The Devil's Storm Read online

  “Sure,” Lee said, his voice calm and collected. He was doing his best to make a responsible decision, but a little acting out was much too fun to pass up. He positioned himself close, too close to unbutton her dress comfortably without all-too-familiar stirrings resonating in his core, but he smiled as he formulated a plan and slowly started unbuttoning each annoying, tiny, satin-covered button. Halfway down to the last button he dared himself to lean closer, his nose and lips just millimeters away from her neck and ear. He breathed her scent in — and it helped his focus when he recognized she wore the same perfume that Adrian used to buy her. Was she still hung up on him? Lee definitely didn’t need yet another woman in his life fixated on his brother.

  “Emily,” he started in a low, gravelly tone. His lips were so close to her neck, and he saw goosebumps rising on her skin when he spoke. For just a second, he considered charming her into bed instead—but he wouldn’t. He grinned and carried out his original plan.

  “Yeah?” she asked, her tone breathy.

  He cleared his throat and spoke in a normal tone. “Do you like pineapple on your pizza? Because I am dying for a Hawaiian.”

  At first, Lee thought he could practically feel the disappointment in the air. But if Emily was in the least bit disappointed, she didn’t

  show it.

  “Pineapple belongs on pizza. I don’t care what anyone says,” she answered. “Can we get stuffed crust?”

  Her response was not what he had expected. If he were reading her expression correctly she almost looked…grateful? Lee wondered if his father had been at least partially correct? Was this supposed to be a seduction that she ended up rethinking? Why the hell would she do that? It didn’t make sense. Either way, the more he got to know her, the better he liked her, and as long as she wasn’t trying to be another Maisy Stewart, he could forgive a small, albeit weird, mistake in judgment. He’d been in need of grace plenty of times,

  too.

  “Hell yeah,” he finally blurted in an answer. “If you’ll hurry out of that dress we can watch the rest of the ball game. They were only in the second inning.”

  “I’ll be quick,” she promised. “Hurry and order that pizza.”

  Maybe he had misread the entire dress thing. Lee couldn’t be sure. It wouldn’t be the first time. Either way, pizza and baseball with a girl who maybe wasn’t trying to sleep with him sounded like the perfect way to spend his evening.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “You don’t think that man wanted a baby? Because he is throwing off some serious dad vibes,” Freya questioned in a harsh whisper as they spied Adrian across the pool, playing some game he’d invented with Freya’s twin girls, Bella and Luna.

  Madeleine considered it. Maybe Freya was right. Adrian looked to be in his element as he horsed around with the girls, who were both giggling at his theatrics.

  She and Freya were sitting on the back porch, drying out from their own escapades with the girls. They were sipping sangria that had been Gil’s old family recipe. Madeleine had to pace herself; it was so perfectly blended she could barely taste the alcohol. Lee certainly would have appreciated it. Back when he was drinking, anyway. “You think he’s drinking again?” Evelyn asked. “I wonder if it just got too hard when you left. I hear it’s so easy to relapse.”

  Madeleine ignored Evelyn. She was acting out more, perhaps over Freya’s presence. Madeleine had to admit she was nervous to even invite her over, especially after the crazy mishap she and Adrian had put her through, but Freya had seemed really excited to accept their invitation for dinner and a swim.

  “You know, I think he just fits in better with kids than adults,” Madeleine finally responded.

  Freya laughed. “Maybe. But come on, it’s cute.”

  “Incredibly cute,” Madeleine said with a sigh and a smile. “I don’t know, maybe I just interpreted everything wrong.”

  “You sure you're not pregnant?” Freya snickered as she took another sip of sangria.

  “No, I’m definitely not.”

  “But you wanted to be?”

  “I did, at first. Then I realized my body sucks at carrying babies, and what I thought would make us both so happy turned out to be something we’re not ready for.”

  “You’ve both got time. Now you’ve got more time to plan a wedding.”

  “If he proposes,” Madeleine laughed. “I’m beginning to wonder.”

