Read Beautiful Distraction Online
Authors: J.C. Reed
Beautiful Distraction (25 page)
His magnetic eyes are on me, and I can tell he is shaking.
I feel faint.
The sudden silence is too much. Earthshattering.
My heart is slamming hard against my chest, and I realize
tears have gathered in my eyes. I’m shaking too.
I know what he is about to do, but I can’t grasp the meaning
of it.
My dream is so close, I can almost taste it, and yet it
feels so far out of reach, it might as well be just that—
Only a dream.
“Ava, I love you,” Kellan says into the mic, his deep voice
steady, beautiful, penetrating every layer of my soul. “That day you damaged my
car, that’s the night I first wanted you. When I asked you to stay, I thought
that would be all I’d ever want. I thought what I felt for you would pass. But
I was wrong. I want you more than ever.
I want you with me, by my side. I want to wake up next to you every
morning for the rest of my life. I asked our families to be here so they can witness
the most important day of my life. It’s the day I want to tell you that I
belong to you, and you would make me the happiest man alive if you became
mine.”
Pausing, he reaches inside his pocket to retrieve a black
velvet box and opens it.
My heart throbs. Metaphorically drops. If I looked down, I’m
sure I would find it at my feet. The ring is so beautiful it takes my breath
away. I look up from the sparkling diamond to his eyes. They’re shimmering with
emotion. Fear. Happiness. Anticipation.
This is his moment, our moment.
“Ava.” His voice is slightly choked now. “Will you marry
me?”
I’m happy and overwhelmed. I clasp my hand in front of my
mouth. My heart screams yes, but I’m having trouble pushing that sound out of
my lungs. I just nod before I finally croak out, “God, yes. Yes. Yes.”
I keep repeating it. He’s all that matters in my life.
He is my life.
Kellan rises to his feet and slides the ring on my finger.
His arms wrap around my waist, and then he kisses me. His lips are sweet and
warm, and feel like home. I don’t know what to say.
I’m touched.
I’m emotional.
People are cheering. Congratulations are raining down on us,
but I’m too lost in Kellan’s eyes to hear them. I want to stay in his arms
forever.
I won’t ever let him go.
Before I know it, he steps back and flashes me a grin. The
music starts again.
City girl,
I’m only a cowboy
I know this will drive
you insane
But when I say I want
you to stay
I mean it for real and
for life
City girl,
I’m only a cowboy
I know this will drive
you insane
But when I say I want
to marry you
I mean it for real and
for life
When I say I’ll marry
you
I mean it for real and
for life
When the song finishes, he receives a loud ovation, and the
hugging begins—first Mandy, then my parents, then Kellan’s brothers, who
are huge and strong like Kellan, and from up close scare the crap out of me.
Seriously, I hope they won’t smother me.
The party begins. Food and drinks are being served. We chat.
We tell stories. We laugh. But Kellan’s eyes never let me go.
It’s only later, when the engagement party’s over, and
everyone is gone, and there’s only us in the barn, that I sit on Kellan’s lap.
I cannot help but keep staring at my ring.
It’s such a big rock.
“Are you sure?” he asks, catching me staring at my ring
again. “And you’re not saying yes just because everyone was here, and there was
a lot of pressure on you?”
“I think that’s why you called everyone for emotional
support. Your ego couldn’t take another ‘no.’” I kiss his lips, my mouth
lingering on his, breathing him in, indulging in his taste and scent. “I’ve
been waiting for this moment for the past eighteen months. You sure took your
time.”
His brows shoot up. “Well, I had to make sure you wouldn’t
refuse me. I worked hard to change your mind.”
“I never had to change my mind, Kellan,” I whisper. “I
already knew I wanted to be with you the moment I saw you. I just thought you
were too good to be true. That you couldn’t possibly be serious about us.”
He frowns. “Why would you think that?”
I shrug. “You’re still famous, Kellan. You have the looks
and the talent, and could go back to the rock star life any time. You could
have any woman in this world, and yet you chose me.”
“I did, probably because I only like one type, and that’s
you.” His voice is soft, his tone meaningful. “I love you, Ava.”
