The Millionaire Tempted Fate (A Novella) (Sweet and Savory Romances) (11 page)

"No, Max, I’m not in love with you," Becky said, her normally chipper face taking on a serious cast for the first time since he’d met her. "I mean, I care about you a lot, and maybe someday down the road…"

He glanced at the ticket stub in his hand again. "Inconceivable," he whispered under his breath.

"What’d you say?" Becky asked.

"Not the words I needed to say," he said. He took Becky’s hand in his. "Becky, I’m sorry, but I just don’t think we’re right for each other. You’re a wonderful woman, and someday you’re going to make some man very, very happy."

"But that man isn’t you?"

He shook his head. "No, it’s not. I’m sorry."

She considered that for a moment, her gaze going past him, to the busy street behind him. "There’s someone else, isn’t there?"

"Not really."

A bittersweet smile crossed Becky’s face. "Oh, silly, yes there is, and maybe you just don’t know it. You’re in love with Angie. Maybe you don’t want to admit, but I always suspected. It’s in the way you talk about her. Even when you’re just talking about seeing a movie ten years ago. You couldn’t give your heart to me, Max, because you already gave it away a long time ago." Then she placed a soft kiss on his cheek, and headed up the stairs and into her building.

*~*~*

Angie and Chewie made three laps around the park near her house, half walking, half running. The puppy had no problem keeping up, but Angie didn’t want to push him too hard on his first run. She could already tell that he was going to love running, which meant she’d have a new running partner soon.

Just in time. Because her regular running partner was getting engaged today.

Tears burned the back of her eyes. She cursed them. Angie Wilson never cried. Never got emotional. Except, it seemed, when she was losing her best friend and the man she loved all at the same time. The tears rose to the surface, and slid down her cheeks, slow, sad.

Chewie propped his paws on her leg, and let out a little whine. Angie bent down and gathered the puppy to her chest, burying her face in his fur. She let the tears fall, not caring that she was in a park, that there were people around, that she never cried.

"Maybe we should rename him Kleenex."

Max’s voice came from behind her, with that combination of tease and compassion that she had heard a thousand times before. Angie took in a breath, swiped the tears from her face, then got to her feet, still holding Chewie, as if the puppy could be a wall against her emotions. "Sorry, just having a bad day."

"I’m sorry, Angie." He took a step closer, and her stubborn heart leapt with hope.

When was she going to learn? When was she going to give up, let this go? Max was marrying someone else, and she was just going to have to learn to live with that fact. Even if it broke her heart in the process. "I’ve got to get Chewie home," she said, turning away because if she looked into Max’s eyes for one more second, she was going to start crying all over again, "because he’s hungry after our walk."

"Then let me go with you."

She shook her head. "Don’t. I’ll be okay. Besides, it’s Valentine’s Day." She worked a smile to her face, but it hurt like hell. "You’re supposed to be with the woman you love."

"I am."

The two words hung in the chilly air, and for a second it felt as if she could touch them, hold them, keep them warm in her pocket. "You…" She shook her head. "I’m confused."

"I am with the woman I love," he said. "Right now."

"Becky—"

"Wasn’t right for me. I was trying to fit her into this neat little checklist because that was easier than taking  a risk. Than letting my heart do the thinking." He reached out and took one of her hands in his. Between them, the ticket stub crinkled in his palm. "I got the ticket you left in my pocket, and it made me realize something. You know me so well, better than I know myself."

Angie tore her gaze away from him, afraid to believe, to trust. "Max, I—"

He pivoted her chin until she was looking at him. "Here I was preaching at you to take risks when it was me who was afraid. Afraid of losing you."

Now a smile curved across her face, and took hold. "Don’t you know, after more than twenty years together that you could never lose me?"

"I know it now." He traced her lower lip, and she opened against his touch. "And because of that, I don’t think we can be friends anymore."

"What?" Those damned tears rushed to her eyes again, burning. "What do you mean?"

"Because we’re going to be so much more." His gaze met hers, held. "Husband and wife sounds much better than best friends, don’t you think?"

Had she heard him right? He wanted to marry her? "This isn’t about your timeline, is it?"

"Not at all. I don’t care if you marry me before we’re thirty or before we’re a hundred. As long as you marry me someday. Because Angie, what I said before is true. You're the only one in the world who can make me laugh on the worst day of my life. The one person who always remembers I'm allergic to onions, and the one who once gave up her seat on a flight to Cancun to stay behind and nurse me through a man cold. And that is true love, the kind that will be there tomorrow and the day after that and all the days down the road."

She smiled and her heart sang. "That really is an amazing proposal."

"And the only one I should have been making. I was afraid to end up like my father, and I hadn’t even realized until today that by choosing Becky, I was repeating the very mistakes I wanted to avoid. You’re the one who makes me laugh and cry and scream and…" he grinned, "a lot of other things. You’re the one who makes my life…whole."

Whole. Yes, that was exactly what she felt when she was with Max, how she had felt since that first day with the Starburst on the bus. "You do the same for me," she said. "You always have."

He slid the ring out of the box and onto her left hand, then closed his palm over her fingers. "I love you, Angie. As a friend, as a woman, as my other half. Will you marry me?"

She curved into Max’s chest while their dog danced around their feet, tangling them in the leash. "Anything else is inconceivable."

They laughed, the merry sound carrying on the winter air, as lovers walked past and Valentine’s Day caught the city in its magical, romantic spell. And in one tiny corner of one tiny park in the massive city of Boston, two best friends found happily ever after in each other’s arms while a puppy named Chewie slobbered over them both.

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The Millionaire Tempted Fate
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Keep reading for excerpts from the rest of Shirley Jump's Sweet and Savory Romances series!

