Read Billionaire Novelist's Fiery Debutante Online
Authors: Nic Saint
Billionaire Novelist's Fiery Debutante (18 page)
Life was peaceful here, time having slowed down from the hectic pace of New York or even Long Island. It was as if she’d stepped into a different world, a world where people knew one another, and neighbors were friends. Where townsfolk got together for barbecues and babysat each other’s kids. Where no one locked their doors at night, burglary an alien concept.
And even though she saw a policeman amble on the corner of Main Street, he didn’t seem too preoccupied, chatting as he did with one of the shopkeepers.
Yes, she’d come a long way, to be driving with Josh to meet his family. Finally, he rounded the car and opened the passenger side door to bid her exit. She stepped from the car, still feeling strangely exasperated, but then he clasped her to him, and pressed a tender kiss on her lips that left her feeling woozy. “Are you going to do this each time I make objections about something?”
“Sure will,” he returned, dazzling her with that smile of his.
She shrugged. “I’ll take it.” He could kiss her any time of the day. Any day of the year. Any year of the lifetime they’d promised each other back on Eden Island. Long before they were to announce their union to the world, they’d already spoken their vows to each other, right there on the beach, where they’d made love the very first time.
They walked up the steps to the front door, and even before they had the chance to ring the bell, the door swung open as if on cue, and a woman with an abundance of beige curls appeared. Her smile just as infectious as Josh’s. Wiping her hands on her apron, she took Chloe’s hand in both of hers.
“You must be Chloe,” she spoke warmly, then enclosed her in a warm embrace that did much to melt away the apprehension she’d been harboring.
Overwhelmed by this gesture of kindness, she felt tears stinging behind her eyes, and blinked them away furiously, for, behind Jocelyn, she’d spotted two faces, eagerly studying her from behind their mother.
The moment Jocelyn released her to welcome her brother, Chloe knelt down and found herself smiling into two eager faces, one more adorable than the next.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” she spoke a little formally as she pressed the hand of the biggest child, a girl with red curls and freckled face. She took Chloe’s hand and gave it a gentle tug.
“You’re Uncle Josh’s new bride, aren’t you?” the child spoke shyly.
Chloe laughed. “I guess that’s me. I’m Chloe. And who are you?”
“I’m Genevieve and I’m five!” the girl exclaimed, her shyness magically lifted by Chloe’s kindness.
“Such a big girl!” vociferated Chloe, and when the girl threw herself into her arms for a big, wet kiss, she returned it in kind with a kiss of her own.
The girl stood back with a giggle, then announced, “I like you,” and raced away down the hallway and disappeared from view.
Standing, Chloe couldn’t help but feel that she made a decent first impression. Then, before she could consult Josh, a sturdily built man ambled up, his face round and jolly, his sandy hair thinning.
“I’m Jocelyn’s husband Gerald,” he announced, giving Chloe a hearty handshake. “And you must be the girl Josh has told us so much about.”
She quickly darted a look at her husband-to-be, and coyly asked, “What have you been telling these nice folks, honey?”
“Only good stuff,” Josh assured her, and Gerald was quick to acknowledge that the news from Long Island had been positive to a degree.
Then he took her aside, leading her into the living room, a spacious and gaily decorated family room with toys liberally strewn about wherever she turned. “I hope you eat meat?” he anxiously asked her the moment he had her to himself.
“Sure do, Gerald.”
He heaved a sigh of relief. “Good. I was afraid Josh had brought home another vegetarian.”
She frowned at these words. “Another… vegetarian?”
Panic rose in Gerald’s eyes, his cheeks taking on a dark flush. “Oh, damn. I probably shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that the last time Josh brought someone home with him, she was a vegetarian, and spent the whole dinner complaining about the lack of variety granted people like her who favored the vegetarian lifestyle.”
“Oh,” was all Chloe could find in response. So she wasn’t the first girl Josh had brought home. Of course, she wasn’t.
