Just One Night, Part 6
Author: Elle Casey
Date: 2014-06-26 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fiction; Romance; Romantic Comedy; Contemporary; Contemporary Women; Humorous; Sagas
Description: NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR, ELLE CASEY, brings readers the conclusion to the 6-part contemporary romance serial novel, JUST ONE NIGHT. [This book is PART 6. Readers should begin by reading PARTS 1-5 first. Part 6 is the last part of this serial novel.] Jennifer gets the shock of a lifetime when an accident sends her to the hospital and she receives news she never expected to get. Her entire life is turned upside down, and she finds herself having to make some very hard and terrifying decisions. Life is spinning out of control, and the only time she feels like she can manag

Table of Contents

Title page

Copyright

Other Books by Elle Casey

Dedication

Note about serial romances

Part 6

CHAPTER One - Jennifer

CHAPTER Two - William

CHAPTER Three - Jennifer

CHAPTER Four - William

CHAPTER Five - Jennifer

CHAPTER Six - William

CHAPTER Seven - Jennifer

CHAPTER Eight - William

CHAPTER Nine - Jennifer

CHAPTER Ten - William

CHAPTER Eleven - Jennifer

CHAPTER Twelve - William

CHAPTER Thirteen - Jennifer

CHAPTER Fourteen - William

CHAPTER Fifteen - EPILOGUE

CHAPTER Sixteen - BONUS CHAPTER : A conversation between William and Edward

About the Author

Other Books by Elle Casey

just one night

A Serial Romance

Part 6

+

Bonus Chapter

ELLE CASEY

COPYRIGHT NOTICE

© 2014 Elle Casey, all rights reserved, worldwide.

Elle Casey thanks you deeply for your understanding and support.

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OTHER BOOKS BY ELLE CASEY

NEW ADULT ROMANCE
Shine Not Burn & MacKenzie Fire (2-book series)

By Degrees
Don’t Make Me Beautiful
Rebel (3-book series)

ADULT CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

Full Measure (written as Kat Lee)

Just One Night (romantic serial)

YA PARANORMAL ROMANCE
Duality (2-book series)

YA URBAN FANTASY
War of the Fae (4-book series)
Clash of the Otherworlds (3-book series, follows War of the Fae)
My Vampire Summer
Aces High

YA DYSTOPIAN
Apocalypsis (4-book series)

YA ACTION ADVENTURE
Wrecked (2-book series)

DEDICATION

To the confident, sexy girl inside all of us.

A note about serial romances…

This book is what’s called a serial romance. Most readers are familiar with full-length novels, novellas, and short stories, but many are not so familiar with serialized fiction. With the advent of self-publishing has come many different innovations, but believe it or not, a serial novel is not one of them. Serials have been around since the seventeenth century! They became especially popular in Britain’s Victorian Era (nineteenth century), “due to a combination of the rise of literacy, technological advances in printing, and improved economics of distribution.”* The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens may be a serial you’re familiar with. The Count of Monte Cristo and The Three Musketeers were also serials, as were Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Madame Bovary, Anna Karenina, and The Bonfire of the Vanities, among many others. Use of this format started to die down when periodicals fell out of favor and were then replaced by the Internet, but thanks to indie authors, it’s coming back! As a reader, I’ve found it a fun way to follow a story that’s always evolving while the anticipation builds between episodes or parts, and in the case of my serials it will be a story that evolves according to reader feedback. Please join the conversation about this book on my website at: http://www.ellecasey.com/just-one-night.

You can read more about serialized fiction on Wikipedia.

*[Law, Graham (2000). Serializing Fiction in the Victorian Press. New York & Hampshire, UK: Palgrave. p. 34. ISBN 0-312-23574-7. Retrieved October 23, 2011.]

Part 6

CHAPTER ONE

Jennifer

WHEN I OPEN MY EYES I find William sitting in a chair next to me, sleeping with his head resting on his fist. He’s way too big for the seat and looks extremely uncomfortable. I hate to wake him so instead I silently take stock of my situation.

There’s an IV coming out of my hand, and a couple bags of clear liquid hanging above me. There’s a regular beeping that I’m pretty sure is my heartbeat being monitored by someone at a nurses’ station. A glance down at my chest shows me nothing. I’m in a hospital gown patterned in light blue squares. I’m thirsty as hell and my mouth feels like I’ve eaten a jar of paste.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” says a cheerful lady in pink walking through the door. She notices William asleep and starts tiptoeing. Her voice shifts to a whisper. “I’ll just check your vitals and leave you be.” She wheels a little cart over and puts a blood pressure cuff around my arm.

I stare into her warm brown eyes. “I’m in the hospital,” I say.

She lifts an eyebrow. “Very perceptive.” Her smile takes the sting out of her words.

“How did I get here?”

She lifts a chin in William’s direction. “I’m guessing he had something to do with it.” When she sees my eyes bug out, she amends her answer. “Not in a bad way. He didn’t do any of this to you.” She gestures in the direction of my head.

I reach up, trying to figure out what she could be talking about. There’s gauze above my ears. I must look terrible.

Apparently, my face is an open book.

“Oh, don’t worry. You’re fine. It’s just a little cut and some stitches. You’ll be back to your old self, right as rain, in just a week or so.”

I look over at William and wince at the pain I feel at the back of my head. “Has he been here a long time?”

“Since you came in a few hours ago.”

“Can I go home?” I ask. For some reason all I’m worried about is the brunch. I can’t miss the brunch tomorrow at Frank’s house.

The nurse shrugs. “That’s up to the doctor. He should be in within the next hour.” She pauses as she looks at her machine and then types some things into a computer that’s sitting in my room. When she’s done she smiles at me and pushes the blood pressure robot into a corner. “You don’t need to worry about a thing. We’re taking good care of you.”

“Okay,” I say, not wanting to be rude by acting as if I doubt what she’s saying. I know from her nametag that she’s Gladys and I’m at Memorial Hospital, but the rest is a mystery. And William looks so pitiful scrunched up in that chair, I don’t want to wake him up to ask him any questions. All I can remember is arguing with the twat monster and then nothing else. When did William get there? How did I get hurt?

“Just press the red button here if you need me,” Gladys says. She turns to leave the room. “And if you need to get up to use the toilet, be sure you call me first. I don’t want you falling down.”

“Okay.” I nod until she leaves. Then I sit up, swing my legs over to the side of the bed, and move as close to the edge as I can. My head is throbbing, but I have to get into that bathroom and see what happened to me before William wakes up. What if I look like a complete train wreck? It’s bad enough he had to rescue me from what I can only assume turned into a full-on chick fight.

I slide off the side of the bed and take some slow, tentative steps towards the bathroom, wheeling my IV cart thingy along with me. It’s not far, so I’m not worried about calling for help. I get almost to the door before I hear a rustling from William’s direction.

“You’re awake,” he says.

I don’t turn around. “I just have to … go in here. I’ll be out in a second.”

“Let me help you,” he says, coming over to my side.

Is it possible to die of embarrassment? There’s a weird odor of antiseptic and … tape around me. I don’t want him to smell it, so I bristle at his attention. “No! I’m fine.” I hold out my arm so he can’t get too close. “I just need to use the bathroom.”

“Darling, let me help. You’ve had a bad knock to the head. You shouldn’t be on your feet yet.”

On one hand I’m thrilled that he’s so good with sick people. That’s a rare quality in a man. On the other hand, I can’t think of a time I was ever less attractive. This has to be pushing our new relationship to the edge of a cliff.

“I’m fine, I’m totally fine.” I reach for the door handle. Unfortunately it moves, and I miss completely.

“Right. You’re totally fine,” he says, putting one hand on my waist and the other on my opposite wrist. “That’s why you’re slapping at phantoms.”

“I wasn’t slapping at phantoms, I was grabbing the door handle.”

“Remind me never to choose you for my team when we have a company cricket game.”

“What are you talking about?” All I can focus on is getting away from him and into the bathroom by myself. Why is he making this so difficult?

“I have a reputation to uphold. I can’t let you hold me back with your terrible aim. I’m sorry, darling, but there are limits to my affections.”

I slap him away, not in the mood for his jokes. “Go away. I have to pee and I want to do it in private.”

The door to the room opens, interrupting William’s response.

“Hello,” says a preoccupied voice.

I look over my shoulder at the man standing in the entrance to my room. He’s wearing a polo shirt with a stethoscope hanging around his neck.

“Who are you?” I ask, annoyed that there’s another person standing in the way of me and the mirror.

“Doctor Gravins.” He’s too busy staring at my chart to say anything to my face and way younger than a doctor probably should be. Did he say his name is Gravins or Howser? “Just checking in to see how your vitals look and so on.” He walks over and looks up at my IV bag and then at the chart again. He makes some notes.

I’m suddenly very irritated by the fact that he hasn’t actually looked at me, the patient, once yet. I clear my throat to get his attention, but it doesn’t work. He just keeps on writing. His handwriting is probably terrible.

William speaks up. “Sorry to bother, doctor, but I wonder if we might have a moment of your time.”

“Sure … just hold on … a second…” The doctor dots a couple Is and slashes a couple Ts and then looks up. His face is as bland as a bowl of unsweetened oatmeal. His mouth turns up at the ends in an imitation of a smile. “What can I do for you?”

“Perhaps you could start with a greeting.” William gives him a tight smile.

The doctor stares at him confused for a couple seconds and then suddenly loosens up, holding out his hand. “John Gravins, nice to meet you. And you are …?”

William takes his hand off my wrist to shake the doctor’s hand. “William Stratford. And this is my partner, your lovely patient, Jennifer Moorehouse.”

The doctor looks up at my head and then shares an awkward smile. “Nice to meet you both.”

Now I’m mad and embarrassed. It must be pretty bad if my doctor is grimacing at it.

“So what is the verdict?” William asks. “Will she live?”

I elbow him in the gut, a tiny bit tempted to laugh at his cavalier attitude about my mortality but not wanting him to think he can go into the bathroom with me now.

The doctor looks back at his notes. “Yes, she’ll live. She’s got a contusion and some swelling along with it, but that’s to be expected.” He shifts his gaze to me. “They tried to shave as little hair off as possible in the ER for the stitches, and your other hair should hide the bald spot, so that’s good.”

I roll my eyes. “Thank God for small favors.”

“My concern is the meds,” the doctor says.

“The meds,” William says, staring at the clipboard as if his x-ray vision will make that statement easier to understand. I’m just as lost as he is, but I stare at the doctor instead.

“Yes, the meds.” He looks at both of us and then frowns. “Ms. Moorehouse, I would like to speak to you about something in private.” He waits for my response, clicking his pen in and out, in and out, in and out.

I grind my teeth in frustration. That clicking sound is making me want to jam that pen into his eyeball. “Whatever you have to say to me you can say around him.” I poke a thumb in William’s direction.

My memory strays to the last thing he and I did together in the parking lot of the Goodmans’ property. I have no more shame left where he’s concerned, so there’s nothing this doctor can say that will embarrass me now. I don’t know why I was in such an all-fired hurry to get to that mirror, actually. If William hasn’t run yet, he probably never will.

The doctor looks at his notes again. “Based on your condition, I’m concerned about the effect of the medications that were administered in the ambulance before you arrived.”

“Why?” I ask, completely mystified. “What condition? My head?”

He sighs out heavily and gives me a dirty look. “You told the EMTs you weren’t pregnant so they gave you Mannitol.”

The ringing in my ears becomes too loud, and I can’t hear anything else. William is talking to me, I can tell by the way his mouth is moving, but the sound isn’t coming through.

The doctor points to the bed and puts his notes down. The two of them herd me to the edge of it like I’m some kind of cow.

“I don’t understand,” I say, hoping someone will hear me because I can’t hear myself. “I don’t understand!”

William’s expression tells me he’s in full-on panic mode. His hands are flying towards me and then up in the air and then waving at the doctor. He’s got plenty to say, but none of it is penetrating my brain.

“I don’t get it!” I yell.

Suddenly my ears are working perfectly and I realize as everyone jumps that I’m talking way too loudly.

The room becomes totally silent, but I no longer have that ringing in my ears to keep my brain busy. “Uhhh, sorry about that,” I say, trying to smile with my apology. “I think I had a minor hearing loss problem there.”

“Could be a symptom of the head injury,” the doctor says, his face a bit flushed.

“Or…,” William holds up a finger, “…perhaps it could be the shock of hearing a certain word. The P-word. I know I am feeling a little light-headed myself.” He tilts his head and blinks his eyes a few times at the doctor. “Perhaps you could repeat what you said once more? Slowly, if you will, for those of us having difficulty processing the information.”

The doctor looks from William to me and then back to William. “You didn’t know?”

“Didn’t know what, pray tell?” William is staring at the guy so intently I’m worried the doctor will run out of the room before he says what I’m afraid he’s about to say.

“That Jennifer is pregnant,” Dr. Gavins says. “That’s she’s having a baby.”

“No.” I look at him and then William. “No.” I shake my head a few times until the pain becomes too much. Then I stop and look at the ceiling instead. “No, no, no, no, NO!” This cannot be happening. This is one of those crazy, awful dreams that seems real but isn’t. It has to be.

William puts his hand on my arm. “Easy, love. Easy.”

I pull my arm away. “Easy? Easy?!” I back away until my butt hits the edge of the bed. “I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine.” I try to laugh, but the sound is more like a crazy woman’s shriek. I climb up into the bed and lie down on my side, facing away from the two men. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.” The thin sheet is nothing to hide under, but I try anyway. It only comes up to my shoulder so I scoot down in the bed so it will cover half of my face.

No, no, no, no, no. This is not happening.

I hear mumbling behind me, but I ignore it. I’m going to close my eyes, fall asleep, and then wake up not in this ridiculous nightmare anymore. I’ve had some crazy dreams in the past, but this one takes the cake.

Imagine. Being in a hospital, wrapped up like a mummy, being told I’m … Gah. I’m not even going to think that word. I just need to sleep…

CHAPTER TWO

William

“OH, GOD, THIS IS DEFINITELY happening,” Jennifer says, her face hovering over the loo. “It’s totally psychosomatic. He tells me I’m pregnant, and a day later I’m barfing. No. This is bullshit.” She slides back onto her bum and rests her head against the cabinet.

I squat down to my heels next to her and pat her shoulder. I’m afraid to touch anything else, lest I injure her more. “The nurse said it will only last three months.”

She looks up at me, cold-blooded murder in her eyes. “Three months? Months? Do you hear yourself? That’s a quarter of a year!”

We stare at each other¸ and I can’t help but feel pity for her. Yes, our lives are turned upside down and inside out, but I’m just watching, a mere spectator in this crazy world we’ve made together. She’s the one doing all the work.

