Read The Bad Boys of Eden Online
Authors: Avery Aster,Opal Carew,Mari Carr,Cathryn Fox,Eliza Gayle,Steena Holmes,Adriana Hunter,Roni Loren,Sharon Page,Daire St. Denis
The Bad Boys of Eden (132 page)
He wiped the tears that fell along her skin and then bent down to kiss her. It was soft, full of promise and love, and it was enough. Enough for her, for her heart.
“I have one more surprise, when you are ready to leave this gorgeous view.”
Lauren laughed. “I’m not sure I’ll ever want to leave this. It’s breathtaking.”
Marc rolled his eyes. “What if I said we could come back and have dinner here, on the balcony, and watch the sun set?”
“That would be perfect.” It sounded amazing and very romantic.
“Good.” He bent down and kissed her again. “We need to go back to our rooms. That box you were given last night—you’re going to need it for my next surprise.”
Forget the hammocks and the massages and all the amazing clothes in her closet.
Forget even the fact that this whole weekend was all because of Marc.
This moment was something she would never forget.
Her. Marc. Hands covered in chocolate.
Thank goodness she’d changed before coming. Marc wouldn’t let her open the box from last night until almost the last second.
Inside the box was a brown apron with an adorable chocolate saying embroidered on it.
All you need is love, but a little chocolate now and then doesn’t hurt.
She loved it.
He’d arranged a private chocolate making afternoon with the island’s own private chocolatier.
“I still can’t believe Paul gave his best-selling chocolates to this Master dude as exclusives when he’s got his own chocolatier on the island,” Marc grumbled as he poured his chocolate into small molds.
“I can’t believe I’ve got two of those boxes now in my room.”
Marc’s head lifted. “Pardon?”
“I’ve got two boxes of those chocolates in my room,” she repeated.
“Well, that little...” Marc’s lips thinned and he shook his head.
“Let me guess.” Lauren tapped her mold tray to get rid of any little bubbles. “You didn’t get any.”
She smiled and knew she’d need to thank Paul when she got back home.
“Will you share?” There was a hopeful note in Marc’s voice.
“Um, hello? You work for the guy. Can’t you get your own?”
“Trust me, I’ve tried. Paul hand makes each box himself before he seals them and gets me to print a shipping label. I don’t even get the throwaways.”
“Paul Ormand is a master all on his own,” their chocolatier said as he cleaned up the workspace. “I had the opportunity to watch him once...it’s why I am in this profession today.”
Marc took both his and her trays to the fridge section and set them inside. “Any way you can get your hands on one of his gold boxes?”
“Oh, leave him alone, Marc. I happen to have a box that’s meant for the both of us anyways.” She gave him a wink before she headed to the sink to wash her hands. As she watched the chocolate melt away under the hot water, she thought about the box she’d found on her bedside table earlier.
It was the message written on it, specifically, that made her smile.
Share.
After an afternoon of surprises and laughter while they created their own chocolates, Lauren had no problem sharing that box of chocolates with Marc.
Lauren wasn’t sure how much time she had left on the island, but she wasn’t sure she even wanted to leave. This was the perfect place for her and Marc to reconnect, to get to know each other all over again and to build something that could last.
Last a lifetime.
Wouldn’t that be nice? She knew it would take some work—okay, it would take a lot of work—but it would be worth it. She’d rather try to build something with him over spending another month, week, or even day without him in her life.
It was amazing really. They’d met six years ago and over a week, they knew they had something special. Something so special that it was like a seed, fermented in their heart, and waited for the right moment to sprout and bloom.
Arms wrapped around her waist and she smiled.
“So you’ll share, huh?” Marc placed a small kiss on her cheek.
“I might,” she gave a little shrug, “if you’re nice.”
“We made chocolate together, we’re about to have dinner watching the sunset, and we can sit in front of the fire tonight making s’mores with the chocolate bars we made today. Isn’t that nice enough?” Marc nuzzled the side of her neck and tickled her.
“And to think I almost didn’t come.”
“What?”
“When the invitation arrived, I thought it was meant for Jessica. I told Joely that the invitation needed to be returned.”
“Your sister knew, though.”
“I still can’t believe you set this all up.”
“I had some help. We have some great friends who believe in the power of love.”
Lauren smiled. “I’m so happy they’re back together. Their’s is a love meant to last a lifetime.”
