Let Me Hold You
Melanie Schuster
In the five years since Alana Sharp Dumond lost her husband, she has remodeled her life. Her vintage car company, Custom Classics, is raking in money.She owns her own home and she has top-of-the-line friends. If she misses the feel of a man’s arms around her, she’d never admit it. The shadows from her past are nobody’s business but her own. Worldly restaurateur Roland Casey has had his eye on Alana for months, but and now he wants to speed up put their relationship. With his tall, muscled build and cognac brown eyes, he’s never had any trouble romancing a woman—until now. Sultry Alana keeps putting the brakes on all his moves. Roland has no doubt that he can send her temperature racing, but can he mend her once broken heart?
Love in the fast lane
In the five years since Alana Sharp Dumond lost her husband, she has remodeled her life. Her vintage car company, Custom Classics, is raking in money. She owns her own home and she has top-of-the-line friends. If she misses the feel of a man’s arms around her, she’d never admit it. The shadows from her past are nobody’s business but her own.
Worldly restaurateur Roland Casey has had his eye on Alana for months, but and now he wants to speed up put their relationship. With his tall, muscled build and cognac-brown eyes, he’s never had any trouble romancing a woman—until now. Sultry Alana keeps putting the brakes on all his moves. Roland has no doubt that he can send her temperature racing, but can he mend her once-broken heart?
He wanted to tell her that she was living her late husband’s dreams, not hers.
But he didn’t want to come across all preachy and fatherlike, because she hadn’t asked for his advice, just his listening ear. He asked her to talk to him, to confide in him and that’s what she’d done. What came next had to be up to her.
“What can I do to help, Alana? I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone anymore,” he said. He tilted her chin up so that their eyes met. “You’ve been handling a whole lot of things by yourself, from what I can tell, and it’s time for that to be over. It’s time for a new life for you.”
They leaned into each other at the same time and the resulting kiss started out tender and binding, but it soon turned hot and passionate. Her hands slid up his broad shoulders and she locked her arms around his neck, while his went down her body, sliding under the soft sweater until she could feel him against her bare skin. She moved against him urgently, changing positions until she was straddling him and they were beginning to get lost in each other. Alana managed to slow down, gently pulling away from his lips.
“Stay with me, Roland. Stay with me tonight,” she whispered.
MELANIE SCHUSTER
started reading when she was four and believes that’s why she’s a writer today. She was always fascinated with books and loved telling stories. From the time she was very small she wanted to be a writer. She fell in love with romances when she began reading the ones her mother would bring home. She would go to any store that sold paperbacks and load up! When she had a spare moment she was reading. Schuster loves romance because it’s always so hopeful. Despite the harsh realities of life, romance always brings to mind the wonderful, exciting adventure of falling in love and meeting your soul mate. She believes in love and romance with all her heart. She finds fulfillment in writing stories about compelling couples who find true, lasting love in the face of all the obstacles out there. She hopes all of her readers find their true love. If they’ve already been lucky enough to find love, she hopes that they never forget what it felt like to fall in love.
Let Me Hold You
Melanie Schuster
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader,
Thanks for coming on another Friends & Lovers adventure. I hope you all enjoyed Alana and Roland’s story. So many of us have given up on the idea of finding love; we think it’s never going to happen, or we won’t let it happen because of past experiences. Let Me Hold You is all about love and second chances and what can happen when you follow your heart. Maybe it will inspire you to give love another chance.
I’m so happy that the Sharp sisters, Alexis, Alana, Adrienne and Ava, have captured your interest. The next sister to find love will be Adrienne, and if you thought there were complications with Alexis and Alana, just wait until you read Adrienne’s story, which will be out next year.
Until then,
Stay blessed and keep reading!
Melanie
To my readers, who as always support me and encourage me. It always means a lot to me, but even more when I was down for the count!
Thanks also to Dr. Minoo Khetarpal and Dr. Gavin Awerbuch for getting me well.
And a special thanks to Pam and Joyce for all your help; I never would have made it without you!
This is dedicated with sincere appreciation to my editor, Tracy Sherrod,
for her encouragement, her expertise and above all, her patience.
She put up with a lot during the creation of this book and I thank her
from the bottom of my heart. Her support meant the world to me.
Contents
Chapter 1 (#u58da7408-59a3-586e-ba54-c0395f1f24ed)
Chapter 2 (#u02c598c4-c49f-5f51-93e2-f4e628d26cb5)
Chapter 3 (#u0b5f07b6-e059-5e81-b9cd-01cb03f7240d)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1
“This is the best party I’ve been to since you got married,” Alana Sharp Dumond announced. She raised her flute of champagne to her sister, Alexis Sharp VanBuren. Alexis had married her true love, Jared VanBuren, in a fabulous Valentine’s Day wedding and now, the Saturday before Christmas, they were at the reception of Sherri Stratton and Lucas VanBuren, Jared’s younger brother.
Alexis took a sip of her alcohol-free spumante and smiled at her older sister. She wasn’t drinking because she and Jared were expecting their first baby. “We started off the year with a wedding and we’re ending it with one. Perfect symmetry, I’d say.”
“A great way to end the year,” Alana agreed. “Yes, I’d love some more,” she added happily to the waiter who was offering to refill her glass.
Alexis raised a carefully groomed eyebrow as Alana took a rather healthy swallow of her drink. “You better slow down, sister. You’ve had quite a bit of that tonight.”
Alana grinned to show that she didn’t take offense at her younger sister’s words of caution. “I’m drinking for two since you can’t have any. Don’t worry, I’m fine. I’ve eaten enough food for two linebackers and it’s soaking up all the alcohol very nicely. Now I want to dance,” she said cheerfully.
They were sitting at the long table set up for the wedding party, which was being held at Seven-Seventeen, the stylish and successful upscale restaurant owned by the VanBuren brothers and their friend, Roland Casey. The VanBurens were chefs and restaurateurs and Roland was their partner. The table was mostly empty at the moment, since the bride and groom were out on the dance floor looking at each other with the eyes of love. Jared and Roland were outside smoking expensive cigars while most of the other attendants were either dancing or taking funny pictures in the photo booth that had been rented for the occasion.
Alana could sense Alexis getting ready to continue the conversation about her intake of Moet and she beckoned to David Stratton, Sherri’s brother.
“C’mon and dance with me, David,” she said. “We haven’t had a chance to catch up yet.” Giving her sister a wink, she took his hand and they went to join the other dancers just as the music changed to something fast and jazzy.
Alexis sighed while she watched the two of them head for the dance floor. Alana was just a bit too giddy for her taste, not that her older sister would act up or make a scene. It just wasn’t like her to imbibe so much, but it was such a festive occasion that who could blame her?
