Chasing Love's Wings (34 page)

She musters up any strength she may have left and pushes hard, and just like that
our child is born and the room’s silence is pierced by a screaming wail. I look at
Cami and we’re both in tears.
 

“Congratulations, you have a baby boy.”
 

Dr. Burgess places our son on Cami’s chest. The nurse puts a light blue cap on his
head and wipes him down. “He’s perfect,” I say to Cami, who can’t pull her eyes away
from him. I kiss her forehead. “I’m so proud of you.”
 

We take a moment to enjoy him in her arms, just for a few minutes, then the nurse
takes him away to clean him up. I kiss Cami and we put our foreheads together, staring
into each other’s eyes, lost in our little miracle moment.
 

“I love you. So much.” I kiss her.
 

“Ditto.”

My heart is swollen so large I feel like it will burst with the unconditional love
I feel for my wife and for our son. The last year has been a crazy rollercoaster that
has become the start of something beautiful. I’m no longer seeking, finding, or chasing
love’s wings. They are here with me, now and forever.

FIFTY

******

Bobby

******

It’s just after one and I need something to do. I thought for sure this self-imposed
sentence on a remote island would be better than this, but there are days where I
really go stir crazy. Today is one of those days. It is the middle of August, and
I haven’t heard from Cameron since the middle of May. I gather that things are going
well because Tristan has been lighting up the headlines. There is a lot of praise
coming to him for his upcoming movies. But I’m interested in the one that he’s finished
filming recently.
 

When I saw the information I was floored. I had no idea he was interested in producing
or in writing. But this one,
Finding Forever
, seems to be one for the ages. The release date is scheduled for later this year.
But I have no doubt that all of this attention is keeping Cameron busier than she
was before.
 

I’m saddened by the fact that I haven’t heard anything in regards to Baby Michaels.
 

I hear Alfred open the door.

“What is it, Alfred?”
 

“A package, sir.” A package, that’s odd. Not something he’s received since moving
to Carnealeon.
 

Alfred brings the envelope into the living room where I’m sitting. I take a look at
the address and then at where it comes from. It just says Los Angeles, and it is addressed
to Bob.
 

I tear back the perforated tab to open it. It’s a flat, eight-by-ten size envelope,
and I look inside. There is an envelope inside. Removing the envelope from the larger
one, I notice handwriting and I look at it.
 

Grandpa Bobby.

I lift the lip of the envelope to find a card.
 

Birth Announcement

Mr. & Mrs Tristan Michaels are proud to announce the birth of their son

Jaden Robert Michaels

born May 29
th
, 2013, 1:56 a.m.

weight: 7lbs, 8oz

21.5 inches long

There is a pictures included on the card, and I stare at the beautiful baby boy. He
looks a lot like Cameron did when she was born. I look again at the date. That was
more than two months ago.
 

“How did I not hear about this — in the news, at the very least?”
 

“Because we’re good at keeping secrets.” I jump and stand up. Standing at the entrance
to my living room is my daughter, holding onto a small blue bundle. Her husband, Tristan,
is standing behind her.
 

“I told you not to come here.”
 

“I know, but I thought that you might like to see your grandson, and the house is
not yet finished.” She takes a few steps in my direction and I meet her halfway. I
kiss her forehead, and she hands me her son.
 

I take him in my hands and I immediately start humming; it’s the same tune I hummed
for Cameron when she was born. I look at Jaden and he is beautiful. I can see both
Tristan and Cami in him and he’s so precious. I kiss his forehead.
 

“I’ve been wondering where she got that song.” I look at Tristan. “Now I know.”
 

I look at Cami and then back to Tristan and then to my grandson. My heart swells with
the love I’ve missed, the love I’ve always thought I needed to feel when it came to
my daughter, and she, along with her husband, have given me that unconditional love.

The End

About Zoey

Amazon and iTunes Best Selling Author Zoey Derrick comes from Glendale, Arizona. Zoey,
was a mortgage underwriter by day and is now a paranormal, romance and erotica novelist
full-time. She writes stories as hot as the desert sun itself. It is this passion
that drips off of her work, bringing excitement to anyone who enjoys a good and sensual
love story.
 
Not only does she aim to take her readers on an erotic dance that lasts the night,
it allows her to empty her mind of stories we all wish were true.
 
Her stories are hopeful yet true to life, skillfully avoiding melodrama and the unrealistic,
bringing her gripping Erotica only closer to the heart of those that dare dipping
into it.
 
The intimacy of her fantasies that she shares with her readers is thrilling and encouraging,
climactic yet full of suspense. She is a loving mistress, up for anything, of which
any reader is doomed to return to again and again.

Stalk Zoey

On Twitter:
www.twitter.com/ZoeyDerrick

On Facebook:
www.facebook.com/Zoey.Derrick.1
- Personal

www.facebook.com/Zoey.Derrick
(Author)

On Her Website:
www.ZoeyDerrick.com

Email Her:
[email protected]

No Prince Charming Nook

USA Today
Bestseller
Angel Payne

and exciting new romance talent
Victoria Blue

are excited to present

No Prince Charming

Secrets of Stone, Book 1

Available Now!

Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/no-prince-charming-angel-payne/1119473762?ean=2940149582723

SPECIAL INTRO EXCERPT

Prologue

April

Claire

Oh my God
.
 

