Текст книги "EMBER - Part Three"

Автор книги: Deborah Bladon

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Chapter 23

"I'm going to learn French."

I stare up and into his face. "That's your plan for when we're in Paris?"

"I'm going to Paris to watch you shine." He presses his chin into my hair. "It's a vacation for me. It's an adventure."

"An adventure?" I glide my hand from my lap onto his thigh. "When did you decide that we were going to Paris?"

"The day you told me about the internship."

I snuggle closer to him on the bench. It's mid-morning and after he'd said goodbye to Cleo, we'd walked out of the hospital hand-in-hand. We didn't have a clear destination and as soon as we walked into Central Park and saw the vacant bench, we both motioned towards it at the same time.

"You're giving up a lot to go there with me." My voice is laced with not only appreciation, but awe.

Adjusting himself, he crosses his long legs. "You would be giving up more by staying here and since I can't be away from you, I need to be there. I have to go with you."

We haven't spoken about the financial aspects of a three-month move around the world. The internship offers a small monthly stipend, which includes housing for me and my companion. I have enough saved to cover meals and transportation but I doubt that Dane will stand idly by while I pull out my wallet each time we go to a café or purchase a bottle of wine.

"You'll live with me in the housing they provide, won't you?" My heart races a little as I ask. It's obviously the most economical way for us to be together there but it's also a major step in our relationship.

His arm tightens around my shoulder. "We'll live together. I'll help you with all your other expenses. I'll cook for you and every day when you're done at the art school, I'll be waiting outside the door to walk you back to our place."

"I can cover a lot of the expenses," I say sheepishly. I have no idea what his salary was at the firehouse. I know that since he won't be working for the next few months that he'll be dependent on his savings for necessities. I'm not about to allow him to eat through that so I can follow my own life's dream of being an artist.

"Bridget." He cradles my hand in his as he brings it to his lips for a soft kiss. "Maisy and I came to an agreement."

"An agreement?" I don't feel an ounce of hesitation as I ask. It's different now. I've met Maisy and that has given me insight I didn't have a day ago. She's not the evil, self-centered creature I conjured up in my mind. She's a woman. She's just a woman who loved Dane once.

He sighs. "She wouldn't leave the house because she didn't want to give up her investment in it. She admitted last night that it was because she was pissed at me for leaving. I knew it. It was obvious but I'm glad she finally gave up."

"I know the house was sold."

"You do?" He tips my chin back with his hand so he can look at me directly. "How do you know that?"

"I went there this morning," I admit with a weak grin. "I took the subway to Queens. It's a nice house, Dane."

"It sold within hours after it was listed." A ghost of a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. "I kept everything looking great when I lived there."

I reach up to touch his cheek. "I can see why you loved it."

He straightens his back. "It was my home but it's sold now and Maisy agreed to take a small percentage of the sale price. I wanted her to have that. We shared expenses and at one time it felt like our house, not just mine."

I give him an empathetic nod. It's the last chapter in a love story that didn't have a happy ending. They're parting on good terms and with respect for each other which is more than many couples have when their love dies.

"I'm going to investment most of that money but I'll use some for our Paris adventure."

My heart is pounding as I look up into his dark brown eyes. "We're really going to do this?"

"We are," he growls. "We're going to start our life together there, Bridget. It's the life we were always meant to have."

I smile as I reach up so his lips can find mine for a kiss that speaks of the promise of every tomorrow that awaits us.

Epilogue

Three Months Later

"Your landlord hasn't rented out your apartment while you’ve been gone, has he?" He leans back onto the sheets of the bed. "We have a place to live in New York, right?"

"Maybe," I tease with a serious expression and a half-shrug of my shoulder.

He cocks a dark brow before running his hand over his beard. "What does that mean?"

"Have I told you how young you look with that beard?" I stroke my hand across his jaw. "I like it a lot."

"You think I look young?" He pulls the sheet over his naked groin. "How old do I look?"

"Old enough to be a dad." I pat my stomach. "When we get back to Manhattan we'll see that doctor Cleo recommended and we'll find out if we're having a daughter or a son."