Jared and Roland came back to the table looking rakish and debonair in their tuxedoes with the ties loosened. Her husband sat down and pulled her chair close to his side before putting his arm around her and kissing her neck, enjoying the little purr that she always made when he did that.
Roland grinned at the two of them and said, “Get a room, you two. Where’s my beautiful partner?” He scanned the room looking for Alana, with whom he’d been paired in the wedding.
Alexis stroked her husband’s face and sighed as he took her hand and kissed the palm. “She’s out on the dance floor shaking her booty,” she replied.
Roland made a face of mock outrage as his eyes found Alana, who was indeed dancing in a lively but sexy fashion with David Stratton. “I’ll see you two scandalous people later. I’m going to reclaim my woman-to-be,” he announced as he took off in her direction.
Alexis laughed softly as Jared pulled her out of her chair and into his lap. “What’s that about?” she murmured.
“Roland likes Alana,” he answered. “He says she’s been dodging him long enough and he’s about to stake his claim.”
“I wish him luck with that one,” Alexis said dryly. “Bolder men than Roland have tried to storm Fort Alana and failed. They all come home bruised and empty-handed.”
Jared was busy kissing the back of her hand but he stopped long enough to answer her. “You don’t know Roland. My family always called him my brother from another mother because we’re alike in so many ways. Number one, we know our woman when we see her. And number two, the word no means ‘try harder’ to us. We don’t give up when we really want something and I have a feeling that Roland really wants Alana.”
“I wish him luck, but he’s got his work cut out for him. In the meantime, I want to go be sociable with our folks and then go home. I need some alone time with my baby before our baby gets here,” she said with a teasing light in her eyes.
* * *
Alana was just leaving the dance floor when a strong arm went around her waist. She looked up in surprise and then she smiled at Roland.
“I take it you want to dance,” she said teasingly.
“I do. You’re supposed to be my partner and I’ve been deprived of your company for too long,” he replied.
“Well, we’ll have to make up for lost time, then.”
The music was a slow number and Roland was a great dancer. He’d taken off his tuxedo jacket and the way his broad shoulders looked in his shirt was amazing. As he held her close, she could detect the sexy scent of a rich, expensive cigar and equally pricy cognac. Before she could stop herself she leaned in closer and took a deep sniff and detected the even more enticing scent of his skin. She felt his muscular chest move as he laughed softly.
“Find anything you like?” he asked. His voice was deep, sensual and even headier than his fragrance.
“You smell good,” she answered. “Really, really good. You’re a good dancer, too.”
She raised her eyes to his and studied him carefully. It was almost like seeing him for the first time, which was crazy. She’d met Roland months ago after he and Lucas VanBuren had moved from Chicago to Columbia to open Seven-Seventeen. They’d been around each other quite a bit, at family gatherings and the like, but she couldn’t claim to know him very well, no better than he knew her. Gazing at him now, she took in every one of his features and realized that they added up to a very compelling package.
Roland was tall, maybe even taller than Jared. He was much more muscular than Jared, though; he was built like a linebacker. His skin was a rich deep brown with red undertones, smooth as milk chocolate. His eyes were penetrating, with thick black eyebrows and lashes that were way too long and pretty for a man. With his high cheekbones and chiseled lips, he could have been almost feminine except for his strong, slightly hooked nose and his neatly trimmed goatee. His head was bald and perfectly shaped and all in all, he was an extremely handsome man.
“Is there something on my face? Spinach in my teeth?” Roland looked amused instead of put off, which was good.
“I’ve been staring at you, haven’t I? Sorry about that,” Alana said with a crooked smile. “I usually have better manners than this.”
“It’s quite all right with me, I liked it. This is the longest you’ve looked at me since we met. Did you like what you see? I mean, do I pass?”
“You get an A-plus,” she replied. “An A-plus-plus, as a matter of fact.”
Roland’s eyes lit up and his smile was warm enough to melt a glacier. “Now we’re getting somewhere,” he said. His voice was so silky and deep it was like having a Pashmina draped over her bare shoulders.
There was something so oddly familiar about being in his arms that Alana was at a loss for words, something that no one close to her had ever witnessed. Alana always had a comeback, usually something smart and snappy. But tonight she just enjoyed the feeling of Roland’s arms around her and his body next to hers as they moved to the sultry music. They had three dances and when the jazz trio took a break they drifted off the floor with their hands locked together. It was as if neither of them could think of a good reason to let go, so they didn’t. They stayed together for the rest of the reception.
Roland was pleased with the new turn of events. He’d been unable to stop staring at Alana all day. It was the first time in weeks that he’d been able to spend any significant time with her and he meant to take full advantage of every minute. Alana Sharp Dumond was an elusive, mysterious beauty that he wanted to get to know better and as soon as possible.
She’d looked gorgeous during the ceremony in the strapless gold brocade and chiffon dresses worn by the bridesmaids, but she looked even better at the reception. The dresses had an overskirt that his sisters informed him was a peplum with a demi-train, which was removed after the ceremony for dancing. Now he could see her beautiful long legs.
It was easy to figure out that the Sharp women were sisters; Alana, Adrienne, Alexis and Ava were all chocolate beauties with shining black hair, beautiful skin and petite figures. When his best friend, Jared, had introduced him to Alexis the first time, Roland had immediately asked if she had any sisters at home. When Jared got finished laughing at the remark, he told Roland that she had a houseful of them and he could have his pick. But when he’d met Alana, he’d known that he wasn’t looking any further. Alana wasn’t making things easy for him, however.
Whenever he saw her in a crowd of people, she was warm and friendly, full of humorous conversation and borderline flirtatious. How she was in a one-on-one situation he didn’t know because she was a master of avoidance. He’d asked her out a few times and she always managed to have some ironclad reason not to go. Normally he would’ve moved on and found a more willing companion without giving her a second thought. He was far from conceited but he wasn’t unaware that he had a certain magnetism when it came to women. He was the oldest of seven children; there were five younger sisters between him and the youngest, his brother, Glenn.
He’d spent his adolescence ducking and dodging the myriad of besotted friends of his sisters, all of whom wanted him for their very own. It was something of a relief to him when he went off to college so he hadn’t had to worry about hurting some young girl’s feelings. One thing he wasn’t used to was being ignored, though, and Alana’s behavior was close to a total shut-out. Normally he would have returned the favor and gone on his merry way, but there was something about her that captivated him.
He was having a great time with her, going from table to table talking to family and friends. His family had come down from Chicago for the festivities, as they had been close to the VanBurens since Jared and Roland were small boys. Alana and his sisters had hit it off when Jared and Alexis got married and they were gossiping like sorority sisters while Roland had a chance to look at Alana as much as he liked.