“What can I do for you?” I ask as gently as I can. “Draw you a bath? Rub your feet? Brush your hair?”

Her lips quiver and her eyes go sparkling with tears. “Stop being so nice to me.”

I close my eyes for a moment and nod sagely. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I should be cruel. You’re pregnant with stitches in your head, so the best thing for you is disregard and insensitivity.” I stand and hold out my hand. “Come on, then. Off to your bed of nails.”

She laughs and takes my hand, probably too exhausted to fight me off. “I think I’m sick in the head. You’re nice and it makes me mad. You’re mean and it makes me happy. I think someone gave me a lobotomy or something when I was in that hospital.”

“Nonsense. You’re acting as a woman on the duff. I’ve read all about it.”

“You have?” She allows me to lead her towards the bedroom. “When?”

“Last night. You slept the slumber of the dead while I spent some time online.” I won’t tell her it was until four in the morning because then she’ll know the state of panic I’m in. I must appear strong for her.

She pauses, her hand falling from mine in the corridor. “You did that? For me?”

I shake my head, worried being too kind will send her into a puddle of tears. “Certainly not. I did it for myself. I’m to manage a lobotomized, pregnant female and a new partnership at the same time. Must be on my toes, you know.”

She laughs, thank the stars above.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” she says, letting me take her by the hand again.

“I have come to the same conclusion.” We enter the bedroom and I sit down next to her on the bed. “Yet I don’t find that nearly as distressing as I might have a month ago.”

“Why is that?” She looks up at me with glistening eyes.

I shrug. “I cannot say. Normally my life has always been very predictable. I’ve planned it from start to finish. But ever since I met you, everything has gone sixes and sevens.”

“That sounds bad,” she says.

“It does sound bad, I admit, but in reality, it isn’t.” I stare at the floor trying to determine the best way to explain myself.

“I get it.”

“You do?” I look at her, wondering if she’s having me on.

“Yes. It’s the same for me.”

“Pray tell.” Perhaps if she can put it into words I’ll finally be able to understand it myself.

She snorts. “I’m not saying anything.” She looks down at her watch. “I have to get dressed.”

“Dressed? Don’t be silly. You have to sleep, preferably naked.”

She lifts a brow at me. “You honestly think that I’m going to get naked with you right now?”

I can’t think of what to say to that. Does this mean I’m in the sex dungeon? I certainly hope not.

She stands and moves to her closet. “I have to find my white dress.”

My face blanches. Does she mean to insist we marry? How do I feel about that?

Looking over her shoulder at me, she laughs when she catches my expression. “It’s not that bad is it?”

“Iiii … umm …” There is no right way to answer this question. I’m stalled out in a panic for fear that I will send her into a mad tailspin of hormonally charged emotion.

“It’s just brunch,” she says, walking into the closet.

“Brunch?” Her words and expressions are starting to fall into place.

She sticks her head out of the closet. “Yeah, brunch. What did you think I was talking about?”

“Right! Brunch!” I stand. “Yes, it’s terrible. Awful. A drag of epic proportions. I don’t recommend that you go.”

She laughs and comes out with a white dress on a hanger. “We’re going. Better get your white on.”

“Certainly not. I’m not a hospital orderly in a mental institution. I never wear all white. It’s ridiculous.”

She puts the dress up to her front and looks at me. “Are you saying I look ridiculous?”

I back away towards the hallway. “Never. No. Not in one million years would I ever say such a thing.”

“Are you running away?” she asks, humor turning her lips up and making that dimple come out to mock me.

“Madness.” It’s all I can get out before my feet are taking me down the hall and into the kitchen. I pour myself a large glass of orange juice and contemplate the current situation I’ve found myself in as I gulp it down.

I’m going to be a father. I’m living with a woman I’ve met less than a month ago, the mother of my child. And I’m going to a brunch where the woman who tried to blackmail me for sex will be hanging on my father’s arm. A second glass of juice goes down just as easily. I only wish it were full of vodka.

“I found you a white shirt and light slacks!” Jennifer says from the bedroom. She sounds too happy to be denied.

I set my glass down on the countertop and sigh. My feet carry me to the bedroom as I pull my shirt over my head. That I will do as she asks is a foregone conclusion. All of my internet research has at least taught me one thing: one upsets a pregnant woman at his peril. And today, I do not feel like upsetting the delicate balance that is her good spirits measured against deepest sadness.

So much for just one night. Funnily enough, that thought does not fill me with regret or sadness as one might expect. Rather, it brings on a warmth that fills me from head to toe.

I must be coming down with the lurgi.

CHAPTER THREE

Jennifer

I CAN’T REMEMBER THE LAST time I was so nervous. Even though I was invited by Frank himself, I still feel like an intruder in a place I don’t belong. It doesn’t help that the house is a huge mansion, and a real, live British butler answered the door.

Mia texts me to ask what I’m doing, but I ignore her message and put my phone in my purse. I’ll deal with her later. She doesn’t know any of my latest news, and I can just picture her blowing up with pure Mia-energy when I start telling her everything that’s happened. I need to prepare myself for that, maybe have a valium ready for her.

William holds my hand and leans into to whisper in my ear. “Don’t worry so much, darling. I’m here.”

His words bring me a sense of peace. My hands are still sweating, but at least my heartbeats slow down a little.

“I know. Thanks.” I squeeze his hand gently a couple times to let him know I appreciate his efforts. I can’t believe I’m actually pregnant and having a baby with this man! His family is going to hate me for screwing up his life like this. I hate me for screwing my life up like this.

Well, okay … part of me does. The other part is secretly thrilled that I’m going to be a mother. It’s a very tiny piece of me, but it’s in there somewhere. Every once in a while I stop and realize that I have a life growing inside me and my heart does a triple flip. Then I push the thought away because it’s just too scary to deal with right now, and my pulse goes back to normal. At this rate, I’ll have a heart attack by the time I’m four weeks pregnant.

We step through some large sliding glass doors onto a terrace that has a light breeze flowing across it. Large potted palms stand on all the corners and tall columns make me feel like I’m in a Greek temple. There’s a dining table set with white linens and china. There are three empty places.

“William! Good to see you, son!” Frank stands, holding his arms out low, too low for an embrace.

William takes one and shakes it and then lets it go. “Father.” He nods and gestures with one arm out towards his father and the other one resting on my lower back. “You remember Jennifer.”

“How could I forget?” he says, taking me into a hug. “The better half of Stratford & Moorehouse.”

I smile, feeling more than welcome, despite the frigid b-word sending off cold waves from a chair next to Frank’s. Ingrid is here and dressed in a white suit that looks more appropriate for a lunch with the Queen of England than brunch here. It makes me feel silly and underdressed. I wish I could hide behind William, but he’s already moved on. He stands at the chair next to his father, pulling it out for me.

“Mimosa?” Frank asks, gesturing to champagne and orange juice on a small side table.

“No thanks,” I say, realizing that now I have to avoid both the champagne and the caffeine I know is waiting in the teapot in the butler’s hand.

I take my seat and William pushes it in behind me before sitting himself down. The butler comes over and pours us cups of tea. I wave the pot away before he can finish filling mine, but William takes his cup and immediately starts drinking it. He winces at the first sip, but then drinks some more, winking at me over the rim.

Ingrid smiles, and it makes me go instantly cold. She’s staring at William like she wants to take a bite out of him. Or maybe I’m just imagining things. I’ll never forget that she is the reason William and I almost walked away from each other. Even though I’m sitting here dealing with an unplanned, single-mother pregnancy, I’m still absolutely sure that would have been a mistake to never see him again.

“How was your drive over?” asks Frank.

“Very nice, thank you,” I say, letting his words draw me away from the darkness that is Ingrid.

“Uneventful,” William says, drinking more of his tea. When he pulls the cup away, he smacks his lips a couple times and then takes another sip.

“Something wrong?” I whisper, leaning towards him.

“My mouth is suddenly very dry,” he says, sounding confused. “Must be the orange juice I had at your apartment.” He takes the teapot from the butler and pours himself another cup, drinking it without even stopping to wait for it to cool. When he’s done he drinks the small amount that made it into my cup before I could stop the butler from pouring more.

I’m distracted from watching him by the sound of the terrace door sliding open behind us. Turning around, I see Edward stepping through wearing the obligatory white outfit. He’s even more in line with Frank’s rules than William, since his shorts are white too. William settled on khaki pants to wear with the white shirt I gave him.

Edward walks over as William gulps down the rest of his tea. When Edward is next to the table, William stands and takes him in a strong hug and squeezes him.

Edward pats his brother on the back. “Someone had an extra shot of espresso this morning,” he says, his expression bemused.

William releases Edward from the hug and stands ramrod straight. “Good morning, brother.” He takes him by the upper arms and shakes him a little.

Frank leans over and whispers in my ear. “Is he on medication?”

I shake my head and say in a low tone, “I don’t think so.” I’ve never seen William so animated. He’s like a completely different person. Is it being around his family doing this to him, or is it Ingrid’s presence? Or me being pregnant around them? He must be freaking out inside, even though outside he’s been very cool about the whole thing. I feel like I’m on another planet right now, everything’s so messed up.

“Sit, sit,” Frank says, motioning with his hands but looking at me. “Tell us all about your new adventure. I’ve been waiting to hear more since yesterday.”

I swallow hard, wondering which adventure he’s talking about. I’ve had way too many lately to know where to start.

“Yes, do tell,” says Ingrid, sounding bored out of her mind.

I can’t even look at her. I’m liable to throw a fork into her eyeball if I so much as see a smirk coming from her direction. I have enough pressure on me right now, I don’t need her crazy ass messing with me too.

“Sorry for not returning your calls,” William says, taking his seat again. “We were quite busy with … things.” He places his hand on mine on the table, giving me a brief smile.

I don’t know what to say or do. William is acting so kooky, like he’s suddenly high on drugs.

“Things?” says Edward, also sitting down. “Sounds mysterious. Have anything to do with the improvement to your chin?” He points at William’s face, to the large scratch that the twat monster gave him when she fought with him at my apartment. I don’t remember any of it, but William filled me in while we waited for my discharge papers to be completed.

William touches his scab. “Oh, this? No. Well, perhaps it does relate to some degree.”

My eyes bulge out at him and I kick him under the table. He’s not going to tell them what happened is he? Ack! As if I don’t feel enough like a bumpkin in my sundress, now he’s going to tell them I get in chick fights?

Frank leans in, squinting to see William’s face. “What happened, then? Did she crack you already?” He looks at me and winks.

“No, actually, I was attacked and assaulted at the hands of an enraged woman who is not Jennifer.”

My face starts to burn red. I feel so trashy having gotten in a chick fight with Hank’s mistress. William is ignoring the kicks I’m giving him under the table. He’s too far away to nudge with my elbow, which is probably good because at this point I’d probably crack one of his ribs.

“Attacked?” Edward says. “Are you serious?” He looks at me. “Is he serious?”

My face feels like it’s on fire and my stomach starts to churn. “Maybe a little. It’s not a big deal, really.”

“Well I for one would love to hear the story,” Ingrid says, suddenly sounding interested.

Bitch. Of course she’s excited now. There’s violence involved. I wouldn’t be surprised if she wore a spiked bra with the metal parts turned to the inside.

William takes my napkin from my plate.

I open my mouth to tell him he has the wrong one when he snaps it open and places it gently in my lap. Everyone watches in stunned silence as he makes sure it’s perfectly straight. I finally have to slap his hands away to get him to stop.

He turns his attention to his own napkin, oblivious to everyone staring at him.

“Brother, are you feeling okay?” Edward asks, leaning in to look at William’s face.

“Right as rain. And you?” He looks up at Edward, and for the first time I notice his cheeks are flushed. He has two bright red spots at his cheekbones.

“Your pupils are severely dilated,” Edward says.

“Did we mention that Jennifer is pregnant?” William says, like he’s announcing the weather or something equally minor. He’s breathing rapidly. “On the duff. And I’m the father. I hope you will all be as thrilled as we are with the news.”

“Is this some kind of joke?” Frank says, kind of loudly, sitting back in his chair and frowning.

I take my napkin from my lap and put it on the table, leaning over to look at William closer. “Are you all right?” I ask, concern for my own issues going to the back burner as I see the crazed yet worried look on his face. Edward was right; William’s pupils are huge.

“It’s possible … I might feel a bit piqued, actually.” William uses his napkin to wipe a bead of sweat off his forehead.

Edward stands at the side of his brother’s chair. “Up you go. Time to walk it off.” He takes William by the arm and forces him to get on his feet.

“Right,” William says, sounding a little lost. “We’ll just take a little promenade around the garden.” Two steps later and he’s falling against his brother’s side, limp.

Edward catches him in time to keep him from crashing all the way to the ground.

I jump to my feet, throwing my chair out behind me as Frank runs over to help them. “What’s wrong?!” I shout. “What’s wrong with him?!”

“Lie him down on the chaise lounge,” Frank says, grunting under the weight of his son. William’s legs have collapsed under him and his head is lolling to the side.

I want to help but I’m frozen, trembling all over. “What’s going on?” I ask in a whisper. I watch as William is laid down on the long chair and his family stands over him slapping him on the face. He’s not responding.

“Are you going to call nine-one-one or should I?” Ingrid asks in a bored tone, sitting in her seat, acting like it’s no big deal that William just passed out cold.

I pull out my phone and dial the three numbers, my fingers shaking the whole time.

CHAPTER FOUR

William

“YOU TWO ARE STARTING TO become regulars in here,” says Gladys, smiling as she feels for the pulse at my wrist.

“He got jealous with all the attention I had when I was in here,” Jennifer says, I believe attempting to make a joke of the fact that I acted as a woman wearing a corset laced up too tight on a hot summer’s day.

She’s told me that my father and Edward are waiting in a room down the hall, but I have no desire to see them. I’ve cocked-up the news of Jennifer’s delicate condition, and there’s no way to undo the damage. I feel guilty being happy over this temporary reprieve I’m enjoying in this hospital bed.

“The doctor will be in shortly. She’s just next door,” Gladys says in a conspiratorial whisper, like it’s a big secret that she’s around.

“Good. Then we can get to the bottom of this nightmare and go home.” I stare at the ceiling, irritated that I cannot get up and walk out of here on my own recognizance. I’m still wearing the ridiculous brunch clothes, but they are better than the horrid hospital gown someone asked me to put on when I arrived. A very satisfying pallor came over the complexion of the nurse who I sent away with a glare. As if I’d ever be caught dead in such a thing.

Jennifer shows no sign of being distressed on my behalf. She keeps looking at me and smiling as if she approves.

