Getting It Right This Time

Back Cover Copy

She’s back, but this time she’s a mother…intent on protecting her young.

Two years after her husband’s death, Kate Marshall returns home seeking security and stability for her three-year-old daughter. But when her path crosses with ‘the one who got away’…

her husband’s best friend, she has to fight the desire to be with him for the sake of further heartbreak for her and her daughter.

A tough, straight talking theatrical agent, Mark Johnston is dangerously handsome, exceedingly rich, irresistibly charming--and branded by the tabloids as one of the UK’s most eligible bachelors. So even though Mark lost the girl of his dreams to his best friend, he finds no hardship in being single. Or so he thought.

Determined not to lose her a second time, Mark has to find a way to convince her they can work. But can Kate cope with the media interest and ruthless, money-hungry clients surrounding him, being anywhere near her daughter? Or accept that Mark Johnston is really the family man he claims to be?

Content Warning: Mild language, sexual situations

Highlight

The sadness in the depths of her eyes twisted a painful knot in his gut.

“Talk to me.”

“You don’t know me anymore,” she whispered. “You don’t know anything.”

“Then tell me. I want to know. I need to know.” He moved his hand to the smooth curve of her neck.

“Mark…” Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his mouth and he took the gesture as an invitation, felt her longing whether she wanted it to be there or not. Every instinct in his body screamed she wanted his lips on hers as much as he wanted them to be welded there too. He inched forward and touched his lips to hers.

She tasted of wine and femininity, a heady combination which filled his entire body and catapulted him back to a place he’d thought he never experience again. Her brief moment of resistance caused his hand to tighten before she curved her arms around his neck. Mark’s heart picked up speed at her unexpected surrender. He increased the ferocity of the kiss, taking it, owning it, knowing it might be a one chance encounter--something that might never happen again.

Getting It Right

This Time

by

Rachel Brimble

Getting It Right This Time

9781616502256

Copyright © 2010, Rachel Brimble

Edited by Antonia Tiranth

Book design by Renee Rocco

Cover Art by Valerie Tibbs

First Lyrical Press, Inc. electronic publication: January, 2011

Lyrical Press, Incorporated

17 Ludlow Street

Staten Island, New York 10312

http://www.lyricalpress.com

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PUBLISHER'S NOTE:

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real.

Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

Published in the United States of America by Lyrical Press, Incorporated Dedication

To Mum and Dad--You make me feel more special with each book I write, I love you xxx
Chapter 1

“How are you feeling?”

Taking the glass of wine from her best friend’s hand, Kate Marshall smiled. “Good.” She paused. “No. Better than good. This is it, new beginnings.”

They clinked glasses.

“Glad to hear it,” Lucy said, taking a hefty gulp of Chardonnay. “Coming back home was the right thing to do. I just wish it hadn’t taken you over twelve months after James died to realize it.”

“I needed to come back when it felt right for me, Luce. I could’ve easily come straight back and let Mum and Dad take care of everything. But what would that have shown Jessica?”

“I know. I know. Showing Jessica her mum doesn’t need anyone to take care of her is a good lesson,” Lucy said, her words dripping with sarcasm. “What child wants their mother to be looked after and loved? The whole idea is nauseating.”

Kate frowned. “Luce?”

She grinned. “What?”

“Shut up.”

Laughing, the two friends walked across the plush carpeted bar area of The Theatre Royal to a corner less besieged with suited gents and ball-gowned ladies. Casting a surreptitious glance down at her simple black pencil skirt and wrap-over top, Kate felt as though she was gate crashing a wedding rather than waiting to watch a play.

“So,” she said, putting her drink down on a small table and flicking through the glossy program. “What’s the star’s name again?”

“Marcia Langton,” Lucy said. “You are going to be blown away by her. She’ll be an international superstar before long, mark my words.”

Shaking her head at her friend’s endless enthusiasm for all things and all people, Kate took another long drink as she gazed around the room at the multi-colored wonderment surrounding them. She was contemplating a particularly unusual fuchsia-pink chiffon on turquoise taffeta number, when her eyes were drawn to a man talking to a couple sitting at one of the many tables scattered around the room.

“It can’t be,” she whispered.

His face was in profile yet still unbelievably, undeniably familiar. Kate swallowed as heat flooded her face and rushed through her veins.

“Is that who I think it is?”

“What? Who?” Lucy thrust her head left and right like a disgruntled turkey, to see who Kate was looking at.

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Getting It Right This Time

Kate gripped her friend’s arm so tightly Lucy’s pulse throbbed its indignation against her now clammy palm. “Over there,” she said, between clenched teeth. “Talking to that couple. Is that Mark Johnston?”

“Ow, will you let go of me?” Lucy yanked her arm from Kate’s grasp and followed the direction of her gaze. “Yes. That’s Mark. What’s the matter with you? Hey, where are you going?”

“I’m out of here.” Kate snatched up her purse.

“What? Why?”

“Because…because…” Kate tried to find the words to justify her need to escape the increasingly suffocating walls of the theatre and the risk of Mark seeing her. How could she face the man who was once everything to her? The man who happened to be her dead husband’s best friend. Her blood pumped faster and faster around her body.

Lucy put down her glass and fisted her hands on her hips. “Well?”

Kate continued to stare at him, her eyes narrowing as she swallowed. “Do you know he never once called James after we moved to Zante? Not once.”

