What We Find (30 page)

“I’m sure, but the only part of that I care about is the private part. Isn’t this a nice scene to make out to?” he asked.

It was indeed beautiful, a big old barn sitting in a crop of trees in the middle of a pasture on a wide, deep plateau. Mountains to the west, a valley to the east, a babbling brook just south of the structure. He put an arm along the back of the seat, around her. “You know, I’ve been in love with you since about the first day,” he said.

“When I brought Sully back to the crossing after his surgery?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Before that. When you were taking care of that old guy who was lost and confused. Then minutes later you were handling Sully’s emergency. Barking orders, taking charge, confident, powerful, and yet so gentle. I knew right then I’d never known anyone like you in my life.”

“I was a wreck that day,” she said.

“I wanted you right then.” He laughed a little. “You really gave me a hard time.”

“I didn’t trust you at all, California,” she said.

“I learned a few things in the last couple of years, Maggie. Or maybe I should say, I remembered a few things. Since I was a little kid I wanted to feel settled and safe. I wanted the respect of the people who knew me, I wanted a family I could devote myself to, I wanted to learn the kind of everyday wisdom Sully has. Being widowed screwed me up. I was too lonely. But that changes if you’ll marry me. I think we can do this, Maggie. I never thought I would know love like this—I never thought I could feel this kind of bone-deep passion, yet a sweet peace and steadiness. You changed my life. And it needed changing.”

“And can you have that if I keep doing what I do?” she asked. “Because what I do tends to have its complications. The majority of my cases are routine and require training and good hands, but there are times... You can’t dare to take brains and spinal columns into your hands with impunity. It’s risky. It’s stressful.”

“It’s admirable,” he said. “Maggie, I think you know yourself well, yet I’m not sure you realize just how amazing you are. It’s not a lack of confidence, not at all. It’s more that your focus is not on yourself when you act. You do exactly what you realize is within your scope, even when it takes a toll. I wouldn’t have another wife if she wasn’t you. I’m sure of it.”

“Can you be happy in a rumpus room?” she asked.

“For a year or so,” he said. “We’ll also be in Denver sometimes. But I’ll be here a lot. If it works for you.”

“Here?” she asked.

“See that barn? The barn and the land it sits on are for sale.”

“Huh,” she said, confused. “You going to get horses or something? Maybe bring in a double-wide we can live in?”

“Nope. That barn is going to make a fantastic house. With Tom’s help it’s going to be a big, spacious, family home with a view of the mountains and the valley. Come on,” he said, getting out of the car.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the barn and opened the big double doors. They stood in the center of an enormous space with the remnants of previous tenants all around—stalls, troughs that had once watered animals, ropes hanging from walls, even a harness and yoke that looked as old as the barn.

He pointed to one end. “Kitchen, mudroom, laundry, dining room.” He turned. “Great room, office. I’m happy taking clients at Sully’s but I don’t know how long he’ll be happy with that.” He pointed to the hayloft. “Master bedroom and bath, two rooms for kids.” He pointed to the other side. “Guest room.”

“Kids?” she asked.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“Are
you
ready?”

“I thought that ship had sailed, but then I met you and so many things became real again. All the things I thought were past became the future. I thought my one chance at happiness was behind me, and I found out I was wrong. Maggie, you’re a game changer—you’ll dangle on the end of a rope over a three-hundred-foot drop to save a kid’s life and you’ll trust a vagrant lawyer with a piece of your heart.” He pulled her into his arms. “Make a life with me, baby. I love you so much it blurs my vision.”

“It wasn’t just a piece of my heart,” she said. “You sneaked in there and took the whole damn thing.”

“Time to say yes, Maggie.”

“Are you kidding me? I feel like I’ve wanted you forever. And Calbert—I love the barn. I love it. I can’t fill it up with kids, there isn’t time. But I can put a couple of good ones in here and add pets.”

He laughed at her. “You’re a genius.”

“I love you, Cal. Like a house on fire. Will you marry me fast, before you change your mind?”

“I’m never going to change my mind, honey. You’re everything to me.”

This above all:
To thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.

—William Shakespeare

In the long run,
we only hit what we aim at.

