Broken Promises (29 page)

When the waitress set the two pizzas on the
table, Jackie still hadn’t shown up. “Stood you up, huh?”

Bette shook her head. “She’s just a few
minutes late.” She drummed her fingernails on the table, the
tension starting to grow and collect, knotting her midsection. She
snagged one slice and took a bite, quickly discovering she couldn’t
swallow. What if Jackie and her soon-to-be ex got into an argument?
What if something had happened? No. No point in borrowing trouble.
She sucked in a deep breath, trying to tamp down her impatience.
And her apprehension.

She rummaged in her purse for her cell phone
and sent Jackie a text.

Her phone dinged. She quickly opened the
message. Just a cryptic response that something had come up and
that Bette should come on home. And Jackie had a surprise.

A surprise? Bette motioned for the waitress.
“Could I have a couple of to-go boxes instead?”

The waitress rolled her eyes but nodded and
flounced away.

A few minutes later, Bette was speeding down
Eastern, her hands tight on the steering wheel. What kind of
surprise? A surprise didn’t sound like something bad. Surprises
were supposed to be good.

Nothing like being a nervous Nellie.
Take
a deep breath. Calm down.

She hung a right on Main, keeping a watchful
eye for one of Canandaigua’s finest. No point in getting a speeding
ticket.

Another right on Gibson and just a few more
blocks. In spite of taking several deep, calming breaths, and
telling herself there was nothing to worry about, her heart
thrummed along at a dizzying pace.

She slowed and turned into the driveway. A
dark four-door sedan was parked behind Jackie’s SUV. So Jackie
was
home. And
who
did the sedan belong to?

She pulled in behind the Intrepid, grabbed
the pizza boxes, got out, and checked the license plate. Sure
enough, there was a rental car sticker from a Rochester agency. Her
steps slowed. Should she check on her boss? Maybe she should just
go in the back way. Jackie might have company. Well, obviously she
had company, but maybe—nah—not a date.

Curiosity and more than a little concern won
out over discretion. She bounded up the front steps and gave a
quick rap on the front door. Without waiting for a response, she
entered. “Sorry, I couldn’t get around—”

Her breath caught in her throat.

Alex wandered casually into the living room,
carrying a beer and wearing a smile. “Hey, Jersey. How’s it
going?”

Her chin dropped. Mouth dry, she tried to
form a coherent thought. “Alex,” she managed to croak. “What… I
mean—”

“Didn’t have much choice. You wouldn’t talk
to me on the phone.” He shrugged and flopped casually on the sofa,
his lanky body looking entirely too comfortable. “Face-to-face is
always better.”

“But you’re supposed to be on your way to
Utah.” She darted a questioning glance at her smiling boss. “At
least that’s what Jackie said.”

“Yeah.” He nodded with a wry quirk of a
smile. “That was the Bureau’s plan, all right. Sending my sorry ass
to Salt Lake City.” He shrugged, then shot her a smile that blazed
through her body and shook her to the core. “Got a better
offer.”

“A better offer?” she managed to ask, her
mouth gone suddenly dry. Unsteady on her feet, her thighs wobbly as
rubber bands, she grasped the back of a Queen Anne chair. Wouldn’t
do to fall on her face, or worse, her ass, now, would it? Either
possibility was imminent if she didn’t pull herself together.

Braced by the furniture, she stiffened her
knees and wondered if she ought to attempt a step or two. Yeah.
What was she—some kind of a wimp to go all girly at the sight of
six feet three inches of male hunk?

Yes.

She straightened her back and stepped away
from the protection of the wingback. “A better offer? Better than
the Bureau?”

“Depends on
you
, Jersey.”

She chewed her bottom lip and considered
whether or not to breathe. “On
me
?” Another quick glance at
Jackie, who was now doing her best imitation of the Cheshire Cat.
What was that about?

~~*~~

Alex held his breath. The signs of confusion
on Bette’s beautiful face touched him, convincing him he’d made the
right decision—at least, if her response to his big question was a
yes. He was so nervous at this very moment, his knees were probably
weaker than hers.

“On me?” Her expression grew more uncertain.
Bottom lip trembling, she gestured with her hand on her chest.

“Oh!” Jackie sprang from her place on the
sofa. “I’ve got something on the stove.”

He winked. His sister wasn’t exactly on
speaking terms with her stove.

“What’s going on, Double-O?” Why was she
gripping the chair as if it were about to escape?

“Sit down”—he patted the sofa beside
him—“before you fall down.”

Her full upper lip lifted in a sneer.
“Cute.”

She closed the distance between them,
somewhat hesitantly, in his opinion.

“What does your better offer have to do with
me?”

“If you’ll sit and stop staring like a deer
caught in the headlights, I’ll tell you.”

“Fine.” She sat uneasily at the far end of
the sofa, folded her arms across her chest, and favored him with a
bored-to-death expression. “I’m waiting.”

“You’ve heard me mention my old pal Jake
LeFevre? He’s the one who met his wife during an undercover op in
New Orleans.”

“Yeah.” She nodded slowly. For all her
attempts at nonchalance, he could see her toe tapping
nervously.