Her glossy black hair was twisted into some kind of updo that showed off her long slender neck and drew attention to her oval face with the big almond-shaped eyes. Her features were delicate but sensual, especially her lips. They were a perfect cupid’s bow, but plump and inviting like a ripe plum. Everything about her was fine and elegant, from her slender shoulders and arms to her long, artistic fingers. It was hard to believe that she was a mechanic, but she owned Custom Classics, the top auto repair and custom paint shop in Columbia. Her business was the best place in South Carolina to get a car restored to its former glory, especially if it was a vintage model. She even had offers for reality TV; producers were constantly after her to make a series about her business but she turned them all down.
He would have been content to watch her for hours, but his youngest sister, Pamela, chose to tease him about his fascination. She’d taken a vacant chair next to him and started meddling, which was one of her favorite things to do.
“Your eyes are gonna fall out if you don’t stop looking. I think you’re drooling, do you want a bib?” Her eyes were full of merriment, but her lips were barely moving, a trick she’d mastered years ago when she wanted to talk in church, in class or anywhere else she was supposed to be quiet.
“Quiet, you nosy wench,” Roland said with an unmistakable note of fondness in his voice. He loved his sisters madly even though their sole purpose in life seemed to be to get on his last good nerve. “Go find yourself something else to do besides get in my business or my retaliation will be both painful and public.”
Pamela grinned wickedly as she glanced with great interest from Alana to her big brother. “You need to take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
“That’s original. Never heard that one before,” Roland muttered as he gazed at the delectable nape of Alana’s neck.
“I mean it,” protested Pamela. “There’s a photo booth over there. You should get this moment commemorated because it might be the closest you get to her for the rest of your life.” She yelped as Roland thumped her on the back of her head.
He did follow through with her suggestion, though. After Alana took her last sip of champagne they went over to the booth and found it empty. They attempted to sit on the bench but his long legs took up most of the room so she sat on his lap. Her perfume was as sweet and captivating as she was and as she closed the curtain he inhaled the fragrant essence that was one part Chanel No. 5 and three parts Alana.
The camera clicked as they smiled into the lens and made funny faces. She closed her eyes and planted a big smacking kiss on his cheek, which he returned. Their eyes met and by an unspoken mutual consent their lips touched softly and deliberately before merging into a powerful kiss. Roland was right; her lips were like fragrant plums dipped in champagne and the taste released a powerful longing in him. Their tongues mated and lingered, stoking the growing fire between them.
Alana’s arms went around his neck and he pulled her closer to him, crushing her soft breasts against his rock-hard chest. His hands slid down to her slim hips and she pressed against him harder as one slim hand stroked his smoothly shaven head. It could have gone on and on but the curtain was suddenly pushed aside by two smirking women, Pamela and Ava.
“I told you they were in here,” Pamela gloated.
“You two should probably get a room somewhere,” Ava advised. “There are children and old people here, you know. You could give somebody a heart attack.”
“I should have known you would find each other,” Alana said with a resigned expression. “Aren’t there some interesting men out there for you to torture?”
Pamela grinned and said, “Yes, there are, but this is more fun. How much will you pay me to keep these pictures off of Facebook?” She was reaching for the photo strips when Roland grabbed her wrist firmly.
“I’ll let you live, how’s that?” He gave her the expression that she knew meant business and since Alana was giving Ava a similar look, they decided to leave.
“We can go spread gossip, that’s almost as good,” Pam said pragmatically.
Roland and Alana looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Is there any lipstick on my mouth?” he asked.
Alana assured him there wasn’t. “This is the non-smear, perma-shine kind. No smears, I promise.”
“Well, in that case, I think we need to finish what we started,” he murmured, just before his mouth joined hers for one more mindlessly sweet kiss.
Chapter 2
The morning after the wedding found Alana in a mood that most charitably could be described as foul.
Her head was pounding from all the bubbly Moet she’d had at the reception and she wanted nothing more than to be alone for the rest of the day and possibly her life. Sitting up in her bed seemed to take all of her energy and she groaned loudly and with great pain. It was going to be a miserable day.
Only a few drinks in her system, and she could barely remember what she’d done the night before. Compounding that was the fact that she’d had an array of dreams that were blazingly hot, featuring Roland Casey as her partner in every kind of erotic crime imaginable. Why in the world she’d managed to conjure the two of them, naked, sweaty and tightly entwined the way she had was just beyond her. There were some mental puzzle pieces missing, but her head hurt too badly for her to figure it out at the moment.
After her eyelids finally came unglued, she squinted around her bedroom, trying to figure out where her robe was. Since her sister Adrienne was staying with her, she tried to do it as quietly as possible, although it was so late that Adrienne was probably awake. Alana was in no shape to converse with anyone, however, and she was aiming for total stealth at the moment.
She managed to find the robe and her slippers and she staggered into the bathroom, hoping that a blast of hot water on her face would bring her back to the land of the living.
The shower was a mixed blessing because her head was throbbing so hard that the stream of water was actually quite painful, but she clenched her teeth and hung in there, scrubbing her body mercilessly with a nylon puff and a huge amount of Au Lait body wash.
The mild, clean scent gradually soothed her senses until she was at least able to move her neck without wincing. While she moved the puff up and down her body she tried to recreate the evening, hoping that there was a reasonable explanation for her steamy dreams and her deep sense of embarrassment. Maybe she had an alter-ego like Beyonce, she thought mirthlessly. Maybe her personal Sasha Fierce had taken over her dreams last night because it sure wasn’t the real Alana. With a sigh that came from the depths of her being, she turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, wrapping herself in a big soft towel before putting the robe on again.
Adrienne was probably up and moving around because the thermostat had been turned up and the house was no longer chilly. She could also smell her favorite morning aroma, coffee. God bless her, Adrienne knew the only thing that would help her headache was a large cup of joe. Maybe the whole pot.
Alana made a detour through the living room on her way to the kitchen and found her shoes, which had been left by the front door. She also found the attachment to her gown, the rest of her dress, her purse, her jewelry and everything else she’d worn that she’d apparently tossed this way and that as she’d staggered into the house. That must have been some striptease she’d done on the way to the bed.
Hauling everything into the bedroom, she was about to pile her clothes onto the window seat, but it was already occupied by Adrienne, who was holding a large mug out to her.
“Just toss ’em on the bed, Sissie. Let’s talk,” Adrienne said brightly. “Sissie” was the name Adrienne had called her from the time she was first able to talk.
Alana dropped the clothes and reached for the mug, which her sister pulled away. “Not a chance, not until you agree to talk to me.”