—Henry David Thoreau

Epilogue

There were no wedding invitations. Maggie and Cal got on the phone
and told their friends and family they were getting married before the glorious fall colors were over. In the old barn. Phoebe almost had a stroke, but Walter thought it was appropriate and suitable. Tom, Jackson, the other Canaday kids, Enid, Frank, Conrad Doyle, aka Connie, and some of the paramedics cleaned out the barn and decorated it with streamers, dried fall flowers and hay bales. Tom used Sully’s riding mower to cut down the pasture so cars could safely park there without sparking a fire. Maggie called her friends and colleagues from Denver and was pleased that so many wanted to be there.

A caterer from Colorado Springs brought tables, folding chairs, food, drink, floral arrangements, decorative candles, linens. Enid insisted she could make the wedding cake and it wasn’t exactly professional-looking, but it was unique—a two-tiered sheet cake with lots of fall leaves created out of frosting and food coloring. Maggie did not laugh, but she wanted to. There were no printed programs and the minister got his license on the internet. Jaycee Kent and Terry Jordan from the OR were the bridesmaids, Cal’s brother Dakota made the trip on short notice to be Cal’s best man, the other witness was Tom Canaday. Not to be left out, Sedona and her family flew to Denver and drove down to the barn for the festivities.

Aware that Cal kept in touch with Lynne’s parents, Maggie asked him if he had invited them and was rather surprised when he said he had. “They declined. They’re very happy for me and don’t want to distract me. But they’d love to meet you and asked if they could visit when we’re settled.”

“I’m sorry your father isn’t well enough to be here,” she said.

“We’ll send them lots of pictures. You’re beautiful,” he said.

“And you’re wearing that suit that makes me want to send everyone home early.”

Maggie wore a simple, short, ivory dress with lace sleeves and nude patent leather pumps. In the car were a couple of packed bags. After a night in Denver and brunch with Dakota, Sedona and her family, they’d be taking a short vacation to a warm, private resort in the Bahamas.

At a little before four in the afternoon, when the sun was casting long shadows over the Rockies, Cal and Maggie greeted their guests, introduced some of them to each other. Before long, the minister urged them to stand at the front of the barn under a beautiful fall wreath and he began. He talked very briefly about the great joy he felt in helping to bring people together in marriage. The usual vows were recited, some of them, anyway—Cal and Maggie wanted to do things their way.

“Maggie, until I met you, I was lost. There were so many times I asked myself what I would do next, where I would be, if there was anyone I could be right for. Then I met you and instantly loved you. Instantly. Those long talks by the fire, late at night, meant
everything
to me. The walks through the hills and valleys, not talking—
everything
. The evenings of intimacy when no words were needed,
everything
. Looking into the future with you, my heart is so full there’s no room for anything but promise. And I promise you a lifetime. The best I have.”

“And I promise you, California Jones, all the passion in my heart, all the joy in my being, all the laughter on a sunny day, all the thrill of day after day knowing we are one, that when my heart beats in my breast, it beats only for you. I love you. I promise you my life. The best I have.”

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from SWEPT AWAY by #1
New York Times
bestselling author Robyn Carr, from Mira Books.

Acknowledgments

First and foremost I’d like to thank my readers, not only for reading my books and talking about them with friends, book club members, online, everywhere, but also for sending me thoughtful letters of encouragement and praise. It’s so kind and means the world.

Thanks to Dr. Brian Carr for research help—I knew what I was doing when I raised a doctor! And thanks also for reading an early manuscript, looking for technical errors on the medical aspects of the story.

A great big thank-you to MAJ Scott Trexler, MD, Chief of Trauma/Critical Care, San Antonio Military Medical Center. I appreciate the resource, but even more than that, I thank you for your patriotic service—I am in your debt!

Thanks to Kevin Tourek, Esq., for always answering my questions to the best of your knowledge and for researching some legal issues for me. Your help and friendship is very important and special to me.

Any errors or alterations in the technical aspects of this book are not the fault of my technical advisers but mine, most often license to create a strong story, and I appreciate the readers’ indulgence.