“So? Maybe they had a fight or something. What’s the matter with you?”

“A fight?” She snapped her head around. “Don’t you think James would have mentioned it to me? And even if they did, why didn’t Mark call me? We were supposed to be friends too, remember?”

“Kate--”

“Mark bloody Johnston. Will you look at him? All flashing white teeth and carefree laughing and joking until the moment James and I starting dating and then nada.” She sliced her hand through the air. “Not a damn thing. And now James is dead and he’s…he’s strutting around looking like…

like…”

“What’s gotten into you?” But then Lucy’s frown abruptly smoothed and her mouth stretched to a full-blown grin. “Oh, I see. Yes, you’re right. I couldn’t agree more.”

Kate looked at her. “What?”

“He looks like McSteamy on a plate, doesn’t he?”

Kate swallowed. “Ha, I don’t think so.”

“Here--” Lucy laughed, picking up Kate’s half finished drink and thrusting it at her. “Finish your wine. He hasn’t even noticed you’re here. Relax.”

Kate grabbed her glass from Lucy’s hand and took a huge gulp. “Yeah, and the chances are he’s too hung up in his own selfish world to bother with us if he did.”

Lucy shrugged. “Maybe you should cut him some slack. A lot can happen in five years.”

She pressed a quick kiss to Kate’s cheek. “Unfortunately, you know that better than anyone.”

Blinking against the sudden burning in her eyes, Kate snapped her head away from Lucy’s concerned gaze but regrettably, her own gaze was automatically and frustratingly drawn back to Mark. He’d changed in the worst way possible way since she’d last seen him. Having lost the gangly look of puberty, Mark Johnston was now the epitome of masculine perfection. Dressed in
Rachel Brimble

3

a black tuxedo, he’d, no doubt strategically, left his crisp white shirt open at the neck, the silk bow tie hanging carelessly undone beneath the collar. His thick, dark hair gleamed beneath the lights and his illegally wide shoulders shook with laughter as he continued his seemingly hilarious conversation with a doe-eyed blond woman and her equally bewitched husband.

Kate took another mouthful of wine and slammed the glass down on the table beside her.

“Who cares?”

Lucy jumped. “What now?”

“Who cares if he looks like that…I mean, you know, without a care in the world.” Kate gave an inelegant sniff. “If he talks to me, I’ll tell him what an idiot he is and how much he hurt James by ignoring his phone calls, emails and texts for all those months.” She paused, as a wave of unwelcome guilt shot through her chest. Not once had she picked up the phone to try to tell Mark about James’s death. And the reason? Fear. Fear of what emotions hearing his voice might evoke in her, especially after how rocky her marriage had been right before James died.

She exhaled through pursed lips. “Do you think he even knows James is dead?”

“I certainly didn’t tell him.”

Kate pulled back her shoulders as she watched Mark stroll toward the bar and take a microphone from the giggling, blushing barmaid who appeared to be having trouble even looking him straight in the eyes.

“Oh, save me,” she muttered. “What does he expect us to do? Stand to attention while the master of the entire universe speaks?”

Lucy giggled. “You’re great when you’re angry.”

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen and welcome to Theatre Royal,” Mark said, throwing his arms open wide. “I hope you are ready for the opening show starring my special client, Marcia Langton.” A nod to acknowledge the appreciative whoops and cheers. “If not…” A flash of white teeth and a wink. “There’s hip hop and warm beer available in the club down the road.”

Laughter erupted all around her. Kate grimaced.

Yet still a jolt slammed against her diaphragm and hitched against her uterus. His voice hadn’t changed at all. The deep, smooth and ludicrously confident tones swept over her skin and despite her distaste, she felt the undeniable spark of something waking up deep inside her. His easy smile and mischievous eyes were just as she remembered--and she hated him for it.

She leaned toward Lucy. “I’m out of here.”

Lucy turned. “Kate, come on…”

“Are you coming or not?”

“Stay. I dare you.”

“What?” Kate stared at her in disbelief.

“Stay.”

“That’s not fair.”

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Getting It Right This Time

Lucy smiled and turned away, leaving Kate fighting the hopeless battle of not accepting her friend’s challenge. She looked at Mark again as he regaled the audience with his opinions of the good, the bad and the ugly in the theatre world--jokes and impressions of the latest acts, hints and teasers about the country’s “next big thing.” Everyone hung on his every word. Kate narrowed her eyes. Clearly his long held belief he would one day make it big as a hot-shot theatrical agent had come to fruition.

With a decisive nod of her head, Kate turned and snatched up her purse a second time. “Sorry, Luce. You’re on your own. It’s too soon for me to risk facing one of James’s closest friends. Even an ex-friend.”

“Look,” she said, grabbing Kate’s hand. “Anyone who knew James will want to tell you how sorry they are. This was bound to happen sooner or later.”

Kate turned away, tears blurring her vision. “But Mark Johnston is not anyone, he’s…”

And then, as though sensing her gaze on him, Mark looked directly at her. “Kate?”

She froze.

With the microphone forgotten in his hand, her name echoed around the room. The scraping of chairs and the shifting of bodies sounded harsh in the subdued atmosphere as all around her people turned and stared.

Her mind raced as Kate stood completely immobile. She didn’t move, even as she watched him put the microphone down on the bar and walk toward her. After a long moment, the onlookers hesitantly struck up conversation or picked up their drinks.