“Oh, my God, Phillip!” Her cheeks blushed a rosy pink. She
leaned forward, her wide eyes darting everywhere in blatant
astonishment. Then a bright smile lit up her face. “Someone
fixed it up!”
He tried to keep a poker face and his response was simple.
11
TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
“Yep.”
“Wow. They ripped off the porch! That’s probably a good
thing.” She laughed, and remembering how she’d tripped over
the dilapidated boards and fallen in the mud, he joined her. He
pulled up next to the cottage and parked. When he turned off the ignition and looked at her, she was no longer laughing. She
gazed at him wordlessly, unshed tears standing in her eyes.
“I can’t believe you rented our cottage.” She took him com-
pletely off guard by scrambling onto his lap and nearly knocking the car out of gear. He gladly accepted the spoils of her happiness as she attacked him with kisses.
“It’s mine. I bought it.”
Her blue eyes widened, and he watched the wheels turning
as she processed the implications. “That’s just… so…”
“Romantic?” His breathing felt labored as she gripped his
hair and looked him in the eye. He was deeply touched by her
uncharacteristic display of vulnerability. She seemed genuinely
moved, but recovered quickly and batted her eyelashes at him
with a cheeky smile.
“I was gonna say hot. But it is romantic as hell.” The soft look in her eyes didn’t match her brash words. She leaned in, and her lips teased his slowly and gently. Then with a contented sigh she nuzzled into him. He inhaled deeply, the peppermint scent of her hair enveloping him like a warm blanket. Cradling her pos-sessively, he smiled, knowing that they would both remember
this trip for the rest of their lives. For a moment, he tried to simply savor her closeness rather than worry about the execution of
his plans. He was tempted to take Cheyenne and Cedric’s advice
and ask her here at the cottage, in front of the fireplace with a glass of wine. As tempting as the prospect seemed, he cast the
idea aside. He couldn’t buckle this close to the finish line. If there was one thing he was an expert on, it was showmanship.
He reached out and popped the door handle.
“Come. I want to show you the bedroom.”
12
RAGE
They entered through the red front door. She inhaled sharp-
ly and stopped in her tracks causing him to nearly bump into her.
He didn’t blame her; he’d had the same response when he first
set foot inside after its completion. What had once been a dusty, forgotten shack had been transformed into a quaint and cozy refuge. Polished wood floors, chalk white walls, and fresh flowers
greeted them.
“It’s perfect.” Steph said in a soft, resigned whisper. She
dropped her purse on the floor then carefully placed her camera
bag on the table. Then she was in his arms kissing him again
with all her might. Just as he was about to rip open his fly and bend her over the couch, she pulled away with a wide grin.
“I’m going to take a look around.”
It was his turn to let out a frustrated moan. She winked at
him saucily and vanished into the hall with her suitcase rolling behind her. He turned to survey the cottage for the provisions
he’d requested. The caretakers had stacked wood in the hearth
per his request, and as he lit it, he heard her footsteps on the stairs. He took some cheese, fruit and a bottle of wine from the icebox and popped the cork. Doubt wriggled in the back of his
mind. Should he pop the question here and now and have the
moment be theirs alone? He could whisk her away to the Carib-
bean for a wedding on the beach, just the two of them and the
setting sun. As appealing as this idea was to him, he quickly
dismissed the idea. Someone like Stephanie Brier required some-
thing bigger and flashier than that.
He sent a quick “thank you” text to the caretakers for their
impeccable attention to detail. Slipping his phone into his jacket, he took it off and tossed it over the arm of the closest chair. Now where the hell had she disappeared to? He was certain he’d heard her come back down the stairs, so he wandered into the master
bedroom. Her suitcase was open on the hope chest at the foot of
the bed. He heard the shower running in the bathroom, so he
kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the king-sized bed with a 13
TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
contented sigh. Closing his eyes, he slowly felt the weight of the day lift from him. She was here. Here was perfect. The stars had aligned, and all was right with the world.
Freshly showered, Steph was blow-drying her hair upside
down, but uprighted herself as a flash of vertigo gripped her. As she steadied herself on the sink, she blinked at her reflection in the mirror. Flashing lights floated across her vision as she
watched her flaming waves fall around her shoulders. Thankful-
ly, the ninja dizziness vanished as quickly as it appeared. In the past twenty-four hours, she’d almost fell down on two separate
occasions. She scrambled to pop an Andes Mint in her mouth.
and the queasiness lessened. It was probably low blood sugar
from lack of food. Lately she’d been way too busy to eat right.
She’d been traveling a lot, including a recent laborious jaunt to Japan. She’d only been back in her New York apartment for a
couple of days when she got the call that Cheyenne’s water had
broken, so she had assumed her abdominal issues were probably
due to jet lag, exhaustion, and bad sushi.
However, since arriving in the U.K., she’d had some dull
pains in her right side. Fucking cramps. Her period wasn’t due
for another month, and the last thing she wanted was to have it
early. She glanced at her pill case. Steph had often wished she’d invested in stock in the pharmaceutical company that created her birth control pill that let women have only four periods a year. If she ever met the scientist who’d created the drug, she’d kiss him right on