“I love you, too.” I smile at him, then look into his eyes,
and think of how our future will soon change. My voice is slightly choked.
“Kellan, will you still marry me if I tell you that I’m pregnant?”
His eyes widen, though I can’t tell whether it’s with shock
or horror. “You’re pregnant?”
I nod. I’m so happy, and yet I don’t know whether I should
feel this way.
What if he breaks up with me? He said he’d never commit to
someone with kids.
Instead of anger or confusion, I find his lips breaking into
a smile. His eyes shimmer with joy.
“All the more reason to get married then.” His smile turns
into a grin. He’s about to say something to try and annoy me. “Except…”
“Except?”
“How far are you along?”
I know what he’s doing. He’s being a jerk for the sake of
it.
“Five weeks, and yes, to answer any doubts you might have,
it’s your child.” I laugh. “I can’t believe you were about to ask me that. You’re
so insatiable, I barely have the energy to walk around the house, let alone
fuck someone else.”
“Sorry.” He lets out a laugh. “Old habits die hard. I just
needed you to acknowledge that last part. I’ve been dying to hear it. How come
you didn’t tell me sooner?”
“We never talked about kids,” I say slowly.
“I wanted to broach the marriage subject first,” Kellan
says. “I know how I feel about kids. They’re all going to be trouble,
particularly if they carry the Boyd blood.” His fingers trail down my neck
gently. “You’ll have your hands full. I cannot wait to start a family with you.
I wish you had told me earlier.”
“Why?”
“Because I would have insisted that we get married soon so I
can have you all to myself before I have to share you with a brat.” His smile
softens, and I remember why I fell in love with him.
He’s funny, witty, and a little bit outrageous, and that’s
exactly what I need in my life.
Someone who doesn’t take himself too seriously.
Someone who can make me laugh and let me be myself.
“You’ll be a great dad,” I whisper.
“I hope so.” His hand reaches for my fingers and gives them
a light squeeze. “I’m going to spoil our kid to bits. And then there’s also
Uncle Cash and Ryder. And my dad. They’ll go nuts when they hear this.”
I have no doubt about that. They’ve already been asking when
we’d start a family.
“Come on.” I jump up from his lap and try to pull him to his
feet, which, given his height and weight, is an impossible task. “I have great
plans for you. After the stunt you pulled, I have to reward you.”
“I’ll take my reward happily. We could do it right here,
right now.”
As his hands begin to roam my body, removing layers of
clothes, until I’m naked and panting, his erection filling me, I see the strap
of a handbag slung across one of the chairs.
Someone must have forgotten it.
It’ll only be a matter of time before they come back to get
it.
They’ll catch us red-handed.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
Damn.
“Kellan,” I moan his name as wave after wave of pleasure
rocks my body. “Let’s go home.”
“Home?” he asks, his voice hoarse, his smile naughty. I
swear it’s the most mischievous I’ve ever seen. “We’re already home, Ava.”
His lips descend upon mine again, and it’s like the world
stands still and everything around us is spinning. Our worlds crash, collide,
blur in one single moment.
We couldn’t be more different: Kellan Boyd, a famous singer,
and me, a normal girl from NYC.
But love happens.
One crash.
One beautiful distraction.
A cowboy who meets a city girl.
That’s how the ball started rolling. That’s how it all
began. How the biggest sacrifice ended in the greatest reward. I can’t wait to
become Ava Boyd.
Life out here might seem a bit boring, but there’s nothing
boring about my future husband.
There’s something I need to tell him, but I can’t remember
what it is. All I can do is make a silent promise to be the greatest wife he
could ever have, because Kellan Boyd is one in a million.
And he’s mine.
----THE END----
Loved Ava and Kellan’s story? It doesn’t have to end!
Each one of the Boyd brothers will get his own story.
Cash Boyd
➙
Wild For You
Ryder Boyd
➙
Yet untitled
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REED
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Also
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First and foremost, thank you to my family for allowing me
to follow my dreams. Your support through my writing journey has been amazing.
You are my inspiration, my motivation, and my reward.
