BABY FOR THE SINGLE

DAD
AN AGE GAP BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE
A J SUMMERS
ATTRACTION PUBLISHING
Copyright © 2023 by A J Summers
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book
review.
 C O NT E NT S
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
Also by A J Summers
Accidental Daddy
CHAPTER 1
 MILES

M y heart in a frenzy, I turn away from the painting to

look at the striking red-haired woman in a flowy
green dress and black flats. Immersed in Degas’s Dance Class,
she doesn’t notice me standing beside her. She leans in to look
at the portrait before her, flaming hair bouncing on her
shoulders. My gaze roams her pale skin enhanced by the dress,
showing off perfectly-curved breasts and slightly fleshed-out
hips.
Oh, fuck. I’m already gone for this girl.
My nose tingles as I catch a whiff of bergamot and citrus.
Close up, her skin is creamy and flawless.
“The painter of dancing girls.”
Startled, she jerks and curves her body in my direction to
look at me inquisitively. The neatly trimmed brows, piercing
jade green eyes, pert nose, and pouty lips gracing her oval face
have my dick pulsing in appreciation. To call her gorgeous
would be an understatement. The dusting of freckles on her
nose makes her even more captivating.
If I were an artist, I would take delight in capturing her
perfection.
Her lips part, and my gaze is transfixed there for a moment
before lifting to the lush green of her eyes. My breath catches,
and a roil of heat seeps into my muscles. We stare at each
other until I clear my throat.
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
 Her face relaxes into a cordial smile before she looks away
without uttering a word. I open my mouth to say something,
but I clamp it shut and gawk at her.
What in the world is wrong with me?
For the first time in a long while, I’m lost for words. A
little unnerved, I stare at the painting of ballet dancers in their
tutus waiting for their turn to perform.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I question lightly.
“Yes,” is all I get back. Her voice is like silk gliding across
my skin.
I want to hear more of it.
“Have you ever wondered why he chose to paint ballerinas
as his muse while his contemporaries were into landscapes and
the like?”
She shrugs. “You mean other than women bathers?”
Do I detect a slight accent? Possibly French?
“I think he found the female body intriguing.”
She curves her brows. “Yet history has it that he was a
misogynistic recluse.”
“Well, he was a very talented artist.” I lean closer and
point. “See the way he captures the movement of the girls and
the flowing of their gowns?”
“Yes, but their positions are quite ungainly and
asymmetrical.”
I step back, amused.
“Are you an art critic?”
“No. More of an art enthusiast.” She smiles and turns
away. “Please excuse me.”
There’s no way I’m letting this girl leave.
“I’m Miles.”
She glances at my outstretched hand before almost
reluctantly placing her soft palm in it. “Giselle.”
 At her touch, the low simmer in my core turns molten. I
search her face to see if she felt it, too.
But her expression remains a mystery.
“Er … French?”
“American-French.”
“Tell me more,” I press.
“My dad is French. My mom is American.”
She whirls around and is about to walk away, but I fall into
step. I want to find out everything. Is her French background
the reason she favors Degas paintings? Does she live here, or
is she just visiting? Is she single? I quickly realize the
questions might be too forward. We just met, after all.
“Degas didn’t start off painting ballerinas, you know.
Manet partly influenced him.”
“Is that so?” she replies noncommittally, though I see a
shadow of a smile playing on her lips.
Her impassiveness doesn’t discourage me. I’ll get her to
open up.
We stop by the Horse with Jockey and talk about Degas’s
fascination with horses. Glad that she is starting to loosen up, I
steer the conversation to Manet and Lautrec’s paintings.
Soon she is immersed in art and is talking about the
intricate details of the paintings she appreciates. I decide to
change my plans for the day and allow her to lead me around
the museum. Every once in a while, I chip in some details she
isn’t privy to.
Although I cautiously pry, she’s hesitant in giving out
information about herself.
For now, I’ll let it slide.
Hungry from the art talk and walking around, I suggest we
get a light lunch at The Eatery on the ground floor. The place
is packed, but we manage to find a table to enjoy our salads
and espresso. When we’re finished, I propose taking a walk
outside the museum. She hesitantly agrees.
 “I haven’t been here in a while,” she mentions as I lead us
out to the street, and we make our way into Central Park.
“It’s one of the best chill spots in the city. I run here often.”
A warmth rushes up my spine at her green eyes trailing my
body appreciatively. Quickly, she catches herself and looks
away, blushing. I can’t help the satisfied grin.
She is not immune to me, then.
Outside, the faint scent of roasted chestnuts from a street
vendor’s cart intertwines with the earthy aroma of the fallen
leaves. Without thinking, I take Giselle’s hand and again, feel
the bolt of lightning strike through me. Shifting my gaze to her
to gauge her reaction, I notice a slight widening of her eyes.
But she doesn’t pull away.
“This park is invigorating,” Giselle murmurs as we walk
through the rustling quilt of fallen leaves, each step releasing