I have a couple of early readers who never fail to offer insight and commentary that very often change and invariably improve the story—thanks to my daughter, Jamie Prosser, and to Kate Bandy. Kate has been reading manuscripts for me for almost forty years and has never once complained! And a very special thanks to my dear friend the lovely Kristan Higgins who brings light into my life and work.

Special thanks and appreciation to my husband, Jim, for your unwavering support, for being a sounding board, for your patience and commitment. I love you.

Thanks to Liza Dawson, my agent, for your brilliance, loyalty, tender loving care, wicked sharp wit and, most of all, friendship.

And my thanks to Craig Swinwood, Loriana Sacilotto, Margaret Marbury and Nicole Brebner, Harlequin’s A-team, for providing this magnificent opportunity. I will try every day to deserve the honor.

And thanks to everyone at Harlequin. There are a lot of fingerprints on my books. I’m having a good time, loving my work, while all of you do the heavy lifting. Thank you for the quality work, the sincere commitment, the quality product. Nobody does it better.

Swept Away

by Robyn Carr

One

W
hen she walked into the Fort Lauderdale Executive Airport, heads turned. Not just the men’s, but the women’s, as well. Jennifer was used to this; she did not come by her fabulous looks by accident. Trim, tan, blond, leggy, buxom, with a face that could stop time, she drew the attention of everyone she passed. She went to the counter and recognized the agent, a woman she’d seen several times before. “Hi, Elaine. Jennifer Chaise, here to meet Mr. Noble for the Las Vegas flight.”

“He hasn’t checked in yet, Ms. Chaise, but you can board if you like.”

“Thank you, but I’ll wait until he gets here.”

“Why don’t we go ahead and load your luggage to save time?” she said.

Jennifer gave a nod and a smile, glanced over her shoulder to the skycap who had followed her with her bags, and then went to a leather sofa in the waiting room. From there she could see the terminal entrance.

As she waited for her gentleman friend, Nick, to arrive at the airport, Jennifer reminded herself that not all that long ago she’d been a girl who couldn’t afford a bus ticket. Now she was a woman waiting for a private jet. Who would’ve guessed?

The private jet sent by the MGM Casino Resort would whisk them away to Las Vegas, where they would spend a few days. Nick was what was known as a Whale—a high-stakes gambler. She assumed he lost as well as he won because at least four times a year the MGM would send their Gulfstream to pick him up. But, according to them, gamblers never lost. And, despite the fact that he was married, Jennifer was the woman who accompanied him on these trips.

Jennifer was something of a gambler herself, but she didn’t wager money. She put
herself
on the line, betting that she could keep someone like Nick Noble so enchanted by her charms and beauty that he would be a generous suitor. It required quite a lot of skill and confidence. The skill she had acquired over time, but the confidence always threatened to elude her. Sometimes she was required to fake it. All the people who ogled her were completely unaware that beneath the veneer of wealth and glamour beat the heart of an uncertain girl who had come from nothing.

She reached over her knee to smooth her two-thousand-dollar eelskin boots over her shin—they were as soft as butter and were her favorite. There was a time years and years ago, when she was eight or nine years old, that her mother picked through a Dumpster, where she’d seen a pair of discarded shoes just about the right size for Jennifer. That had been an especially bad patch for them. Maybe that was what had fostered her passionate love of footwear. These boots were sage-colored and perfect with the cream skirt and jacket she wore; the skirt was short with a strategic slit up the left side and the jacket buttoned just under her breasts to emphasize her cleavage.

If it were left up to her, she might choose a lower heel, but Nick, for some strange reason, preferred that she look as tall and long-legged as possible. She was a respectable five foot five, but any one of her collection of high heels so exaggerated her height that she appeared five ten. The irony was that Nick was
not
tall. He was a short guy—maybe five-seven—and had a real thing for tall, thin blondes. No short-man complex there. In fact, Nick probably thought he was six-two. His ego was at least that big.

A half hour passed as she waited, and although people couldn’t help but stare at her, she didn’t fidget. The cabin attendant for their jet came into the terminal twice to speak to Elaine, ostensibly to see if all her passengers had finally arrived. By now the crew would be getting antsy. Nick would never tolerate tardiness in others, but he was rarely on time himself. He could be both aggressive and passive-aggressive, not always a winning combination.

