As her words filled the space between them, he could see them coming to life. He could picture riding with Isabeau, envision her in his house and, yes, in his bed. “That sounds like a good plan, but if you find living there isn’t working for you—”
“I’ll tell you and we’ll work on a new plan. Together.” She kissed him quickly and slid her arms around his neck. “I don’t want the moon and the stars. I want someone who will look at them with me. I want you to be that person.”
“I do love you—” he palmed his heart “—with all that I am. Isabeau, you are my bucket list.”
As he watched her eyes fill with happy tears of emotion, Trystan knew without question, without memorization or practice, he’d found the right words.
He’d found the right woman.
* * * * *
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Expecting a Scandal
by Joanne Rock
One
Adjusting her glasses on her nose, Abigail Stewart hoped the funky red-and-black zebra frames distracted from the sheer desperation that must surely be visible in her eyes.
She didn’t want the assembled Royal Memorial Hospital committee to see how badly she needed the commission for the sculpture she’d just proposed for the children’s ward. Or how much it upset her to be back inside a hospital for the first time since her sister’s death. Standing at the head of the hospital’s boardroom after her presentation, she smoothed the hem of a fitted skirt that pinched her pregnant hips under the gauzy red top she’d chosen to hide her baby bump. At five months along, she wouldn’t be fooling anyone for much longer. But considering the scandal attached to her baby’s conception with a lying jerk posing as Will Sanders, the powerful head of Spark Energy Solutions, Abigail wasn’t in a hurry to field questions about it. She was only just beginning to wrap her head around being a single mom in the wake of a hellish year that had cost her a beloved younger sibling.
A year that promised to go downhill even more, since Abigail would definitely not make the next mortgage payment on her house if she didn’t nab this commission. She’d taken too much time off in the past year to help her mother cope with losing Alannah in a kayaking accident, depleting her emergency savings.
“Does anyone have questions about the art installation I’m proposing?” Abigail forced a smile despite the nervous churn in her belly.
At least, she hoped that rumble was nerves and not belated morning sickness. For the last two months, morning had been a relative term.
“I have a question.” The deep, masculine voice at the back of the spacious room caught her off guard.
She’d thought all of the committee members were seated at the large table with a good view of the projection screen. Yet, at second glance, she saw an absurdly handsome man in green scrubs sprawled in a chair by the door in the back. From the leather shoes he sported to the expensive-looking haircut, he had an air of wealth about him that the scrubs and slightly scruffy facial hair couldn’t hide. Even the phone resting on the table beside him cost more than her monthly house payment. She’d been so focused on getting her video up and running that she had somehow missed his arrival.
With a crop of thick brown hair and deep green eyes, he had a body that a professional athlete would envy—his broad chest and strong arms were supremely appealing. And for a woman five months pregnant and battling morning sickness along with a case of nerves to notice—that was saying something.
The hospital administrator who had invited Abigail to present to the committee gestured the newcomer toward a vacant chair at that table, where one presentation packet lay untouched. “Thank you for coming, Dr. Chambers, please join us.”
“Sorry I’m late. My last surgery ran long.” He rose and tugged the plush rolling chair out from the gleaming maple table, joining eleven other members of the committee in judging her. “And, Ms. Stewart, I’m sure you’re very talented, and your gallery of works is certainly impressive, but I’m afraid I don’t see the point of a statue in