Gerald’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Between you and me, the woman was a bit of a b-i-t-c-h.”
“When—when was this?” she ventured, afraid to learn the answer.
Gerald frowned, thinking hard. “Um, I think… eight, nine years ago?” Then he shook his head, a relieved smile appearing on his jovial face. “Nope. It’s ten. I remember because we’d just bought the house.”
Relief flooded her being. Ten years ago? “And in all that time Josh never brought home another girl?” she hesitantly asked.
Gerald eyed her curiously. “Course not. You’re the first, honey. The first one he’s ever been serious about. The vegetarian one? He only brought her along because Deirdre insisted. She was her friend’s daughter’s best friend.” He shrugged. “Or something.” Then he gave her shoulder a tight squeeze. “It’s good to see him finally happy. We thought he’d never settle down.” He nodded seriously. “You really put a smile on his face. I’ve never seen him happier.”
Relief now complete, she decided she liked Josh’s family even more than she’d anticipated. And when Josh and his sister joined them, and they all went outside to sit on the deck, she was even glad when she caught sight of Deirdre and a man with a shock of white hair. Josh’s dad, she presumed. They were sitting, heads together, laughing at some joke.
She waved at Deirdre, and the older woman waved back, then came up to her and placed a peck on her cheek before taking her hand in her own and directing a look of contrition at her.
“Can you ever forgive me for giving you the third degree that one time? I swear I’m not usually that callous.”
Chloe laughed and waved away the memory of that day. “It’s fine. You were simply looking out for your son.”
Deirdre smiled, then introduced Josh’s father. “This is Hank. Honey, meet Chloe, Josh’s future bride.”
She noticed Hank shared his son’s good looks, and when he smiled, his whole face lit up. “Pleased to meet you, Chloe.”
“Likewise, Mister Reynolds.”
“Hank, please,” he insisted, pressing her hand with a firm grip.
She looked from Deirdre to Hank. So it was true. They’d found each other again. Deirdre, interpreting the look without fail, gave her a cheeky wink, and she smiled.
“How did you meet Uncle Josh?” a little voice spoke beside her. Looking down, she found herself looking into the cutest little face she’d ever seen. Freckled like her sister, this little girl was the spitting image of her mother, with long flowing golden hair and cornflower blue eyes.
She smiled down at the girl, then was surprised when she announced, “I want to sit on your lap while you tell the story.”
And without further ado, the little tyke crawled onto her lap and nestled herself there, then stared up at her expectantly.
Gerald and Jocelyn laughed. “She’s a curious one, Jenny is,” said Jocelyn, then shrugged. “I’m afraid you have no other choice than to tell the tale, honey.”
Looking up into Josh’s smiling eyes, a deep sense of happiness spread through her being.
Holding his gaze, she began, “Once upon a time, there was a very famous writer, who lived on an island in the Pacific. Then, one day, a girl came to visit him.”
“I like the story already,” announced Jenny.
“Me, too!” cried Genevieve, who’d settled herself at her feet.
Deirdre and Hank chuckled, huddling closer together, as did Jocelyn and Gerald, all hanging on her every word.
“A born storyteller,” murmured Josh as he eyed her with so much love, Chloe’s heart sang.
She could read it in his eyes. Very soon, they would be telling the story to their own children. She touched a hand to her belly, where new life was growing. She hadn’t told him yet, and on impulse decided to tell him tonight. She couldn’t wait to share this miracle with him—a miracle their love had created.
Then, tousling an impatient Jenny, she continued the tale of Eden Island and the two writers who fell in love. And lived happily ever after.
THE
END
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Nic Saint is the pen name of husband and wife writing team Nicole and Nick Saint. The Saints have been writing together since 2007, initially focusing on cozy mystery books about cat sleuths and bumbling spies, later funny/scary books for kids and finally settling on what they like best: writing romance.
When they’re not tugging at the heartstrings, they enjoy their daily dose of yoga, a great movie, healthy food or a good book. They live near London with their big, fire engine red cat Tommy, the third and indispensable member of the writing team.