Jennifer pulled her long mane of golden hair over her shoulder and stroked it as if it were a pet. Nick
loved
her hair. So had a few gentlemen before him. She cared for it as if it were an only child.

Elaine came out from behind the counter and approached her. “Ms. Chaise, are you sure you don’t want to go ahead and board?” the agent asked her.

She smiled patiently at the young woman. “It won’t get him here any faster, Elaine. I’ll just wait for Mr. Noble.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard from him?”

“No.”

“Have you, by any chance, called his cell or his car?”

She merely shook her head; there was no point in trying to explain. Nick didn’t like being chased down, hounded or prodded, so calling him would only have the opposite effect. He’d just take his time, no matter who was waiting. He said he’d be here, and he would be here. He’d keep everyone waiting, though, in case there was any question as to who was the most important person in this party.

Finally, almost an hour after the scheduled departure time, the doors to the small terminal opened and Nick strode through, rolling up his shirtsleeves as he entered. He was a little powerhouse with broad shoulders and thick, hard thighs. His arms were tanned and very strong, but he had small, gentle hands. He wasn’t exactly handsome, but he wasn’t bad-looking, either. He had bushy brows, a bald head and twinkling blue eyes. Women found him sexy, but whether that was because of his looks or his power seemed irrelevant.

Nick was the kind of man it was very difficult to say no to; he was flamboyant, exciting, wealthy and had a slightly dangerous edge. Perhaps it was the constant presence of one, two or even three large, quiet men that gave him an aura that was both hard to ignore and impenetrable. Jennifer referred to them as the Butlers, which made Nick laugh, but the more accurate term
goon
came to mind. She tried not to think too hard about them. Nick had quite a collection of men who worked for him, followed him around, traveled with him. Errand boys. Jennifer assumed it made Nick feel important to have them always a few steps behind, ready to do whatever he asked. On this trip it was Jesse and Lou who accompanied them.

The airport agent breathed an audible sigh of relief and Jennifer stood. Nick slipped an arm around her waist, kissed her cheek and said, “Hi, baby. We ready to roll?”

“I think they’re all ready,” she said. “My luggage is on the plane.”

“Good girl. Let’s do it. I’m feeling lucky.”

Jennifer had met Nick Noble two years before. She had just taken a job in a commercial real estate company where her duties included some secretarial work, as well as property management. It was easy and it paid well. She fielded calls from tenants who needed service such as repairs, collected and deposited rents, and kept track of leases. Her office handled a group of office buildings in Fort Lauderdale and Boca Raton and Jennifer believed she had been hired more for her looks than skills. She was definitely front-office material; the businessmen who leased from them were constantly asking her out.

She hadn’t been there long when the owner of the properties they managed stopped by. Nick. He took her to lunch that very day and made it clear he was not particularly interested in her performance as a property manager but, rather, he was romantically interested. Now, Jennifer might look like an easy mark with her swollen lips, full perky breasts and clothes carefully chosen to draw attention to her assets, but she was actually cautious. Nick was made to pursue her for a very long time, during which she learned enough about him to make a practical decision. He was married for the third time, had lots of money, several businesses and an iron-clad prenup. Barbara, he said, was very happy with her club, her jewelry, her big house, and was not likely to make any kind of fuss as long as he dinged her bank account on a weekly basis, and paid off the credit cards.

It turned out that Nick’s analysis of Barbara wasn’t exactly right. Barbara was extremely jealous and given to tantrums that could be very disturbing. But no one, absolutely no one, told Nick Noble what to do. And although Barbara was unhappy about this liaison, she wasn’t unhappy enough to give up the wealth she had married. Barbara Noble, wife number three, had been involved with Nick when he was married to wife number two. Jennifer had absolutely no intention of becoming wife number four, and it might have been that fact more than anything that had kept him intrigued this long.

Nick had gone after Jennifer with gusto. He called, dropped by, had her picked up by a driver and taken to this or that restaurant. There were flowers and weekly gifts. He took her out on his yacht and to his villa in Key West. He worked very hard to woo her. And she worked very hard to be alluring. She played a mean game of hard to get.