an earthy aroma. The pavement is flagged by beautifully
manicured fields, shrubs, and trees. But I don’t notice much,
her warm hand resting in mine, sending heat up my body and
blood rushing southward.
“It sure is.”
We climb up the steps to the Shakespeare Garden and revel
in the beauty of its greenery, bathed in shades of yellow,
orange, and red.
“The Belvedere Castle is up next.”
Her forehead creases in a frown. “Oh. I can’t remember it
at all.”
“When is the last time you came here?”
“About twenty years, maybe.”
I chuckle. “Really? You must have been what? Three years
old?”
Laughter bubbles from her throat, a gurgling brook I want
to dive into. It’s the purest, most enticing sound I’ve ever
heard.
 “Are you fishing for my age?” she questions with a
twinkle in her eyes.
“Maybe a little. I’ve guessed that you must be in your
early to mid-twenties.”
She doesn’t reply but silently walks up the hill next to me.
“Am I right? I know they say you shouldn’t ever ask a
woman her age, but you’re young. I’m forty-two, if you were
wondering.”
Her eyes enlarge like saucers.
I grin. “Why does your reaction make me feel old?”
Her face turns mottled red. “I’m sorry. You don’t look it.”
I release a pretend gasp, grinning. “You don’t say.”
She laughs. “You’re not far off about my age, though. I’m
twenty-seven.”
“Hmm. You don’t look a day above twenty-three.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Will you also take calling you a gorgeous woman as a
compliment?”
My heart is slamming in my chest like a chained beast. I
want to grab her and pull her in, find out how she tastes.
She averts her eyes, reddening. “Sure, I will. Thank you.”
Giselle isn’t impressed by the small castle, but she enjoys
observing the peaceful lake. We talk about Shakespeare’s
plays and our favorite ones.
We settle down at a bench and watch people taking
pictures, playing guitar, and throwing frisbees. Without
warning, it becomes windy, dark clouds gathering in the sky.
It’s time to call it a day. But I’m not willing to let her go. Not
before I see this gorgeous girl come undone for me.
“Thanks for a lovely afternoon. It was a pleasure meeting
you.” Giselle rises and pulls her sweater closer as she places
the strap of her purse on her shoulder.
 “Don’t leave yet. Have dinner with me.” Our eyes alight
on one another as she looks up at me in surprise. I swallow her
with my stare as I will her to agree.
It’s unusual for me to be this forward. I haven’t been in a
relationship since I lost my wife five years ago, always making
sure that my liaisons are noncommittal and easy. But there’s
something about Giselle that makes me throw caution to the
wind. And it’s not just because I have been itching to claim her
lips with mine. My body hardens as she pulls a loose strand of
her auburn hair behind her ear. The image of her flaming
tresses spread across my pillows is almost my undoing. But
taking her home is out of the question, and not only because I
have a feeling she would never agree to it.
“Do you make it a habit to approach women in the
museum and talk them into having dinner with you?”
“What women?”
She laughs and shrugs. “All right then, why not.”
With a jubilant grin I place my hand at the small of her
back, and we leave the park.
As we enter the vast lobby of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel,
her eyes widen.
“This is amazing,” she whispers in awe, taking in the
grand modern lobby and the floor-to-ceiling windows offering
views of Central Park.
When we approach the host of the restaurant, we realize
it’s booked solid.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, gauging her reaction as she
cautiously tries to figure out my intentions. “We could look for
another restaurant, but the rain is falling hard already, and I’d
rather we don’t get soaked.” I pause, waiting for my words to
sink in. “Let’s just take a room here and have dinner delivered
to it.”
A shadow crosses her eyes. Her gaze holds a touch of
uncertainty when it lands on me. She looks away at the glass
doors and watches the rain pouring steadily.
 “We’re stuck here.”
Do I detect a note of wariness?
“For the time being, yes.”
With a look that suggests a snap decision, she breaks into a
smile. “Then I guess we should make the most of it.”
I hope she means what I think she does. To me, making the
most of it would be having her sprawled against the luxurious
sheets while she screams my name.
Stay cool, Miles. Don’t scare her away.
On the way to the room, silence falls between us. I don’t
know how the evening will end, but I hope it’s with us
wrapped around each other. Surreptitiously, I glance at her,
wondering if she’s thinking the same. She appears to be
nervous, as if she is having second thoughts. Is the chemistry
between us felt by me alone? I ponder on this as we enter the
room.
“What a lovely interior,” Giselle expresses with a bright
smile as I tip the porter.
“I agree,” I remark, my gaze fixed on her.
Taking her up to a hotel room to have dinner might not
have been one of my brightest ideas. But I don’t want to let
her go yet.
While Giselle is in the bathroom freshening up, I call my
ten-year-old daughter, Ashlyn. She loves spending time with
my parents in the Hamptons. They spoil her any chance they
get. Talking with my daughter brings up the guilt, making me
think of my late wife. But I brush the thoughts away and
decide to have a nice night.
“T HAT WAS DELICIOUS .”