Thank you to my amazing friend Jackie. Your encouragement
and funny comments throughout the book have been a journey in themselves. You
make the unbearable part of writing bearable. I don’t know what I’d do without
you.
Thank you to Larissa for this awesome cover and for being
with me since the very beginning of my writing career.
I hope you never retire, because I’ll still need you for
many years to come.
Thank you to Kim Bias. You’ve always been a good friend to
me. Thank you for ensuring that my work is ready for the world to read.
My huge gratitude goes to my beta readers, reviewers and
bloggers. I’m most grateful for all who have supported me.
Thank you to my cats and my dog who I swear thinks she’s a
cat. You have been most my patient and superb companions while writing late at
night.
Most of all, thank you to all my readers.
Thank you for reading and enjoying my stories, and for
loving my characters. I cannot wait to share my next book with you.
Xxx
Jessica
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I was sitting at the bar, sipping on my second margarita. My
knee-length pencil skirt brushed the empty stool next to mine, my fingers
tapped on my thigh to the rhythm of the music coming from the invisible sound
system. This wasn’t the kind of establishment I usually frequented, but my boss
had been adamant that I meet Mayfield in his preferred environment. And so I
agreed, albeit with trepidation, at the outlook of entering an expensive
gentlemen’s club where beautiful girls breezed around in classy lingerie, and
the two drink minimum rule had already cost me more than my weekly grocery
shopping.
Judging from the countless twinkling lights and polished
marble floors, the place oozed style and money. Even though it was still empty,
I had no doubt it would fill up soon and earn the owner a fortune. A racy girl
that looked like she belonged on the cover of FHM magazine climbed up a pole
and dropped down into a split to ‘warm up’, as the DJ announced tonight’s
program to the few punters in tailored suits. I sighed with impatience, and
sank deeper into my slouch on the luxurious bar stool overlooking the soft leather
couches and mirrored walls near the entrance.
Mayfield was late. In fact, very late. I didn’t appreciate
lateness, and particularly not when I should’ve been home by now, unwinding
with a glass of wine after a long day of sucking up to the big guys in real
estate. The job was meant to be a filler until I could get my hands on a
position with a company like Delaware & Ray, but as filler jobs go, they’re
a dead end. And two years later I was twenty three, stuck and overworked with
no promotion in sight.
Maybe it was the way the guy walked—full of confidence
and cockiness—but the moment I saw him entering the bar I knew he was the
kind that would bring me nothing but trouble. So I buried my gaze in my drink,
avoiding the stranger’s curious look. The hairs on the nape of my neck
prickled. I turned slowly, realizing he was standing behind me. His hot breath
grazed the sensitive skin of my cheek as he leaned over my shoulder to whisper
in my ear.
“You stick out like a sore thumb. I’m not sure whether
that’s a good or a bad thing.”
His voice was low and hoarse. Scorching.
Bedroom voice
… the
words echoed somewhere in the back of my mind.
My heart jumped into my mouth, which I attributed to the
fact that I didn’t like strangers leaning over me. And particularly not those
with a deep, sexy rumble of a voice that had just a hint of a Southern accent.
Fighting the urge to jump up from the bar stool and put some much needed
distance between us, I straightened my back and turned to face him, ready to
hit back with a biting remark.
Holy cow.
He was dazzlingly gorgeous. Forget gorgeous. He was
beautiful. Utterly, totally, mind-blowingly stunning. On a scale from one to
ten, he was a hundred.
For a few seconds I just stared at him as my abdomen twisted
into knots and my pulse quickened. The guy was hot and, judging from his wicked
grin, definitely not the kind of man you bring home to meet your parents. He
was tall, at least a head taller than me. Maybe six feet two. His wet, dark
hair was a tad too long and disheveled—like he had run his hands through
it. His coat, now damp from the rain that had been cascading on downtown New
York for the last three days, did nothing to hide his broad shoulders and
muscular build, nor his insolent stance. In the dim light of the bar, his electric
eyes shimmered like emeralds.
I had never seen eyes like his. Dark green. Smoldering.