“What are you so happy about?” I ask, snappishly.

“I prefer you this way to the way you were at brunch. Seeing you act so strangely and then go all dead-guy limp was awful.”

“Yes, well, I’m glad I missed it.”

Jennifer leans in and whispers into my ear. “I didn’t realize how much I love your dry sense of humor and alpha male thing until it was suddenly gone.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I refuse to be coddled, even though her words are like a balm over my injured ego. Alpha male? I’ll show her an alpha male. Just get me out of this place and we’ll see about that. I’ll make her pregnant twice in one go.

She takes my hand. I don’t push her away, but I’m not yet ready to go soft on her. I let her do the work of twining our fingers together.

“You okay?” she asks when the nurse is gone.

“Jammy. Just jammy.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” She’s giving me that look of pity again. It makes me positively peeved at myself.

“I’ll bet you’re feeling nothing but regret right now, aren’t you?”

She frowns. “Because we missed the brunch?”

I stare at her for a long time, attempting to control my temper. After all this, she’s taking the piss. Or perhaps she’s not. I cannot tell. My head is still a little … fuzzy. “Are you taking the piss?” I finally ask.

She smiles, all dimples and sunshine. “I don’t think so.”

“You know what I meant. You’re regretting ever publishing that online advert, aren’t you?”

It takes her a few seconds to figure out what I’m talking about. “Hell no,” she says, squeezing my hand. “I’d never regret doing that, don’t be silly.”

“But I’m practically a lady!” I shout, remembering the moment I lost consciousness and faded away, right there at the brunch, in front of everyone including my father. He’ll never let me live this down. Neither will Edward. I’m glad they’re not here right now. I could only imagine what they’d be saying. They’d call me a big girl’s blouse and that would just be the starter course.

She laughs. Laughs! “I’m sorry, babe, but I’m not following your reasoning at all. Is this a British thing?”

“I fainted dead away at a family brunch! What kind of man does that? Not one you want to be tied to, that’s for certain.” I look away. “I’ve the DNA of a pleb. I apologize for sharing it with you.”

She pulls on my hand a few times and doesn’t stop until I’m looking at her again. “Babe … shut up and listen to me …”

“Must I?”

“Yes, you must.”

I sigh. “Fine, if you insist.”

“It’s not your DNA, okay? Your DNA is perfectly fine. More than fine. You were sick. I saw your pupils. They took up your whole iris. Did you eat something bad last night? Maybe it’s food poisoning.”

I frown as I consider what she’s said. Food poisoning? What are the chances? “I don’t believe so.”

She shrugs, effectively moving her breasts up and then down, capturing my full attention. “Maybe you’re getting sympathy morning sickness,” she says.

“Don’t be absurd.” I frown, considering the idea. Is that even possible? I do feel incredibly close to Jennifer. It’s hard to believe we’ve only known each other for a short while, really. Perhaps I am playing the father-to-be a little too dramatically.

She opens her mouth to respond but is cut off by the sound of a woman’s voice.

“Hello!” A stranger comes into the room wearing a white coat over a skirt and blouse. “I’m doctor Haverhill.” Stopping at the foot of my bed, she looks to the door. A police officer comes in behind her.

I can’t stop staring. An officer of the law came into Jennifer’s room when she was in this place yesterday and took a report about the attack. Is he here for her? Does everyone in this place remember her? I don’t find that hard to believe, knowing as I do how lovely and charismatic she is. But for him to come into my room … it smacks of a breach of privacy.

“Have I done something wrong?” I ask. My fingers close around Jennifer’s without conscious thought. I find solace there in the form of her responding pressure.

“No, he’s here to take a report about what happened,” explains the doctor.

Jennifer and I exchange a look of confusion.

“Sorry, but I believe we’re a little bit out of the loop,” I say. “Could you be so kind as to fill us in?”

The doctor nods. “You have signs of atropine in your system.”

“Atropine?” I frown. I take no medications, so this makes no sense to me. “What is atropine and why is it in my system?”

“Atropine is a naturally occurring tropane alkaloid, a plant derivative. It has a strong effect on the parasympathetic nervous system, including the ability to affect respirations, heart rate, adrenal glands, and other things. It’s often used by medical professionals in emergency situations, but the paramedics assure us that this was not the case with you. You were already exhibiting symptoms of an overdose when they arrived.”

“An overdose? But why would he have it in his system at all?” Jennifer looks at me, the glimmer of suspicion in her eyes. “Do you take medications?”

“Certainly not,” I say, angry, but not at her. For these people to suggest I’m some sort of drug addict is beyond absurd. “I’m as healthy as a cow and naturally so.”

The doctor interrupts our conversation. “We did some tests. The variation we found in his bloodstream is not pharmaceutical grade. We suspect a tincture or tisane of some type.”

“A tincture? Tisane? Do people even use those anymore?” Jennifer asks. “I’m not even sure I know what you mean. I’m thinking Little House on the Prairie here. Maybe even Clan of the Cave Bear medicine woman stuff.”

Suddenly, in my mind’s eye, I can picture the pot of tea at brunch, and how cup after cup, I could not quench the sudden thirst that appeared with the first sips.

“It was the tea,” I say, sounding mystified, I know. But really … how could someone do this to me? Why would they do this to me? “The tea. I knew it tasted off.” I pound the bed with my fist. To be poisoned with England’s proudest beverage … it’s unspeakable. Someone is begging to be hanged.

“Do you know anyone who has access to Belladonna or Jimson Weed?” the doctor asks.

“Are those plants?” Jennifer asks. She shifts her gaze to me. “I have visions of all the flowers bursting from Frank’s garden in my head right now.”

“Yes. Most definitely. My father is a mad gardener.” I sit up and lean forward in the bed. “Please, I need my mobile. I must speak with my father right away.” I hold out my hand towards Jennifer and snap my fingers in my hurry.

She lifts an eyebrow and I stop immediately.

“My apologies,” I say, embarrassed for my lack of manners. “It’s just that I fear for his health and we cannot waste a single moment.”

“What are you thinking?” the police officer asks. “Did your father do this?”

“No.” I grab the phone from Jennifer’s outstretched hand. “I’m thinking that I was poisoned by a woman who’s currently spending the week-end with my father.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Jennifer

WILLIAM HAS A STRONGLY WORDED conversation with his father and then there’s a long space of silence as he listens to Frank respond. I know Frank is just down the hallway from us in a waiting room, or at least he was when we came in here, but for some reason, William has decided to use the phone to discuss the situation. Maybe he’s protecting his father from being arrested. I’m not sure I could be so understanding if it were me lying there in the hospital bed.

“Right. Fine, then. Thank you for sharing the information, not that I’ll ever get that image out of my brain, mind you. Cheers.” William hangs up and hands me the phone.

“What’d he say?” I ask. The doctor and the police officer are completely focused on William as we wait for his answer.

“Nothing to worry about. A minor miscommunication. I’ll be fine. Just treat me for the things you’ve found in my system and we’ll be done here.”

The cop snorts. “Not gonna happen.” He shifts his weight while pushing down on his gun. His leather belt makes a creaking sound.

Doctor Haverhill gives William a tight smile. “I’m sorry, but when someone is poisoned, we tend to take that very seriously around here. Where is your father right now?”

“I’m not sure,” William says. It’s a complete lie, I can tell by his expression, but if William is okay with what happened and he doesn’t want his father involved, then neither do I. I quietly type out a text message to his father and press Send.

“Can you at least tell us what happened?” asks the doctor. “It could be important for your treatment.”

The police officer takes out a small notebook and a pen from his front breast pocket, waiting for William to start speaking.

William clears his throat. “Well, it appears as though my father, in the midst of a passionate affair with a much younger woman, has run into a bit of a problem with … erectile dysfunction.” He gives me an apologetic look, and I cringe as visions of his father’s limp dick flit across my mind. I shudder involuntarily.

“Erectile dysfunction?” the cop asks, his eyebrow going up. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

William laughs a little under his breath and a small smile appears, but he looks uncomfortable. “Apparently, there are some naturally occurring chemical compounds found in certain plants that can cause increased … shall we say … circulation in certain parts of the body.”

“Are you saying your father made his own Viagra?” I ask, not sure I’m understanding.

“I’m saying that my father was using herbal remedies to manage a medical condition, and I happened to accidentally drink the tea that was to function as the delivery agent.”

Every single one of us looks down at his crotch, including him.

“Apparently it doesn’t have the same effect on some people as it does on others,” he says.

The police officer snickers under his breath as he puts his notebook back into his pocket.

“Using plant derivatives in this manner can be very dangerous,” the doctor says, glaring at William.

William holds up his hands in surrender. “Madam, I can assure you, you are preaching to the choir. I agree with you one hundred percent. I much prefer PG Tips over Jimson Weed, believe me.”

“I need to get going, Anna,” the police officer says to the doctor as he turns towards the door. “I’ll see you around.”

She watches him go, obviously mad but not in a position to do anything about it.

“Soo …,” I say trying to get rid of the uncomfortable silence, “can William go now?”

The doctor walks over to the computer that has William’s records on it. She clicks through several screens before answering. “I need a clean blood test before I can release him.”

“How long will that take?” he asks.

She looks over her shoulder. “I can’t say.” She leaves the computer after signing off and heads towards the door. “Depends on your metabolism.”

I blink a few times as the door shuts behind her retreating form. That was one of the more abrupt exits I’ve ever seen from a medical professional.

“She acts as though we’ve played her for a fool on purpose,” William says, sounding offended.

I take his hand and kiss it, thrilled to know he’s not really sick. “I think we got played for fools, not her.”

“What do you mean?” He strokes my hand with his thumb.

“Ingrid knew exactly what you were doing when you drank that tea. I saw her staring at you and smiling.”

“My father says he mixed the tisane and had it ready for a separate pot of tea in the kitchen.”

A slow smile spreads across my face. “Are you saying the butler did it?”

William grins back. “Yes. I have gathered all the clues. The butler did it, in the kitchen, with a pot of tea.”

We laugh together. “That was bad,” I say, so relieved we’re being corny now. Corny is way better than freaking out.

“Are you all right?” he asks, his expression going serious.

“Yes,” I say, my smile permanent. “I’m more than okay.” I’m actually a little dizzy with relief.

“I’m lying in a hospital bed with an elephant’s dose of natural Viagra in my system and a limp winkle and you’re telling me you’re more than okay? I’m concerned.”

I lean over and hug him, pressing my chest into his face in the process. “Don’t be. I have proof that there’s nothing wrong with your winkle, okay?”

That sobers us both up.

Oh my god. I have a baby growing inside me.

“Whatever are we going to do with us?” William asks.

I try to smile but tears threaten, so I stop. “I don’t know. I’m too scared to think about it.”

William weaves his fingers through mine. “Do not fear, my darling. I shall take care of everything.”

“You will? How?”

He suddenly looks very earnest. “I’ve been thinking. I believe the best course of action would be for me to purchase a home for us and our child. We can have an office in one of the bedrooms from which to work. We’ll keep the executive suites for our clients, but most of our work will be done from the house. We already have enough money in the bank from my savings to manage for quite some time, and the deals we’ve negotiated so far, assuming all goes well, put us into the black for …” he frowns as he thinks, “… ten years? More if we live frugally?”

“You have it all figured out,” I say, still worried but also cautiously happy. Is this really happening to me?

“Not all of it, but some.” His thumb rubs my hand again. “I suppose it’s mostly up to you.”

“How is it up to me?”

“You have to decide if I’m the man you want to live with … to share a home with and raise a child with.”

“It’s kind of too late to decide that now, don’t you think?” I’m sweating just thinking about it. Me? A mother? William the father? Oh my god. Oh my god. Breathe, Jennifer. In and out, just breathe.

“It’s not at all too late. If I’m not the man for you, then you tell me and I will do my duty by our child and nothing more. I won’t force myself upon you. That wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

Just that idea of William leaving me and doing just his duty makes me feel sick inside. Physically ill.

“What do you say?” he asks, jiggling our hands a little. “Are you in, or are you out?”

I imagine going back to my apartment without William. All I can see is darkness and sorrow. What will my Tweetie Bird slippers do without his shoes there to keep them company? What will I do? Go back to my lonely single-girl life, without the crazy sex, without the British accent, without William’s strong arms around me? With a baby to raise on my own? With William acting like a stranger, a man doing his duty by my child but treating me like I mean nothing to him?

The pain that fills my chest is unbelievably strong. Holy shit … am I crazy? William is asking me to be in a committed relationship with him and I’m taking all this time to decide? I definitely need therapy.

“I’m in,” I say in a rush before he changes his mind. “I’m in, even though it scares the you-know-what out of me.”

He smiles. “We shall manage the fear together.”

“And the dirty diapers,” I say, scared out of my mind. I have no idea how to take care of a baby. I’ve never spent more than five minutes around one. I always figured I’d either not have any of my own or wait until I was older.

“Right. Definitely. The dirty nappies and midnight feedings … all of it.”

We’re squeezing our hands together so tight right now it hurts, but I’m not going to be the one to pull away. I’m afraid I’ll float right out of the room without his anchoring presence to keep me there.

CHAPTER SIX

William

THOUGHTS ARE CHURNING AND SPINNING through my mind, making it difficult to concentrate well on any one thing. I’m to be a father, in less than nine months. A father! Bound to a woman I’ve only just met but for whom I have great affection. I’m no longer at the helm of the family business, an enterprise I was quite certain until just a fortnight ago that I’d be retiring from in sixty years. Edward’s off to Scotland to conduct an audit he’s woefully under-qualified to manage, and I’ve a new business I’m responsible for growing from the ground up. My lady is my partner and, as it happens, the mother of my first child.

To say I have some challenges ahead of me would be an understatement. It’s a bloody good thing I have Jennifer by my side. It’s all I can think as I inhale the scent of her while she stands next to my chair and leans down. I used to find distractions at work exceedingly annoying. Now I eagerly await the next and the next. Miss Meechum would not recognize me, that is certain.

“What do you think of this place?” Jennifer asks, handing me a printout of another property listing. “It has three bedrooms and a small yard.”

I glance at it and shake my head. I’ve already seen enough. “Too small. I need a garden and the only things I’d fit in that tiny area are dwarf plants.”

“Are you mocking little people or being serious?” she asks.

“I would never do such a thing. Find me something with some land. Real land, not a roadside median.”

She sighs and rubs her still-fit belly. She does this often now, but I rather like it so I’ve decided not to bring it up lest she become subconscious and stop.

“Babe,” she says … I love it when she calls me that … “land costs money.”

“And I have money. I have lots of money. Let’s spend it.” I circle a figure on the printouts in my hand to signal to myself later that it needs a deeper look. Later, when Jennifer isn’t mesmerizing me by being so close.

