”
“Red—they’ve been separated for so long. First, Melinda and Greg, then the baby…wh…who…could be Giselle…your mom thinks she is and she’s never wrong. I just feel so…oh, I don’t know!” she babbled before breaking down again.
“Aw, Doc,” Red groaned, holding tight to his sobbing wife.
Vivienne left her husband’s side to collect her daughter in law. “Come on dear, let’s go have some girl talk,” she said as the women all disappeared down the hall into the master bedroom.
Red furrowed his brow, confused as ever as he watched his wife disappear into their bedroom. He felt his father’s reassuring hand on his shoulder and looked up at him. “Is that a normal reaction?”
Pete McAllister grinned knowingly. “Oh, it may be for a while, but believe me…it’ll pass, son.” He turned away from Red to hide his grin. “It always passes.”
Chapter 21
Red and Tiffany’s nuptial celebration was a simple affair, at Tiffany’s request. The only items that had been added to the traditional Christmas decor that graced the altar of the church were several more poinsettia plants. There were no bridesmaids, no maid of honor, no flower girl or ring bearer at the church wedding that included family, close friends and co-workers of both Red and Tiffany.
There was just Daniel, dressed in his own black tuxedo walking his daughter Tiffany down the aisle to Red, who was also handsomely dressed in his own black tuxedo. She arrived in front of him in the simple, but elegantly cut gown of ivory satin with her hair pulled up and her curls strategically escaping from their loose binding. Daniel kissed his daughter gently and handed her over to Red, who shook his hand and thanked him.
Red turned to Tiffany. “You take my breath away.”
She smiled tenderly at him as they both turned to Father Mitch. There, before everyone who meant anything to them at all, Tiffany and Red were joined in holy matrimony.
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Red’s new club, again thanks to Tiffany’s simple, but elegant tastes, was beautifully decorated, even though it lacked the usual fuss and fluff of so many weddings these days. The food, provided by a catering service, was delicious and artfully displayed, the champagne was high quality, and the music was Red’s D.J., playing every song that the couple had chosen together. Brandon had offered the services of his band, but Tiffany flatly refused, insisting this night was for family to enjoy, and he was under strict orders to dance with his wife the entire night. The couple had each chosen a song to dedicate to their spouse. Red smiled when the D.J. announced the bride’s choice for her husband— “This Love,” by LeAnn Rimes.
“This song brings back some pretty good memories for me,” she told him as they spun gracefully around the dance floor.
“Mmmm…our first time in the shower,” Red said mischievously. “You made an excellent choice, as usual. Have I told you how breathtaking you are today, my wife?”
“I believe you have, my husband. It’s quite a change from me walking around the house with no make-up, jeans, and sneakers, isn’t it?”
“You always take my breath away—especially with no make-up and dressed in your running gear.” He nuzzled her neck. “Sing to me, Mrs. McAllister.”
They spent the rest of the song lost in the moment and totally oblivious to anyone else in the room, as Tiffany sang sweetly into her husband’s ear. She ended the song with a tender kiss.
They stood motionless as the D.J. made an announcement. “Okay folks, I have to admit, I’m not quite sure what this is all about, but the groom has dedicated this one to his lovely bride.” All was quiet in the room when the marching drums started and Tiffany looked at Red in utter confusion. When the flute and piccolo part started up and the opening notes of The Yellow Rose of Texas began, Tiffany’s mouth flew open.
“Red McAllister...you did not!” she cried.
He stood there—his arms spread, with a huge grin on his face. “Baby, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”
Melissa and Bailey both screamed with laughter when they recognized the song. “The tattoo!” they cried out, in unison.
“Spring break in Panama City!” Melissa yelled at Tiffany.
“Somebody break out the te-qui-la!” Bailey threw in.