Ready to undress a woman with a single glance. Already I felt naked in spite of
several layers of clothes. His gaze traveled down the front of my shirt
appreciatively, and lingered on my legs for longer than was polite. My skin
prickled from his gaze. I tucked a stray strand of curly hair behind my ear and
moistened my suddenly dry lips. The effect he had on me was both unnerving and
exciting. I crossed my arms over my chest and bit my lower lip hard to regain
my speech. He regarded me with raised eyebrows and unconcealed amusement, as
though he knew what a single glance from those eyes did to me. But it wasn’t
his obvious arrogance that made me instantly angry. It was the way his spread
fingers lingered intimately on the small of my back as though they had caressed
the spot before. As though they belonged there.
“Why would you say that? Because I’m not wearing a skimpy
G-string and stilettos, and my boobs aren’t half falling out of a leopard print
bra?” I asked through gritted teeth, ignoring the delicious pull gathering
somewhere in my abdomen.
“Jett Townsend.” His lips twitched. “Mayfield couldn’t make
it, so you’ll have to make do with me. But don’t worry, you and I will get on
just fine.” The skin around his stunning eyes crinkled, and his mouth quirked
up in a grin, flashing perfect dimples. Why did I get the feeling there was a
double meaning to his words?
“Brooke Stewart,” I said. My gaze lingered on his pale blue
shirt and faded jeans with a stringy fringe that brushed his cowboy boots, and
I couldn’t help the scoff forming at the back of my throat.
“Wine?” I asked, ready to order.
“I’d rather have Sex on the Beach.” He winked at me with a
devilish grin. I figured his words could be interpreted in two ways, but
judging from his flirtatious smile, I doubted he was talking about the
cocktail. Heat began to pour through me at the unwelcome image of us having sex
on sand and water. My skin tingled from the magnetic pull between us.
What the heck?
I peeled my gaze off him in the hope the instant attraction
was nothing but a figment of my imagination.
“So, Brooke. Tell me all about yourself.” He leaned forward,
flashing me a drop dead gorgeous smile.
I inhaled a sharp breath, suddenly fuming. How dare he call
me by my first name? And most importantly, how dare he look so darn sexy doing
it?
“May I remind you this is a business meeting and not a date?”
He raised his brows. “Do you want a date?”
“What?” My cheeks caught fire, and my heart pumped just a
little bit harder. “That’s not what I meant. I—”
His eyes twinkled with humor. “Apparently, you like what you
see, and so do I. So…” He shrugged and trailed off, leaving the rest to my
imagination.
I hated hot guys, and particularly those who knew just how
gorgeous they were. “Trust me, there’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” My lie
sounded ridiculous and he knew it. I could tell by the irritating, self-assured
yet gorgeous grin he was sporting.
My temper flared.
This was supposed to be an initial attempt at finding out
where our companies stood in terms of a potential partnership. The fact that
Mayfield Properties would send someone who couldn’t even dress to suit the
occasion was laughable. Why would Mayfield want to be represented by someone
who clearly lacked any knowledge of what is acceptable when dealing with a
potential business partner? Or maybe Mayfield didn’t value our cooperation, and
this was his way of telling me to fuck off. Either way I wasn’t pleased, and I
had no intention of making a secret out of my displeasure. Mayfield was known
to be a real son-of-a-bitch. He was also known to take no crap from anyone. If I
wanted to make it in this cutthroat business world dominated by men, I had to
mirror his tactics, or give up on a career which was already going nowhere.
“Look, I appreciate your coming, Mr. Townsend, but I’d
rather speak with at least a regional vice president. Please tell Mr. Mayfield
to call me once he’s ready to reschedule. Good evening to you.” Grabbing my
purse and coat from the polished counter, I jumped down from the barstool and
headed for the exit when strong fingers curled around my upper arm. I froze in
my tracks.
“Don’t forget your umbrella. We wouldn’t want that pretty
face to get soaked,” Townsend whispered in my ear, sending another delicious
tingle through my body. What was it with this man and whispering? Couldn’t he
just talk like normal people? I reached blindly around me and yanked my
umbrella out of his hand. Without a look back I marched out of the bar, keeping
my head high.
Only when I reached the parking lot twenty feet from the bar’s
main entrance did I stop and finally let out a long breath.
