Never Kiss a Stranger (19 page)

“Ladies and gentleman, may I have your attention please?” Brenda Bliss stood up at the podium in front of a gathering of thousands of Manhattan real estate agents. It was the annual end-of-year gala for the Manhattan Association of Listing Professionals; the time of year when the top ten agents in the city were announced. Brenda was the secretary of the association, but she loved to have all eyes on her, so she volunteered to emcee that year. At least that was what she’d told me when she made it clear my attendance was required.

The banquet hall silenced save for the rogue clinking of silver as attendees turned their focus to Brenda. Wilder reached beneath the tablecloth and grabbed my hand, squeezing it tight. I’d worked my ass off that year, making Wilder’s investment company my main priority. I scoured the city and investigated leads and tips, finding him quick flips and a few great long-term ventures.

“Thank you all so much for being here with us tonight,” Brenda said as microphone feedback stung our ears. “I know we all have a million and one engagements this time of year, and it’s snowing pretty good outside. We’d all rather be cozied up in our
brownstones
and
condos
with a glass of brandy and a warm fire. Perhaps you’d rather be looking out from the windows of your
pied-a-terres
as the sparkling snow decorates the city we all hold dear.”

The crowd erupted in polite laughter.

“But at the end of the day, we’re all here for a reason. We love what we do, and we want to honor our best colleagues. Each year, only a select few can hold the coveted title of top one percent, and even a smaller few can be recognized as the top one percent of the top one percent. This year, I am pleased to announce that the top agent in all of Manhattan is one of my own.”

Wilder squeezed my hand, and I glanced down at our interlocked fingers, the brilliant, cushion-cut stone on my left ring finger catching the dimmed light of the flickering candles that donned each tabletop around us.

“I’ve worked with this young woman since she started as my assistant a few short years ago. They always say the cream rises to the top, and ladies and gentleman, let me tell you, Addison Andrews is the crème-de-la-crème. Everyone, please give a warm welcome to the Manhattan Association of Listing Professionals’ agent of the year, Addison Andrews!”

Wilder released my hand and rose to a standing position as I swept my long gown behind me and headed up to the podium to accept my award. I was convinced I wouldn’t receive the award that year. There had been rumors of a few other agents sealing last-minute contracts that would blow my final numbers out of the water, but they must’ve fallen through.

“Wow,” I said, clutching the polished gold in my sweaty palm. The small award, a gold depiction of a high-rise building, felt heavier than I imagined it would. “Thank you so much, everyone. I did not expect this.”

The applause ceased and my eyes searched the dim room for my Wilder. He took his seat and leaned back, watching with a proud smile across his sexy lips.

“I’d like to thank Brenda Bliss, for taking me under her wing several years ago. She took a chance on me, and it means the world to me to make her proud right now.”

I swallowed, my throat dry. It was the moment I’d worked so hard for. Why didn’t it feel as amazing as I always imagined?

“I’d also like to thank my fiancé, Wilder Van Cleef, for always believing in me and never giving up on us, even when things got hard. I’d also like to thank my sister, Coco Bissett.” I glanced over at our table where Coco was seated across on the other side of my chair. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her. We made a promise to each other when we were little, to always help each other achieve our dreams no matter how hard it might seem. I can say wholeheartedly, I would not be standing here today if it weren’t for her support and everything she’s done for me.”

A man standing stage left motioned for me to wrap it up. I smiled, feeling like I was an actress at the Oscars or something. I supposed to many, this trivial little real estate gala was a farce. Meant nothing. But to me, to have reached the pinnacle of my career at such a young age and against all odds, it meant the world.

“Again, thank you.” I held my trophy up in the air and gathered the silk organza fabric of my navy dress in my hand as I stepped down from the stage. I wanted to remember the sound of the applause for as long as I lived.

“Well done,
lovely
,” Wilder said as I sat down. He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “I knew you could do it.”

“Thanks,” I said, nuzzling into his neck.