"It's a boy." He leans forward to cup his hand over mine. "I know it's a boy."

I know that too. I'd seen a doctor here in Paris after I missed my period shortly after we arrived here. I knew before he told me that I was pregnant, that the baby had been conceived the night Dane left the airplane ticket on my pillow. I'd felt different when I woke up the next day and that feeling of pure joy and contentment had only gotten stronger after we'd moved here and decorated the small studio apartment the school had provided for us.

"It is a boy," I whisper as I look down at the gentle curve of my belly. I'm barely starting to show and unless someone knew that there was a life growing within me, they wouldn't guess that I was expecting a child with the man I love.

He moves even closer, resting his cheek against mine. "Did the doctor tell you that, Bridget?"

"No," I say honestly. "I feel it but I'll be so happy if it's a girl too."

Dane swallows hard and nods his head as he taps his chest. "Me too."

I stare at the tattoo on his chest. He's explained it's meaning several times but I've never asked him to translate what each word means. It's a German poem that his mother wrote for him and his brother when they were toddlers. I'll meet his brother when we get back to New York. Dane's insistence on getting him to attend our wedding paid off when Landon called to say he'd be there, all Dane had to do was name the time and place.

"Zoe will pick us up at the airport," I say quietly. I hate to leave this place. We only have one more week here before we have to head back to the lives we left behind.  My portraits had been so well received here that I've been granted a gallery showing of my own back in New York. I've started to garner the attention of art collectors across the globe and the biggest supporter through all of it has been Dane.

He cups my face in his hands. His right thumb brushes over my cheek. "I told my mother that I was going to marry you once we got back to New York."

"What did she say?"

"She was happy." A small smile takes over his mouth. "She told me she was happy for us."

I believe him. Anja has come to Paris twice since we've been here and although the first visit was filled with silent pauses and awkward glances, she'd taken the time to get to know me. She'd come to my first gallery showing here and had greeted my parents with a quick embrace and thoughtful words about how talented she thought I was.

By the time she flew across the ocean to see us again, Dane had told her about the baby. She was emotional, open and when she spoke about meeting her first grandchild there were tears in her eyes.

We may never be as close as she still is to Maisy, but we're making progress and the arrival of our baby in just under a half a year, will cement our bond more. I feel it.

"I don't want a big wedding," I repeat the same thing I've said almost daily since he proposed a month ago. "I don't need a ring either."

"I have a ring for you." He taps his bare chest. "I have vows for you too."

"What?"

"My mother gave me my father's ring after he died. It was his wedding band. I'm having a diamond put into that and they'll size it to fit this finger." He runs his index finger over my left hand. "It's at that jeweler we saw near the market. They do amazing work."

I'd sat on a bench, sipping a fruit juice while Dane had wandered into that shop last week. He'd emerged with a wide grin on his face and little to say. I knew that he'd gone inside to look at rings, but now, as I realize the meaning behind the ring I'll wear forever, I'm overcome with pure emotion.

"I started writing my vows to you when we got to Paris," he confesses. "I'm working on them but I already know the last line."

"Tell me what the last line is."

""My heart is yours. Keep it forever. Never let it go."

I reach forward to rest my hand over his against his bare chest and just as I lean in to kiss his mouth, I whisper the words back to him. "My heart is yours. Keep it forever. Never let it go."

A Special Surprise for EMBER Readers

Dane and Bridget had to face many hurdles as they journeyed towards their happily-ever-after.  I want to continue to tell their story as they move towards marriage and the arrival of their new baby.

I am so grateful to the people who invest their time in reading my books. I've been fortunate in that I've had an opportunity to meet some of you the past few months. You inspire me to write and create these characters and their unique stories.

As a gift to all of you I'm going to be sharing another novella that continues Dane and Bridget's beautiful love story. It will pick up right when they arrive back in New York and will focus on their life as a family and how that impacts Bridget's career and Dane's integration back into his life as a New York City firefighter. You'll also get to be witness to their small, intimate wedding.

This book will not be available for sale. It is strictly a free gift given to my readers.