The night air had cooled down. I shrugged into my coat and
hurried to unlock the door to my Chevrolet. It was an old thing, but it had
been a graduation gift from my stepdad, so I loved it. Even though it was a
pain driving in the city, I preferred it to being stuck in a cab with a male
driver I couldn’t trust.
I jammed the car into first gear and pulled out of the
parking lot. My gaze brushed over the stranger towering in the bar’s doorway,
watching me a moment before I drove past.
Did he follow me out? My heartbeat sped up but I didn’t
halt. If anything, I floored the accelerator and the car spluttered forward.
The engine lets out a drawn-out protest, but I didn’t care. Whatever Townsend’s
business was, I decided he was a creep, and I had no intention of ever seeing
him again.
I was definitely not the kind of woman who’d
ever succumb to a hard body and dimples to die for.
I reached my tiny apartment in Brooklyn Heights in less than
an hour and parked the car opposite from the five-story building that had been
my home ever since graduating from college two years ago. The street was damp
and deserted. The street lamp in front of the building cast a golden glow on
the steel door, which led into a narrow hall with a lobby area. Minding the
large rain puddles, I fished my keys out of my bag and let myself in, then rode
the elevator up to the fifth floor.
My roommate and best friend, Sylvie, wasn’t home. Ever since
she landed the investment job of her dreams, she barely ever made it home
before midnight. I had been taught to put one hundred and ten percent into
everything I did, but Sylvie took working hard to a whole new level. She went
so far as to sacrifice her hobbies, friendships, and health by doing unpaid
overtime in an attempt to gain recognition for all the extra effort. Any
attempts I ever initiated to make her realize just how unhealthy her stress
level had become were futile so far, but I wasn’t going to give up.
Dropping the umbrella into a brass holder and my handbag and
coat on the old coffee table in the hall, I kicked my shoes off and headed for
the kitchen to pour myself a much-earned glass of wine. I was halfway through
my second glass when the key turned in the lock and Sylvie’s blonde head popped
into my line of vision.
“What a surprise!” I sat up and pointed at my glass. “Want
one?”
“You better have a bottle.” She slumped onto the couch next
to me and put her long legs up. I scanned from her striped skirt that rode just
above her knee up to her face and damp, blonde hair. Something was different.
Her mascara was smudged. The skin beneath her blue eyes was swollen and red as
though she had been crying, which was impossible. Sylvie wasn’t the crying
kind. In all the years we had been best friends, I never once saw her shed a
tear. She never looked anything less than perfect and happy.
I sat up, instantly feeling something was wrong. “What
happened?”
“I got the boot.”
“What?”
She took the glass out of my hands and drained it in one big
gulp. “They kicked me out. Said something about not needing another intern.
Blah blah.” She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
“Oh, crap.” I shook my head in disbelief. “But you worked so
hard.”
“I know, right? But you know what? I am okay. C’est la vie.
Time to move on.” She jumped up, and a smile spread across her lips. “Let’s get
plastered.”
I narrowed my gaze. There was something in the way she
avoided looking at me that raised my suspicion. “Wait!” I grabbed her arm and
pulled her back down on the sofa. “You’re not telling me everything.”
She rolled her eyes again.
“Spill it,” I said.
She pressed her mouth into a tight line.
“Sylvie,” I prompted.
“Fine. I slept with the boss.”
My jaw dropped. “No.”
She nodded. “I did. His personal assistant, who’s best
buddies with his wife, started to suspect. So the bastard got the jitters and
decided to get rid of me.”
“Is that even legal?”
Was it?
Sylvie shrugged. “Probably not, but it’s a small world, and
I need this reference if I ever want to land another banking job.”
“The bastard,” I mirrored her words. Sylvie was the
brightest person I knew. She had graduated in the top of her class, and any
firm would have been happy to have her. “You’ll find something else in no
time.” I had no doubt about that.
She smirked. “Yeah, only next time remind me not to screw
the boss, no matter how hot he is. You’re so lucky you have Sean. At least he’s
not married and lying to you about not having slept in the same bed with the
wife for the last two years. Talk about cliché.”