As Brenda Bliss stood at the podium doling out awards for the next half hour, I lost myself in Wilder’s aquamarine eyes and the rest of the world faded away.

Shortly after dinner was served, a live band began playing Sinatra classics and patrons circled the room, socializing.

“Addison.” Brenda rushed up to our table, giving me a warm hug. “I am so proud of you. You have no idea how hard it was for me to keep that a secret. I’ve known for a week!”

Wilder shot me a look and I nodded. I’d given her the news that morning.

“I’m so sorry to hear you’re leaving me, but I can’t say that I blame you,” Brenda said, referring to the bomb I’d dropped on her earlier that day. I was starting my own agency, which would be under the umbrella of Wilder’s corporation after we married the following year.

We’d already set the date. May eleventh. Approximately a year to the date we found out we could officially be together again. I had five months to plan a wedding and get my company off the ground. Life was about to get all kinds of chaotic, but in the best of ways.

“I know you’ll do well,” Brenda said, rubbing my back. “And if you ever need help or want to talk, I’m always a phone call away. Just don’t poach any of my agents!” She laughed, though I knew she meant business. I’d never poach from her. It wasn’t my style, and the last thing I needed was a big, red target on the back of my brand new agency.

“You have nothing to worry about,” I assured her. “I don’t operate like that. You know that.”

“Oh, honey, I know.” She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I just can’t believe you’re leaving me. I’m happy for you though. You deserve this.”

Her gaze left mine and traveled to Wilder.

“I wish you nothing but the best,” she said as she disappeared into a crowd of chatty salespeople.

I made my rounds with Wilder at my side and checked my watch. “My feet are killing me.”

“I have a driver outside waiting.” He leaned into me, breathing me in. “If you want to go now, I promise I won’t put up a fight.”

“I feel like I should stay. This is my night.” I didn’t want to stay, though. I’d scaled Everest and reached the top, and I was tired. I wanted to go home.

He took my hand, lifting it to his mouth and kissing my palm. “We’ll do whatever you want. Tonight’s all about you.”

My heart warmed. He made every night feel like my night.

“Sometimes I look at you, and I still can’t believe you’re all mine,” he said as he leaned into me, his voice a low grumble against a noisy backdrop.

“Forever and always,” I replied. I closed my eyes and drank him in, wanting to forever remember what it felt like to anchor myself to solid ground after one of the most tumultuous years of my life.

* * *

“Where are we going?” I asked after we left the banquet. A yawn escaped my lips, and I ached to get out of my dress and into something softer. Wilder’s town car seemed to be heading toward Midtown and not Soho.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he said, his face expressionless but his eyes shining against the city lights.

“I thought we were going home? You know I hate surprises.” My breath hitched, and I tilted my head to the side as I attempted to read the street signs that passed.

He grabbed my wrist, pulling me up into his lap before cupping my face with his hands. “Lovely, it’s okay to let go every once in a while. Or did you forget?”

The town car pulled up to the W Hotel; the place where it all began.

Winter Renshaw recently celebrated her third 29
th
birthday. By day, she wrangles kids and dogs, and by night, she wrangles words. She loves photography and peonies and lipstick and isn’t a huge fan of rude people. Chips and salsa are her jam, and so is cruising down the highway with the windows down and the air blasting while 80s rock blasts from the speakers of her Mom-UV.

If Winter sounds like someone you just might want to be friends with,
please click here
!

And if you’d like to be the first to know when a new book is coming out,
please sign up here!

Thank you, dear reader, for choosing
my
book. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it, and I hope you’ll look for more from me in the near future!

I know we’re all crazy busy, but if you had just a minute and wanted to leave a review on Amazon, I’m
pretty
sure you’d make my day. I read them all, and I appreciate the time you took out of your schedule to leave a comment!

Love you all – and
thank you, thank you, thank you
for making my dreams come true!