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BOOKS
Russian Enforcers Series
Russian Enforcer’s Reluctant Bride
Russian Enforcer’s Virgin Captive
Russian Enforcer’s Feisty Lover
Russian Enforcer’s Resistant Rescue
Standalone Novels
The Billionaire’s Valiant Rescue
Billionaire Novelist’s Fiery Debutante
Russian Oligarch’s Tenacious Lover
Novellas
Excerpt From:
RUSSIAN ENFORCER’S RELUCTANT BRIDE
CHAPTER ONE
The wind was sweeping across the deserted plain, and Joanna’s hair billowed and swirled around her oval face, her eyes closing against the nippiness in the air. She should have brought her cap, she knew, but had wanted to feel the forces of nature whipping at her unfettered frame.
These days, she didn’t mind the cold so much as the humidity. Strange, how the change in season could seep into your bones and chill you to the core. It seemed only yesterday that a summer’s breeze had wafted along the outstretched meadows surrounding the patch of forest that was her home, and then suddenly winter was upon the land and touched everything with its icy tendrils of frost.
She stared out across the vast space, blinking the tears from her eyes, and thought she’d never felt this pervading sadness as keenly as she did now. Ever since her husband had left, leaving her to fend for herself in a world that was not her own, she’d managed to cope. She was at the end of her rope now. Much further and it would all be over. All hope lost. A life, fleeting as a castle made of sand, would end, and no one would ever know. Or care.
Joanna blinked and wrapped her shawl tighter around herself, planting her feet firmly in the soggy soil. Rain had arrived along with the first cold, and the scent of decaying leaves had mingled with wood stoves being kindled. Darkness set in earlier, the sun stealthily creeping away before the moon’s ascent.
I need to get out of here.
The thought suddenly stood out amongst the welter swirling in her head.
I need to get out of here, or I won’t survive another winter.
But where could she go? This was where she’d lived her whole life. Now only her father remained, her brothers having moved away when Mom died. They all had families of their own now—she really couldn’t impose upon them.
Crouching down, she plucked a lone wildflower, the last remnants of summer lingering. This was how she felt. A single flower surviving against all the odds. She’d lived a sheltered life with Jonathan, safe in the comfort of their home on the edge of Lincoln Forest. Now that he was gone, she found herself alone and pining for the family they’d never had.
Her phone hadn’t rung in weeks, and even when she passed through town to pick up groceries, all her eyes met were curious glances, cursory nods, or brief words murmured in greeting. They all wondered what had induced her husband to up and leave when he did.
Some of the women eyed her with disinterest, others with pity, still others with the guarded look of one fearful of the competition. She was, after all, still in her prime. Five years of marriage had done nothing to diminish her untamed beauty. The flaming red hair, the remarkable emerald eyes, the pointed chin, often raised in mutiny, the pale skin liberally strewn with freckles.
She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t join her brothers on the other side of the country. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide from the heartache the divorce had brought.
Shivering against the cold and relishing in the sensation of goosebumps appearing on her alabaster skin, she set foot for the cottage that had been her home for the last five years. Her and Jonathan’s. Briefly, they’d been happy there. Now all that was left were the ruins of their union, and even dwelling on the past made her heart shrink.
As she crossed to the forest that lay between the plains and her home, she thought she heard a cry sound in the distance—carried on the wind. At first, she couldn’t be certain whether it was human or animal in nature—or simply the wind itself howling through the trees.
As she neared the forest, she suddenly saw a streak of red passing between two trees to the left. A fleeting impression that barely registered on her retinae. When she instinctively turned to track the movement, a wail rang out, louder this time, distinctly human.
After a moment’s hesitation, she set foot for the source of the cries, curious to see if one of the townsfolk had perhaps landed in a ditch or a child fallen from a tree. Then a cry rent the air, the pitch urgent—desperate.