Excerpt from The Bride Wore Chocolate

Book 1 in the Sweet and Savory Novel series

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Candace Woodrow stared at the gooey, sunken mess inverting onto itself like there was a Hoover under the table. "This was supposed to be a groom's cake, not a pancake."

Rebecca poked at the chocolate failure. "Did you cook it long enough?"

"I thought I did," Candace said. "I lost track of time because Trifecta needed to go out."

"I've seen you with that dog." Maria wagged a finger at her. "Taking a three-legged dog for a walk is a comedy of errors." She gave an indulgent smile to Candace's shelter-rescued mutt, dozing in the front part of the shop, separated from the kitchen by a glass door. "We still love ya, Trifecta, even if you are a living tripod."

Candace laughed. The best thing about working with her friends every day was the laughter. Without them, she swore she'd have gone crazy planning her wedding.

Two years ago, the three of them had started Gift Baskets to Die For in the basement of Candace's Dorchester duplex. Within a year, their food-themed baskets had hit it big with the corporations in Boston, allowing them to open a storefront in a quaint building not far from Faneuil Hall Marketplace. Business had been brisk enough to pay both the rent and decent salaries for all of them.

Candace's life was settled, secure. On an even, planned keel. She was twenty-seven, three weeks from being married, and her life was chugging along on the path she'd laid out.

Everything was perfect—except the cake.

"Maybe the eggs were spoiled," Candace said. "I mean, look at this thing. It's an overgrown hockey puck."

"It's a sign." Maria nodded and her shoulder-length chestnut curls shook in emphasis. "Yep. Definitely a sign."

Rebecca shushed her. "Will you stop with that? This is Candace's wedding we're talking about. Don't make her more nervous than she already is." She took another look at the cake. "I think you just underbaked it. Besides, this was a trial run. We'll make another one before the wedding."

"What if it
is
a sign?" Candace threw up her hands. "Look at all that's gone wrong with my wedding. The DJ I booked had a heart attack—"

"He said the wheelchair won't stop him from spinning CDs," Rebecca pointed out.

"If he doesn't electrocute himself with the IV drip," Maria added.

"And then last week Father Kenny ran off with the church secretary."

"Who turned out to be a Daniel, not a Danielle like we all thought." Maria grabbed a raspberry thumbprint cookie from the Tupperware container on the counter and took a bite. Maria Pagliano's method of dieting involved buying the latest issues of
Cosmo, Glamour
and
Woman's World
, picking and choosing the parts she liked from their diets of the month, then chucking the whole thing on weekends.

"Don't forget the fire at the dress shop. I still can't believe the store burned to the ground, and with your dress inside." Rebecca twisted a scrunchie around her straight brown hair, creating a jaunty ponytail. On Rebecca Hamilton, almost any hairstyle looked good. She had one of those long, delicate faces made for Cover Girl. "It was kind of heroic, though, how that cute fireman kept you from going in after it. He saved your life."

"I would have rather he saved my dress," Candace muttered. "At least I have insurance. But I still need to find another dress. I can't get that particular one anymore and even if I could, there's not enough time to order it."

"You haven't bought one yet?" Maria's jaw dropped. "But Candace, the wedding's only three weeks away."

Since Candace had said "I will" to Barry, it had been one disaster after another. If she put stock in things like signs, she'd have called off the wedding months ago. But she didn't believe in any of that. The disasters encompassed string of bad luck, no more. Marrying Barry was the right choice. When she’d weighed the options, Barry had come out high on the good idea side. She’d looked at her upcoming wedding as she had every major move in her life, with careful research, planning and analysis.

Only once had she stepped out of that box. A long time ago. Ever since then, Candace had subscribed to the "more control is better" life mantra. That was what made Barry perfect for her. They matched like plaid and stripes.

On her marrying Barry list the pros had far outweighed any cons. Now if Murphy's Law would just see that too.

Candace sighed. "Between the business and all those last-minute glitches, I haven't had time to find another dress."

Rebecca looped her arm through Candace’s. "Tonight we're going dress shopping, and then we’ll get good and drunk because tomorrow is Sunday, our day off, and we don't have a single delivery due on Monday."

Of the three of them, Rebecca’s status as the oldest by four months had made her the unofficial decision maker. She was also the thinnest and the only one who came equipped with both an iron will and a Blackwell-worthy fashion sense. And, as the sole married one, the wisest when it came to matters of weddings and bridal gowns.

"Wow. An instant vacation." Maria grabbed a second cookie and finished it off in two bites. "I hope the bar is well stocked."

Rebecca gave her a wry look. "You mean you hope the bartender is well built."

"Yeah, that, too." Maria smiled. "But if he doesn't know how to make a killer margarita, what good are looks?"

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The Bride Wore Chocolate
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Excerpt from The Devil Served Desire

Book 2 in the Sweet and Savory Novel series

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Maria Pagliano was serious this time.

No-holds-barred, no-prisoners-taken, no-cheese-allowed serious. She had eight weeks to do what she'd never been able to do before—lose twenty-five pounds.

This time, she vowed, was going to be different. She wasn't going to cheat and fall victim to her own desires. But in order to stick to her plan, she needed a little help, which was why she had come here on a Tuesday night.

To a meeting of the Chubby Chums support group.

In the lime green basement of a tiny church in Boston's North End, a dozen or so people sat on folding chairs in a circle. Above them, a fluorescent light flickered and hummed like a pathetic disco ball. Maria crossed her legs, pantyhose swishing in the quiet, trying very hard not to think about the lone manicotti from Guido's Italian Cafe sitting in her apartment refrigerator.