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Right Man/ Wrong Groom: Paradise Cove Series - Destination Wedding Book 1 by Patrice Wilton (24)



Excerpt from

PLAY RIGHT BY ME


by Patrice Wilton


Copyright © 2016 Patrice Wilton



Brittany Holmes, heartbroken and pregnant, leaves the touring dance troupe and the glamorous life she led in Miami for home in Paradise Cove. Her mother and sisters are like a beacon at the end of the road, and their unconditional love and support is what her bruised heart craves.

Ashley Jordon Chase, New York advertising exec, is in Paradise Cove to pursue his lifetime dream of being a playwright. Family circumstances thwarted his earlier writing ambitions and his lucrative career doesn’t satisfy him.

When Brittany loses her baby, Chase offers comfort. Having experienced the same tragedy in his first marriage he knows how devastating a miscarriage can be. Brittany hides her insecurities behind a wall, but Chase breaks past it to see her most vulnerable side. Their friendship becomes more, and she trusts that he won’t let her down. Yet a family emergency pulls him away, leaving her alone. Again. Was she a fool to let him into her heart? Or can they turn their brief affair into a lifetime of love?


CHAPTER ONE


Brittany Holmes paced her third floor apartment, feeling both nervous and excited at the same time. Tonight would change everything. Forever. Light-headed and slightly nauseas, she made another circuit around the living room.

“Where are you, Jose?” She spoke aloud, wanting a glass of wine, knowing she shouldn’t. Six-thirty—he was due any second. The champagne was chilled, his dinner simmering on the stove. She’d worked so hard on the paella, on everything, wanting this night to be perfect.

Just then the buzzer rang, and she squealed as she pressed the intercom. “Come on up. I have something to tell you!”

“I’m on my way. You’ve been acting strangely all week. Hope it’s good news.”

“It is. The best.” She touched her tummy, wondering if he had guessed.

Jose normally took her out for dinner, but tonight she’d wanted him here, alone, so they could celebrate in private. She’d chosen a slinky black dress and silver sandals, and a hint of the expensive perfume he’d bought her. She’d prepared his favorite dish, a paella that would have been much easier to order in, and had planned the evening to the last detail.

Brittany opened the patio door, so when Jose entered he’d see the table set prettily for two. She’d used a round white cloth to drape over the small outdoor table, good crystal and china. The bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket to be served with the mouth-watering meal. The scent of saffron, garlic and herbs simmering over a pot heavily laden with fresh seafood drifted from the compact kitchen to where they’d sit and enjoy a toast.

At his knock she moved quickly to the door, and felt the flutter of butterflies rise in her stomach. She was nervous. She shouldn’t be, but she was.

With a big smile on her face she opened the door and pulled Jose inside. “Hi, good-looking. You are right on time.” She gave him a light kiss and his mustache tickled her lip.

He put his hands on her rump, and nuzzled her neck. “Something smells awfully good. Is it you?”

“No,” she laughed. “It’s the paella I made for you.”

He pulled away, sniffed the air and spotted the bottle on the outside table.

“Champagne?” Jose eyed her with curiosity, his dark brown eyes raking over her face. “What’s going on? You’ve been very mysterious about this. Is there a special occasion I should know about? You won the lotto or something?”

“First the champagne. Then I’ll tell you the good news.” She headed for the patio and he followed. Passing him the bottle she watched as he expertly handled the cork, sending it flying over the balcony with a big pop and a large spray that made her laugh with delight.

She grabbed one of the elegant long-stemmed flutes and captured the icy cold champagne in both glasses before raising her head. She tossed her long dark hair back from her bare shoulders, and paused with her glass raised.

“To us,” he said, his eyes searching hers, a sexy smile on his lips.

“Yes. To us.” They touched glasses and sipped. It gave her a moment to think before blurting out the truth. She needed to remain calm. Confident. After all, she was his lover. Young, beautiful. How many times had he told her that? There was no doubt that he loved her. Had he not whispered that in passion so many times, and in so many ways?

It was ridiculous to doubt him now. He’d be just as delighted about the baby as she was. Why not? He was twenty years her senior, and didn’t this just prove his masculinity, the fact that he was still youthful and virile?

He’d probably chuckle with pleasure and brag to all his friends. Jose had four children already, and three ex-wives. Another child would be a gift. She fully expected that he’d sweep her up in his arms with pride and carry her into the bedroom to celebrate their joy. Her new lacy black thong would get him hot, and she might like it too.

In the wake of their happiness, dinner could wait. She didn’t have much of an appetite anyway.

“What is the matter, my pet?” He placed a hand around her waist, and let it drop to her ass. “The champagne is excellent, and I’m sure your paella will be as well.” He smiled, sipped from his glass, his eyes warm on hers. “So tell me your big secret. I can hardly stand the suspense.”

Did he know? Had he already guessed? Her heart raced in anticipation, and she relaxed her guard.

Placing her glass down on the table, she put her arms around his middle. She rested her cheek on his chest, then pulled back so she could look into his eyes as she spoke the words that would unite them, or tear them apart. “I missed my period,” she whispered. “It’s two weeks late.”