If you'd like to receive this novella, please join the mailing list here:

Click here to join now!

I promise I won't send out emails about anything that is unrelated to my books.

Dane and Bridget will be back in the fall, in a story written just for you.

Xo

Preview of RISE

A Three – Part Series

"I know you, don't I?"

He doesn't. He's been watching me from across the room since he walked in right after the first model hit the catwalk.  I expected all kinds of men to file through the door tonight. Even though I'd arranged for the premiere fashion show of the Liore lingerie brand to be held in an abandoned warehouse on the Lower East Side, I knew it would draw a specific, upscale, crowd.

One glance around the room and it's easy to spot the familiar celebrity faces, but hidden within the throngs of people who have gathered in this space, are friends of the company's owner and the competition, clearly visible beneath the mask of a grin and a small lie about being an acquaintance of one of the models.

I'd tossed the guest list aside when I saw the first media crew approaching the sliding metal door that leads into the space. I wanted the attention, and if it meant people who weren't invited drifted in to watch the parade of scantily clad women march up and down the makeshift stage that was constructed, hours ago, I'm on board. Gabriel Foster, the owner of the Liore boutiques, paid me well to get as many eyes as I could manage on his product, and I've done that, in spades.

"Excuse me." The stranger taps me on my forearm. "I think we've met."

I look up and into his face. It's handsome. It's so handsome that I'd remember meeting him, or even seeing him in passing on the street.

"I'm sorry," I say patiently. "I've very busy right now. I assure you that we've never met."

"You're 2B," he murmurs in a deep growl. "I remember you from the lavatory."

I'd moved to Manhattan six months ago after graduating from college. I've had my fair share of men hit on me, which says little about the way I look and more about the fact that single women in this city seem to be a rarity. I may have stood out in a crowd back in the small town I lived in on the outskirts of Boston, but here, in one of the most populous cities in the world, my long dark hair and green eyes don't set me apart from the crowd. I'm just another woman who doesn't sport a ring on her left hand which means I'm ripe for the attention of any man who is looking for someone to warm the other half of his bed.

I've grown accustomed to the expected requests to buy me a drink and within that there have been a few who have actually approached me with an intelligent conversation in their back pocket, but this one, this may be the one that I'll remember long after tonight.

"The lavatory?" I adjust my left heel, hoping that the movement will relieve the pressure I feel on the ball of my foot. I've been wearing these shoes all day and I'm ready to head home to kick them off so I can crawl into a warm tub.

"You were on a flight from Milan to JFK the week before last." His blue eyes rake over my black dress. "You were wearing a red skirt, white blouse and your hair was pulled back, tight, into a ponytail."

What the fuck?

I part my lips to say something, anything, but the dark haired, bearded stranger isn't done yet.

"You sat in business class, first class, actually on that flight. You were assigned seat 2B."

I was. I remember it clearly because I'd asked for that specific seat. It's the one I always request. I wouldn't say I'm a nervous flyer but if I can quiet my anxiety over being thousands of miles in the air in a confided space with dozens of strangers, I'll do it. That particular seat has always kept me safe so why mess with a good thing?

"You walked out of the lavatory. I was standing there, next to you and I remember the scent of your perfume." His hand reaches down. I don't protest as he gently grabs my wrist and brings it to his face. He inhales, slowly.

I look around the room, wanting to find a familiar face that will ground me in this moment. There's no way this is happening. I'd remember if this man sat next to me on a flight. I'd recall the curve of his strong jaw and the sound of his voice.

"I'm sorry. I don't remember," I admit.

"Allow me to introduce myself then." He slides his fingers up my wrist until his hand is cradling mine. "I'm Landon Beckett. Captain Landon Beckett."

"Captain?" I ask carefully, realization washing over me.

His full lips curve into a wry smile. "Yes. I was piloting the airplane."

My stomach knots. It's him. I thought I'd never see him again. There's no way he knows about the conversation I had with the woman sitting next to me. He can't know that, can he? "It's nice to meet you."

"It's my pleasure, Ms. Marlow or can I call you Tess?"