I hungrily watch Giselle’s lips as they touch the rim of the

glass, taking a sip of chardonnay. It’s addictive having her
attention on me.
Dusk has fallen, and the rain has dwindled to a drizzle.
Seated by the glass window, I stare at her with satisfaction.
Even though we finished eating almost an hour ago, we
continued lingering and talking about France.
“It’s time for bed,” she says after finishing her wine and
pushing back her chair. She rises with poise and grace, her
posture straight.
“I couldn’t have said it better.”
Her face turns a rosy hue.
I stand up and slowly draw her into my arms, making sure
that I have her consent. Her body is warm and soft, relaxing
against my touch. I lower my head and graze my lips against
hers, feeling her shiver.
“I haven’t been able to look away since the first moment I
laid my eyes on you,” I murmur as I continue teasing her lips.
Her breath tickles the end of my nose, smelling of caramel and
vanilla and turning my dick to stone.
Her chest rises and falls, as if she just finished a race. Her
eyes are dark with lust.
“Stay with me tonight,” I demand, pressing her closer.
She dashes her small tongue across her lips and wraps her
arms around me, her fingers digging into my hair. I lose all
control, grabbing her tight ass and lifting her, wanting to feel
the warmth of her pussy against my throbbing dick. She parts
her mouth lightly, and I claim her lips.
Making slow and passionate love will have to wait for the
second round. Dipping slightly, I swing her into my arms and
carry her to the massive bed. Lying her gently on it, I draw in a
sharp breath.
“What?” She gapes at me.
I grimace. “I don’t have any protection.”
Blushing because she most likely hadn’t thought of that,
she looks away. “I don’t have any condoms with me either. I
don’t usually do this with strangers and …”
“Me neither,” I cut in quietly.
 Searching my face with her piercing green eyes, she says,
“I’m on the pill, though.”
I lean down and graze her lips again. Her mouth opens,
and I reach for her hair, loving the soft and silky fullness of it.
I deepen the kiss as thrills of excitement run through me. Her
scintillating, citrusy scent leaves me heady, and I ache to rip
the clothes off her lithe body. My hands leave her hair to
stroke her breasts, which fit perfectly in my palms. I touch her
pebbled nipples through her dress, causing her to arch her
back. Her ragged breathing turns me on to a fever pitch. She
dips her hand into my hair while our tongues entwine.
A low groan escapes me when she encircles my waist with
her long legs. I grind my hips against her core, only her silken,
soaked panties separating me from what I’ve been thinking
about for hours. She responds by pulling me in closer.
I reach behind her to unzip the dress while her hand cups
my dick through my jeans. Triumphantly, I fling the dress
across the room, and my eyes devour her sexy red bra and
matching panties.
“You’re stunning,” I whisper before reaching for the front
clasp to undo her bra. Her creamy white breasts spill out, and I
lower my head to her nipples, encircling them one at a time.
Her hips wiggle, searching for pressure, and she whimpers.
That small but intoxicating sound makes my jeans become
uncomfortable as my dick stretches again in size.
She grabs my head hard as I work my tongue around her
nipples.
“Miles. Miles. Miles.”
“Hear the gorgeous girl chanting my name,” I growl,
continuing to tease her nipples. Reaching for her panties, I
gently drag them down her legs. I slip a finger, then two, then
three inside her slick pussy. I reach for my belt buckle with my
other hand, continuing to finger-fuck her.
“You take my fingers so good,” I rasp. “Soon it will be my
cock.”
 She jerks on the bed and whimpers. But I want to see her
squirm more, I want to hear her beg, so I slide down, lift her
legs and bury my face in her pussy, the scent of her arousal
making me almost dizzy. Giselle pulls at my hair while my
tongue fucks her.
Her breathing becomes labored as I continue sliding my
tongue in and out of her while my other hand caresses her
breast. When she releases her hands from my hair, I lift my
head just in time to see her place a hand across her mouth
while her other hand holds on to the sheets tightly as her body
quivers with orgasm.
“You are even more beautiful when you fall apart for me,”
I tell her as I rise from the bed and quickly get rid of my
clothes. “And I’m not done with you yet.” Her smoldering
eyes trail my body and linger on my cock.
“You like what you see?” I tease and lower myself to her.
She stretches her hands to run them across my chest. I inhale
sharply as her fingers trace my abs.
“Not bad for a forty-two-year-old.” She smiles and rises to
her knees, taking my pulsating cock in her hand. The feel of
her hands is electrifying.
“This feels so good,” she whispers.
“You don’t know how much,” I reply in a raspy voice.
I buck seconds later when her mouth replaces her hands.
She curls her tongue around my tip, licking the precum. I grab
her hair and watch her take me in to the hilt, continuing to
glide my cock in and out of her mouth.
“Keep going, baby.”
As if my words spur her on, she smiles and starts fucking
me with her mouth. My breath sharpens while the tension in
me builds.
“Please stop,” I tell her in a strangled voice because I don’t
want to shoot my load into her mouth. Not yet. I want it in her.
She grumbles, but she stops and then pushes me onto the
bed, positioning herself across my legs. Her juices wet my
thigh, and I can hardly wait to be inside her. Lifting her by the
waist, I guide her onto my throbbing cock.
She moans softly as I carefully fill her, inch by inch,
stretching her slowly to accommodate me.
“Ride me, beautiful,” I order when she remains sitting on
me, savoring the position and the pulsing of my dick inside
her.
Nodding, she balances her hands on my chest and starts
grinding. Slow at first, her tempo soon accelerates. I hold onto
her breasts while her hips rhythmically swirl around me.
Shortly, her breath starts coming in brief gasps, and I brace
myself to watch her cum again. The sight is as beautiful as it
was the first time as her body shudders above mine before she
collapses against my chest.
Laughing softly, I let her catch her breath before laying her
on her back. I place my hand under her ass for her to receive
my thrust as I plunge into her. Her body accommodates me
beautifully while I pound into her. I’ve wanted this since the
first moment I saw her, so I don’t hold back in giving and
taking pleasure. I put my fingers in between our joined bodies
to rub her clitoris, and she moans under her breath. Her breasts
jiggle as I continue driving into her.
Wanting to claim her from every possible position, I switch
her to her knees while I fuck her from behind.
My name escapes from her lips repeatedly while I hold her
waist and pull her back against my cock. With each thrust, I
feel a deep climax building. I increase the tempo, loving the
way her tight butt hits my stomach. When I sense that she’s
also reaching her peak, I change our position once more, so
that I can watch her come. I lay her on her back, throw her
legs over my shoulders, and continue shoving into her while
her pussy clenches around me.
“Miles!” she screams as her body convulses.
I can’t hold back anymore either. I let go and grunt as I
reach a crescendo.
 “I was hoping to hear you scream my name while you
come around my dick,” I say, grinning, as I collapse on the bed
next to her.
I lie beside her and cradle her in my arms, panting.
Inwardly, I pat myself on the back for approaching her earlier
in the museum.
Who knows what the morning will bring. But tonight, I
intend to explore all that I can with her.
CHAPTER 2
 GISELLE

Y awning, I lazily stretch on the bed. Feeling sated and

tired, a bright smile crosses my face as I open my eyes
to a spiral ceiling. My stupid grin is immediately replaced with
a frown as I realize I’m not in my room.
Where am I? As the memories come back, heat rushes to
my face. I can’t remember when I last had such a wonderful
time, and I move my head to look for the man who couldn’t
get enough of me hours ago.
I push myself to sit, dragging the sheets across my breasts
as my gaze roams the empty room. For a moment, I wonder if
he’s in the bathroom, but I don’t hear the sound of the shower
running.
“Miles?” I call and wait, but I get no response.
I’m about to drag myself off the bed to look for him when
I see a piece of paper on the bedside table. With my heart
thudding, I stretch and reach for it.