“But we need to save it for the business,” she says, getting that stressed tone in her voice again.

I turn my chair round to face her and take her hand in both of mine, using my thumbs to rub small circles into her palm. This always works to remove the lines of stress from between her brows.

“Darling,” I say, using my most soothing tone, “two weeks ago we started our enterprise. As of today we have seven new clients in addition to the ones I’d already received from my father. We are full steam ahead on the Goodman project, and the City has already said they are going to give us an approval once the drawings are complete.”

She smiles, her dimples sinking in and making her utterly charming to look at. “I guess it’s kind of a good thing that one of the council members’ daughters attacked me in my apartment and sent me to the hospital.”

I wink at her. “Not that anyone in this room would stoop so low as to suggest that words were exchanged to that effect with people who want to remain out of prison.”

She shakes her head, the smile back full force. “Of course not. We’d never do anything like that. We don’t need to. The plan we have is solid.”

“Exactly. Don’t worry about the money, darling. I will make the money, you will spend it. That is our new plan going forward.”

“I kind of like that plan.”

“Brilliant. Now if you could just find me a garden, all will be right with the world.” I kiss her palm loudly and let her hand go.

She walks back to her desk, a piece of furniture I insisted we purchase and set up in a corner of the living room so she could finally be rid of the stacks of books and wood that were previously serving as her workstation. As long as I am alive, Jennifer shall never live in such squalid conditions again. She deserves the very best and I mean to give it to her.

“I’m not going to just sit back and drink cocktails all day, though,” she says. “We’re partners in this thing.”

“Excellent news,” I say, running my eyes down the column of figures that indicate our cash flow over the next quarter. We’re quids in, thank goodness. “The gentlemen clients prefer talking to you rather than me. Having you on board will increase our turnover by at least forty percent.”

“Turnover? Are you saying people will quit because of me?”

“No, I mean revenue. Turnover is revenue in my British mind.”

“Oh.” She sighs.

That sigh causes me pause. I turn to face her, my swivel chair squeaking with the effort. I really must replace this monstrosity with a quality chair of Italian leather one of these days.

“What’s the matter? Have I said something wrong?” Every day I worry that I will cause her stress and then make something happen to our child. I’ve done copious amounts of research on child development and child-rearing, and it’s become entirely clear to me that I have no hope of ever having an undamaged child. Exposure to the paint on these walls alone is enough to remove several IQ points from her developing brain. We really must find a new home very soon.

“No.” She clicks on her mouse button a few times. “I just keep thinking how different we are.”

I roll my chair over to her and rest my chin on her shoulder so we can both look at her computer screen together.

“I am yin and you are yang,” I say. “Together we are in perfect harmony.”

“I want to be yin,” she says. I can hear the laughter in her voice. She loves to bait me, the little minx.

“No, I’m sorry, but you cannot. I’m yin and that’s final. This is non-negotiable.” I lean over and point to a listing on her monitor. “This one. We shall buy this one.”

She twists her head sideways to look at me. “You can’t be serious.”

I blink a few times. “On the contrary, I believe I can be.”

“That house is listed at one point eight million dollars, William.”

“Negotiate with them,” I say, rolling back away from her so that I can once more delve into my financials. I quite like knowing they are all mine, not figures I’ve collected for the benefit of my father.

“Negotiate? Negotiate?” She makes the sound of a very small piglet. “I’m a real estate professional not a miracle worker.”

“I beg to differ.” From what I have seen, Jennifer is more than capable of making miracles happen. She’s turned me from a confirmed bachelor to a family man eagerly awaiting the birth of the first of hopefully many children, all in the space of weeks. Next thing you know she’ll have me growing hybrid roses and Japanese maples and loving every moment of it.

“Fine, I’ll call, but I think you need to adjust your ideas a little bit. You might have to settle for a medium sized garden instead of a giant park.”

“Settle? Me? Surely you jest.” I turn my back to her completely so she cannot see me smile. She likes it when I play the high-handed boss with her, and I do not want to disappoint.

“You are totally begging for it,” she says. The sound of her chair moving reaches my ears. Just the very idea that she might be coming for me starts the process of blood-flow being diverted towards my trousers. I’ll be useless for figures now.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, sniffing loudly for emphasis. My blood pressure rises as I imagine her touching me soon.

Her arms come around me from behind, sliding down my shoulders to my chest as her lips go to my neck. “Watching you work gets me all hot and bothered.”

I turn my face so that I’ll be able to kiss her. “I’ve read that it’s dangerous to allow a woman to remain unsatisfied for any length of time while pregnant.”

She grins. “Then you’d better hurry up and satisfy me, William.”

I reach around and take her by the upper body, pulling her until she falls into my lap. A delightful squeal of surprise leaves her lips, and I cannot help but react with a smile. “As you wish, madam.” I lean down and press my mouth to hers, welcoming the hot, wet kisses she eagerly offers.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Jennifer

WILLIAM SLOWLY UNBUTTONS MY SHIRT as I lie in his lap on my back. My legs are hanging over the arm of the chair. It’s not the most comfortable position, but I love being close to him and playing goofy sexy games so I’m not complaining.

“What are you doing?” I ask, being coy. This whole role-play of him being the boss and me being his co-worker is seriously hot. The best part of it is that we’re really not playing. Yes, we’re partners, but he’s the one who’s been calling the shots. He’s way more experienced with this business than I am, but he’s teaching me everything he knows and I’m soaking it up like a sponge. I’ve never been on the receiving end of so much giving before. I’m afraid I’m going to wake up from this dream one day and royally hate my life for not being like this in reality.

“I am relieving you of this hideous blouse,” he says with a scowl.

I look down and laugh. “Hideous? Really?”

“Yes. It has entirely too much material covering your luscious breasts. How many times must I tell you … low-cut tops only in the flat. If I cannot see cleavage, it’s inappropriate dress and I won’t stand for it.”

I pull him down by the collar for some hot, slippery kisses. His upper lip and chin have the shadow of a beard coming in and they scrape my skin, leaving it to burn after. Just the idea of this mouth on my body makes my nipples go hard.

“I won’t wear this shirt inside ever again,” I say, slightly breathless with his kisses and the way he’s teasing my nipples with his fingers through the material.

He pushes my shirt open and pulls one of my bra cups to the side to release my breast. Leaning down, he says softly, “Good girl.” He sucks on my nipple, pausing only to lick around it before starting all over. His free hand massages my breast and then reaches around behind me, pulling me up from my back to bring me closer to his mouth. Kisses spread out from there to my chest and then my neck. I let my head fall back so I can feel all of it. The cool air teases the spots he’s kissed and gives me chills.

“You make me so hot,” I say, my eyes closed.

“And you make me want to throw all this business to the side so that I can bury myself inside you.” He bites my earlobe and then licks it. His hand moves down my body and slides over to rub between my legs, his finger trailing up and down, tracing my slit. It makes me crazy to feel him touching me but not touching me at the same time. Stupid pants getting in the way!

“So what’s stopping you?” I ask, lifting my hips so he’ll touch me more.

He slides his hand up to the waistband of my pants and then down inside my panties. I suck my stomach in to make it easier for him. I don’t want anything getting in the way of his touch.

“We must be diligent,” he says, watching what he’s doing with his hand. “The work will not complete itself.”

I gasp when his finger slides into my hot folds and buries itself inside me. His hand is huge, tugging at my pants that aren’t offering him enough room to maneuver.

Pulling his head down, I kiss him with a strange kind of desperation. Just a couple minutes ago I was completely content searching for a home online. Now I need to feel him inside me.

“Screw the work,” I say. “We’ll finish it later.”

He pulls his hand out of my pants and puts it under my legs. Then he stands, taking me with him.

“Where are you going?” I ask, a thrill running through me. This is going to happen. I won’t be desperate for long; instead I’ll be satisfied. William never leaves me hanging.

“To the bedroom.” He pauses. “Is that a problem?”

I feel a little guilty that I’m always distracting him like this. I’ve been selfish, always wanting to have more of him, to feel more of him, to see him covered in sweat and wasted with spent passion. “We really should work.” My attempt at doing the right thing is seriously lame. There’s not a single ounce of conviction in my voice.

He bends over and puts me on the floor.

“Uhh …” I watch as he stands over me and starts taking off his belt. “What are you doing?”

“Take off your trousers,” he says, staring at me as his expression darkens.

I don’t know why, but I feel like challenging him. “No.”

One of his eyebrows lifts but he doesn’t smile. “Take them off or I shall take them off for you.”

I lean back on my elbows, rocking my hips a little. I can’t help it; there’s too much pent up sexual energy for me to lie still. “I don’t think I’m in the mood,” I say. Lie, lie, lie. My heart starts beating faster as I wonder what he might do in response to my refusal to cooperate.

He doesn’t say anything, he just strips down to nothing, even taking off his socks and shoes. I go a little breathless staring at his amazing body. The muscles in his legs are thick and corded. His arms are tanned, also thick and covered with a light sprinkling of brown hair. His chest and abs are well defined, but not too much. Just enough to make me want to run my hands over them, feel them on me. His heavy cock is hard and tempting me the way it slowly sways side to side with his movements.

He gets down on his knees and grabs my pants by my thighs in two fists.

“What are you doing?” I ask, knowing very well what he’s up to.

He pulls hard on my pants, getting them past my hips to the top of my legs. My underwear goes with them.

“William … I didn’t say you could do this.”

He yanks again and has my pants down to my knees.

I stay very still, mesmerized by the dangerous look in his eyes. “You really shouldn’t,” I say, almost at a whisper. This is all just a silly game on my part, pretending like there’s even a speck of reticence anywhere in my body. I cannot wait to be naked with him and to feel him. Instead, I pretend that I can wait, and grip the carpet fibers with desperate fingers. I can feel something drip down from between my legs to the floor beneath me. I am so ready for him.

He slowly draws my pants and underwear off my feet and throws them into a pile in the corner of the room. I’m still in my bra and my shirt is open but splayed out to the sides. William moves forward so that he’s kneeling between my thighs. Taking his dick in hand, he guides it to my folds.

“What are you doing?” I ask in a whisper. I can’t take my eyes off his. He’s staring at me, but I cannot tell what he’s thinking. It’s like an animal has taken over my lover and made him forget any of the tenderness I’ve come to know him for. I’m not complaining, though. I like it when he gets rough sometimes.

He pushes himself into me. It’s no effort. I’m ready for him, completely.

“This,” he says, sinking in and lowering himself on top of me, our chests touching and stomachs together as I collapse onto my back. “This is what I’m doing.”

I moan and pick up his rhythm, my hands moving to his chest. I love the feel of his muscles under my fingers as they flex and move.

“I didn’t say you could,” I whisper, jerking my body up to meet his with every stroke.

“Maybe not with your words, but with your body, yes, you did indeed tell me I could. You demanded it, in fact.” He picks up the pace and with every stroke smashes into the most sensitive part of me. Talk about hurt so good...

Sounds come from my throat without thought. My lower back pushes into the carpet. I’m going to have burns there from the rug, but I don’t care. I just want more of this.

He pauses and then pulls out. “Roll over,” he says, grabbing one of my hips.

It’s a surprise, but I do as he says and get on my hands and knees, left to stare at the floor. I feel him coming up behind me and then the head of his dick pushing inside me once more.

“Yes, that’s it,” he growls as he slides in, going so deep it almost hurts to have him there.

He holds my hips as he pulls out and goes back in again, using a combination of hip movement and his arms drawing me back to make our new rhythm. Soon it picks up speed, causing my breasts to swing back and forth, even though they’re still trapped in my bra.

The sound of our bodies and skin slapping together turns me on even more. This isn’t making love, this is fucking, and that’s perfectly okay with me. I love that William can do both equally well and somehow knows which one I need even when I don’t.

He pauses and leans over, reaching around and putting his finger on my clit. He pushes on me so hard I collapse to the floor under him. He doesn’t stop, though, he just keeps stroking inside me, touching me, making me want to spread my legs as far as I can to give him full access.

“I love fucking you,” he says at my back. “So wet … you are so wet for me …”

I moan in response. I can’t put together actual words right now. Everything feels too good, and the best I can do is just let him know I heard him.

After several minutes of me being massaged and fucked and dominated from behind, William pulls out and rolls me over again. I sit on the carpet staring at his dick bouncing in front of me.

“What are you doing?” I ask, out of breath.

He sits down farther back from me and holds out a hand. “Come to me,” he says. His cock is sticking up like a pole buried in the ground. “Sit,” he says, glancing down at his crotch.

I smile, loving the fact that what I thought was going to be a quickie is turning out to be some sort of sexual olympics. “You want me to sit on you?”

“Your turn to do the work.” He smiles as sweat rolls down his face and chest, and it’s oh, so sexy.

I straddle him and slowly lower myself down until I’m guiding his cock into me. He helps, using one hand to prop it up and the other on the floor behind him to keep himself from falling back. When I’m finally fully impaled upon him, resting on my knees, I put my hands on his shoulders and stare into his eyes.

He sits up and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me in close to him, making his cock go in even farther. We are completely connected, together as one instead of two separate people.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known,” he says, his expression completely serious. It kind of takes my breath away when I imagine I can see love there in his eyes.

I go up and then down very slowly, experimenting with the position. I’ve never done it by straddling a man before, but I can immediately see that I love how I can control the rhythm and the pressure in certain points. Having him turn the tables and put the power in my hands feels kind of amazing.

“And you are the sexiest guy I’ve ever known. And the hottest.” I move up and down a few more times. When I’m fully in I move my hips in a circle, thrilling myself with the zips of pleasure that fly up and explode all over my body, sourced from my nub that’s swollen and begging for attention.

He sits up straighter and puts both hands on my hips, lifting me up and then setting me down on his cock. Together, we are fucking him and fucking me. It’s erotic and sexy and exactly what I needed. William knows me better than I know myself.

I can feel the muscles in his arms and shoulders bulging with the effort as I stroke his body. I have to go faster, fuck him harder, I have no choice. He’s too sexy and this is feeling too good. I’m getting closer and closer to something I don’t really understand, but I know I have to have it. Sweat is dripping down my back and between my breasts.

“Kiss me,” he orders, grabbing the back of my neck and pulling me to him.

We kiss like we’ll soon be leaving each other for years, a desperate mashing of lips and tangling of tongues that makes the juices flow for me and the ride that much smoother for us both. I moan and cry out a little when he slams me down hard onto his lap and simultaneously jerks his hips up to meet me. His fingers dig into my body, maybe leaving bruises, but I don’t care. I need to feel him on every part of me. His raw male-ness is intoxicating.