“Fine, whatever, just give me that coffee and tell me what’s on your mind.”
“You’re on my mind, sweetie. I’m concerned about you,” Adrienne said, her eyebrows raised slightly. “I thought you could use a listening ear.”
Alana took another long swallow and stared into the mug like it was a Magic 8-Ball or some other kind of oracle. “Did I do something stupid last night that I don’t recall?”
“No, you were actually behaving like the Alana that I’ve always loved and admired and tried to emulate. You’ve been my role model since the day I was born. We practically shared the same womb,” Adrienne said with a grin.
It was true; Alana and Adrienne were born only ten months apart, and were as close as twins in a lot of ways, even physically, although Adrienne was a lot more bohemian than Alana. Alana’s style tended to be more classic while her younger sister wore avant-garde garb of her own design. She was a much sought-after costume designer in Hollywood and she looked the part.
Alana’s relaxed hair was worn in a sleek shoulder-length bob, while Adrienne’s hair was worn in wild spiraling curls. She also wore glasses because she couldn’t be bothered with contact lenses, and she always managed to find stunningly fashionable ones that showed off her eyes instead of hiding them.
The sisters were the same height and size, although Adrienne was heavier now that she was entering the second trimester of her pregnancy. She’d thought she was pregnant back in February when Alexis got married, but it had been a false alarm. This time it was the real deal. She was definitely with child, a child she was sure was a boy, even before the ultrasound had proved her to be correct.
“Why in the world would you want to be like me? I’m completely and totally boring. I think your hormones are making you a little crazy,” Alana said as she put the mug on her nightstand. She picked up a bottle of Au Lait body lotion and began applying it to her legs before continuing.
“You’re avoiding my question,” she said sternly. “What did I do last night? I’m having a problem remembering some details, like how my clothes got strewn all over the living room.”
“You didn’t do anything scandalous, if that’s what you mean. You were a little frisky, no doubt due to the amount of champagne you had, but all you did was dance a lot. And you took some cute pictures with Roland.”
“Cute pictures? What cute pictures?” Alana demanded as she took off her robe to finish putting on lotion.
Adrienne gladly handed her the strips from the photo booth and sat back to watch her reaction. She didn’t have long to wait as Alana’s cheeks turned red and her eyes got huge.
“Good Lord. I forgot all about these,” she mumbled. “Was I drunk or what? How did I get home? Did I make a fool out of myself?”
Adrienne laughed at the look on her sister’s face. “I brought you home because Roland took his parents back to the hotel. On the way home you started singing and you kept on singing when we got to the house. Then you started dancing through the living room, tossing your clothes. It was pretty cute. Actually, you were singing ‘I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas’ and it was hilarious.”
Alana made a scornful noise and continued her grooming routine, putting body butter on her feet, elbows and knees. “You’re just making things up to get on my nerves. I don’t remember doing anything of the kind. I had a little to drink but not that much. I certainly would’ve remembered a performance like that,” she said haughtily. Holding her towel tightly, she went into her walk-in closet and emerged wearing a lacy pink bra and matching thong.
Adrienne was waiting for her, holding out her smartphone. Alana leaned over to get a good look at it and squealed when she saw the video playing on the screen. There she was in all her giddy glory, singing loud and off-key as her clothes went flying.
“How do you delete this?” Alana turned the phone over and over, examining all the buttons. “If this ends up on your Facebook page, I’ll get you,” she vowed.
“I was thinking more like YouTube,” Adrienne teased. “Or that funny video show on TV. We could make some money, honey.”
Alana tossed the phone to her unrepentant sister and went back to the closet for jeans and a sweater. Adrienne continued to talk to her while she dressed.
“You didn’t do anything really crazy last night. You were acting like a normal, happy, sexy woman. I love these photo booth pictures because they’re you, the real you. I was so happy to see you dancing through the house last night without a care in the world because that’s how you should be. There’s nothing wrong with being with a delicious man who’s obviously interested in you. I haven’t seen you like this since...” Her voice trailed away for a moment and then she finished. “Since Sam died. You deserve to start living again, Sissie.”
Alana picked up her mug and drained the rest of her coffee, which was now stone-cold and tasted like prune juice. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry? C’mon, I’ll make you some breakfast,” she said as she abruptly left the room.
Adrienne sighed deeply as she watched her sister depart, but in seconds she was right on her heels. She found her in the kitchen staring into the refrigerator. “I already made some scones, all you have to do is make an omelet if you feel up to it,” she said hopefully.
“Sure, no problem. Are you eating meat these days or what?”
“If it’s smaller than me and can’t get away, I’ll devour it, whatever it is. I’m gonna be as big as a house in a few weeks,” Adrienne said as she rubbed her still-tiny belly.
Alana emerged from the refrigerator with eggs, cream, cheese, scallions, mushrooms and sausage. “Can you get me a red pepper and that package of bacon, please?”
“Only if you talk to me,” Adrienne said, but she opened the door to get the items. “You can’t shut me out because you know I’ll wear you down.”
Alana busied herself chopping and slicing and getting out the skillets. Her kitchen was large, orderly and well-stocked; it looked like a place where a person could get some serious cooking done. To forestall a spate of wheedling from her persistent sister, she began talking as she put the sausage on to brown.
“Look, Adrienne, there’s nothing to talk about, really. Nothing much has changed around here. I’m still working hard and that’s about it. If you want to talk about changes, Alexis is your girl. She’s the newlywed and the expectant mother. And you’ve got your own little bun in the oven. Isn’t that enough of a change for you?”
Adrienne reached for a piece of the bright red sweet pepper before answering. “We can talk about me anytime. I want to know how you’re doing. I know how hard the holidays are for you, that’s why you always come out to California to stay with me, or you go to New York to stay with Aunt BeBe. But since we’re both here you won’t be able to hide out like you usually do. Don’t you think we should talk about that?”
Alana cracked the eggs on the side of the glass bowl with amazing accuracy and a bit more force than normal. She poured in some cream and shook in salt, pepper and paprika before picking up the whisk and beating them into a fluffy froth.
It was true; Alana had a lot of difficulty with the holidays these days. Ever since her husband had died the week before Christmas, all she could think about at this time of year was losing the love of her life.
It was so unfair; it was so wrong that he’d died so young. There were times when she knew deep in her soul that she was doomed to be alone forever. No one could ever take his place in her heart or her life and that was just the way it was going to be. She’d be a lonely widow for the rest of her life and spend all her time and money doting on the nieces and nephews she was sure to accumulate.