G ISELLE ,
Thanks for a wonderful day and a spectacular night.
Miles

W HAT THE FUCK ?

 I scan the message again and glance around the room, as if
I can conjure him and cuss him out. Flipping the paper around,
I search for at least a contact detail. But the paper is blank.
My face crumbles as it dawns on me that all Miles ever
wanted from me was a one-night stand.
“This is absurd!” Frustrated, I place my hand on my
forehead. There I was, thinking that Miles and I connected,
that there was something special between us.
How could I have been this foolish?
Tears pool in my eyes, and I angrily wipe them away. I’d
sworn never to cry over a man again, but my spirits are at an
all-time low. Yet again, I have repeated my pattern. Falling for
an older man, who is obviously unavailable.
“Why do you do this to yourself all the time, Gigi?” I ask
in the third person, as I do when I’m annoyed at myself.
When he told me his age, I should have run away as fast as
my legs could carry me. But no, blown away by his angular
face, jet black hair, and stormy gray eyes, I let myself be
seduced like a naive maiden.
Older men are never good news for me.
Angry that I easily fell into bed with a stranger and
allowed him to have his way with me, I scrunch the paper
tightly and throw it away, hoping it will catch fire from my
glare.
I shake my head and remind myself of what I learned in
my meditation classes.
Don’t shoot the messenger, hear the message.
The message is indeed loud and clear. Miles doesn’t want a
relationship with me. I was silly to believe that this time, it
would be different because we had things in common. We
enjoyed each other’s company and had sizzling chemistry
between us, which culminated in mind-blowing sex.
But that was all.
 Although I said I wouldn’t cry, I put my hands across my
face to stem the flow of tears. What exactly am I trying to
prove by creating such an unsatisfying reality for myself?
I continue tormenting myself as I rise from the bed to take
a quick shower. After putting on my clothes, I leave the
luxurious room. In the elevator, an older couple, who are
obviously still in love, look at my blotchy face with concern.
It’s like adding salt to the wound because I feel as if I’ll never
experience something similar. With my emotions raw, I exit
the five-star hotel, feeling both cheap and used.
The sun is high up in the sky, bathing the busy street in its
autumn warmth. I turn around to look at the impressive
building again, knowing I’ll never pass by it now without
thinking of Miles.
“I don’t have anybody to blame but myself,” I mutter as I
hail a cab to take me to my apartment on the Upper East Side.
My phone battery is dead. Gabriel, my older brother, must be
worried. After I sent him a message that I wouldn’t be home
last night, I was too caught up in orgasming to bother charging
it.
Fifteen minutes later, the cab pulls up in front of my
building on East End Avenue. Even though my entire family
moved to Paris years ago, my parents kept this place, thinking
we might want to use it at some point. They were right.
Gabriel has been living in it since he returned to New York.
The apartment is spacious, and when I told him I’d be
taking a job at the Met, he insisted I move in with him and his
five-year-old daughter, Maddie. I gladly took him up on his
offer, but now I wonder if I did the right thing. I’d simply told
him in the message that I was spending the night with a friend.
Gabriel isn’t the nosy type, but I can’t help feeling that I owe
him an explanation.
For a moment, I wonder if I should walk down a few
blocks to get an espresso from Starbucks to help kick start my
day. But when I remember Gabriel might be worried, given
that I only arrived in New York a few days ago, I change my
mind.
 I greet the doorman as he welcomes me and hands me
packages. Arriving at the fifteenth floor, I release a sigh as I
open the door. Surprisingly, Gabriel and Maddie are dressed to
go out.
“Aunt Gigi!”
“I hope you aren’t going out to start a search party,” I say
as Maddie rushes to throw her arms around me. She is
adorable in her maroon tutu, with her blond hair held in a tight
bun and emerald eyes awash with excitement.
Gabriel chuckles, looking just like our dad when he smiles.
He has him to thank for his dashing looks and height. “Of
course not. You’re a big girl.”
“Dad is taking me to my dance class,” Maddie gushes.
“Why don’t you come with us, Gigi?” Gabriel suggests.
“You could check whether there are ballet lessons for adults.
You mentioned you’d like to dance again.”
I had planned to sit on the terrace, stare at the East River,
and brood about why having a committed boyfriend is so out
of reach for me. I shift my gaze from his angular face to the
lovely and spacious living room Gabriel redecorated with the
help of a designer friend. But the modern artwork my mom
bought years ago still graces the walls, as well as some of the
furniture that has been reupholstered and revamped.
“Unless you’re too tired.” He smirks, a trace of curiosity
lining his voice. But he doesn’t ask.
“Aunt Gigi, please come with us.”
I’ve never been able to deny Maddie’s requests, even when
we were only talking on FaceTime. In person, she is that much
more irresistible.
“All right, Maddie. Let me change and grab a phone
charger.”
Some minutes later, we head to the Alvin Ailey Dance
School on 55 th Street and Ninth Avenue. As we enter the
storied building, a nostalgic feeling hits me as I see parents
escorting their children to their lessons and older dancers