  “You’re kidding, right? Adrian can’t keep his eyes off you. Or his hands, I’ve noticed,” Freya teased. “Honestly, I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t have a ring already. He’s probably planning up some amazing proposal. No cliché for you. He’ll do something unique.”

  “Maybe,” Madeleine said with doubt dripping from her voice. “What about you? Think you’ll ever find someone again? I guess I should ask if you’d even want to.”

  It was Freya’s turn to be put on the spot. She blanched at the question. “I don’t have a clue! I think I’ve forgotten how to flirt!”

  Madeleine laughed. “What? How?”

  “It’s been years! Gil and I started dating halfway through high-school, and I’m pretty awkward in everyday conversations, much less ones where I’m trying trick a guy into taking me out.”

  “Tricking him? You’re not tricking him!”

  “That’s how I feel! I feel like to get a guy, I’m going to have to show some qualities I definitely don’t possess. Like he’s going to have to deal with a lot of dry humor and sarcasm if we’re going to make it. I feel like I’m pulling the wool over his eyes if I start out all seductive and flirty because that is not the real Freya Alvarez and it never will be.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “So how’d you land Adrian?”

  Madeleine laughed. “How did I land Adrian? The only landing I did was a crash landing. We just happened.”

  Freya shook her head and smiled. “You two have one soap-opera of a story, but it’s obvious you belong together.”

  “It’s awful explaining it, but you’re right. I love him more than words,” Madeleine sighed.

  “That’s a lot, especially coming from an author,” Freya said as she stood. “Thank you so much for inviting us over. The girls have had fun and it’s been so nice getting to know both of you.”

  “We felt like we might should show you we’re not quite the hot messes we were in your store that day. Well, we’re not much better, but normally we’re a lot more functional than that.”

  “Bella, Luna! Time to say goodbye. It’s way past your bedtime,”

  Freya called out to the girls. They both groaned, but one stern look from Freya and the twins were dutifully climbing out of the pool and grabbing their towels at a snail’s pace. Adrian headed out behind

  them, talking and laughing with the girls the entire time.

  Madeleine’s eyes homed in on Adrian from across the lawn. The mere sight of him set a blaze of desire burning in her core. The “Dad-vibes” made her heart flutter. With water dripping down his chest and abdomen, she couldn’t wait to her get her hands, and her mouth, on every inch of him later.

  Freya and the girls walked out the side gate once they said their goodbyes, and as soon as they were headed off down Drayton in their car, Madeleine shut the gate and locked it up for the night. She soon felt Adrian’s arms wrapped around her waist from behind, trailing greedy, all-consuming kisses from her ear to her neck.

  Madeleine grinned as his lips caught a ticklish spot. “Adrian,” she chided. “You couldn’t wait until we got back inside?”

  “What? I’ve been keeping myself under control all night. I can’t help it if you look hot in a two-piece.”

  “You think I look hot in your boxers and t-shirts, too,” Madeleine returned skeptically as she turned to face him.

  He gripped her hips and pulled her close. “Wanna know a secret?”

  “I thought I already knew all your secrets.”

  Adrian leaned close to her ear, sending goosebump-eliciting shivers down her spi
ne. His hand slipped up her back slowly towards the nape of her neck. “Truth is, I think you look hot in everything, but you look best wearing nothing.”

  It wasn’t long before they were back upstairs, completely consumed with one another. The world faded, and it felt like they were the only two in it.

  “Madeleine?” Adrian managed between heaving breaths afterwards.

  She collapsed into his arms and ran her fingers across his sweat-slicked brow. “Yes, dear?”

  “When are we getting married?

  She grinned, embracing his middle as he wrapped his arms around her tight. His heart was rushing in his chest. “I guess that depends on when you propose.”

  He looked down at her, light smile playing on his lips. “Soon,” he

  promised. “I just want to get a couple of things settled first.”

  “I’m going to say yes, you know. It doesn’t matter what you need to settle.”

  “I know it doesn’t matter to you, and I love you for it.”