“They’re not the only one.” Marc turned her around and kissed her with a passion she knew she’d never forget.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for taking the time to read Sweet Return. I hope you enjoyed my sweet romance, and that you recognized characters from the other stories in the Love So Sweet series.
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About Steena Holmes
With her passion for storytelling, Steena Holmes took her dream of being a full-time writer and made it a reality, writing her first novel while working as a receptionist. She won the national Indie Excellence Book Award in 2012 for her bestselling novel Finding Emma. Now both a New York Times and USA Today Bestseller, Steena lives in Calgary, Alberta with her husband, three dogs and ever increasing family pets.
More Books by Steena Holmes
Halfway Series
Stillwater Bay Series
Finding Emma Series
Dear Jack - a Finding Emma novella
Dottie's Memories - a Finding Emma novella
Decadent Events Series
Love So Sweet
Single Romance Titles
# # #
Sharon Page
I had to separate from my husband MMA fighter Ryder King because he is so haunted by personal demons he wouldn’t let me into his heart. As I start to fall for his friend, billionaire ex-fighter Xavier Malone, I get a mysterious invitation to the luxury resort island of Eden where both men plan to fight for me--in the ring and in bed.
Copyright 2015 Sharon Page
Table of Contents
Xavier
I got married on my twentieth birthday. My son was born one year and two days later. And it was four years after that, on my twenty-fifth birthday, I realized I had to leave my husband, MMA fighter Ryder King.
So I’ve learned anniversaries can be really wonderful, and really, really shitty at the same time.
Red’s Diner, on the main street of college town Westingham, is now almost empty and for the first time since six this morning, I sit down in one of the booths and flop back against the sparkly white vinyl seat. Carlotta, my fellow waitress, can handle the demands of our customers—Roy, a seventy-five-year-old regular who always sits at the counter, and a booth of five Yardley College students.
I start rolling cutlery into napkins, securing each bundle with a red paper wrapper. This is like a break for me—a chance to stop running and get off my feet.
A piece of cheesecake covered in strawberry sauce is suddenly put down in front of me on the Formica table.
I look up and Carlotta, who is sixty, wags her finger at me. “This is for you, Tessa. And you’re going to eat it.”
I don’t feel much like cake.
“Hon, it’s the one-year anniversary of your separation and everyone knows eating cheesecake on those days makes you feel better,” Carlotta says.
She doesn’t know it’s also my birthday. And wedding anniversary. With three hundred and sixty-five days in the year, why did I have to do it this way?
I guess it just happened this way.
Carlotta slides into the booth across from me, after first taking a look at Roy, then at our booth of college students, and finally at the door in case a new customer walks in.
She’s been waitressing for thirty years. I’ve been doing it for one. I’m trying to learn what I can from her. I think this is going to be my career path for a long time. I
could
use the maintenance money that Ryder pays me to finish school. But—
Well, it’s complicated.
I pick up another set of cutlery. Instead of rolling it up, I put it in front of Carlotta. “You have to share.”
She put on extra strawberry sauce just for me. I always love to have my sauce with a bit of cheesecake underneath.
Carlotta waits with her fork poised, so I take the first bite to put her out of her misery. The sweet-tart of the berry sauce and the rich, silky texture of the cheesecake hit my tongue.
“Oh wow,” I murmur. Our diner has a basic menu of sky high burgers, wraps, fish and chips, all day breakfast, which draws the crowd from Yardley College. But the cheesecake here is like heaven. It’s made by the owner’s mom, and she loves to mix up exotic flavours. This one is white and dark chocolate marbled together, and it’s amazing with the sauce.
“Honey,” Carlotta says, “next time you go to refill a coffee, you’d better take a look in the cup first.”
I wince. Just before I sat down for my “break,” I had attempted to refill a still-full cup of coffee. Fortunately the guy was a regular, with good reflexes, so he leapt out of the way before he got scalded. He even left me a tip, which amazed me.
I sigh. I suppose I should explain to her why I’m so distracted. “Today is not just the one-year anniversary of my separation. It’s also my wedding anniversary and my birthday. I know—at least I get everything over with on one day.”
A piece of cheesecake falls off Carlotta’s fork as she gapes at me. “I had no idea it was also your birthday.”
“I think of it as a cruel cosmic joke,” I say. “And after my shift I have to get home to run Jakey’s birthday party.”