“You what?” His head jerked up and he tossed her hands aside. He moved quickly, bumped into the table, and knocked a chair to the patio floor.

She clasped her hands before her, stunned.

“You’re pregnant?” he shouted, his face turning a bright, ugly red. “That’s what this is about? You cooking dinner?” he scoffed. “Champagne. Why, you little slut. How dare you try to trick me like this.”

“It’s not a trick. Don’t talk to me like that!” Her head spun and her stomach rolled as she processed the loathing for her on his face. “Jose. I’m not even sure. Not yet. And you couldn’t possibly mean what you said. You couldn’t!”

“Pregnant? Not from me, baby.” He ran a hand over his face. “Impossible.” His eyes darkened, and he made a fist.

Frightened now, she backed away through the patio doors, into the living area. He followed her, his expression menacing. “It was an accident,” she said in a rush. “But a happy one I’d hoped.”

“You hoped? You imbecile. I have two ex-wives and a third wife at home. She knows about you, and is accepting of our harmless relationship. But a baby? No. She would not accept that.” He advanced toward her, and Brittany felt a wave of fear. Was Jose capable of hurting her?

“Why are you acting like this?” she cried, holding out her palms.

“Get rid of it. I insist. Tonight. I will drive you myself. I know a lady who takes care of these matters.” His lips curled into an unpleasant smile, and Brittany shuddered, wondering how she’d ever thought him handsome. Sexy.

She shook her head, hanging onto the counter for support. “No. No.”

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “Quiet! I’m taking care of it, since you obviously didn’t. One call, and the problem is gone.”

“Jose,” she whispered, feeling desperate. Everything in the past few minutes had gone horribly wrong. He’d never been anything but kind. He loved her. “You told me you had three ex-wives. We’ve been seeing each other for a year. Why are you saying these things? I would know if you were married.”

“So, what is one small lie? You didn’t know, and didn’t care. You became the star of the show. Right? Isn’t that what you wanted all along?” He turned his back. “Now, pack an overnight bag and I’ll drive you to someone who takes care of all the girls.”

All the girls? “No!” She shouted, folding her arms around her stomach. “I’m not going.” Tears blurred her eyes. “If you don’t want this baby, that’s all right. The baby is mine. I will raise him, or her, without you. My family…”

“Yes, your family…. it’s always about your family, isn’t it?” He sneered. “Do whatever you want. Just don’t expect anything from me. Far as I know, this baby could be anybody’s. You’re quite the tease, aren’t you, Brittany? A young, vivacious, beautiful woman who likes the attention of men. Many men.”

“I do not,” she hissed. She marched to the door and flung it open. “Go!”

He stepped around her and slammed the door shut, blocking the exit. “You work for me. I’ve seen you flirt, don’t forget.”

“They were patrons. People who support our business.” She tossed her head back, glaring at him. “You said it was part of our job.”

“Huh. How many of those men did you invite back here, or did you go to their place after one of our shows?”

She drew in a shuddering breath, shocked by his accusations. What had happened to the suave and charming man she’d thought she knew? He was a stranger standing in front of her—his face and soul as ugly as the words that spewed from his mouth. “That never happened,” she said softly.

“Why would I believe you?”

She looked him dead in the eye. “I never slept with another man. Not during the entire time you and I were together.”

His face showed his contempt. “I’m sterile. Had it fixed a long time ago.”

“That’s not true,” she whimpered, putting a hand over her mouth.

“You could ask my wife, but I don’t think either one of you would enjoy the conversation. Do you?”

“No. No.” Brittany bent over, feeling queasy, as though she might be sick.

“Be smart,” he said, his voice cruel and hard. “Get rid of the problem. You could still dance for me. We could still be friends.” His eyes dropped to her cleavage, and she regretted wearing the low cut dress that exposed her breasts and a lot of thigh.

“Friends?” She shivered. “You lying bastard, we can never be friends after this.”

His hand whipped out and smacked her across the face. The huge diamond on his pinkie sliced her tender skin. She screamed, holding her cheek, feeling the sticky blood on her palm. “Get out. Get out,” she cried.

Without a word or a backward glance, Jose turned and left. Hot tears mingled with the blood on her face as she ran to the bathroom. She cleaned and bandaged the wound, knowing the one inside was much deeper and would take longer to heal.

She kicked off her shoes and slipped out of her dress, putting on a pair of knee-length shorts and a tee. She went back into the kitchen and began to shovel the hot paella into a trash bag with a wooden spatula. The scents which had smelled so delicious an hour ago now turned her stomach and made her gag. She took the bag outside to the corridor and dropped it down the garbage chute. She didn’t know how long she’d be gone, or if she’d ever return. But it seemed unlikely now.

Brittany packed a large travel bag with comfortable, casual clothes for the laid-back Keys. She spotted all her lovely dresses on hangers in the closet, and touched them with regret. She might never wear them again, or if she did, they’d be attached to unpleasant memories. Of Jose. Of all the seductive temptations that the past few years and the dancing world had brought her.