He grunts with every stroke now and sweat pours down his face and chest. I rub my hands in it and then up into his hair as I grab his head and pull him closer to me. He leaves our kissing to suck and lick my breasts, indiscriminately grabbing anything his mouth can reach to leave his mark. I guide my nipple to his tongue so he can grab it and suck it hard, making me scream and my entire hot center spasm with delight.

“William!” I gasp, knowing the end is near for me. I ride harder, faster, unable to get to the speed that I know I need to push myself to the limit.

He roars in response, throwing his hips up to reach me from the ground and at the same time pushing down on my hips with his hands. The rhythm between us is frantic. Desperate. Out of control.

This is what finally does it. It can never be just one of us; it has to be both of us working together towards a common goal - ecstasy.

We shout together at the exact moment I feel this light come into me and shatter me into a thousand tiny pieces. I throw my arms around his neck and hold on for all I’m worth, as I keep riding him, grinding myself against him.

And then he pauses, holding tight to me around my waist as his body shudders and his hips jerk up once, twice, and then several more times as he empties his seed into me.

I lift my head some time later, when all the strength is gone from my body, and look at his dazed expression. His hair is sticking out all over the place from me grabbing it, and he looks like he just ran a marathon.

“So much for having a home office,” he says ruefully.

The feelings of love and affection and absolute happiness are too much for me, especially when he looks the way he does right now — completely, utterly, and adorably sexy. I cannot stop laughing and crying.

CHAPTER EIGHT

William

IT’S HARD TO BELIEVE THIS beautiful woman has gone from a just-one-night fling to being not only my housemate but also the mother of my child. I watch her through the kitchen window of our new home as she walks through the garden, her barely, almost imperceptibly rounded belly easy to see through the filmy material of her dress. I’ve begged her not to wear underthings while at home and today she has accommodated my fetish. The outline of her bottom is plain to see.

I grow hard imagining taking her out in the soft grass below the Japanese maple I planted when we moved here three months ago. We have christened nearly every part of the home and gardens as it is, but I shall never tire of worshipping her body. She is quite simply the most lovely and desirable woman I have ever met. I stroke the front of my trousers as I picture her naked underneath me.

My cellular phone rings, distracting me from my lechery. I turn away from the sexy vision of the goddess in the garden and instead focus on the caller.

“Edward! It’s been a long time, brother,” I say with genuine affection. Nothing can spoil my mood now, not even my wayward sibling.

“It’s not Edward, it’s Rachel.”

I frown. “Rachel? Do I know you, Rachel?”

“Of course you know me, silly. It’s me! Your old assistant?”

“Oh, right. Miss Meechum. Hello. And what may I ask are you doing calling from my brother’s phone?”

“He told me to call you.”

“Is that so?” Edward and I have hardly spoken since he left for Scotland three months ago. I’ve managed to stay completely removed from his business and that of my father as well, which suits me just fine.

“Yes,” Miss Meechum replies. “That is so.”

I admit to remaining a little peeved at the Jimson Weed debacle and have avoided family gatherings since my hospital discharge, not to mention the fact that the very mention of my father’s paramour is enough to have my lover and I both seeing red.

It’s quite disturbing for the two of us to see how easily my father has fallen under Ingrid’s charms. He is no longer the man I knew, the powerful figure at the head of a very successful business. Today he is spineless and weak, focused on only one thing: keeping Ingrid in his bed. It’s almost enough to have me offering to help. Almost.

“Well then?” I ask. “What is it?”

“What is what?”

I breathe out a sigh of frustration. “What did he want you to say to me, Miss Meechum? Was it something specific or were we to just exchange greetings?”

“Ummm … no. Well, I guess we were supposed to exchange greetings, but then there were some other things he wanted me to say.”

“Brilliant. Now as the greetings have been disposed of, I suppose you could get on with the remainder of the message.”

“Okay!” she says brightly. “But hey, how’s Jennifer doing? Is she getting huge yet? And how’s the new house? Frank says he’s going to buy you guys a puppy, by the way. Ingrid’s going to help him pick one out.”

“No!” I shout before I can stop myself. “Good God, do not let that woman choose a pet for my household. For all we know it’ll turn out to be a Hell Hound.”

“What kind of breed is that?”

I count to five before answering in an effort to get control of my temper. “Miss Meechum, I am quite busy as the moment, and much as I’d enjoy chatting with you about dog breeds and other stimulating topics, I really don’t have the time.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, Edward wanted me to pass on a message, and that message is that he needs you to come to Scotland, and it’s very important.”

I wait for more but am rewarded with merely silence.

“And …?”

“And what?” she asks.

“And what is the rest of the message?”

“There isn’t any rest. That’s it. He needs you to come.”

I hold the phone out and make as if to throttle it. If I could just strangle this thing in my hand, I’m certain I would feel much less desire to cause this woman bodily harm.

“Are you there?” says a tiny voice.

I put the phone back to my ear. “Yes, I am here. I wonder if you might be privy to the reason for which he needs to see me?”

She sighs. “Uhhh … that would be a … hmmm … no. No, I don’t. I came to his hotel room to get him and found his phone here in the room and that message on a notepad, but that’s it.”

“You have his phone …” I say, running through the possible scenarios in my mind. “You found it in his hotel room, you say…”

“Yes. Right next to the bed. And boy, is it messy in here. Your brother is a real pig. Pardon my French.”

My heart thumps strongly in my chest. “Take a photograph using his phone and send it to me.”

“You want me to take a selfie?”

“No, Miss Meechum, I want you to take a photograph of the room. Of the mess.” My brother might be a cad, but he’s also a complete nutter when it comes to his belongings. Everything has its place, and he makes sure that it’s there. All of his clothes hangers are evenly spaced and his shoes in a neat line, organized by color and style. The idea that he’d be living in a pigsty is more than distressing.

“Ohhhh, okay. That makes way more sense. I was going to say … I mean, what would Jennifer think about you wanting pictures of me?” She snorts. “That would be, like … super awkward.”

“Miss Meechum. The picture, please.” My toe begins to tap out a hurried rhythm on the travertine floor.

“Oh, right, okay. Hold on a sec.”

The sound of a camera shutter reaches my ears and then some other clicks come after. Less than a minute later and I have a beep letting me know I’ve received a message. Pulling the phone from my ear, I press the buttons that will bring the photograph up.

What I see makes my blood run cold.

“Miss Meechum, have you called my father and discussed this with him?”

“No. Should I have?”

“Please do it. Send him the photograph first.”

“Is Edward going to be in trouble for not making his bed?”

“Miss Meechum,” I say, my anger barely controlled, “Edward is a grown man and beyond disciplinary measures for poor housekeeping habits. However, if you take a closer look at what’s before you, I believe you would come to the conclusion that this room has been tossed by people searching for something. This is not merely a case of a man living a slovenly lifestyle.”

“Oh.” There’s a long pause. “Oh, my.” Another long pause. “Oh my goodness. I think you might be right!”

“Hallelujah,” I say, looking up at the ceiling. “Please, Rachel, call my father.”

“Should I call the police too? I think they have this yard here where they hang out. Scotland Yard they call it.”

“Scotland Yard … Good God, woman, just … just call my father. He’ll know what to do.”

“Okee dokee. I’m on it. Tell Jennifer I said hi.”

“Thank you. And I will. Good day, Miss Meechum.”

She giggles. “You’re so formal all the time.” She affects what I believe she thinks to be a British accent. “And a good day to you, Mr. Stratford, toodle loo, tah-tah, and cheerios.”

I sigh heavily. “It’s not a breakfast cereal, Miss Meechum. Not a breakfast cereal.” I disconnect the call before she can respond.

Jennifer steps through the French doors with a smile on her face and a few flowers in her hand. “Who was that?” She moves to the kitchen to get a vase.

“Miss Meechum,” I say, my mind preoccupied as it runs through possible scenarios involving my troublesome brother. What has he gotten himself into now?

“Oh, bummer, I wanted to talk to her.”

“Whatever for?” That pulls me out of my trance. “You’re not friends, are you?”

“Sure we are. I just had lunch with her last week.”

“I thought that was with Mia.”

“Rachel was there too. Remember? I told you she wore that hot pink dress with the big peacock on the front?”

“Oh. I must have blocked that uncomfortable detail out.”

Jennifer sidles up to me and frowns. “What’s wrong, babe? You look stressed.”

“I don’t want to be melodramatic, but I think something’s happened with Edward.”

“Something? Something as in…?”

“Trouble.”

She pulls away. “Are you serious?”

I show her the photograph. “This is his room.”

“Man, he’s a pig.”

I take the phone back and look at it. “No, he’s quite fastidious, really. This is not his doing.”

She takes the phone and looks at it again. “So what are you going to do?”

“Me? Nothing. I told Miss Meechum to contact my father. Edward is there on company business, so my father needs to manage it.”

Jennifer gives me that look. The one that tells me I’m about to be doing something I rather wish I wasn’t.

“Babe, you can’t pretend like you’re not involved with them anymore,” she says.

“I most certainly can. Stratford Investments is no longer my concern, as you well know.”

She places her hand on my arm. “What I well know is that they are your family, and even though you haven’t seen your father much or Edward, it doesn’t mean you don’t feel responsible for them.”

“Nonsense. They are grown men. They don’t need my aid.”

“Maybe they don’t. Maybe they do. You should at least make sure before you decide what to do.”

She leaves me to fluff her flowers, and I glare at the telephone. Edward, that bloody plonker. What has he done now?

CHAPTER NINE

Jennifer

WILLIAM IS PACKED AND READY to leave for the airport when his phone rings.

“Stratford,” he says.

I watch him, admiring the way he fills out his traveling suit. He’s been working out like crazy, telling me he needs to get in shape for fatherhood. I think he’s actually afraid he’s not up to it. He’s even practicing getting up in the middle of the night, just in case. He makes me laugh and forget how scared I am to be a mom.

“Edward!” he exclaims. “Where in the bloody hell have you been?”

I put my hand on my belly as the baby makes some flutter-kicks inside. Or maybe it’s just gas bubbles. I’ve been told it’s too early for me to tell the difference, but it sure doesn’t feel like gas.

“That makes absolutely no sense whatsoever,” William growls. “I have my valise right here by my feet, and I’m thirty minutes from driving to the airport to come fetch you. What am I to do now?”

I wish I could hear what Edward is saying, but since I can’t, I wait. William is pissed, though, that’s for sure.

“Fine. Have it your way. You owe me, brother. You’ve shaved at least five years off my life.” A few more seconds and he pulls the phone from his ear to stare at it. “He rang off.” William looks at me, mystified. “He actually disconnected the call without even a by your leave.”

“Maybe he was in a hurry,” I offer, knowing full well that wasn’t the case.

“Maybe he needs a good punch-up.”

I walk over and rub William’s back. “And you’re just the guy to give it to him. Is he coming back soon?”

“Yes. He’s on his way to Glasgow right now to catch a flight to London. He just called to let me know there was no need for me to intervene.”

“Well, that was nice. He saved you a trip out there.”

“Nice? You must be joking. He puts us all in an uproar with his skiving off and then out of the blue bothers to call and say, ‘Oh, hello, I’m just jet-setting around Europe, no need to worry…’”

I shrug, knowing that trying to make William not mad at Edward is a lost cause. “You know how he is.”

“Yes,” he says, glaring, but not at me exactly. He’s just mad and Edward’s not here to take it out on. “He’ll not be invited to the wedding. I’m putting my foot down on this one.”

I blink several times. “Wedding? What wedding?”

His face turns red. “Heh-heh … did I say that out loud? Silly me.”

I cross my arms both cranky and nervous all of a sudden. “What wedding?”

William puts the phone on the counter and then wraps me in his arms, pulling me close. “I was just thinking that maybe … perhaps … one of these days you might want to … you know … go to one of those.”

I lift an eyebrow. “You can’t be serious.” He’d better not be proposing like this, just because he got mad at Edward.

“I cannot?” He looks afraid.

“No, you can’t. If you plan on asking me an important question that will involve the rest of our lives together, you ask me the right way, not in reaction to Edward pissing you off.”

He pulls away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I wasn’t going to do any such thing.”

“Then what wedding were you talking about?”

“The one between my father and Ingrid.”

My jaw drops open. “Are you serious?”

He gives me an awkward grin. “Surprise?”

I try to laugh but it comes out more like a bark. “Ya think?”

“He told me earlier today that they’ve planned it, a last-minute affair apparently, but with all the packing and worry over Edward I hadn’t yet broached the subject with you.”

Now I actually believe him and go from being cranky at what I imagined to be his casual blow-off of what should be a seriously romantic moment between us to being annoyed that he forgot to mention this important bit of news. Frank and Ingrid? Talk about a tragedy.

“When? When are they getting married?”

“This week-end. At my father’s home.”

“That’s two days from now!”

“Yes, quite.”

I swallow hard, trying to force the bile to stay where it belongs. “That is just … oh my. I don’t know what to say.” I could say that his father should be institutionalized for being such a nut job.

That woman he’s marrying has wreaked more havoc on this family than should be legal. So far she’s managed to insinuate herself into the family business, move into and redecorate Frank’s home, and even bring her three Great Danes to live there. William went over there once to pick up some documents from Frank and told me that he was practically mauled when he arrived. I saw the drool marks all over his pants, so I believe him.

“Yes.” William sighs. “The woman who tried to blackmail me with a sex tape she made of us is about to become … my step-mother. Shoot me now.”

My stomach churns. Are we going to be expected to hang out with them on Thanksgiving and Christmas? Oh my god! She’s going to be my child’s grandmother! All I can see in my mind is Snow White and the evil queen. She’ll for sure try to poison my baby with a bad apple, I know it.

“I seriously need a drink right now,” I say, feeling my face go pale.

“Orange juice,” William says, moving towards the fridge.

“Make it a double,” I say, taking a seat at the small table in the corner.

CHAPTER TEN

William

THE VERY WORST DAY OF my life has arrived. I tried to avoid it, tried to come down with a plague of some sort that would have necessitated my quarantine, but all was for naught. My father insisted I attend his wedding and act as his right-hand man. With Edward running amok, he said I was his very best choice, the only one he could truly count on to be there at the appointed time, and I couldn’t very well let the old man stand at the altar alone. He is my father, after all is said and done. The man who will be the grandfather to my child.

It makes me positively ill to see my father trussed up like a Christmas goose in all of his finery. Ingrid has pulled out all the stops, running up a tab that must be in the six figures to make this wedding appear out of nowhere to be something to be remembered and gossiped about for years to come. Everyone who is anyone is in attendance, but the only person I want to see is my lovely housemate.