I take a step back as I feel a flush race over my body. "How do you know my name?"

"That's an interesting story." He crosses his arms over his chest. "Where do I begin?"

Coming This Summer

Preview of HAZE

Featuring Gabriel Foster

"How long have you worked here?" His voice is cultured, deep and smooth. It's not uncommon to hear a voice like that in this boutique. I've worked here for six weeks now and at least twice a week a man with too much money and an insatiable need to see young women dressed in expensive lingerie will come waltzing through the doors.

"Welcome to Liore," I say softly as I glance to my left to where he's standing.

I have to look up. He's large, not just in height but in his shoulder's breadth. His eyes are a rich brown, his hair just as dark. His nose is sculptured and his jaw has a definite curve to it. The suit he's wearing is dark blue, perhaps even black. It's hard to tell under the chandelier lights that decorate this opulent space.

"Isla." His eyes hover over my chest before they settle on my name tag. "It's nice to meet you, Isla."

"It's lovely to meet you..." I pause. It's not only because I've been instructed to grab the name of each customer to give them a personal shopping experience. I want to know his name.

"Gabriel," he offers with a light touch of his hand on mine.

The name is oddly familiar. As I work to place it, I see him peering across the boutique at my boss. "Is there something I can help you find, Gabriel? Are you purchasing something for a girlfriend, or perhaps, your wife?"

His expression shifts slightly. "I have neither."

That's a pity but it's not. This is exactly the type of man I envisioned in my mind's eye when I arrived in Manhattan. I graduated from high school less than two years ago and my dreams of attending Julliard on a scholarship had vanished as quickly as my clean record when I broke one too many rules in high school.

"Is there something in particular that you're looking for?" I catch the faint wave of the hand of one of my co-workers across the aisle. I ignore it because when a customer is ready to buy, the store could be engulfed in flames, and I'm not moving an inch. The commissions here are the highest I've ever earned in retail and the secret to guarantee a big sale is to make the customer feel as though they're the only one in the boutique.

His eyes scan the various bras we have displayed before they move to the lace panties and garters. "If I asked you to try something on for me, Isla, would you do that? Would you take me into one of the change rooms with you?"

I've read the employee handbook. No, I skimmed it briefly while on my way to work that first day weeks ago. The number one rule is to never take a customer into the rooms. Men who lead you into those quiet spaces are craving more than a private fashion show. I know that. "I'm sorry, Gabriel. That's against company policy."

He studies my face carefully. The dark shadow around my blue eyes looks hideous in the alarming bright light of the morning, but in here it's sensual and alluring. My shoulder length blonde hair is straight today, a sharp contrast to my high cheekbones. I'm here to sell lingerie and the light pink wrap around dress I'm wearing accentuates everything it needs to. He hasn't walked away yet, so he's still primed to buy.

He closes the short distance between us as he steps towards me. "You don't strike me as the type of young woman who follows all the rules."

It's tempting. Not just because of the extra money I'd find in my pocket. "I don't follow rules, Gabriel. If you want a private show, I can come to your office after work."

His brow cocks with the suggestion. "Is that something you offer to customers often?"

I've never offered it before. "I only offer it to the ones who peak my interest."

"I'll give you my card." His hand dips into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

I take it from his long, elegant fingers and look down at it. I don't have time to read the details before my boss is upon us.

I turn to look at her but she's staring at Gabriel. Her hand leaps to his shoulder.

"Mr. Foster," she says slowly. "I see that you've met our newest girl. Isla, you're explaining everything we offer to Mr. Foster, yes?"

I look down at the card of Mr. Gabriel Foster, the CEO of Foster Enterprises and the man who owns this boutique.

"Isla has been very cordial." He glides the tip of his index finger along my wrist. "She's coming by my office today. I'll expect you at four, Isla."

"At four," I repeat back. "I'll be there at four, Sir."

His eyes skim slowly over my body before they stop on my face. "Don't be late and bring those samples we spoke of."

I freeze as his hand runs up my arm before he brushes past me towards the front of the shop.

Coming Soon

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