“He recently retired from the Bureau, and
he’s a partner in a private security firm in D.C. Wants to know if
I’d be interested in working for the firm.”

“Cool.” She shrugged as if it were nothing to
her. “I guess anything is better than Utah.”

“I’ll be based in DC and—”

“Makes sense.” She gave another little
shrug.

Damn the woman. Could she care less when he
was trying to propose? “For Pete’s sake, stop interrupting.” He
stood and walked stiffly to where she sat. Could she make this any
harder? Or him, for that matter.

She gazed up at him, a quizzical expression
flickering in her dark chocolate eyes. “So what’s stopping you?
You’re taking a job with your old pal. I’m happy for you.”

“For one thing, he doesn’t have a problem
with your—uh, family background. And
I
never did.” God, he
was making a total balls-up of his proposal.

“What does my family have to do with
anything? It’s not like he wants to hire me. I already have a
job.”

“Dammit, Bette. He’s not… What I’m trying to
say so poorly is he doesn’t have a problem with my
wife
having a mob connection, however slight.”

“You’re getting married? You certainly don’t
waste—” She broke off as a glimmer of understanding widened her
eyes. “Oh—”

“Yeah. I’m not too good at this proposing
business, am I?”

“No, you really suck.” A tiny smile flickered
at the corner of her mouth.

He went down on one knee, took her hand in
his, and swallowed hard. Her eyes glistened as she blinked
rapidly.

“What about the Bureau? That’s your whole
life. You really want to give up your career for me?”

“I love you, Bette. I can’t imagine spending
the rest of my life without you.” He hadn’t heard what he needed to
hear yet. All she needed to say. One freaking word.

“But my job?” She bit her bottom lip and
glanced toward the kitchen. “I’m really settled in with your
sister. She depends on me.”

He rocked back on his heels. Damn. Not what
he expected at all. “You’re choosing your
job
with my sister
over marrying me?”

“It’s just she’s going through a divorce—in
case you’ve forgotten.”

“My
sister
can replace you. I can’t.”
Think fast, man
.
Don’t let her get away
. “In case you
didn’t hear me before, I
love
you. If you want to stay here
in Canandaigua, I’ll commute. Hell, maybe in time, they’ll open an
office in Buffalo or Rochester.” Okay, he was stretching it.
Desperation did funny things to a man. Was groveling out of the
question?

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.
“Never cared for the idea of a long-distance marriage.”

Hope blossomed in his chest. “Then come with
me to DC. You’ll love it. We’ll find a great apartment, condo,
house—whatever you want.” In fact, he already had a real estate
agent on the lookout for a place, but she still hadn’t said what he
needed to hear. Confidence flagging, he finger-combed his hair.
Could he convince the woman he loved to marry him or not?

Fluffing her hair, she exhaled with a small
sigh. “I’d really like to hear more about how you love me and can’t
live without me.” Her lips parted expectantly.

“You’ll hear it every day of your life if you
make me the happiest man in the world and just say yes.”

She squeezed his hand and leaned forward,
smiling widely. “Yes, Alex,” she said in a breathy whisper, “I’ll
marry you.”

“Just to make sure, you
are
saying
yes?” He pinned her with his gaze, wanting to tease her a bit since
she’d already said yes. “All that stuff you said when we said
good-bye was just bogus?”

“Hell, yes, it was. I’ve cried myself to
sleep every night for the past week. Missing you and hating myself
for the things I said.” Her eyes started to glisten with tears.

With his forefinger, he raised her chin a
notch. “Your acceptance isn’t bogus, then?” He shrugged as if wary.
“But how can I be sure?”

“I’ll show you
sure
.” Smiling, she
slipped her arms around his neck. “Right now. Right here.
Downstairs. Upstairs or up against a wall.”

“She’s convinced me,” Jackie called, peeking
in from the hallway. “Go on. Get out of here. I’ve got to get busy
and start looking for your replacement.”

He swept Bette into his arms. “Jersey’s
irreplaceable, but you keep on looking, because I’m not going to
let her get away again.”

“Damned straight, Double-O. And that goes
double—no, triple—for me.”

The End

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Romantic suspense author Marie-Nicole Ryan
has had a life-long love affair with books, so one could say it was
only natural for her to start writing some of her own. She was born
in Kentucky, but lived in Nashville, TN, for more decades than she
cares to admit.

When she has time, she loves to read murder
mysteries, browse antique shops and meet her friends for lunch.
She's also very fond of her Sheltie Cassie who tries to help her
write by walking on her laptop.

She loves to hear from her readers, and she's
never too busy to respond. You can e-mail Ms. Ryan at
[email protected]
.

LINKS

Web site:
https://marienicoleryan.com

FaceBook:
https://facebook.com/MarieNicoleRyan.author

Twitter: @marienicoleryan

Newsletter:
[email protected]

ALSO BY MARIE-NICOLE RYAN

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Love Me if You Can

Seducing the Sheriff

Holding Her Own

One Too Many

Love on the Run

Too Good to be True

The Man for the Job

See You in My Dreams

SHORT STORIES

Valentine’s Gift, Holiday Interludes: 3
(Coming Soon2)

Pillow Talk, Holiday Interludes: 2

Mistletoe and Mario, Holiday Interludes:
1