The words sprinted through my head, over and over, as I prodded at my lips in assurance
I wasn’t dreaming. Or hopping dimensions. Or remembering the last half hour in a
really
crazy way. Or had hours passed, instead? I didn’t know anymore. Time was suddenly
contorted.
 

Oh. My. God.

What the hell had just happened?

Forget my lips. My whole mouth felt like I’d just had dental work done, tingling in
all the places his lips had touched moments ago—which had been everywhere.
 

My mind raced, trying to match the erratic beat of my heart. “Christ,” I whispered.
My voice shook like a damn teenager, so I repeated myself. Because
that
helped, right?

Wrong. So wrong.

It was all because of that man. That dictatorial, demanding…

Nerve-numbing, bone melting…

Man
.

Who really knew how to deliver a kiss.

Hell. That kiss.
 

Okay, by this age, I’d been kissed before. I’d been
everything
before. But after what we’d just done, I’d be awake for long hours tonight.
Long
hours. Shaking with need…shivering with fear.

I pressed the call button for the elevator with trembling fingers. Turning back to
face the door I’d just emerged from, I reconsidered pushing the buzzer next to it,
instead. The black lacquer panel around the button was still smudged by the angry
fingerprints I’d left when arriving here not more than thirty minutes ago—answering
his damn summons.

Yeah. He’d “summoned” me. And like a breathless backstage groupie, I’d dropped everything
and come. Why? He was my hemlock. He could be nothing else.

I was even more pissed now. At him. At me. At the thoughts that wouldn’t leave me
alone now, all in answer to one tormenting question.
 

If Killian Stone kissed like that, what could he do to the rest of my body?
 

No
. That kind of thinking was dangerous. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood
up as if the air conditioner just kicked on at full power.
 

It had been a while since I’d been with a man. At least like…that.
 

Okay, it had been a long while.

For the last three years, career had come before all else. After the disaster I simply
called The Nick Years, Dad had fought hard to help rebuild my spirit, including the
doors he finagled open for me. Wasting those opportunities in favor of relationships
wasn’t an option. My focus had paid off, leading to a coveted position at Asher and
Associates PR, where I’d quickly advanced to the elite field team for Andrea Asher
herself. The six of us, including Andrea and her daughter, Margaux, were called corporate
America’s “miracle cover stick.” We were brought in when the blemishes were too big
and horrid for in-house PR specialists, hired on a project-by-project basis for our
thoroughness and objectivity. That also meant the assignments were intense, ruthless,
and very temporary.
 

The gig at Stone Global was exactly such a job. And things were going well. Better
than well. People were cooperating. The press was moving on to new prey. The job was
actually ahead of schedule, and thank God for it. Soon, I’d be back in my rightful
place at the home office in San Diego and what just happened in Killian Stone’s penthouse
would remain no more than a blip in my memory. A very secret blip.

I shook my head in defiance. What was wrong with having lived a little? At twenty-six,
I was due for at least one heart-stopping kiss with a man who looked like dark sin,
was built like a Navy SEAL, and kissed like a fantasy.
Sweet God, what a fantasy
.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I muttered. “You didn’t break any rules…technically.
He consented. And you sure as
hell
consented. So you’re—”

Having an argument with yourself in the middle of a hallway in the Lincoln Park 2550
building, waiting on the world’s slowest damn elevator.
 

I leaned on the call button again.

While
still
trying to talk myself out of pouncing on Killian’s buzzer, too. Or perhaps back into
it. If I could concoct an excuse to ring his doorbell before the elevator arrived…
 

No. This is dangerous, remember?
He’s
dangerous. You know all the sordid reasons why, his
and
yours.

Maybe I could just say I accidentally left my purse inside.
 

And that’ll fly…how?
One glance down at my oversized Michael Kors clutch had me cursing the fashion trend
gods, along with their penchant for large handbags.
 

I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes and hoping for a light bulb. I was bombarded
with Killian’s smell, instead. Armani Code. The cologne was still strong in my head,
its rich bergamot and lemon mingling with the spice of his shampoo and the scotch
on his breath, like he’d scent-marked me through the intimacy of our skin…
 

My fingers roamed to my cheek, tracing the abrasion from where he’d rubbed me with
his stubble. My head fell back from the impact of the recollection.

In an instant, my mind conjured an image of him again, standing in front of me. Commanding.
Looming. Hot…and hard. I felt his breath on my face again as he yanked me close. The
press of his wool pants against my legs. The metallic scrape of his cufflinks on the
wood of his desk as he shoved everything away to make room for our bodies. Then the
wild throb of my heart as he tangled his hands in my hair, lifted my face toward his,
and…

Yes.
 

The memory was so vivid, so good. I used the flat of my palm on my face now, thinking
I could save the magic if I covered it. Protecting it from the outside world. Our
perfect, shared moment in the middle of all this chaos.

Whoa.

“Get a grip.” I dropped my hand along with the furious whisper. It was one kiss. Incredible,
yes, but I guaranteed
he
wasn’t still thinking about it like this. Behind that majestic door, Killian Stone
moved again in his world, already focused on the next of his hundred priorities, none
of them bearing my name. And he expected me to get back to mine: cushioning his company
from that big, bad outside world I’d just been brooding over.
You’ve been hired to help clean up the Stone family’s mess, not add to it.