stretching in the hallway, music interlaced by teachers’
instructions streaming from the studios.
It brings back happy memories of my childhood. If it
wasn’t for my height, I would have pursued ballet
professionally. But at five feet and nine inches, my instructors
gently suggested it might be wiser to treat dance as a hobby. It
didn’t quench my love for enjoying ballet, though.
While waiting for Maddie’s lesson to finish, Gabriel listens
to a Masterclass on his phone, and I use the time to find out
about the adult program. There’s an advanced ballet class I can
join on Sundays while waiting for Maddie, and I sign up
eagerly.
My joy dims when I overhear a couple talking about the
Degas painting they saw at the Met the previous day.
Memories of Miles shake me to my core. I reach for my
phone, which I’d managed to charge a little in the cab, and dial
my sister’s number. Josephine and I were inseparable when I
was living in Paris, and I wish she would have found a way to
come to New York with me.
“I did it again, Jo,” I utter with regret after we’ve
exchanged pleasantries.
“Did what?”
“Got myself involved with a man who doesn’t want to
have anything to do with me. Well, except to fuck me real
good and leave a brief message for me the following
morning.”
“Oh, sweetheart! I’m sorry.”
Hot tears pool in my eyes after I tell her how I met Miles
and about the day and night we spent together, only to find
myself alone in bed a few hours ago.
“I don’t know what is wrong with me. We connected, and I
started building castles in the air like a lovesick teenager.” I
laugh bitterly. “I’m supposed to be an intelligent woman, but I
keep falling for guys who don’t want to commit.”
Thoughts of my ex-boyfriend, Pierre, who is twelve years
older than me, flash through my mind. I expected that my
relationship with him would lead to the altar. When I dared to
ask him where our relationship was heading, he was surprised
and dismayed.
“Marriage is definitely out of it. Been there, done that.
One trip down the aisle is more than enough for me.”
His words had made me look like a desperate woman. But
we had been dating for over two years. To this day, I wonder
what his plan had been.
“Something must be wrong with me, Jo.”
“Please don’t talk like that. There’s absolutely nothing
wrong with you. You’ve just been unfortunate to meet losers.
Don’t worry, the right man will come along.”
I can’t help snorting. From my high school days, I’d
started suspecting that I have an aura that makes the opposite
sex run for the hills. My relationships never lasted. Whenever
I wanted to take things to the next level, the men flew away, as
if the devil was chasing them.
“Could it be my red hair?” I suggest, desperate. “Maybe I
could dye it.”
“Don’t you dare, Gigi. It only means no one has
recognized the beautiful soul that you are yet.”
“I really thought Miles did. We spent an amazing day
together, discussing art and music. I can’t remember the last
time I connected with someone like this. I have no idea what
happened.”
“Gigi, if it was meant to be, he wouldn’t have snuck out of
the room like a thief. You need to forget about him and focus
on yourself,” she admonishes calmly.
“I know, Jo, but sometimes, I can’t help it. What would it
take to find the kind of love Mom and Dad have?”
She sighs. “I gave up on that a long time ago. They’re
among the few lucky ones who found their soulmate. Not
everyone will be as fortunate.”
My heart squeezes in my chest at the agony in her voice.
Josephine has also had her fair share of heartbreak. But unlike
me, who still has the hope of finding a happily ever after,
Josephine has thrown in the towel. I don’t like how cynical she
has become about love, though I sometimes wish I had her
determination. Watching the endless love between my parents
planted deep rooted thoughts in my mind that I’ve refused to
shed.
“Be like me. Have sex with them when you feel like it and
forget about the rest,” she adds with a snicker. “Maybe Dad
and Gabriel are the only good ones on the planet.”
It has been a struggle, but thoughts of Miles have refused
to leave my mind. Recalling talking to him about Degas and
other nineteenth century artists brings a smile to my lips. He
gave me brief history lessons while we strolled through
Central Park. During dinner, he talked about his trips to Asia
and South America. And the night …
I close my eyes and remember how my fingers moved
across his well-toned body. Moisture pools between my thighs
when I recall my lips trailing his six pack before encircling his
huge pulsating dick. Moments later, he filled me with it,
stretching my pussy and giving me intense pleasure as he slid
in and out, while my hands caressed his strong back.
“Gigi?”
“Huh? Oh. Yes.” Heat engulfs me.
“Are you all right?”
No. I can’t stop thinking of how much I relished Miles
fucking me last night. If I’m honest with myself, I don’t just
want to meet him again to discuss art, but to also have him
take me to heights unknown again.
Pull yourself together, Giselle.
“I’m fine. I’m just wondering who he is. For someone who
is so much into the arts, I’m guessing he might be an artist or
work with them.”
“Gigi, please forget about him. He’s not worth it. If he
couldn’t be bothered to leave at least his last name, then fuck
him.”
 “I already did.” I giggle despite my despondency.
“You know what I mean.”
I do. But Josephine doesn’t realize that Miles has left his
imprint on me, and I know I won’t be able to erase it in a
hurry.
CHAPTER 3
 MILES