With three younger sisters and several sister-friends, she knew that she’d be blessed with many children in her life one way or the other. Giving herself a sharp mental kick in the head, she forced herself to focus on the here and now and to stop being neurotic. Alana had no patience with weak and whiny people, and she wasn’t about to turn into one herself, especially now.
She always pretended that everything was well in her world, but it was really hard to keep up the façade in the middle of all the celebrating. Her family was big on Christmas and she just didn’t have it in her to celebrate anymore. It was easier to head for sunny California and hide out with Adrienne because her younger sister understood the situation better than anyone else. But this year Adrienne was here in Columbia and she had no reason to hide out in LA. Nor could she take refuge in New York with her mother’s sister who was her other haven in the storm of emotions that arose every Christmas.
She did, however, have a way of deflecting her sister’s interrogation by changing the subject to Adrienne’s situation, which she did.
“Do you mind setting the table for us? These will be finished in about two minutes. And I think a much better topic for us to discuss is my future nephew that you’re carrying. This is going to mean some big changes for you,” Alana reminded her sister. “Are you ready for this new life?”
Adrienne smiled as she assembled the plates and silverware to lay out on the table. “This wasn’t what I thought was going to happen, that’s for sure. But yes, I’m ready. I have a new life inside me and since the original scenario didn’t play out as planned, I’ve switched to plan B and I’m very cool with it.”
“You’re a better woman than I am, then. Because I’d be lining up lawyers from here to Timbuktu,” Alana said with a frown as she expertly flipped a plump, golden omelet and slid it onto the plate that Adrienne handed her. “You agreed to be a surrogate mother to help out your friend Sierra and then she and her husband up and get divorced. Now neither one of them wants the baby and you’re left holding the diaper bag. And you’re okay with that?”
Adrienne shrugged as she buttered a scone. “I was remarkably naive and way too eager to play fairy godmother, no pun intended. But the baby didn’t ask for any of this and I owe it to him to be a good, stable mother. And to be totally honest I was kinda getting baby fever anyway,” she admitted. “I was making goo-goo eyes at every baby I saw and dreaming about being pregnant night after night. My biological clock was going tick-tick-tick and despite the circumstances, I’m quite happy about becoming a mom. It was obviously meant to be,” she said calmly.
Alana raised her eyebrows and stared at Adrienne. She was sitting across the table in the sunny kitchen looking as though she didn’t have a care in the world while she was carrying a baby that wasn’t hers. Adrienne had always been the laid-back sister with the most open-minded outlook on life, but to be so accepting and cheerful in the midst of all this potential drama bordered on the unbelievable. Adrienne read her thoughts as usual and gave her a cheeky grin.
“Don’t try to understand me, just love me. I’m very happy. I have a ton of money saved from the last two movies I did and I have full medical insurance. When my stuff gets here from LA, I’m going to move into Alexis’s house and gestate until my little boy is born. I’ve got this, Sissie. Don’t worry about me.”
Alana sipped her second giant mug of coffee as she studied her sister’s pretty face, which was completely serene. She was so absorbed in her examination that she almost missed Adrienne’s next words.
“So that’s enough deflection for the morning. Let’s get back to you,” she said, pointing at Alana with a piece of scone. “You can’t make your annual yuletide trip to see me in Cali since I’m right here underfoot. You also can’t hide out in New York with Aunt BeBe, because she’s here, too. I think it’s a sign that you need to do something completely different this year. This is the year that you cleanse all the angst and regret from your soul and begin to live again. I suggest you start with that hot hunk Roland Casey. He really likes you, Sissie. I had a dream about you two last night and it revealed to me that he’s your soul mate,” she confided.
A giant spew of coffee across the table was Alana’s response, followed by coughing and sputtering as she wiped her mouth with her cloth napkin and then began wiping up the spray of coffee.
“Overreacting much?” Adrienne smiled drolly. “You know my dreams always come true, so I suggest you get ready for some happy holidays, Sis.”
Alana’s reply was both profane and short, which only made Adrienne laugh. “If you’re not going to eat that, can I have the rest of it? Your nephew is hungry.”
Shoving her plate towards her greedy sister, Alana finished wiping the table and got up for more coffee.
It would have been easy to ignore Adrienne, but she was right about one thing. Her dreams were often uncannily accurate and the fact that they had both dreamed about Roland could mean something that she wasn’t ready to handle, not for Christmas, New Year’s or any other holiday.
* * *
Across town, Roland awoke in great spirits. He’d also had some stimulating dreams about Alana, but unlike her, he enjoyed every minute.
He stretched lazily in the bed and thought about the previous evening’s activities with a smile on his face. After months of lusting in his heart for Alana Sharp Dumond he’d made real progress with her at the reception. For once she’d been open and receptive to him all night instead of being friendly but evasive.
He’d first laid eyes on her at an early-morning surprise birthday party for Alexis and she’d been side-stepping him ever since. She was always friendly and pleasant when they were in a group, but whenever he asked her out, she had other plans.
He’d been on the verge of crossing her off his to-do list permanently until she’d finally let her guard down. Once he got to hold her the way a man is supposed to hold a woman, she’d melted into his arms and he knew that Alana wasn’t indifferent to him. From her immediate reaction to his touch and especially his kiss, she was as interested in him as he was in her.
Throwing back the covers, he rose from the big bed in the loft apartment he’d inherited from Jared after Jared and Alexis had moved into their spacious new house. Roland had liked the loft and the building that housed it so much that he’d bought the whole thing after he’d moved to Columbia. Real estate was a side venture of his and he never missed an opportunity for a lucrative deal. Since there was obviously going to be steady movement between Chicago and Columbia while he and the VanBurens expanded their restaurant empire, it made sense to own some living space in the city.
After his customary long stretches to limber up, Roland went to the bathroom to shower and shave, blithely ignoring his cell phone as he did so. He knew it was one or another of his sisters calling to bug him about when they would leave for Chicago and he needed a long shower and a large cup of coffee before dealing with them. He was driving the family home that day so they could celebrate the holidays with his grandparents, who hadn’t made the trip down with them.
Turning on the water full blast, he stepped into the shower and cleared everything from his thoughts except Alana as he scrubbed his body under the hot spray.
She had everything he wanted in a woman; she was smart, she had a great personality and a good sense of humor. And as a bonus she was gorgeous. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he liked the way she looked, her beauty was a part of her as much as her intellect and ambition. There was something about Alana that drew him in like the song of a siren and he couldn’t wait to explore that part of her more intimately.
Roland was spoiled by the women in his life, there was no doubting it. He was used to the ladies lining up to get with him, as egotistical as that may have seemed. He’d always been a good-looking guy as well as being a star athlete until a knee injury derailed his college career. But unlike many athletes, Roland didn’t fall into depression and despair because he had always had a back-up plan to insure a steady income.