Jennifer looks stunning in her peach-colored confection. I want to eat her up, something I plan to do the moment we leave this ridiculous farce. Drowning in her love always helps me to disconnect from the pressures of the real world.

Unfortunately, she left me to go sit with the guests, to give her feet a rest, she said. I’m in my father’s suite, acting as his support figure in the moments before he sacrifices his entire life to live with the spawn of Satan.

“Are you sure, Father, that this is what you want to do? Because if you have any doubts, any at all, even just an inkling of a doubt, I would fully support your decision to cancel.” It distresses me that he’s changed so much since being with her. It’s as if she’s given him a brain transplant, removing his rational, thinking mind and replacing it with that of a lovesick adolescent.

“Cancel? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m in love. When you’re in love with a woman, you marry her.” He adjusts his tie in the mirror. “Which begs the question … when are you going to make an honest woman of Jennifer? I don’t want my grandson being born a bastard.”

A tight smile rises to the occasion. “Ever the silver-tongued devil …”

“I’m merely saying aloud what the rest of the world is thinking.”

“What you are doing is begging to be standing alone at that altar. I’ll not have you bad-mouthing my lady or my child. You have better things to concentrate on now, anyway. Like how you’re going to manage your honeymoon. They’ll not let you bring Jimson Weed on the airplane. You’ll be arrested for illegal drug trafficking.” There. Let him suck that for a while, bloody prat.

“I don’t need that anymore. It was just a hump and I got over it. Ingrid is bangers in bed. Really, she …”

I hold up a hand and move to leave the room. “One more word and I’m gone. I swear it, I’ll leave.” My stomach is not strong enough for that topic of conversation.

“Fine. Fecking nun.” He brushes the sides of his hair with his hands as he admires his reflection.

“Ingrid’s nothing like Mum,” I say, toying with a small string that hangs from my sleeve. “The opposite, really.” It makes me quite sad to think of my beloved mother looking down on this mess. She really must be disappointed in old Frank. I know I am.

“And a good thing,” my father says. “Your mum and I … never a good match.”

I laugh but without humor. “You can say that again.”

“Son, I know you don’t hold me in the highest regard, but I was always honest with your mum. She knew who I was and what I was about. She never held that against me.”

“Doesn’t make how you treated her right or decent.” I feel like a child again, sad for my mum and angry at my father for making her feel like less of a person because she didn’t fit into his idea of what a wife of a man like him should be. She was one hundred times the person he is. Even now, I love her ten times more than I could ever love him. Perhaps that makes me a bastard, but it’s the truth.

My father shrugs. “People grow older. They change. Sometimes they change and grow together, sometimes they change and grow apart. That’s the way life is. I wasn’t responsible for your mother’s happiness. That was entirely up to her.”

I cannot answer him. To do so would be to say the things he’s needed to hear for going on twenty years, and those kinds of conversations are better kept for non-wedding days. Making that decision to keep my thoughts to myself, I feel the warmth and wisdom that was my mother’s domain seep into my bones. It makes me think that she really is here, guiding me. My father is right about one thing; my mother never did hold his actions against him. She loved him until the day she left us for bluer skies.

As I’m trying to think of a more neutral topic to discuss while we wait for the signal that the bride is ready, a commotion outside the door takes my attention. I’m glad for the distraction. Deep emotional topics and my father do not mix well. I’m already feeling a little bit feverish.

My father ceases his grooming and turns towards the door. “Find out what that is, will you?” He mumbles some harsh language before going back to his reflection.

By the time I get across the room and to the door, it’s clear this isn’t just a matter of guests arriving and greeting one another. Someone is yelling.

“Ingrid?” my father says, striding across the room.

I pull the door open and enter the hallway, taking several steps down it and around a corner until I’ve reached the balcony that looks over the front foyer. I’m gobsmacked at what I see. My father stops just next to me.

Edward is there, trying to push his way through a crowd of people, and Ingrid is hitting him over the head with a bouquet of flowers. Petals are flying everywhere.

“Oy, lay off me, ya bloody slag!” Edward yells.

I’m both shocked and entertained by the idea that my dolt of a brother has not only crashed the wedding everyone expected him to avoid, but he’s also managed to call his future step-mother a slut in her own home. Brilliant. I knew I could count on him.

“Edward!” I yell, giving him something to home in on.

“What is the meaning of this?!” yells my father, his voice ringing in my eardrums long after he’s done shouting.

“I want him out of here!” Ingrid screeches. “Out! Do you hear me! Take him out!”

“Not bloody likely!” Edward yells, letting himself out of his jacket to escape the well-meaning guests trying to keep him from getting upstairs. They are left holding it, empty of its wearer, as he takes the steps two at a time in our direction. He’s wearing his white shirt and bow tie with suspenders holding his trousers up, and he does look dashing, I must admit, even with the tattered flower petals littered throughout his hair.

“Frank! Don’t you dare talk to him!” Ingrid shouts, holding up the bottom of her dress so she can also mount the stairs in a hurry.

Edward reaches the top of the staircase breathing hard, but he doesn’t stop there. He rounds the corner and grabs both my father and me by the sleeves. “Come on, then. In you go.” He shoves us ahead of him and into my father’s study, several doors down from the bedroom.

My father and I stumble into one another as Edward turns and slams the door shut behind us, locking it soundly in place.

Moments later there’s a banging and screaming just outside, but Edward ignores it completely. He puts his hands on his hips and grins hugely. “Sorry I’m late. Did I miss anything?”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Jennifer

I’M STANDING OUT IN THE back yard admiring the roses that are everywhere and the fact that Ingrid somehow put together a wedding in mere days, when the sounds of a crazy woman start coming through the back doors leading out onto the terrace. Crowds of people standing around are filled with their murmuring voices as everyone tries to figure out what’s going on.

I quickly step over to one of the people hired to work the wedding. “What’s going on?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I have no idea. Some woman is going nuts in there, though, sounds like.”

Time to investigate. I hate that I have these stupid strappy heels on. I have to take every step very carefully so I don’t slip and bust my ass on the marble floors.

When I get to the foyer, I find everyone looking up.

“What’s going on?” I ask a teenager who’s standing there smiling.

“Dude … the bride just totally went nuts on this guy and they ran upstairs.”

“Is that her yelling?” I ask. The sound of the voice is familiar but definitely has an unhinged quality to it.

“Yeah, man. Whoa. She’s wicked pissed.”

I push through the onlookers to reach the stairs.

“I’m not sure you should go up there,” a large guy says, blocking my way. He looks like a bodyguard.

“I’m definitely sure you shouldn’t try to stop me,” I say, looking down at my belly for emphasis.

He steps to the side. “It’s your funeral.”

I hiss at him as I pass him by. Idiot. As if a cranky bridezilla is any match for me. I’m practically a mom now. I am fearless.

I’m huffing and puffing with the exertion of climbing all those stairs in heels. Following the sounds of door-pounding down the hall and around a corner, I find what I’m looking for — Ingrid standing outside a room, having a fit. She has the skeleton of a bouquet hanging from her hand, most of the petals from the flowers gone. Many of them litter the ground around her.

“Edward, I swear to God, I will end you,” she says, trying to both shout and be discreet at the same time. “I will end you, do you hear me!” She pauses, notching her voice down to something near pleading. “Frank, don’t listen to anything he says, okay, babe? Please, just give me a chance to explain. Let’s talk. Let me in, sweetie.”

My mouth goes into the shape of an O as realization settles in. Ingrid’s been a baaaaad girl, apparently. Holy shit. Talk about drama. I’ve never been to a wedding like this before.

Ingrid turns around and catches me standing there staring at her with my eyes bugging out.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

I try to act all casual, like I didn’t just hear what I heard. “Just coming up to see what’s wrong. You okay?”

She turns to face me fully. “This is all your fault.”

“All my fault? What are you talking about? What’d I do?” Now I’m just confused. And a little scared. Ingrid looks like she’s ready to strangle someone. Maybe me.

She takes a few steps in my direction, her eyes narrowing to slits. “Everything was going just fine until you showed up. Everything.”

I take a few steps back. I don’t like the way she’s suddenly so focused on me. I’m getting that poisonous viper feeling from her again. One of my hands goes to my belly and the other towards the wall as I teeter on my heels trying to reverse down the carpeted space.

“Ingrid, today is your wedding day. I know you’re majorly stressed, and I get that, believe me, I do. How about you and me go downstairs and have some champagne while we wait for the guys to catch up? Edward’s been gone a long time, and I’m sure he has a lot to talk about with Frank and William.”

Her voice comes out as a growl and a crazy scream all mixed together. “He told you?!”

I put my hand on the railing, almost to the top of the stairs now. “Told me what? No, I haven’t talked to Edward at all.”

“You’re a liar,” she says, walking faster. “A liar!”

Her hands come out towards me and there’s blood in her eyes.

I turn to avoid her and my heel catches in the deep carpet fibers.

A collective gasp comes from all the people down below, but I have no time to appreciate what’s happening. I’ve lost my balance and my weight is shifting down.

Down, down, down.

I scream as I feel myself tipping backward, past the point of no return and unable to stop gravity from taking over.

All I can think about is my baby and what is about to happen to him…

CHAPTER TWELVE

William

“NO, YOU HAVEN’T MISSED ANYTHING, you bloody arsehole,” I say, looking from Edward to my father. “What’s the meaning of showing up like this, getting everyone in an uproar?”

Edward is still grinning, acting the fool. “You know I always like to make an entrance.” He shifts his gaze to my father. “However, this time, that was not my intention.”

A very inelegant snort of disbelief leaves me. “Unbelievable.”

Our father sighs. “Son, obviously you have something to say, so say it. I haven’t the time for the drama today. I’m to be married.”

Edward moves over to my father’s desk. “You might want to take a look at this before you do the dreaded deed.” He busies himself with turning on our father’s computer.

“What is that?” my father asks as the bright light of hope begins to shine in my chest. I envision my brother standing there in blue tights with a red cape. Super Edward, to the rescue!

“Yes, brother, what is it?” I move to stand at his side, trying to keep the glee from my voice. This is going to be better than Christmas morning. I think. Please let Edward not have cocked this up too.

“Just a little home movie I made. An amateur production to be sure, but I believe it will get the point across.” He clicks twice on the icon for the file he has brought on a thumb drive.

“What is it?” our father asks, coming over to stand at Edward’s other side.

Edward sounds like a museum docent when he replies. “Please save all your questions for the end.” He turns the monitor so my father can see it more clearly.

The image starts out grainy but then becomes clearer as the camera-person behind the lens makes some adjustments. We are staring at a bedroom in a hotel.

“I recognize that,” I say, pointing to a hideous lampshade. “That’s your hotel room in Scotland.”

Edward puts an arm around me and pulls me into a side-embrace. “Well done, brother. Gold star for you.”

I elbow him off me. “Fuck off.” I say it with the fondest of emotions filling my heart.

“Why are we watching your empty hotel bed?” our father asks. I believe he, like I, has an inkling of the answer, but he’s playing the fool, pretending things are not happening that actually are.

“Wait for it …” Edward sounds positively gleeful.

There’s a sound we can hear on the video over the ruckus Ingrid is still causing outside the office. It’s a knocking at a door, presumably the one leading into the hotel room.

There’s a short conversation that follows and some rustling sounds before two figures appear in the frame. One is wearing a suit and the other a gown. They are kissing passionately and then falling to the bed together.

“What is the meaning of this?” our father says, sounding very agitated. “Did you call me in here to watch a skin flick mere minutes from my wedding?”

Edward goes very sober. “Father, this is not an impromptu bachelor party. Watch and see.”

The three of us go silent as does Ingrid outside the door, making it very easy to hear what’s happening in the movie. “Edward, you are so bad,” says this woman. This woman with long legs, blond hair, and a face very much like the woman my father is about to marry.

“I hear that’s how you like it,” Edward says, pulling roughly at the woman’s dress at the shoulder. It tears and she slaps him.

“Watch the dress. Frank bought it for me and he’ll wonder what happened to it.”

I feel sick for my father, but I cannot look at him. I do not want him to see me pitying him.

“Fuck the old man,” Edward says to her. “You came here for me, now I expect you to follow through.” Edward grabs her and kisses her hard on the mouth. “You’ve been after me for months. Time to stop playing games and put out what you’ve been offering.”

“And here I thought I was being so cool about it,” she says, breathless.

“You’re not cool about anything, Ingrid. You’re a bloody whore and we both know it. Stop wasting our time by pretending otherwise.”

She slaps Edward on the face and he grabs her wrist. They stare each other down.

I, and I assume my father as well, wait for the reprimand that never comes from her lips.

“I love it when you call me a whore,” she says, smashing her mouth to his, making me think for a moment that her jaw is about to become unhinged so she can swallow him whole.

No one’s hitting anyone anymore as they become more involved in their … lovemaking or whatever one calls this horrible mash-up of jealousy, deceit, and rage. I cannot be lovemaking. No … it’s more like … revengemaking.

She looks as though she’s enjoying it, though, regardless of what it is. It would be impossible to deny, even by my besotted father, based on the sounds she’s making and the parts of my brother she’s taking in hand. Within less than a minute they’re both mostly undressed and all over one another on the bed. I have to look away, lest an image be burned into my brain that will torture me for all of eternity.

“Shut it off,” my father says, his voice beaten down and very old-sounding. “Just … turn it off. I’ve seen enough.”

“But wait,” Edward says, sounding too happy, “you’ll miss the part where she gets on her knees and …”

Edward never gets the words out.

My father brings a right hook around so quickly, neither of us sees it coming. I didn’t even know the old man had it in him.

Edward’s head snaps back and then he falls into me, sending us both to the floor in a pile of limbs.

Our father stands over us, wheezing with obvious anger and pain. “Get up,” he says in a voice rough with anguish. “Get off the fucking floor so I can kill you with my bare hands.”

I’m scrambling to get out from under my brother when I hear a scream come from beyond the door, out in the hallway.

And I’d know that distress call anywhere.

“Jennifer!” I shout, crawling to my feet and stumbling towards the door.

Screams of dismay and fright reach my ears as I wrench the door open. I get to the open part of the hallway just as the peach-colored mass of frothy material is settling on one of the lower steps.

The world stops spinning in that moment, I am convinced of it. Time stands still as I take in everything: Ingrid standing at the top of the stairs, a shocked expression on her face; the people below, some of them with hands over their mouths in surprise; a large man bending over with hands outstretched; Jennifer, lying in a heap, not moving, on the third step from the bottom of the staircase.

I cannot breathe. I cannot hear anything but a loud ringing in my ears. I feel as though I’m going to vomit.