  Madeleine peered into the darkest corner of their bedroom to see Evelyn standing there ominously in the shadows. But there in Adrian’s arms, she was in a place of power. “That’s true,” Madeleine replied. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and be the one to die first. But if I’m not, I’m just going to savor moments like this while I can.”

  Evelyn shrank back into the darkness. Madeleine was grateful her presence had been so easily dismissed. Hopefully, when they woke up in the morning, she would be gone completely.

  “Adrian?”

  “Yes ma’am?”

  “Let’s go for next fall.”

  He leaned up and turned on the lamp on his nightstand, forcing Madeleine to sit up and squint her eyes in the light. “Next fall?”

  “Um…yeah?”

  “What’s wrong with this one?”

  “This fall is in a few months. It’s a wedding, not a birthday party. We need time to plan.”

  “Okay, so how about a winter wedding?”

  “I thought you wanted something outdoors.”

  “Spring, then,” he suggested.

  “Spring weather’s always too unpredictable, and pollen. Summer’s too hot. Lee and I got married in the summer and it was miserable.”

  “I remember. You didn’t have to stand outside in a tux,” Adrian huffed. “Okay, so no summer wedding. Why can’t we have this planned by fall again? We did say we wanted it to be small. Hell, I’d be fine running down to the courthouse tomorrow and calling it a day.”

  Madeleine rolled her eyes. “Men…”

  “What? A ceremony’s no big deal to me, that’s all. Besides, how many people could we invite? Freya? My parents?”

  Madeleine considered it for a moment. He was right. Who would they invite? “I guess you’re right. How pathetic is that?”

  “And that’s why we should just hit a courthouse. Or Vegas. Or

  drag a preacher down to a beach resort and get married there.”

  “A beach wedding? Isn’t that a little cliche?”

  “Our first kiss was on a beach,” Adrian defended.

  “It was not. By that logic, we’d be getting married at good ole’ Adairsville High.”

  “Our first grown-up kiss was,” he countered with a smile as he pressed a long, slow kiss to her lips. “The kiss that kinda got all this started.”

  “I couldn’t quit thinking about it for weeks,” Madeleine admitted sheepishly. “I felt so guilty, but all I wanted to do was kiss you again.”

  Adrian laughed. “You’re so sweet and innocent.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I was definitely thinking about more than kissing.”

  “You always are,” Madeleine replied with a grin.

  “And you’re always willing to oblige,” he said, kissing her forehead. He wrapped her uptight in his arms. “You know I love you, right?”

  “I know you do,” Madeleine answered in a yawn. “I love you, too, Ade.”

  “I know you do.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lee felt his eyelids drooping. He’d just flown in from his business trip to Tokyo, yet there he was, dressed in a new tux, driving to Emily's house in Virginia-Highland. The house was much too nice for her single, curator budget. Lee had long suspected Adrian had paid for it, but there had been no evidence to prove it.

  Lee gave another long, eye-watering yawn. He had tried to sleep on the flight back, and though the new company jet was ridiculously comfortable, he hadn’t taken more than a cat nap. Nerves had been set in from the second he stepped foot on the plane the previous evening for the long, fifteen-hour flight. It wasn’t flying that bothered him. Flying was almost as second nature as driving these days.

  The problem was Emily.

  On the bullet-point list in his mind, Emily was the source of three subsets of stress.

  That dress. Seriously? How was he going to function staring at that all night?

  The entire dress-trying-on predicament. What was her motive? He was normally extremely good at reading people; why couldn’t he figure her out?

  There was currently an eighty-one-carat Harry Winston diamond necklace in the passenger seat of his car in a sleek navy box with her name on it. This was problematic for another bulleted list of reasons:

  o This was just a date. No, not even a date. They were going to the gala together out of practicality. She was representing the museum; he was just the guy footing the bill. What had possessed him to buy it in the first place, he wasn’t sure. All he could think about was Emily in that damned dress and how stunning it would be around her neck, and if she wasn’t wearing the dress, it would look even—no, no, no, no, no, no, no. He wasn’t allowing his mind to go there.

  o How would she perceive this? Could he play it off as this is just what rich guys do? Buy women necklaces that cost more than most people’s houses just for going on a date — no, attending an event — together? Maybe. Would she think he expected her to sleep with him or something? That wasn’t at all what he expected, but if she felt like it why — STOP IT. No. Just no.

  o Madeleine’s engagement ring had been from Harry Winston. In fact, he still kept her wedding band in a pocket in his wallet out of sentiment. He remembered the anticipation of putting that ring on her finger, and now he was reduced to constantly missing her. It almost didn’t feel right giving Emily something from the same jeweler, even if it was just a necklace.