Besides the restaurant business, which was extremely profitable, Roland had a solid investment portfolio. His stepfather was CEO of an investment firm and he’d taught Roland and his siblings the importance of financial stability and Roland had shown a real gift for funds management. He was a triple-threat as far as women were concerned; handsome, sexy and rich and he never lacked for female companionship.
Lately, though, he’d been looking for something more substantial in his life. It had crept up on him gradually, this feeling that there was something more to life than wining, dining and bedding the beauty of the week. The feeling got more intense every time he was around Alana and he wanted to explore it to its fullest.
He turned off the shower and was about to leave the glassed-in stall when he heard a familiar voice calling to him from the living room.
“Don’t come out here naked, you’ve got company.”
He jumped and then groaned loudly. It was his nosy sister Pamela. He’d made a mistake in giving his parents the keys to his loft since she’d obviously appropriated them.
“What have I told you about coming over when you’re not invited,” he yelled at her. “You’re gonna get mistaken for a prowler and shot in the head if you don’t watch yourself.”
A chorus of giggles was all he heard as he went into the bedroom and dressed quickly in what he considered his driving clothes, a comfortable navy jogging suit that fitted his muscular body perfectly. The outfit looked fashionable and expensive. He carried his cashmere socks and his Italian driving moccasins into the living room and glared at Pam, who was in the kitchen brewing a pot of coffee.
“Why are you here?” he asked irritably.
“I came over to call shotgun,” she said cheerfully. “Unlike everyone else, I packed last night and I’m ready to roll. You know how impatient I am. I can’t stand being in the middle of a lot of last-minute scampering around. So I left. Where are your cups?”
He grudgingly showed her the cupboard where they were stored and sat on a bar stool to don his footwear. Despite her proclivity for making mischief, Pamela was a very organized person who was always focused on her tasks, which explained why she was ready to go while the rest of the family was still making preparations to leave the hotel.
Pam put coffee in front of him along with a plate containing a warm bagel with cream cheese and lox that she’d picked up on the way to the loft and he had to forgive her intrusion, especially when she offered to pack his bags for him. She traveled extensively in her job and she was the family pro when it came to putting a suitcase together. That didn’t mean she would do it quietly, however.
“So why didn’t you ask Alana to come with us to Chicago?” she asked. “I know you’re gonna miss her while you’re gone.”
“Pamela, is there any chance that you could mind your own business for a change?”
She looked thoughtful for a moment and shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. It’s too out of character for me. I like knowing what’s going on in everyone’s lives. That’s why I’m a reporter, duh.”
Zipping his garment bag closed, she dusted her hands together and announced that she was finished. “We can stop by Alana’s to say good-bye before we go to the hotel,” she said with a dimpled grin. “Then you can lay another hot kiss on her before you disappear. That way she’ll be longing for you to come back and you can pick up where you left off.”
For one wild hot second, Roland thought about doing just that, but reason took over. There was no way in hell he was going to try to cop a few greedy kisses with his notoriously big-mouthed baby sister at his elbow with her handy smartphone. He would have been more than happy to grab Alana and kiss her senseless because she had the most tantalizing lips he’d ever tasted, but he wanted privacy. The concept of privacy was totally foreign to Pam.
“Just try minding your own business for five minutes, won’t you please? It can be my Christmas present,” he said as he picked up his bags and urged her to the door.
“Seriously? You mean I could’ve saved all the money I spent on you? Maybe I can return it,” she said. “No, on second thought, I like getting in your business. I still say you should run by Alana’s before we leave and give her something to remember you by. It’s like bookmarking your favorite site on the internet.”
Roland swung his overnight bag so that it hit her square in the tush. When she squeaked in outrage he mumbled, “I’d like to bookmark you. Only I’d fold you in half and stick you in a dictionary right between pest and pestilence. Let’s go, woman, we’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
Chapter 3
The holidays were finally over and Alana couldn’t have been more relieved. Actually, it wasn’t as bad as she’d anticipated, but she was glad to see the last of the decorations disappear until next year. She stayed busy the whole time and all the activity proved to be her salvation. Between the last-minute shopping and the cooking and cleaning, she really didn’t have too many spare moments to dwell on her own pain.
She had to help clean Alexis’s old house from top to bottom in preparation for Adrienne moving in, but that was no big deal since Alexis kept a spotless home. Her family had their big meal and gift exchange on Christmas Eve, because they were all going to cook and serve dinner at Jared’s restaurant on Christmas day. It was a tradition he’d started in Chicago; all of his restaurants were open to anyone who wanted to come in for a festive meal at no charge. It was nice to have something positive to do that would take a lot of energy and focus, so she welcomed the opportunity to help.
There was a lot to keep her mind occupied between Christmas and New Year’s Day, and she was grateful. There were casual gatherings at her mother’s house, as well as an open house at Alexis and Jared’s. She got to spend time with David Stratton, who’d been a really close friend before they’d gone off to college in two different states.
She even had two more houseguests to entertain, Sugar and Sweetie, the two Westies that belonged to Sherri Stratton’s little girl. When Sherri and Lucas went on their honeymoon, his parents took Sydney to Disneyworld and Alana gladly babysat the little dogs.
Alexis had two Welsh corgis of her own, plus she and Jared took care of the elder VanBurens’ corgis while they were on their trip.
It was a nice change for Alana to have the little terriers around the house because she loved dogs and she couldn’t have one while she’d been married due to Sam’s allergies. When she remembered this holiday she’d remember a lot of laughter, barking and eating, as well as a lot of fun.
But she was truly glad to see the last of the old year and more than ready to charge into the new year. The only thing that was bugging her right now was the dreams she kept having, night after night.
Alana didn’t sleep well; she hadn’t for years. She’d toss and turn for hours before drifting into a fitful sleep and when she did drop off, she would have nocturnal visits from Sam. She’d had dreams about him ever since she’d lost him and she usually woke up in tears of frustration, especially when it was one of those dreams from their past where everything was the way it used to be.
But now the dreams were taking off into another dimension altogether. She’d wake up in tears and if she could slip back into slumber she’d be treated to what seemed like hours of intensely erotic dreams, all featuring Roland. The wicked scenes of steamy sex with him were bad enough, but in addition to the sex, there were moments of tender romance so vivid that she would wake up moaning his name.
It was a mess, that’s what it was. During the day she was cool, collected and in control, but her nights were leaving her disoriented, disheveled and totally distraught. Or as close to distraught as she cared to come to in this lifetime. It would have made sense for her to confide in someone, but Alana didn’t even consider it. It was too embarrassing, too raw and too strange for her to verbalize. She didn’t notice that the strain was beginning to show in her face, but others did.