“Should you really have done that today? It’s going to be awfully hard on you.”
I sigh, then nibble another piece of cheesecake off my fork. “I didn’t have much of a choice. His actual birthday is next week, but four-year-old boys have a better social life than I do. Between soccer games and other parties, today was the only day that worked for all Jakey’s friends. At least I won’t have time to dwell and get depressed—not with eight four-year-old boys in my house.”
The old-fashioned bell over the diner’s door tinkles.
Carlotta lets out a long dreamy sigh. For all she is sixty, she is gorgeous. Like the famous actress Sophia Loren. Carlotta has the same beautiful patrician looks, and thick auburn-tinted hair that she keeps in the same style as the actress. “Mama Mia,” she whispers. “This is just about the best part of my day: watching Xavier Malone walk through the door of this diner.”
I look to the glass door too and see Xavier’s tall, broad-shouldered form on the other side as he goes to push it open. “He’s early.”
Carlotta shakes her head. “If he came to meet me early, I would be thanking God I got a little more time with him. That is one very fine man.”
It’s certainly true.
Ex-MMA fighter Xavier Malone has been my almost-ex-husband Ryder’s best friend since they were kids. They look completely different—Ryder has white-blond hair that he keeps cropped short for fighting and blue-green eyes. Ryder has wickedly boyish good looks, with dimples, a “baby” nose, sculpted cheekbones, and the most beautiful mouth ever. Even bearing the bruises, cuts, and scars of his fighting life, he still looks gorgeous. Like the hot small-town boy that every girl has a crush on.
Xavier is dark, possessing black hair, dark indigo-blue eyes, long black eyelashes. A shadow of stubble always graces his jaw and makes him look dangerously grizzled and sexy. But Xavier, for all he looks harder and tougher, is the one who quit fighting, who invested the money he’d made on the circuit and built several successful businesses over the last four years. Now that he’s a billionaire, he’s been a cover story on every business magazine out there.
The only times now when Xavier doesn’t wear a tailored, elegant business suit are when he wears motorcycle leathers. He’s wearing them now as he walks in the diner and strides over toward me. He promised to pick me up when my shift was over and drive me home so I could get ready for Jakey’s party. The diner has long hours—6 a.m. to midnight—so each day is split into two shifts.
As Xavier reaches the table, Carlotta gives him a long look. “Afternoon, Mr. Malone,” she says. Then she makes a shooing motion to me. “Go home now, Tessa. It’s going to be quiet until dinner time anyway.”
Xavier gives Carlotta a slow smile. He always smiles that way—as if he’s unsure about relaxing into a grin. Every woman around him holds her breath until that smile finally appears.
“Thank you, Carlotta” he says and I can hear her sigh. Then Xavier strides over to the staff coat hooks and brings my coat to me.
Carlotta thinks I’m crazy. She thinks Xavier is interested in getting married. I can’t believe it. He and I started dating three months ago. I really wasn’t sure. After all, Ryder had owned my heart since I was twelve—basically since the first day I met him when I moved in next door to him. It took a long time for me to claim my heart as my own again. Even when Ryder and I split up, I was crazy in love with him. I just knew we couldn’t live together anymore. But now I’m scared to put my heart in anyone else’s hands.
Even though he’s wearing motorcycle leathers, Xavier brought the car and driver. “I was going to bring the bike, but then I realized you’d be too tired to ride on the back of it,” he says, as his driver opens the door for both of us. I fall back against the leather seat in the back of his luxurious car. I fight a yawn. Sliding in beside me, Xavier grins. “Looks like I was right.”
“Jakey is so excited about his party he woke up five times last night.” I rub my temple. “I am pretty groggy.”
Xavier is sitting beside me, and I sense he would like to put his arm around me. In three months, we kissed once. It was so hot, so intense I almost melted on the spot. But I pulled away in a panic. I’m not ready for another relationship.
Yes, it’s been a year since I left Ryder, but for months I hoped that my ultimatum would change him. Change Ryder’s mind. It didn’t.
Ever since I panicked during our kiss, Xavier has been the perfect gentleman. He insists that things can progress at whatever speed I want.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m crazy. Xavier is…perfect. Why am I hesitating?
“Do you mind if I help with the party this afternoon?” he asks.
“You want to help with Jakey’s party? Aren’t you busy with work? Corporate takeovers, that kind of thing?”