Both women turned and touched a finger to a spot just above their right butt chee
ks causing the crowd, along with the bride and groom, to erupt in laughter. Tiffany, willing to play along, turned her back to the crowd and leaned over as Red pointed out the exact spot where her tattoo was located. Then he looked up, nodded at the spectators, winked, and gave the crowd a big thumbs-up while they laughed and burst into applause. Tiffany’s cheeks flushed only slightly with embarrassment, and Red, having teased her enough for one day, asked the D.J. to cut the song.
“Yellow rose tattoos aside,” the D.J. announced, “here’s the real dedication song from the groom to his bride.” The familiar opening notes of Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl began.
“Now, that’s more like it, mister!” Tiffany said to her husband as she put her hand out to him as they began to jitter-bug around the dance floor, to the crowd’s delight.
Later, Tiffany was speaking to Carrie and Giselle when her husband walked up and placed both hands softly on her waist.
“Excuse me ladies, but could I steal my wife for a dance?”
Tiffany beamed as Red whisked her off into a slow waltz to John Michael Montgomery singing Hold on To Me. She dropped her head back as she murmured in appreciation. “Hmm...Now this song brings back some interesting memories.”
Red nuzzled her neck. “For me too—our last dance at Jackson and Giselle’s wedding reception. It was all good, right up until that slap.” He rubbed the side of his face for show.
She smiled at him and kissed the cheek that had once worn her handprint for the entire afternoon. “I was talking about the first time I spent the night at the ranch, when neither of us could sleep. I walked into your office, and you were sitting there, all shirtless and buff…looking so damn sexy and playing this on your guitar. I was mesmerized.”
“You thought I looked sexy?” He kissed the tip of her nose.
“Oh God, you looked so good, I could have attacked you.” She rubbed her hands over his broad chest and wished they were alone in the room.
Red’s groan rumbled deep in his throat. “I wouldn’t have stopped you, that’s for sure. Every time I closed my eyes I pictured you in that damned Jacuzzi tub. Every time I dozed off, I woke up wanting you so badly.”
“Wanting me?” She traced a nail softly over his lips and chin.
“Oh yeah. Why the hell did you think I had my shirt off?”
“I don’t know but it was freezing that night.”
“Not to me—I was on fire. It was almost unbearable having you under my roof and not being able to do all the things I wanted to do to you. If you’d only agreed to the damn skinny dipping,” he said, causing her to chuckle. “I love you Mrs. McAllister.”
“I love you too, Mr. McAllister. Sing it to me now?”
They continued dancing as Red sang lowly into her ear. When the song was over, he pulled her close to him. “I can’t wait to get you home, you know.”
“I know, but we have some gifts to open first,” she said.
He dropped his head back in frustration. “We have to open those here? I thought we’d get to take them home and open them all later.”
“No, we have to do it here, babe. Your mom says it’s a McAllister family tradition.”
“Aw man, why can’t we start our own family tradition?”
“Stop whining, Red. Come on, it won’t take that long...there are just a couple of dozen from people who didn’t attend the shower or have gifts delivered.” She pulled him over to the gift table and enlisted Melissa and Bailey’s help to write down everything that was given and by whom so they’d have a list for thank you cards.
They went through the gifts rather quickly and got down to the last gift on the table. Tiffany picked it up to study it. “There’s one left, but the only thing the tag says is ‘To be opened by Red’—so here you go. You get to open this one.” She handed him the box and stepped away.
It was a square, flat box, wrapped in white ribbons. He pulled the ribbons away from it and took the lid off. There was a layer of cotton on top and he removed it carefully, curious about what was underneath. He looked closely at the contents, gently nudging one, then another, then another of the three items inside. He covered the box and looked to his left for Tiffany and didn’t see her, then he looked to his right and didn’t see her. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to see his wife standing behind him, beaming up at him.
“Are you serious? Can it happen this quickly?” he asked in amazement.
“I think I’ve married into a very virile family,” she murmured letting him pull her into his arms for a kiss.
“What is it?” someone yelled from the back.
Red reluctantly let go of his wife and turned to the crowd. He lifted the lid from the box and took out the three items...three different sticks from three different pregnancy tests. Each one showed the same result...whether it was a blue dot, a pink plus, or simply the word PREGNANT.