It was a sunny morning and she was sitting at her desk in the office behind the showroom of Custom Classics, going over the week’s schedule. A tap on the door preceded the entrance of Tolerance Taylor, her part-time IT specialist and full-time friend. Tolerance was known as Tollie to everyone and she was always in a great mood, smiling and talkative.
“Okay, which do you prefer, Hershey’s or Dove chocolate?” Tollie asked.
“Dove,” Alana answered, never taking her eyes from the computer screen.
“Star Wars or Star Trek?”
“Star Wars.”
Tollie raised an arched eyebrow. “Even the set of prequels with that horrible Jar-Jar creature?”
“Yep.”
“Ew. There’s no accounting for taste, is there? Early-morning sex or late-night romance?” Tollie probed.
That last one made Alana turn to look at Tollie with a frown. “Where do you get these crazy questions from?”
Tollie smiled and as usual it lit up her pretty face. She was tall, plump and curvy with a stunning complexion and thick black hair that was always perfectly styled. “I told you, I get them from Facebook. Answer the question,” she urged.
Alana wasn’t about to go there, but she was curious. “There’s a Q-and-A page on Facebook? I’ve never seen it.”
Tollie took a seat across from Alana’s desk and waved her iPad at her. “It’s from that group I belong to called Building Relationships Around Reading. An amazing woman named Sharon Blount started it and it’s for women who love to read and share their thoughts about books, life, love, everything. Every day there’s something new and interesting, like these questions. I love them,” she murmured as she continued to scan the screen. “You can really get to know people just by how they answer simple questions.”
Alana turned to face Tollie with a noncommittal expression. “I doubt that. It seems like it would take a lot more than that to develop a real understanding of another person.”
“Maybe. And maybe it’s just as simple as it seems. I’m going to ask the group about it on Saturday when we have an open chat. It’s both educational and cathartic.”
Alana was about to disagree when Tollie looked at her with a sheepish expression. “I came in here to let you know that there’s someone here to see you and then I got caught up. Sorry about that.”
“Customer or salesperson?” Without realizing it, Alana had slipped into Tollie’s mode of questioning.
“Customer, definitely, but he could sell me anything. I’d buy old shoes and day-old sandwiches from him, honey,” Tollie answered as her eyes locked on her screen again.
Curious, Alana went to the showroom to find Roland waiting for her with his massive arms crossed over his chest and his jaw clenched. She was surprised to see him, especially wearing an expression like that. Clearly he was upset about something and she approached with caution.
“Good morning, Roland. Can I help you with something?”
He glared down at her before answering in a snarky voice she’d never heard from him before. “Yeah, I’m here on Lucas’s recommendation. I came over in person because I know from personal experience that you don’t know how to answer a phone or return a message,” he said. His voice was so deep that it sounded like he was growling at her.
She blushed a little because it was true; she’d been avoiding him with the skill of a spy hiding from the CIA or something. She had ignored his calls, deleted his messages and stayed away from any place she thought he might be. He’d been back in town since before the New Year and it was the first time she’d seen him and it was a week before Valentine’s Day.
She looked down at his shoes because it was too hard to meet his eyes, but that was childish and she was a professional. She cleared her throat before asking him again how she could help him.
“You fix cars, right? Well, mine needs fixing,” he said.
“Is it here?”
Without answering he put one of his large hands around her upper arm and led her through the showroom, taking her out the main entrance and heading to the service bay doors.
A strange sensation flooded her body as the warmth of his hand encircled the skin left bare by her short-sleeved polo shirt. It was like heat lightning ziggety-zagging all over her body, like a pinball pinging off every sensitive nerve ending she possessed. Ping, left nipple, zing, right nipple, ding-ding-ding, Miss Alana! She had to bite her lower lip to keep from giggling at the random thoughts she was having. She and her sisters always referred to their lady parts as Miss; Miss Alana, Miss Alexis and so on.
Another silly thought occurred to her and she almost choked. Pinball or Xbox? She’d have to spring that on Tollie one day, that is if she could still think straight after this. She was breathless when they reached the doors but she still gasped at what was waiting for her.
“Oh, Roland, I’m so, so sorry about this,” she said softly.
“This” was Roland’s pride and joy, his much-loved and very carefully maintained 1967 Thunderbird that had belonged to his grandfather. Roland had inherited the car from the older man and he loved it as much as, if not more than, the man who’d purchased it brand-new so many years ago. It had looked showroom-new the last time Alana had seen it; now it was all but destroyed.
The front end of the car was smashed in, along with the driver’s side of the car. The glistening black finish was no more, the windshield and driver’s-side window were crushed into thousands of crystal shards and the front and rear tires splayed out, a clear sign that the frame had been warped and buckled. Her heart was heavy as she surveyed the damage. She could only imagine how Roland was feeling. Without thinking about what she was doing, she put her arms around his waist and gave him an awkward hug.
“Were you driving when this happened? No one told me you were in an accident,” she said as her large eyes locked with his.
His bad mood was already apparent but her soft words seemed to trip his anger trigger again. “Why would anybody tell you when it’s obvious that you have no interest in me? That would be a waste of time, wouldn’t it?”
Wow, he was really furious. Alana didn’t react to his harsh words, but he showed a slight regret for his remark as he answered her question. “No, I wasn’t driving when it happened. It was stolen. It was being stored in my dad’s garage in Chicago and somebody decided that they needed it,” he told her in a much calmer voice. “To make a stupid story short, the little jerk was racing it and ended up in a three-way collision. He barely escaped with his life and if he’d been driving anything else he’d have ended up a bloody smear on the road. But all that notwithstanding, I want to know if you can fix it.”
“Of course I can,” she said at once. “I have the best crew in the south and we can get it back to its original condition in no time at all. But how did it get here? It sounds as though the accident was in Chicago.”
Roland was walking around the wreckage, looking lost. He was obviously not listening to a word that Alana was saying. “The insurance company totaled it out. The investigator said it was hopeless. Are you sure you can do something with it?”
He looked so forlorn that Alana went to his side and took his hand, squeezing it to get his attention. “Roland, dear heart, I promise you that this car can and will be restored to all its former beauty. It’ll take a few weeks, but I won’t let you down, truly I won’t.”
She finally penetrated his fog and he gave her a weak smile. “You probably think I’m a big fool for acting like this, but this was my granddad’s ride. I love it almost as much as I loved him. That’s why I had it hauled down here, because I saw what you did to Lucas’s old Range Rover. If you could make that scrap heap look brand-new I figured there might be a chance for Black Beauty.”
“Black Beauty?”