Still, she couldn’t resist. She grabbed half a dozen and stuffed them in her bag too. Then she called her mother. “I’m coming home.”

* * *

Brittany lowered the top on her little red Miata convertible, then tossed her oversized suitcase in the back. The night air was hot and humid, not unusual for Miami, especially in late August. But her heart was heavy, the steamy night oppressive, weighing down on her like a deflated balloon. The damn car was too small, she sniffed, wiping away tears. But it would get her away from here and that lying, sneaky bastard, and that was all that mattered.

Jose’s final words rang in her ears, and brought a stifling sob to her throat. “Get rid of it,” he’d snarled, as if a baby—his baby—was nothing more than a nuisance, an object easily discarded, as meaningless as a stray kitten that she’d mistakenly brought home.

How could she have been so wrong about him? And what had he said about being sterile? Had he lied about that too?

Feeling miserable, she flicked around the radio stations and settled on one that played nineties hits. She listened to Celine wailing about her heart going on and on, and then to Whitney about it not being right, but it was okay.

Well, she certainly knew a lot about that!

The music was not helping her mood so she switched it off as she executed the heavy Miami traffic to find her way back to the Keys. Mile after mile, her spirits lifted, knowing that her mom would be waiting with open arms. She needed her right now, more than ever before.

Happy tears blurred Brittany’s eyes the moment she saw the blinking pink and green flamingo on the side of the road. “Taylor’s Café.” Her sister’s café bordered Paradise Cove Cottages, the seaside resort her family inherited after her step-dad’s untimely death, only months before he was to retire.

Situated in the Upper Keys, the drive had taken less than an hour and a half. It was not yet nine o’clock but the café was closed and most of the cottages were dark. Islamorada was a fishing community, where people got up at the crack of dawn to catch the biggest fish.

It was this lack of nightlife that had driven her to Miami to pursue being a professional dancer instead of teaching ballet to kids whose parents wanted a babysitter for a couple of hours. She’d had success—for too short of a time—dancing her way across the Eastern seaboard.

That life was over. It hurt her to realize it, but it was a bitter-sweet kind of hurt. She was home, broken-hearted and pregnant, but safe, and loved, teary-eyed by the mere sight of the familiar blinking flamingo.

She swiped the tears away, turning left on the dirt road. Her shoulders were knotted and tight, and she ached from inside out. She couldn’t wait another minute to feel her mother’s warm arms around her, to breathe in her familiar flowery scent, and to feel the love and acceptance that would always be there.

Anna was a strong woman who had taught her daughters to be strong. She’d picked up the pieces and held the family together through the many tragedies life had thrown their way. She’d convinced them all to come to the Keys and rebuild this resort, her husband’s retirement plan that he hadn’t lived to see.

Brittany had thought it was a crazy thing to do, but she’d been outvoted by her two older sisters. They’d each found their true strengths here as well as their true loves. Kayla was now married to her handsome cardiac surgeon, and Taylor had opened her café, married her charter boat captain, and adored his sweet son.

Life had been good to them—it would be for her, and her baby too. Paradise Cove was a happy place, filled with love, and nothing else mattered. She had been a fool to leave. I’m back now. To stay.

She pulled up in front of the light pink cottage she had once shared with her mother and sisters. A wooden plaque read Birds Of Paradise above the door; she’d proved to be the flightiest bird of all. Now her wings were clipped and she’d come limping home.

She sucked in a breath and released it slowly. Tears burned behind her eyes. Everything would be all right. Her family would make it so.

Turning off the engine, she stepped out of the car and breathed deep—ocean air caressed her skin, a hint of salt on the breeze.

Suddenly, the cabin door opened. Shouts of welcome surrounded her as her mom and sisters smothered her in hugs—the best medicine in the world.

Her two sisters were stunning brunettes, tall like her, with warm-colored skin from their Greek heritage, and they’d all inherited the same passion and fire. Petite Anna was nearly crushed by the three girls.

“Kayla, what are you doing here?” Brittany kept one hand on her sister’s shoulder while looking at Taylor. “You too, Tay. You should be home with Colt.”

Damn, but they looked good. So happy. Even in this dire situation, they had a knack of turning bad luck into good fortune. Kayla, the eldest, was wise beyond her years. Always patient, thoughtful, a mother hen in her own right. Taylor, with her love for cooking, was a homebody by nature, and should have had a dozen kids. Newly married, there was plenty of time to do just that.

“Mom said you were coming home,” Kayla answered. “For good. We wanted to welcome you back.”

Anna pushed her way into the circle, put her arms around Brittany, and stood on tiptoe to kiss her daughter’s cheeks. She withdrew a little, to get a better look. “Oh, my sweet girl. What happened to your poor face?” She touched the bandage, and tenderly took Brit’s chin in her hand. “Did Jose do this?”

“Yes. It’s a long story,” she replied, giving a careless shrug that masked her deep hurt. “Let’s get inside and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“This sounds like an excuse to make a pitcher of drinks,” Anna said with a renewed twinkle in her eye.

“I better not join you,” Brittany said. “I’m pregnant.”