  He didn’t have to give it to her. In fact, if he wanted, he could just tuck that box right into his glove box and Emily would be none the wiser.

  As he pulled up to her house, a white, cedar-shanked, two-story craftsmen not two minutes from Piedmont Park, his heart and mind were racing. Both were trying to see which one could kill him first, Lee supposed. It was 4:30. He was plenty early for her 5:00 deadline, just in case he gave her the necklace. But he had to decide now. Did he give it to her? Or did he take the high-road and kept it in the glove box? And why was keeping the necklace the high-road? He was single; she was single. By all means, he was doing a whole hell of a lot better than Madeleine and Adrian when they got together.

  Not that he was interested.

  What he was interested in was this -- one night out with a beautiful woman, having a good time. He would add a smooth glass of whiskey to the list, but he knew it might cause him to lose the fragile control he enjoyed having over his life. He wanted to feel alive again. Like the man, he used to be.

  Screw it. He’d bought the necklace for her, to go with that dress, and he didn’t care how much it had cost. It was all a part of the gorgeous illusion that he could be the old Lee Atwood. It wasn’t like he’d ever miss a dime of what he’d spent. If she perceived it to mean more than it did, then oh well. Emily certainly wouldn’t be the first woman he’d pissed off beyond repair. After Madeleine, what did it matter? He’d already lost the best he was going to get.

  With a Harry Winston box in hand, Lee stepped out of his

  brand-new Tesla Roadster. He bought
it for the simple fact it was faster than anything Adrian would ever own. Lee started up the charming garden path that led to Emily’s front door. He took a deep breath and rang her doorbell. It was tempting to send a text that said bitch, I’m here, but he didn’t think it would be the best way to start their night. Typical of their relationship, but not quite what he was going for tonight.

  As he waited, he almost felt like throwing up right there on her welcome mat. Was that nervousness? Why was he nervous? He signed and negotiated multi-million dollar deals every day without batting an eye; this wasn’t even a date.

  When the door opened to reveal a middle-aged lady standing in the doorframe, though, his nervousness increased tenfold. Did she move and not tell him? Surely she wouldn't do that to him. No, wait, this was Emily. She would totally do that to him.

  Say something you idiot, Lee forced himself. “Um, hi there—”

  The woman forced a polite smile. She had to be Emily’s mother. Although the smile gave it away, Lee immediately started to notice the many similarities — big brown eyes, dark hair, button nose, angular, heart-shaped face.

  “You must be Lee,” she started tersely. “I’m Annie, Emily’s mother. Come on in. She’s almost ready.”

  Her tone made him even more nervous. Why did she sound so wound-tight?

  “Thanks,” he said, his grip on the Harry Winston box slipping as his palms began to sweat. Emily hadn’t mentioned her mother would be there. Not that it mattered. Giving her that necklace could become awkward, though. Lee followed her inside and she led him towards the living room. Emily had redecorated since she dated Adrian. He grabbed a seat on her gray tweed, button-pin-tucked sofa and looked around the room. The walls were an odd shade of green-gray, bedecked with some interesting choices in artwork, although he had expected nothing else of Emily. The mantle once laden with pictures of her and Adrian only held a couple of her siblings and new baby niece who Lee had learned about over one social media site or another. He supposed it had been a tough experience for Emily; she would have found out her sister was pregnant about the time Adrian had moved in with Madeleine. Emily might not have gone through a divorce, but Lee imagined she had experienced the same pain. Maybe she still did. If he were man enough to admit it, he felt it, too.