L ooking at my employees buzzing around me at the

prospect of a new deal, I lean back in my chair,
satisfied. Everyone thought that with my love for the arts as a
child, I would end up in the art domain. But I’ve always
enjoyed money, and so I went into the financial sector. After
getting my MBA, I started a hedge fund, which has provided
handsomely for my family. But I lead a quiet and private life,
and hardly anyone knows about my robust financial status.
Sitting in my office in downtown Manhattan, I observe my
employees as they talk about the new deal they got wind of
over the weekend.
“What do you think, Sam?” I turn to my financial analyst.
The buzz dies down as my voice fills the room.
Smiling as if he just won a jackpot, his brown eyes are
alight with excitement. He rubs his neatly trimmed goatee and
lifts the paper from the desk, skimming the article about a
billionaire making an attempt to purchase a social media site.
“He’s set to take over any day now,” he responds.
“Indeed,” my financial manager, Sarah, concurs, nodding
her head. “With him acquiring the most famous social media
app in the world, he’s sure to make a huge profit.”
I lean back against my swivel leather chair and stare at
them.
“My advice is for you to hedge against the deal. His plan
will backfire,” Sam interrupts, still grinning. It’s obvious he’s
smelling blood and is relishing the idea of making millions off
someone else’s mistake.
“Are you sure?” Sarah questions him with skepticism.
Before long, a full-scale argument ensues, with the other
team members at the table joining in. I let them fight it out for
a while, but I notice I’m not in the mood for thinking through
the deal right now. It’s quite unusual, given that it’s the
Tuesday after a holiday weekend, and I’m typically always
excited to find new opportunities to make money.
My thoughts return to the striking redhead with piercing
green eyes who made my Saturday spectacular. I’ve not been
able to get Giselle off my mind since I left her in the hotel
room on Sunday morning. The memory of her fiery hair
sprawled across the pillows and her naked back will forever be
etched in my mind like a painting.
Regret consumes me once more for leaving her without a
way to get in touch. It seemed like a great idea at the moment,
but now, I realize I overcorrected. I haven’t met a woman like
her for a long time. In fact, I haven’t connected with a woman
the way I did with her since Gwen died. Spending the day
talking and the night fucking her were the highlights of my
weekend. Of my year, even.
When Ashlyn had called a few minutes after I got home,
she’d noticed that something was wrong. Realizing I had been
too hasty, I turned around and rushed back to the hotel, hoping
I’d find her still asleep. But once I arrived, the receptionist told
me that the lady had already left.
I shift in my chair as I remember the way I slid into her, as
if she was made for me. Claiming her felt right. Images of her
long hair falling over her shoulders and covering her lovely
breasts as she rode me hard and fast flash in my mind.
“Miles?”
I jerk out of my erotic daydream at the mention of my
name to see my employees staring at me in bewilderment.
“Are you with us?” Sarah questions with concern.
I clear my throat and sit upright. “Yes. Of course.”
 “You’ve been sitting there with a distant look on your face
and something akin to a winsome smile,” Sam points out with
a tone of worry. “Is everything all right?”
Cursing myself for allowing my personal life to interfere
with my business, I merely nod. “Continue.”
I drag thoughts of Giselle from my mind to listen to Sam
and Sarah argue, then eventually agree on how to tackle the
short. Thirty minutes later, the meeting is over.
Smiling, I push myself to my feet and walk across the
room to stare out of the floor-to-ceiling window at the busy
street below. My office, situated on the twentieth floor of a
high-rise building, offers a lovely view of the Financial
District and the Hudson River beyond.
Once more, Giselle’s soft-spoken voice and gentle smile
flash through my mind. For the umpteenth time, I wonder if
I’ll ever see her again. She didn’t tell me whether she was
visiting or intended to live here now that she’s back in the city.
I wish I had questioned her more about her private life.
Sighing, I rake my fingers through my hair before stuffing
my hands into the pockets of my suit trousers. Perhaps I’m
being foolish thinking about her. She has most likely forgotten
about me. The chemistry between us was blatant, and I respect
a woman who doesn’t shy away from what she wants. If I’m
sincere with myself, it was the best sex I’ve had in a while.
I hate to think what she must be thinking about me now.
Probably that it’s a regular thing for me to talk up a girl, wine
and dine her, fuck her into oblivion, and leave without saying
goodbye.
The image of my smiling daughter saves me from the dark
thoughts.
Slowly, I shake my head. Although I had a wonderful time
with Giselle, I made the right decision of severing further
contact. Ashlyn is the most important person in my life, and
I’ll do anything to make sure it remains that way. I do not
intend to remarry. I’m committed to raising Ashlyn with the
help of my parents, and that’s it.
 Shortly after Gwen died, I vowed not to bring another
woman into my daughter’s life. For the past five years, I
haven’t dated. I’ve never introduced anyone to Ashlyn as my
girlfriend, and I’m not about to start now. My little girl doesn’t
need a stepmother. She has me. And I don’t want a wife.
Having brief and discreet sexual encounters has worked so far.
But truthfully, it was more than sex with Giselle. She
might eventually have wanted more. Something I cannot give
because no one can ever take Gwen’s place.
My hands clench into fists at the memory of my sweet
wife, who’d been snatched away from me by the cold hands of
brain cancer. Unexpected tears burn in my eyes as I remember
how she fought and lost the battle against the deadly disease. I
curve my body in the direction of my desk to look at the
framed portrait of her and Ashlyn. The similarity between
them is uncanny. Curly blond hair, turquoise blue eyes,
smiling round faces, and bubbling personalities. Gwen had
been full of life. It’s a shame that all that energy was snuffed
out of her when she was only thirty years old.
“Promise me you’ll always put Ashlyn first,” she
demanded on her death bed. “It breaks my heart I won’t see
her grow up. But I trust that you will always make her feel
loved.”
Five years, and it’s still like the tragedy happened
yesterday. I miss Gwen deeply. Our conversations in the
mornings before we left for work. Teasing each other lovingly.
Our touches and kisses.
“You know, macho dictatorial men went out with the
dinosaurs,” she would say when I made a decision and
wouldn’t budge from it.
I sniff and laugh softly remembering all the times she
would put her foot down and insist I get down from my high
horse. And now all I have left of her is Ashlyn. With each
passing day, my daughter looks more and more like her
mother, making my chest ache as I look at her. But I love my
daughter fiercely, so much that my parents are worried that I
will never find love again.
 “I’m not looking for another wife,” I’d told them when
they broached the topic with me last summer. “I’m fine with
raising Ashlyn on my own.”
No one can ever replace Gwen.
CHAPTER 4
 GISELLE

“I can’t be late on my first day at work.”