“Noooooo!” I cry as I fly down the stairs to reach her.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Jennifer

“BEDREST. ONE WEEK, AT LEAST. After that we’ll see how she’s doing and let you know if she can get up and move around normally.”

The doctor clicks his pen and slides it into his breast pocket.

“Thank you very much, doctor,” William says, “not only for your care but also your willingness to allow Jennifer to recuperate at home. I didn’t know that doctors made housecalls in the United States.”

“We don’t,” he says, not sounding all that pleased to be admitting it. “But your father can be very convincing when he wants to be.”

William clears his throat, like he’s embarrassed. “Yes. Well. I can understand what you mean. Not many people feel comfortable saying no to Frank Stratford.”

“I’ll be back in three days.” The doctor is looking at me now. “You have a home health nurse who will be in twice a day to check your vitals and view the tape from your monitor. Call me on this number if anything unusual happens.” He hands William a business card with a phone number written in ink on the back.

“Unusual?” William frowns. “I’m not sure I’m qualified to make that diagnosis. What would be considered unusual?”

“Contractions. Sharp pains. Loss of consciousness.”

William’s Adam’s apple goes up and down several times as he swallows over and over.

“Don’t worry,” the doctor says, patting him on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. I have every confidence she’ll come through without a hitch.”

I smile as William and the doctor walk out the door. Within seconds I’m half asleep again. Ever since my fall down the stairs at Frank’s house yesterday I’ve done nothing but sleep. I just want all of this awfulness to go away, and sleep helps me fast-forward through it.

William walks back in the room a little while later, a mug in his hand.

“Hi,” I say, sounding as groggy as I feel.

“Hello, my darling.” He sets the mug down. “How are you feeling?” Sitting on the side of the bed, he reaches out and strokes my hair, being careful not to touch the bump near the back of my scalp.

“Poopy.”

“Hmmm … poopy. That doesn’t sound good at all, does it?” He leans down towards the floor and comes back up with one of my slippers in his hand. “Perhaps these will make you feel better.”

“You found them!” I exclaim, taking it from him and hugging it to my chest. Tweetie makes everything better.

“I couldn’t sleep for the worry, so I kept myself busy with mind-numbing tasks. The last box has finally been unpacked. The birds were hiding in it. Embarrassed about their condition, most likely.”

“Their condition?”

He looks meaningfully at its head. “You know.” He drops his voice to a whisper. “The water retention issue.”

I hit him with the slipper. “Don’t talk about my Tweetie Birds like that.”

“As you wish.” He points to the tea. “Brought you a cuppa cha.”

“Thanks.” I sigh, hugging my slipper again. “What’d the doctor say when you went downstairs? Are we going to be okay?” I’m almost afraid to hear the answer. Please let the baby be okay…

He rubs my arm, careful to avoid the bruised spots. “Yes. You are as fit as a fiddle and right as rain. You’ll be on your feet in no time at all.”

“And the baby?” Is he avoiding the question? My chest hurts thinking he might be.

“He believes the baby is fine as well.”

“I haven’t felt it move,” I admit, sadder than words can describe.

“Not to worry. I’ve read online that you can go days without feeling something at this point in the pregnancy. It doesn’t mean the baby isn’t moving, necessarily.”

I nod, wanting to believe him with everything I have. “Okay.” William will make this all right. As long as we’re together, everything is going to be fine. It has to be.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, sliding off the bed and moving to his knees next to it. He takes my hand in his and surrounds it with his long fingers, spreading them apart a little in one spot so he can kiss my knuckles.

“This sounds scary,” I say, smiling a little as he goes completely serious.

“Well, to be honest, it is a bit scary, but I’m a grown man. I can manage it.”

“What are you talking about?” I giggle because I’m so confused. I’m not on anything stronger than over-the-counter pain meds, but still … he makes me dizzy when he’s this close and looking so earnest.

“As I said, I’ve been thinking, and I’ve come to some conclusions.”

“Okaaaay …” My heart starts beating faster as I try to figure out what the heck he’s talking about.

“You and I started out as two people looking for no commitment.”

“Yes,” I say. It’s the truth, as silly as it sounds. There’s no point in denying it.

“We were, in fact, seeking the exact opposite.”

I start to worry that he’s about to tell me how he wants more space. Less commitment. It makes me sad enough that tears start to well up in my eyes. I hope he doesn’t notice.

“Yes,” I say, not without difficulty.

“And yet, here we are … living with one another in a home with a garden, you pregnant with our child. I even have Japanese maples.”

I feel guilty, like I’ve trapped him in this life he might not want. “We should have used protection. That night in the club…”

He kisses me quickly. “No. I am not going to spend a single moment regretting that decision. Sometimes when I lie awake at night and replay that moment, I wonder if it wasn’t somehow intentional on my part.”

“You think about that moment?” I ask, going soft inside.

“Well, normally not at night in bed, to be honest, but in the shower, yes.”

I laugh. “In the shower?”

He winks. “A man must have a few secrets, yeah?”

I’m suddenly turned on by the idea of what he might be doing in the shower while he imagines us banging each other in the nightclub. “Maybe.”

He lets go of my hand to wag a finger at me. “Naughty girl. You’re distracting me from my mission.”

“Your mission?” My eyebrow goes up. “What mission is that?”

His hand dips down below the bed and then comes back up to place a small, dark blue box on the bed next to my pillow.

We both stare at it.

“What’s that?” I finally ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“That … is a box,” he says. “Wrapped in velvet. Blue, to be exact.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. “What’s inside the box, William?”

“Ahhh … I’m glad you asked.” He’s staring at me, just inches away. “Inside that box is a promise. It is a promise from me to you, that I will provide for you, love you, cherish you, and worship your body.”

“Until death do us part?” I ask. I’m about to have a heart attack, but I’m playing it as cool as ice.

“Beyond death, if I can manage it.”

Tears leak out of my eyes. “William … I’m not sure I understand. I mean … I don’t want to misunderstand … is there a ring in there?”

He winks. “Open it and see.”

I pull my hand from his and reach for the box.

His hand shoots out and covers it, keeping me from touching it. “Not so fast.”

I can’t help but laugh. Part of it is nervous energy. “What?”

“You must know that if you open this box, and you accept what’s inside, that you are also making a promise. A promise to me.”

“Oh yeah? And what is that promise?”

“You are promising to love me, to cherish me, to worship my body, and to obey me.”

His eyes pretty much sparkle at that last part.

I pull my hands away and roll over onto my back, closing my eyes and schooling my features to go completely serene. I say nothing. I just wait. The sound of a watch ticking nearby is the only thing I hear for what feels like forever.

“Jennifer?” he asks.

“Yes?”

“Are you rejecting my offer?”

“Your offer as stated?” I nod. “Yes. I reject your offer.”

“Do you have a counter-offer in mind, perhaps?”

“I might.” I’m nearly dying with happiness inside. I want to jump up and down on the bed and laugh and scream and cry, but I can’t. I have to play this out. This is how William and I roll. This is what makes him so perfect for me.

“I’m open to hearing it,” he says.

I turn my head and open my eyes to look at him. “I’ll do everything but the obeying part. I think you should have to obey me.”

He scoffs. “That’s not very traditional is it?”

“Maybe not, but there’s no way in hell I’m obeying anybody.”

He chews his lip and nods, acting like he’s giving it serious consideration. “Hmmm … I can see your point. I’m not sure that I want blind obedience, in any case. Dreadfully boring. How about … if you promise to listen to my suggestions and take them into consideration? Would that work for you?”

“Only if you promise the same in return.” I hold my breath, waiting for his answer.

“Oh, all right. If you insist.” He picks up the box and holds it out to me. “Here. Open it.”

I yawn really big and turn over onto my other side. “I’ll open it later. I’m really tired right now.”

He’s silent for several seconds. I’m battling to hold in the huge guffaws that are threatening to explode out of me. I know this is making him nuts. It’s making me crazy too, but in a good way.

I want to see what’s in the box, but then again, I don’t. I know what it means, and it scares the crap out of me. I want to extend this moment of not really knowing for sure just a little bit longer. Plus I want to tease the crud out of him too.

I hear a rustling near the bedside table and then the bed shifts as he gets in behind me. I jump a little as his fingers reach around and find the sensitive spot between my legs. His cock presses into my butt checks and I realize he’s completely naked. Immediately, I’m amped up and ready to forget that I’m supposed to be relaxing here in bed, not starting another round of sexual olympics.

“What are you doing?” I ask, all the laughter gone and now sexual energy taking over.

“I’m going to make love to you, very gently, but for a very long time … until I weaken your resolve and convince you that you must open the bloody box and promise yourself to me.”

I turn around and wrap my arms around him, pulling him close, letting my nightgown go up to expose most of my bottom half. “You don’t need to convince me. I’m only teasing.” I put my leg over his hip and wait for him to guide his dick over to me. I push forward when I feel it at my entrance.

We kiss passionately, tangling tongues and the reveling in the taste of one another, as our hips move towards each other and then away. He sinks into me with agonizing slowness, and I can’t think of a better way to recover from a fall. All my pains disappear and pleasure takes over completely. I will never get tired of that, of the essence of William, of how he can make me feel every bit of emotion he has for me. He is the most intoxicating man I have ever known.

“You make me feel amazing,” I say softly.

“I love you, Jennifer. I want to be with you forever,” he whispers in my ear. “And I heard this song that said I should put a ring on it if that’s the case.”

I smile, hearing the tune he’s referencing floating through my head. I start humming it and William joins in with a falsetto voice I’ve never heard him use before. “If you like it then you should’a put a ring on it…”

I start laughing so hard it pushes him out of me. Then he starts laughing too and we end up hugging each other, more to keep from falling out of the bed than anything else. The love I have for this man is taking over every part of me, but it isn’t suffocating at all. It’s liberating. I finally feel safe. Cherished. Loved.

“Where’s that box?” I ask, pulling away and looking around in the covers.

“What box?” he asks, all innocence.

I freeze and fix William with an icy glare. “Do not even play like that, William. You do not want to see me get angry right now.”

He winks. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” He pulls the box out of the covers and hands it to me. “Remember your promise. You’re to obey me.”

“Nope,” I say, ready to crack it open. “I’m to take your opinions into consideration.”

“Ooooh, right. That’s it. I remember now.” He smiles. “Go on then.”

The box makes a creaking sound as the top goes up on the hinges. Inside, nestled in thick, dark-blue velvet, is a diamond ring.

“Oh my god,” I say. “It’s …”

“It’s three karats, but if you want more, you may have more.”

“No, three is good. Three is really, really good.” I can’t believe how much it’s sparkling and we don’t even have good lighting in this room right now. “This was too expensive. I know it was.”

He kisses me on the nose. “Nothing is too much for my future wife.”

I look up at him all innocence. “This is an engagement ring?”

He pauses, studying my face before he answers. “Was I not clear on that?”

“I don’t know,” I say, sounding doubtful, “I don’t actually remember you asking me to marry you, soooo …”

He snatches the box away from me, clamps it shut, and rolls out of the bed. “Right. You are absolutely right. An oversight on my part.” He starts getting dressed, keeping the box in his hand.

I laugh. “What are you doing?”

“Getting dressed. Must get to work, you know. The work won’t do itself.”

My jaw drops open as I wait for him to stop playing around. Only it looks like he’s not joking this time.

“I’ll be back before seven. Try not to miss me too much,” he says, leaning over to kiss me on the forehead before high-tailing it out of the room.

I fall back into my pillows and stare at the ceiling. Then something that feels a lot like a gas bubble flickers in my tummy, and a moment later I realize that it’s not gas. Laughter comes flying out of my mouth and for the longest time, I cannot stop.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

William

THE FLOWERS HAVE BEEN DELIVERED. The champagne is on ice. The five-course gourmet meal is warming in the oven. The Stratford name is still good for getting big things done is little time in this town. I am grateful to my father for such favors and called him to let him know. He didn’t sound nearly as broken down this time as he has in previous calls. Thankfully, he is on the way to healing, recovering from the devastation brought down upon our heads by Ingrid. Reading the news article of her losing her solicitor’s license brought me an insane amount of joy this afternoon.

“William, what the heck?” Jennifer has come down the stairs at my request, wearing her sleeping gown, looking deliciously rumpled.

I gesture down the hallway. “If you would be so kind as to join me, I would be honored.”

She comes to me with her hand out. I take it and slide our fingers together, weaving them and making them one. “Follow me to the dining room. I have a surprise for you.”

The smell of roses greets us before we enter the room. I’ve turned the lights down so the candles placed round the room can do their best.

“Oh my god…,” she says, placing her free hand on her heart. “What did you do?”

I stop when we are in the middle of the room. The table is set with the finest of linens, china, and silver … things my father gave to me that used to be my mother’s. Roses cover most of the surfaces. Petals litter the table and floor. Our first course rests on the plates and the best bottle of champagne from Mia’s employer sits on ice.

“I am only doing what is proper.” Pulling out a chair, I gesture for her to take it. “You mustn’t be on your feet, darling. Please sit.”

She sits down, her eyes never leaving mine. “But I haven’t showered. I look terrible.”

“You look like an angel,” I say. “My angel.” I lower myself to one knee and take the blue box from my trouser pocket. “I’ve planned this delicious meal and made the most romantic setting I’m capable of, but I cannot do what Mia has counseled and wait until we are at dessert to do the deed. Today has been the longest day of my life. Please say you will be my wife.” I open the box, pleased to see the icy rock inside sparkling madly. Perhaps all that brilliance will blind her to my faults and she’ll say yes before she clears her head.

She pulls the ring from the velvet and slides it onto her left ring finger. Then she places her hand on my cheek. “Yes, William. I will be your wife.” She begins to cry and then laugh as well.

I gather her in my arms and stroke her back. “There, there. No need to cry. I’m here.”

“I know you are, William. That’s why I’m crying.”

“Is that a good thing, then?”

“It’s definitely a good thing. Trust me.”

I hold her tightly, mindful of her bumps and bruises. “I do trust you, my love. I do.” No truer words were ever spoken, either. In this business of investment real estate, I’ve learned that it’s difficult if not impossible to find people you can truly trust. And I’ve never loved another person like I love Jennifer. Not even my mother was on the receiving end of what I’m offering.

I lift my eyes to the ceiling and smile. Tears sting my eyes as I imagine my mother looking down on this moment with approval. “Thanks, Mum,” I say, convinced she’s the one who kept knocking that silly advert off my desk, keeping me from tossing it in the bin.

“What?” Jennifer asks.

“Nothing,” I say. “Just thanking my mum for bringing you to me.”

Jennifer sighs and rubs my back. “I wish I had known her.”