Like a flame along a fuse, his smile slowly ignites. “Is this your way of telling me you don’t want me? The truth is that I would set anything aside if you need me.”
I think of eight four-year-old boys. “You would really be okay with it?” I ask.
“I would love to do this.”
“They can get really rambunctious.”
His grin dazzles me. I feel my entire body grow hot—and then I feel that sense of panic. I’m not ready. Not ready to want to totally surrender to anyone.
“Tessa, I used to be an MMA fighter. I think I can handle four-year-olds.”
This time I smile wickedly at him. “I think you’ll be surprised, Xavier.”
* * *
I thought I was prepared for anything. But the four-year-olds surprise even me.
Maybe surprise isn’t the right word. Stun and shock are more appropriate “s” words.
So far I’ve found one boy in our bathtub, up to his ankles in water, with the tap turned on full. Xavier drags two more out of my bedroom. “They were playing Ninja,” Xavier explains.
A glance inside shows the destruction that two pint-size Ninjas can make to a bed. They apparently explored all my drawers—there are undies and socks in piles on the floor. Xavier makes them put the clothes away and fix my bedcovers, under his direction.
Then I herd the three boys downstairs—
A stream of water hits me in the chest.
“Jakey! You know you don’t play with water pistols in the house!”
But another boy leaps out of a doorway, shouts, “Got you!” and squirts me.
I point to the floor. “Put the water pistols down. Right
now
. Put them down and back away from them.”
Of course no one pays any attention to me.
Oh wait, the other boy does. He squirts me again in the chest.
“Put the water pistols down or the cake gets it,” I shout.
Jakey’s lip wobbles. “No, Mommy!”
Oh God, I have officially lost it. I am about to apologize and promise I will not hurt the cake when Xavier steps in.
“Would you guys like to go to a special training gym and learn some real martial arts moves?” Xavier has taken off his leather jacket. He is wearing a grey T-shirt with the logo of his franchise of training gyms. The sleeves fit perfectly around the huge circumference of his biceps. The lettering stretches across his firm, incredible pecs. I remember what Ryder looked like naked—broad chest, wide shoulders, solid muscle, tattooed, and not an ounce of fat on him.
I know Xavier must be the same. I’ve never seen him shirtless. Though if I wanted to, I’d just have to Google pictures from his fighting days. Sometimes it’s tempting.
But I’m not ready for tempting.
Of course the boys start leaping up and down, screaming with excitement. The two would-be Ninjas are jumping on the couch.
“Martial arts require discipline,” Xavier says. The boys stop and listen to his deep, commanding voice. He explains no one gets to go unless they all behave.
Suddenly all the shouting, wrestling, and couch-trampoline performances stop.
But I’m nervous. “Are you sure? Martial arts? They’re four.”
Xavier winks. “Age-appropriate marital arts, Tessa. I promise.” He takes charge, getting eight giddy, young boys into their coats and shoes. Xavier tells me not to worry about bringing anything else except Jakey’s homemade cake (my mom made it) and the presents.
And by the end of the afternoon, as Jakey is opening the last of his presents, I realize Xavier’s solution was perfect. The boys went wild in the gym to burn off steam, then Xavier and one of his trainers taught them controlled and disciplined moves. They also got to climb ropes and practice front rolls. Xavier had a meal catered at the last minute—animal-shaped chicken fingers, sliders, also salad, veggies, fruit, and cheese. The boys are stuffed.
Since I got married young and had Jakey right away, I am a lot younger than the mothers of Jakey’s friends. I assume most think I got pregnant and that’s why Ryder and I got married. It wasn’t like that, but I feel, as a young mom, that everything I do is judged. That other mothers are expecting me to be inadequate and make inappropriate decisions.
But the boys were thrilled to learn some “moves” from a former champion, and they are tired out in a healthy way. I actually feel like I’ve passed a test. At least Jakey won’t lose friends because their moms don’t approve of me.
After we bring all the boys back to my home and they are picked up, Xavier and Jakey watch movies while Mom and I tidy the house. I go into the living room to discover Xavier has already taken Jakey upstairs to get him ready for bed.
I go up to tuck him in.
When I bend over and kiss Jakey, he suddenly says, “I get a whole bunch of birfdays, Mommy. One with my friends. One with you and Gran. One with Daddy on my real birfday on Sunday.”