I should have taken a cab instead of embarking
on the twenty-minute walk from my apartment to the Met. But
it’s a lovely day with a gentle billowing breeze, the last whiffs
of warmth before the city is gripped by northwesterly winds
bringing cooler air from the country’s interior. Fortunately, the
sun isn’t out yet in its full force. The traffic is already terrible
at this time of the day anyway, with everyone rushing to work.
Horns from angry drivers rend the air.
“Pardon,” I tell the couple walking slowly in front of me
and raving about a neighborhood restaurant. I put it on the to-
do list at the back of my mind to visit there soon. But for now,
I have to get to the Met on time.
The aroma from a bakery on Third Avenue assails my
nostrils, and my mouth waters. It’s another place on my bucket
list, as well as the Whole Foods market a bit further up north.
When I sight the Loyola Church on Park Avenue, I breathe
a sigh of relief, and my steps lessen in haste. I don’t want to
look harried by the time I arrive. It’s only two more short
blocks. Thankfully, my cream-colored blouse and black
trousers aren’t soaked in sweat.
At last, I’m on Fifth Avenue, the museum sprawled in
front of me on the border of Central Park. As I climb the grand
stone staircase, I sigh in relief at having made it on time. My
first day of work can’t be laced with excuses as to why I
arrived late. The job of the event planner is allowing me to get
my foot through the door and hopefully get noticed. Working
for an iconic institution like the Met has always been my
dream. I’d worked at the Louvre, but the role of a conservator
has for now remained elusive.
I frown when I remember how my ex-boyfriend had
sidetracked my efforts to advance. Pierre worked at the Louvre
as a curator and kept dragging me along in a relationship that
ended up not going anywhere. He sapped my energy and
monopolized my time, while at the same time refusing to
commit.
Taking a deep breath, I remind myself to stay present. This
is not a good time to think about the past. I didn’t study art and
archaeology at the Sorbonne to spend the rest of my life as an
event planner. Never again will a man drag me along like that
and distract me from my dreams.
As I enter the Great Hall, I’m struck with memories of
Miles and our time there on Saturday. Once more, I wonder if
I’ll ever see him again. Will he visit on one of the days that
I’m working here? The thought that preying on women at the
museum, discussing art, and seducing them might be his
modus operandi had crossed my mind several times. After all,
it hadn’t seemed like his first time at the hotel that night. But
why go to such efforts and expense just to have sex … and
without having any protection on him? I threw away the
presumption because he had seemed too polished to be such a
lowlife. But who knows?
Hastily, I push him out of my thoughts.
“Ms. Bartholomay.”
I whirl around, and a bright smile forms on my lips at the
sight of my boss. The middle-aged woman with a moon face,
friendly brown eyes, and a welcoming persona walks toward
me with a young woman beside her, carrying a file.
“Good morning, Mrs. Winters.” I nod and smile at both.
“I trust you had a nice long weekend.”
If by nice you mean sleeping with a stranger and having
him blow me off, then yeah, nice is the word.
 “Yes, I did. I hope you did, too.”
“I sure did. Let me show you around.”
As my new boss takes me to the employee area and
introduces me to my colleagues, I wish I hadn’t come here on
Saturday to have a look around and get a feel for the place
before starting work. I would never have met Miles and spent
two days wondering why he didn’t want to see me again.
When she shows me to my office, a small but airy space, a
thrill runs through me.
“I’m sure you already know what being an event planner at
the museum entails, but I’ll go through it again for the sake of
emphasis.”
“I’d be grateful to hear your expectations.” I quickly fish
for my pen and pad in my purse and begin jotting.
“We hold a variety of events all year round. Some are
private, some are public. You’ll be tasked with planning events
like meetings, corporate dinners, or non-profit receptions for
our members and patrons. We also offer after-hours tours
around the museum for special occasions like birthdays and
anniversaries. Sometimes, we have private film screenings.
You will see to all the arrangements of these events and make
sure there are no double bookings.”
“Understood.”
“If you have any questions, I’ll be happy to answer them.
But for now, I have a meeting to get to. Amelia will give you
details concerning the upcoming event you’re going to
organize.”
My heart skips a beat at the mention of starting work
immediately, even though I’ve not yet gotten my bearings. But
I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly. I’m more than
equal to the task. This won’t be much different from working
as an event planner at the Louvre.
She nods and walks away. A smiling Amelia, possibly in
her early twenties, comes into my office a few seconds later.
 “Is it true you worked at the Louvre?” she questions, her
long face shining and her blue eyes twinkling with curiosity.
“Yes.”
“How wonderful. I’ve always dreamed of working there.
You have to tell me all about it at lunchtime, but for now,
we’ve got work to do.”
I nod and pick up my pen and pad again.
“Your first big event is a reception for one of the Met’s
Friend Groups. They’re a group of people with high ticket
annual memberships, up to fifteen thousand dollars a year
range.” Her eyes widen, and she adds in a whisper, “Can you
believe that?” She giggles and rolls her eyes. “If I had that
much money to spare, I would tour the world.”
I beam at her, acknowledging inwardly that I like her
friendly spirit. She’ll make working here fun.
“I’d buy all the paintings in the museum and hang them in
my living room.” I give her a conspiratorial smile.
She bursts into laughter. “Anyway, the dues are highly
welcomed because they help to support the museum and its
departments. The patrons are involved with the museum’s
libraries, conservation, and curatorial departments. They hold
most of their activities between September and June.”
She hands me some papers showing the various friend
groups, their schedules, and annual dues. Arranging events for
them will keep me busy throughout the year.
“After the reception is the opening of an exhibit of Mayan
art,” Amelia mentions off-handedly.
“What?” My eyes enlarge with curiosity. “Did you just say
there will be a Mayan art exhibit?”
“Yes,” she replies. “A few weeks from now.”
Excitement bubbles inside me. Mayan art is my thing. I did
a project in college about the Mayans, and it was one of my
favorite topics. They were known for their art and stucco
sculptures, in addition to their knowledge of mathematics and
calendar systems. To know that I’ll view more of their art and
be a part of showcasing them fills me with a thrill.
I realize that with my educational background, this will be
an excellent opportunity to be noticed and could possibly
become a path to my dream job.
No man will distract me from what I’ve set out to achieve
for myself. Not even if he’s drop dead gorgeous and an artist
in bed.
“Giselle?”
A deep flush covers my face when I realize Amelia had
been speaking while I was distracted.
“Sorry. I was miles away.”
Literally.
“That’s all right.”
Forcing the image of the man who had given me an
unforgettable, night from my mind, I focus on my work.
Hopefully, I’ll never see him again.
CHAPTER 5
 MILES