“Not to worry.” I pull away so she can see me and I see her. “I will tell you all about her. Every last detail. She would have loved you. I’m certain she does love you. She’s watching over us both now.”

“Us three,” Jennifer says, looking down and rubbing her nearly imperceptibly rounded belly.

“Yes,” I say, rubbing it along with her as feelings I’ve never known before well up inside me and take me over. I’m to be a father. The greatest calling a man shall ever know. “Us three.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

MIA HOLDS BABY EDWARD IN her arms, rocking him gently and staring down at him as she speaks in a whispery, high voice. “That’s a baby boy … sleepy, sleepy so Momma and Dada can get married without you crying and messing it all up.”

“Mia, my baby couldn’t possibly mess up my wedding, even if he does cry.” I smooth the front of my dress down for the fiftieth time, trying to make my post-pregnancy pooch disappear like magic. The Spanx can only do so much at this point. The fact that my boobs are twice their normal size is awesome. I’ve never filled out a dress so well and William is going to drop over into a near coma when he sees my cleavage. My plan is to distract him from the weight I gained by enthralling him with my boobs. So far it’s been working.

There’s a sharp knock at the door.

“Come in!” I say.

“Shhhh, not so loud,” Mia says, glaring at me. “He’s almost asleep.”

Edward walks in, going straight to the baby. “Hand him over. You’ve had more than your fair share already today.”

Mia turns sideways so he can’t reach the baby. “Back off. I’m putting him to sleep.”

“Children, children, no fighting over the baby.” I can’t help but grin like a crazy person. No one ever told me how much pride a mother can feel in her child. Imagining he’s so popular that people would fight to change his diaper is making me feel like the queen of the world.

“I’m delivering him to his Grandda, as planned, thank you very much, so give over.” Edward holds his arms out.

“Already?” I ask, a whisper of panic sliding through me.

Mia glares at Edward but hands the baby over. “Be careful,” she warns. “Hold his head really well.”

“Bugger off, I know how to hold a baby.” Edward turns to leave.

“What’s up with you two?” I ask, staring at them, mystified.

Mia lifts her chin, a sure sign that she’s pissed. “Nothing at all.”

“Not one single thing,” Edward says, leaving the room. He slams the door behind him as he leaves, and the baby’s fussing comes through the paneled wood as they disappear down the hall.

“Idiot. I told him not to make loud noises around the baby. He never listens.”

I walk over and stand in front of her. She’s acting like she’s too busy with her buttons to look at me.

“Mia. What is going on with you two?”

“Nothing, like I said.”

I take her by the arms and shake her a little. “Hello? Are you in there? Look at me.”

She looks up and her eyes are swimming with tears.

I immediately take her into a hug. “Babe, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

Her body trembles with the emotion she’s holding inside. “I’m just … just … happy for you.”

I pull back to see if she’s telling the truth. “This feels a lot more like sadness,” I say when I notice her refusing to look me in the eye again. I bring her to me again and rub her back. “Edward did something, didn’t he?” The fury begins to build in my chest. If he hurt my best friend, I will kill him. He might be William’s best bud right now, but I don’t care. Mia is mine and she doesn’t deserve to be hurt by any man.

“Yes. He did. But it doesn’t matter, does it?” She sniffs loudly and backs away from me, wiping under her eyes. “Shit, I ruined my mascara, didn’t I?”

I shake my head. “You’re just as gorgeous as ever.”

She laughs and points at my chest. “Talk about gorgeous. You’re going to get pregnant again tonight looking like that.”

My face goes pink. “Ha, ha.” I stare at her red eyes and go sober again. “Are you going to tell me what he did?”

She shakes her head. “It seriously does not matter. Come on. Let’s go get you married.”

Today is not the day for best friend/brother-in-law drama, so I’m going to let it slide for now. But when this is all over? You bet your butt I’ll be all up in their business finding out what happened. No way is Edward going to get away with making my best friend cry.

We leave the upstairs for the backyard of Frank’s house. He granted my wish and didn’t spend a single penny on flowers. I told him his own garden had more than enough for me. I think all of us wanted to avoid bringing up the painful memories caused by Ingrid’s wedding event.

Frank has told me many times how much he appreciates me and all I’ve done for his family. Aside from having a baby who they all adore and attending all the brunches that Frank has hosted, I’m not sure what I’ve done exactly, but for Frank, apparently, it’s a lot.

He’s almost back to his old self, albeit a slightly kinder, gentler version of the man. William swears it’s the baby that’s caused it. I think it’s both the baby and Frank’s broken heart. He will probably never forgive his son for showing him the ugly side of human nature. For a man like Frank, knowing his weakness allowed him to completely misjudge a person is devastating. It has humbled him to the point of making him into a different man. William is happy about it. Me, I’m not so sure, but only time will tell if this is a permanent change.

Guests are seated in white folding chairs out in the lawn under a white tent. Two ribbons strung from the last chair to the first mark the aisle I’m to walk down. At the end of it I see William and his brother. Frank is there as well, holding the baby.

“I’m nervous,” I say, as butterflies set up battle formations in my belly.

“Don’t be nervous, babe, I’m right here.” Mia links her arm in mine and pulls me forward.

“But …” I stop and indulge a moment of panic.

“But nothing,” Mia says, pulling me along. “You are about to marry the most perfect guy you will ever find. He loves you, he’s got gobs of money and excellent business instincts, and he makes seriously adorable babies. What more could you possibly want?”

William sees me coming and a slow grin spreads across his face. He is the most handsome guy I have ever known. “You’re right,” I sigh, this time with happiness. “He does make adorable babies, doesn’t he?”

Baby Edward chooses that moment to let out a mighty wail, and my milk immediately drops in response.

“Oh, shit,” I say, feeling the drip, drip, dripping start.

“What?” Mia asks, whispering.

“My milk is leaking!” I whisper-yell back.

“Don’t you have one of those pads in?” she asks, sounding panicked.

“Yes!”

She stops walking and looks at me. “Then what’s the problem?”

I think about it for a second and then smile. “I don’t know.”

She laughs. “Come on. No more stalling. Time to get married.”

The small quartet that we hired starts playing a beautiful song that William chose for us.

“I’m getting married,” I say, in an almost dreamlike state.

“Yes. You are getting married,” Mia says, just steps away from William now.

“What if I screw it up?” I ask, sweat popping out on my brow. I feel light-headed.

“You won’t screw anything up. That’s Edward’s job. Now go be with your husband and be happy for the rest of your life.” She stops at the end of the aisle and kisses me on the cheek. “This is your happily-ever-after moment. Soak it up. Enjoy it. This moment will live on forever in your mind, trust me.”

I grab her and squeeze her around the neck. “Thank you, Mia. I love you.”

“Love you too.” She detaches herself and moves off to the side, taking her place as my maid of honor.

“You came,” William says. He holds out his hand for mine. “I wasn’t sure it would really happen.”

I lace his warm fingers in mine, cringing a little inside at the fact that my hand is so clammy.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I say, meaning every word.

William and I stand at the altar, facing one another, holding hands. Frank is behind William with the baby and Edward is there as well. He is looking at the ground, his expression serious. For a split second I think he has something devious planned, but then I let that thought go. Edward likes me a lot. He wants me to marry his brother. He’s said it at least three times in the last week.

“Are you ready?” William asks. He seems nervous, maybe afraid I’ll say no.

I smile, seeing him and his family with our baby behind him. It’s a wall of love, one that no enemy will ever be able to breach. “I am ready.”

“Excellent,” William says, turning to face the priest. “Get on with it then, quickly, before she changes her mind.”

I giggle through the entire ceremony, ready to burst with nervous happy energy, until the moment William adds a ring to my glittery diamond.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

William takes me in his arms and looks down at me, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “You are, quite simply, the most beautiful woman I have ever known, Mrs. Stratford. You have made me the happiest man alive. I’m ever so grateful that just one night was not enough for either of us.”

“Shut up and kiss me, William.”

“I hear and obey,” he says, lowering his lips to mine.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

BONUS CHAPTER : A conversation between William and Edward

“EDWARD, AS YOU KNOW I’M to be married in a week’s time.”

“How could I forget? You remind me every Sunday. You really must work on this, William. Jennifer will have your winkle wrapped around her little finger in no time if she knows how embarrassingly eager you are.”

“I’m reminding you for a reason, not because I’m eager.”

“I know, I know, so I won’t forget. I’m not a dolt, you know. I do know how to use a bloody calendar.”

“It’s not because I think you’ll forget. It’s because I’m concerned that you’ll make another grand entrance, and then I’ll end up with a frantic bride on my hands. She’s consumed by a mother’s fears and the hormones are, let’s just say, plentiful; I’ll not have her back on bed-rest because you can’t be a normal, boring guest at a wedding.”

“Are you referring to Father’s near miss, by any chance?”

“I am.”

“What I do for this family … never appreciated. Not even once.”

“Oh, I appreciate the final result. Watching Ingrid being tossed out on her arse was one of the loveliest days I can remember ever having. But the way in which it occurred … that I could live without on my own wedding day.”

“Yes, well, I have apologized at least ten times for sending your ladybird to bed, haven’t I? And it wasn’t my fault Ingrid lost her marbles and caused Jennifer to fall down the stairs. Father shouldn’t have let her in the house in the first place. She’s a fucking looney.”

“Are you going to tell me how that tape came to be about?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“No, I’m not. In fact, I change my mind. Don’t tell me.”

“It began when you left the company …”

“Really, Edward, feel free to keep this tawdry tale to yourself.”

“As you know, I left for Scotland with my nose in my bum, trying to figure out which end was up.”

“That brings to mind a lovely picture. Thank you for that.”

“Weeks went by and I began to get inklings about what had gone sixes and sevens.”

“Inklings?”

“Yes, inklings. Little clues, here and there. I believed something deliberate was happening, but I couldn’t determine who was responsible.”

“I don’t see how Ingrid could possibly figure into any of this.”

“She wasn’t the one causing the issues in Scotland, of course, but with you gone and Father besotted, it left Ingrid an open door.”

“No. I don’t want to hear any more.”

“Father invited her to look over our financials.”

“I’m not listening. Truly, I’m not.”

“She told him, and I learnt this through Rachel, that she could see exactly what was wrong and that I just needed a little guidance from her to set things right. That’s when I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That she was looking for a good rodgering by yours truly.”

“I feel the lurgi coming on. Look, I’ve a swollen gland right here on my neck. Feel it.”

“Rachel immediately got on the line with me, keeping me updated as she listened in on their conversations. I tried to head them off, but it was no use. Father did whatever Ingrid wanted, led around by his cod, no doubt. Did I mention that I put poison on all the Jimson Weed in his garden? I did. Right after the wedding ended. The very next day. It’s all gone, every last leaf.”

“That’s a relief.”

“I thought you weren’t listening to my story?”

“Bugger off.”

“Right. So the next thing I know, I’m in Scotland and up to my bollocks in women. Ingrid on one side of me, Rachel on the other. Rachel and I couldn’t get away from that bitch, Ingrid. She was determined to hook her claws into the business and make it her own, not to mention what she wanted with my business, if you know what I mean. Whatever she could do to tie father to her more fully, that is what she wanted. Ruthless, she is.”

“I truly feel sick now. I’m not kidding this time. It’s not a gland. It’s a tumor.”

“Believe me, Brother, I know how you feel. Imagine how I felt. I wanted to kill Father, but at the same time I wanted to save him. We were going to lose the business in Scotland, perhaps — and for the record I still don’t know what the hell is going on there — but eventually the entire business would have gone into Ingrid’s hands for certain. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“You couldn’t?”

“Don’t look so surprised.”

“This isn’t surprise you see on my face. This is fear and disgust.”

“I did what I had to do.”

“I saw part of that tape. I’d say you went above and beyond.”

“Any job worth doing is worth doing well. I’ve a reputation to uphold.”

“Well, she certainly seemed to be enjoying herself, I’ll give you that.”

“She did. Until she realized she’d been taped.”

“When was that?”

“While she was still there in Scotland with us. I have no idea how she figured it out.”

“Did she try to get it?”

“She did get it. She broke into my hotel room and turned the place upside down. The original was on a thumb drive under my mattress. I was literally living a spy novel, and not doing a very good job of it. For a while there I thought all was lost, that I’d dipped my wick into the demon’s cesspool for naught, but luckily Rachel was there to save my sorry arse.”

“Rachel?”

“Yes, the daffy redhead. I adore that girl. Unbeknownst to me, she had made copies and sent them into outer space before I put the original under my mattress.”

“Outerspace? Are we to see your films on the next NASA mission, then?”

“No, I mean into some clouds. Whatever. She can explain it to you. She took it back down out of the internet or the clouds and put it on another drive for me to show to you and Father. I meant to do it sooner, but Ingrid was very good at keeping us apart. Did you know she sent someone to my apartment the morning of the wedding to waylay me?”

“She didn’t.”

“She did.”

“What’d you do?”

“I showed him one shouldn’t mess with England when England has a game to win.”

“Well done, Edward, well done.”

“I thought so.”

“And so you slept with the viper to save our father. To save our family’s business.”

“I did.”

“That is … impressive. I am well and truly impressed by you. Truly, truly. Whatever inspired you to such heights? Or depths … I’m not sure which is which anymore.”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m an uncle now. It’s a high calling. I have to earn the right to the title, make sacrifices on behalf of the family name and fortune and all that.”

“That you do. And I believe you have, Brother. In spades.”

“I have?”

“Most definitely so. Speaking of spades, you up for a game of cards?”

“You have enough money to wager against me?”

“I’ve a hundred quid. Should be enough to take you for everything you’ve got.”

“I’ll see that bet and raise you.”

“Oh, really? With what?”

“Loser takes the CEO position at Stratford Investments.”

“You’re on.”

SEE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT WHEN EDWARD’S STORY GOES ONLINE! Check my website for details at www.ElleCasey.com.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Elle Casey is a prolific American writer who lives in Southern France with her husband, three kids, and several furry friends. She writes in several genre and publishes an average of one full-length novel per month.

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OTHER BOOKS BY ELLE CASEY

NEW ADULT ROMANCE
Shine Not Burn & MacKenzie Fire (2-book series)

By Degrees
Don’t Make Me Beautiful
Rebel (3-book series)

ADULT CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

Full Measure (written as Kat Lee)

Just One Night (romantic serial)

YA PARANORMAL ROMANCE
Duality (2-book series)

YA URBAN FANTASY
War of the Fae (4-book series)
Clash of the Otherworlds (3-book series, follows War of the Fae)
My Vampire Summer
Aces High

YA DYSTOPIAN
Apocalypsis (4-book series)

YA ACTION ADVENTURE
Wrecked (2-book series)