With a grateful heart,

Winter

PS – Page ahead for a preview of NEVER IS A PROMISE, which will focus on Addison’s sister, Coco, and her ex-boyfriend (and unrequited love), Beau!

This is an unedited excerpt from NEVER IS A PROMISE – coming spring 2015!

I wasn’t her, and I hadn’t been her since the day I left Kentucky.

“Name please?” the airline agent asked over the phone as I booked my flight home.

“Coco – sorry, I mean Dakota,” I said, running my fingers over the plastic raised imprint of my name as it read on my credit card. “Last name is Bissett.”

“Please read off the numbers on the front of your card, ma’am,” she said.

I rattled them off one by one, speaking slowly as if it could possibly prolong the inevitable. I didn’t want to go home. I fought long and hard with Harrison about it, but any fight with him was a losing battle.

I scribbled my confirmation number along with the flight details on thick cardstock with my monogram across the top; a “B” in the middle that stood for Bissett flanked by a “C” on the left for Coco and an “E” on the right for Elizabeth.

“You’re doing the right thing, Coco.” Harrison christened me with the nickname “Coco” when I landed my first news-anchoring job. At the time, it was nothing more than a nickname, but over the years it had morphed into a brand. Coco Bissett was officially a household name.

Harrison slipped his hands over my shoulders and rubbed the kinks out as if he were still my doting husband. We’d been divorced two years now, but the lines between us remained hazy and sometimes blurred.

“As your producer
and
your boss
and
your biggest fan, I can assure you this is going to take you to unimaginable heights. This interview will secure your chair on the weekday show,” he said. I could practically taste the ambitious flavor of his words.

“I know,” I groaned. No one ever aspired to be a weekend anchor. The big stories and the interviews worth watching happened on the weekdays.

“They’re
so
close to making their decision.” Harrison pinched his fingers together. The network had been quietly discussing my promotion for months, but Harrison insisted I needed to prove myself a little more before they were willing to replace their beloved Susannah Jethro with a fresh face like myself. “Do you know how many people were scrambling to land Beau Mason’s final interview? And he hand picked
you
.
You
of all people. I don’t understand your reluctance, Coco. I really don’t.”

Perhaps it was because I neglected to tell him that Beau and I had a history. One that spanned years. A past defined by young love, dashed hopes, and scar-tissue pain. We were forever tied by an invisible thread and marled an unrequited kind of love that refused to fade away no matter how many years had passed.

Beau Mason’s name was a permanent tattoo across my heart, and I was the only one who knew.

“Oh, forgot to tell you that I won’t be joining you on this trip,” he added. “I’ve got nothing but meetings all next week, and since you dragged your feet on this interview, I can’t reschedule any of them.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Harrison usually accompanied me on all my work trips, but I’d been trying to figure out for the longest time how I was going to explain why I didn’t want him to come this time.

“I think I’ll survive,” I assured him, only a small part of me knew I was only trying to convince myself.

In every dark night and every lonely moment, my heart always ached for Beau and what might have been. My thoughts scattered in every direction all day long, but in the still, small moments, they always went to him and that burning August night when everything changed.

“Just so we’re clear,” Harrison said, “it’s seven days on Beau’s ranch, just the two of you. That was his requirement. You’ll get your quotes and material. And I’ll work on setting up a time for the crew to go out and film some stills and get some shots of the farm before you do your final sit down interview.”

My hand trembled as I gripped my coffee mug and brought it to my lips. I’d interviewed hundreds of people over the span of my career. None of them had that kind of effect of me. The hot liquid scalded my mouth, though I barely felt it, and the second it reached my stomach, it wanted to turn around and come right back.

“I’d like to review your questions before you leave. Make sure you’re asking the right questions.” He hovered over me, the cadence of his words faster than usual. Of all the interviews he’d booked for me, I’d never seen him so doubtful of my journalistic prowess. “Promise me you’re not going to back out of this.”

To be notified as soon as NEVER IS A PROMISE is released,
please sign up here!