In the two years she’d been seeing him she had not quit her job. It was important to her self-esteem that she work at something other than being a mistress. True, she was away quite a lot. When Nick wanted her to travel with him, she did. It wasn’t as though her supervisor was going to complain. Nick was a very valued client.

Jennifer relaxed in the luxury of the Gulfstream, a glass of champagne on her side table, a novel in her lap. Nick, however, had been on the phone since takeoff. He frequently stood up, paced, raised his voice or shook his fist at the air. She picked up a few words here and there—”Look, goddammit, that’s been the program for years!” and “If it’s not delivered on time, you’ll pay, and you’ll pay big!” Jennifer had nearly perfected the fine art of being oblivious. His business wasn’t her business. If she got nosy while he was all riled up, his mood would only get worse. She understood that any man who had the amount of fiscal responsibility that he had might have a short fuse now and then.

After a couple of hours in flight, he’d had enough. Jesse and Lou were sitting in the first two seats on the plane, reclined and sleeping, their backs to Jennifer and Nick. Nick asked the flight attendant for a Chivas on the rocks and came over to where Jennifer sat with her feet up on the ottoman. He sat beside her feet and put a hand on her knee.

“What are you reading, babe?”

She gently closed the book and smiled. “Romance.”

His hand moved slowly over her knee and under her skirt, caressing her thigh. “That’s a good idea,” he said with a smile. He sipped his drink and swirled it in the glass, clinking the cubes against the crystal. And his hand went a little higher.

Jennifer stopped him right there. She pressed the book down, refusing his hand farther passage. The flight attendant had handled a little of everything on this job and would probably know enough to turn discreetly away, get very busy in the galley or something, but Jennifer wasn’t having that. “Behave yourself,” she told him sternly. “And try to be patient.”

Nick chuckled and removed his hand, but he leaned toward her. So she kissed him, a deep and promising kiss. She could taste the Scotch on his lips, in his mouth.

When they parted she said, “You be a good boy and you can get in the hot tub with me tonight.” But she knew she would probably be splashing around alone while Nick was preoccupied with poker.

The palm of his hand gently brushed her breast. “Yes, Mommy. Let’s see what movies we have.” He picked up the remote, turned on the overhead screen and read the directory until he found one he liked. Then he settled back on the leather sofa and shared the ottoman with Jennifer, keeping a proprietary hand on her thigh.

She went back to her book. She knew how to make her gentleman toe the line and that was imperative. It kept them interested. They could be like children sometimes, craving limits. She had very strict standards; she must be treated with respect and dignity. The minute a man made the mistake of treating her as property, she was gone.

Jennifer was a professional girlfriend. A mistress. Not a call girl or prostitute. She was an
excellent
girlfriend. The greater part of her subsistence came from her current gentleman, but she absolutely never asked for a thing. Never. It was always a gift, sometimes with her input, sometimes a surprise. The two diamond rings she wore were surprises, but last year Nick wanted to buy her a car and they went together to pick out her Jag.

Of course, had Nick been less than forthcoming with such gifts, she would have moved on long ago.

How does one get into a profession such as this? In Jennifer’s case, quite by accident and in all innocence. She was nineteen when her mother died and there was a little bit of money from the sale of her grandparents’ house. Just enough to get her from Ohio to Florida and pay first, last and security on a small efficiency. She longed for the sun to warm her heart, for she had found herself suddenly all alone. She had nothing and no one. She didn’t know what to do or where to turn. It seemed she had spent her entire life up to that point keeping an eye on her mother, and when she was gone, exhaustion combined with her grief. She needed a change and a little rest.

She got a job in a fine-dining restaurant in Fort Lauderdale bussing tables on her way to being trained as a waitress; she’d heard the money was good when diners dropped a few hundred on their meals and wines. When one of the slim, young hostesses was a no-show for work, the manager slipped Jennifer into a narrow black dress—the hostess uniform—and she began booking reservations, showing people to their tables and in general making nice with the patrons. She did it well, so they kept her in that job. At nineteen, she was hardly a knockout, but she had a kind of slim elegance, an aloofness, that was underscored by the fact that when she smiled she hardly ever showed her teeth because one front tooth was a little gray and she was embarrassed by it.