He broke out in a huge grin as he addressed the crowd. “We’re pregnant!” He picked up his wife and spun around with her before he brought her down to his level gain.
“Oh, but I love my red haired, blue-eyed devil,” she said breathlessly.
He pulled her close to him and closed his eyes, thanking God one more time for bringing her into his life. He whispered softly into her ear, “I love you too, my brown eyed girl.”
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First Chapter Preview of
Heaven in Your Eyes
Book 4: La Fleur de Love series
Coming in late spring of 2012
Chapter 1
New Year’s Eve
Annie sensed him as soon as he entered the club. She watched from her vantage point at the edge of the dance floor as he filled the doorway of her brother’s club. Why must he show up just in time to ruin her night? And why must he always have to look so damned good doing it? She groaned inwardly at the sexiness of the man dressed in dark grey slacks with a black shirt, as usual, tailored to fit him perfectly.
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Drake LeBlanc made his way into the club. The place was full to capacity, which was great news for his brother in law and owner, Red McAllister. It was New Year’s Eve and the grand opening for the brand new club named simply, Red’s. People on the packed dance floor moved rhythmically as the latest country chart buster blasted from the sound system. He could see several dozen gorgeous women with swaying, gyrating hips. He scanned the floor, searching for one face only—one particular shape in the crowd, when he heard a familiar voice.
“Hey, brother in law! We were beginning to wonder if you’d be able to make it.”
Drake grabbed Red’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “I’m late, I know,” he yelled to be heard over the sound system. “But I’m working my ass off trying to get settled in. I unpack at the office until seven, go home, eat a little take out, and unpack there until ten.”
Red laughed. “It gets easier.” He pointed to a corner of the huge, open room. “Everyone is over there.”
It took a few minutes to get to the far side of the room where the rest of their group had taken up three rectangular tables in the VIP section.
Tiffany McAllister jumped up out of her chair when she saw Drake. “There’s my little brother!” She hugged him tightly then pointed to the chair next to her.
Drake exchanged greetings with all the familiar faces at the tables then seated himself. “Great crowd—I’d say this has all the makings of a successful dance club.” He looked around. “Is this all the family that made it?”
Red grinned at Drake. “Annie’s dancing.”
Drake nodded, trying to look nonchalant. “Did she come with anyone?”
Tiffany leaned closer to him. “You mean is she alone, or with a date?”
He gave her a cocky smile. “Whether or not she’s got a date is of no concern.”
“Bull!” she retorted. “We know how you feel about her.”
“I know how I feel about her, too. All I’m saying is I’m not worried.” The music stopped suddenly and he straightened his collar and cleared his
throat. “It’ll just make her realize how dim the competition is when compared to me,” he drawled. A familiar voice cut through his calm composure like a machete through rice paper, causing his shoulders to stiffen.
“Well, you’re being a pompous ass early tonight.”
He turned to look into the crystalline blue eyes of Annie McAllister. His stomach knotted with excitement, despite the angry glare she flashed at him. He lowered his gaze to stare at her shapely legs, clad in stiletto heels, and black stockings then up to the short black leather skirt that hugged her hips. She wore a modestly cut, cream colored sweater that clung tightly to her tiny waist. Once again, he marveled at how perfectly proportioned she was. He leaned forward to catch her fragrance, a soft scent, so uniquely hers. “Annie, you always bring to mind the old phrase ‘dynamite comes in small packages,’” he drawled while nodding appreciatively.
“You bring one to mind as well. ‘An ounce of pretension is worth a pound of manure.’” She turned to sit in the one remaining chair across from him and shook her head in disgust. “You’re so pretentious it doesn’t even bother you that I think you’re pretentious.”
“I’m not pretentious, Annie. I’m just sure of myself, that’s all.”
“See? That’s pretentious,” she accused.
“No, it’s confidence,” he countered.
“In what?” she snapped.
“In the knowledge that there’s not another man out there who can make you feel the things I will one day.”