His finely planed cheekbones reddened as he admitted that his car was indeed named as such.
“People who love their cars always name them,” Alana assured him. “My crew will work wonders with your baby, so rid your mind of all concern. I appreciate your trust in me and Custom Classics and we will not let you down. Come inside and let me introduce you to the people who’ll be restoring Beauty. Everything’s going to be fine,” she added in a soothing voice.
Roland had always loved the sound of Alana’s voice and he trusted her skills implicitly. But right now, more than anything else, he loved the feel of her hand in his because she hadn’t let go of him and he saw no reason to change that.
* * *
Roland was totally impressed with Custom Classics, and even more impressed with its owner. The place was immaculately clean, with polished windows and floors and not a speck of dust or clutter anywhere. The retail area of the showroom was neatly organized and labeled for easy shopping; the lounge area for customers was furnished with comfortable chairs, a flat-screen TV, a coffee bar and vending machines. Everything exceeded expectations for an automotive facility; there was nothing that wasn’t up-to-date and state-of-the-art in the building.
Even her staff was top-of-the-line. He met the mechanics, a tall redhead named Rachel, a middle-aged man named Lorenzo and a young woman who looked like a runway model without the makeup and ridiculous heels. Her name was Tasha and she was as business-minded as she was gorgeous.
He was also properly introduced to Tollie, who gave him an open, inquisitive smile that showed curiosity but no flirtation, which was a refreshing change of pace for him.
By the time he’d met all the men and women who worked in the different areas, from body work to interiors to specialty painting, he was sure that if anyone could reassemble his dream car, it was the Custom Classics team of experts. He said as much to Alana as they walked back to her office.
“I’m actually feeling much better now. I’ve been in an incredible funk since it happened. It was just out of the blue, completely unexpected. I know it sounds ridiculous, but when I got the call about Black Beauty it was like hearing that someone had died. It was a tragedy, even though that’s a really extreme word for a car wreck. I thanked God that nobody was killed or seriously injured, but it was still like the worst thing that ever happened to me. I’m embarrassed to be telling you all this stuff, but the truth is the light,” he said quietly.
Alana invited him to sit down on the sofa and she sat next to him, putting her hand over his. Her next words surprised him.
“You really loved your grandfather, didn’t you? And that car was a part of him, a symbol of everything he meant to you. Tell me about him.”
Roland’s eyes lit up as he began regaling Alana with stories about the man who was such a huge part of his life. Talking to her was an incredibly cathartic experience, primarily because she was an active and attentive listener. But it was also because this was what he’d wanted, a chance to really be with her, get to know her. It would have been better if he hadn’t been rambling on like a loser dude in a chick flick, emoting all over the place about a damned car, of all things. It was time to regroup and quick.
“Thanks for listening to me, Alana, I appreciate it. And I really appreciate you and your crew handling my car. Let me take you to dinner,” he said. “It’s the least I can do.”
Alana didn’t hesitate in giving him an answer, although it wasn’t the one he wanted to hear. “I’d love to, Roland, but this is take-out night. Adrienne is still staying with me and I don’t know if you’ve had much experience with pregnant women, but her mouth is set for barbecue and it wouldn’t be safe for me to thwart her hormonal taste buds.”
“Some other time, then,” he said with a decidedly cool tone of voice. Okay, so she was shutting him down again. He rose and was about to leave when she surprised him again.
“If you don’t mind hanging out with me and Adrienne, how about coming over to my place for dinner? You can take me out for an expensive meal some other time,” she added teasingly.
Pow, just like that, there she was—the funny, outgoing woman he hadn’t seen since the wedding. She walked him to the door and she gave him directions to her house.
Roland left Custom Classics feeling much better than when he’d arrived. Black Beauty was in good hands and he was finally making a move in the right direction with Alana. Things were looking up.
* * *
A few hours later, Adrienne was finishing setting three places on the dining room table when the doorbell rang. She smiled and went to answer it. It had to be Roland, since she’d sent Alana out on an errand. It was Roland, looking good and smelling very nice. He was bearing gifts, too: a bouquet of flowers and two bottles of wine, one alcohol-free just for her.
“How nice! Please come in and have a seat. Alana will be right back. Let me take those for you,” she said as she held out her hands for his gifts. “You can put your jacket in the closet right there,” she added.
After stowing his jacket, Roland looked around Alana’s living room. It was elegant and stylish, looking like something that came out of a fancy magazine.
The colors were what really caught his attention; Alana or whoever had decorated the room had a very artistic eye. Most of the colors in the room came from the paintings that were cleverly arranged on the walls. There was a fireplace wall with a glass mantel that also displayed photographs and he went over to examine them.
He recognized them as family pictures, showing Alana’s sisters and her parents over the years. He was smiling at a picture of a much younger Alana combing Ava’s hair when he noticed a striking shot of Alana and a man who was obviously in love with her. They were in love with each other, judging by the glowing smiles on their faces and the unmistakable look of love in their eyes.
“That’s Alana and Samson, her husband,” Adrienne said softly. She’d come back into the room as quietly as a cat. Her soft voice might have startled him, had he not been studying the portrait so carefully. “She always said the day she met him was the best day of her life.” She paused a moment and looked at the picture before adding, “The worst day of her life was the day he died.”
Roland finally understood what people meant when they said they felt like they’d been hit by a sledgehammer. It was like all the wind had been knocked out of his body for a few seconds. He was trying to think of something to say, but words failed him. What was the proper protocol when someone gave you information like that? Luckily, Adrienne kept talking.
“He was her college sweetheart. They ran off and got married in front of a justice of the peace the day after she graduated. Mama and Daddy were so mad,” she laughed. “But they were very happy together. They did everything together, even their business. Custom Classics was Sam’s dream and she worked with him to make it come true. For a long time I didn’t think she’d get over the pain of losing him.”
Clearing his throat, Roland tried to level the conversational playing field. “Sorry to hear about her loss. I can see that she’s a very strong lady,” he mumbled.
“Strong, but not invincible. Everyone needs someone in their life, that special someone who loves them and cares for them, someone who holds them tight at the end of a long day. Sissie is one of the strongest women I know, but it’s not everything...” Adrienne’s voice trailed off and she raised both her hands in a gesture of helplessness.
After a moment of silence, Roland asked, “Where did she get all these paintings? She must really like art.”
“She loves it. And to answer your question, Alana painted all of these. She’s a very talented artist, as you can see. She majored in art. Aren’t they beautiful?”
“That doesn’t even begin to describe it,” he mumbled as he began to examine a nearby landscape more carefully. Now that he understood that the art was Alana’s creation, the decor of the room made even more sense.
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