S taring at the people going in and out of the Met, I let

out a heavy sigh. Coming here will never be the same
again. No doubt, everything in there will remind me of the
gorgeous Giselle. With a little regret, I climb the Met Fifth
Avenue steps. The place isn’t as crowded as it was on
Saturday. I push back the cuff of my suit to stare at my Patek
Philippe wristwatch. It’s lunchtime. Fortunately, I won’t be
late for my meeting with the Board of Trustees. After spending
some time thinking about Giselle, Gwen, and Ashlyn, I delved
into work, but the image of Giselle constantly flashed through
my mind.
Hopefully, I’ll concentrate on the meeting and not on the
woman who is now living in my head rent free. Inside the
Great Hall, I head for the marble staircase amid the throng of
people. From the corner of my eye, I sight a lady with red hair.
Will I ever see a flaming-haired girl again and not think of
Giselle? It’s strange, considering I’ve never been drawn to
redheads in the past. It has always been blonds for me. But my
attraction to Giselle had been instant. Seeing her by the
painting, looking tall and graceful, I knew I wanted to meet
her and get to know her. And I wasn’t disappointed.
Giving the woman a second look, I freeze. It can’t be!
Impervious to the people moving around me, I stare at the oval
face that has haunted my thoughts over the past few days.
What are the odds that I’m seeing her again?
My scrutiny swings to the people she’s walking with,
smiling and chatting. They’re the museum’s employees.
Everyone in her group, including her, has a staff badge around
their neck. With a twinge of pleasure, I realize that Giselle
works here. This means I can see her anytime I visit. And
maybe work with her some time, since I’m on the Board of
Trustees. In fact, as soon as I find out more, I’ll look for a way
for us to work together.
Changing my direction, I walk toward the animated group.
My eyes are concentrated on Giselle as she converses with her
colleague. Her clean-line blouse and trousers show off her
lovely figure. Unlike on Saturday when she’d let her hair
cascade down her shoulders and back, she put it up in a tight
bun at her nape, offering a clear view of her stunning face.
“Hello, ladies,” I say with a cool smile, loving the shock in
Giselle’s eyes as she recognizes me.
“Oh. Mr. Carrey,” the project manager remarks, returning
my smile.
“Mrs. Stone,” I utter, reluctantly shifting my gaze from
Giselle’s pale face.
“Ladies, you know Mr. Carrey, don’t you?” She laughs
softly. “Oh, pardon me.” She turns to Giselle whose eyes are
now reflecting an aloofness that worries me. “Giselle, you
won’t know Mr. Carrey. He’s a member of the Board of
Trustees.”
Mrs. Stone turns back to me. “Ms. Bartholomay is our new
event planner. She’ll be seeing to our coming events,
beginning with the Mayan art exhibit.”
Bartholomay. Giselle Bartholomay. The name suits her.
Extending my hand to her with a cool smile, I say, “Hello,
Ms. Bartholomay. I trust you’ll find working here interesting.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she takes my hand and
replies, “I certainly will, Mr. Carrey.”
No one else notices the slight stress she places on my
name, but I do as I squeeze her soft hand before releasing it.
“I hope we’ll work together soon.”
 She mumbles something and pointedly looks away, as if
dismissing me. Clearly, she’s peeved because of the way I left
her at the hotel. Or am I overthinking it? Perhaps she doesn’t
want anyone to know we have history, hence the aloofness.
“Please excuse us, Mr. Carrey. We’re on our way to
lunch.”
“Don’t let me keep you.”
However, I’m unable to resist the temptation of speaking
to her.
“Might I have a brief word with you, Ms. Bartholomay?
It’s about an event I want organized.”
Despite her blank facial expression, it’s obvious that she’s
displeased by my request. She looks at Mrs. Stone, who nods
and smiles.
“We’ll be waiting at the entrance, Giselle,” Mrs. Stone
says before she and the three other women move away.
I wait for a few seconds until they’re out of earshot before
asking, “Why didn’t you tell me you work here?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re on the Board of Trustees?”
she retorts sharply.
“Touché.”
I search her face for any sign of the girl who had muttered
my name repeatedly as I fucked her, but all I see is a stranger
laced with iciness.
I open my mouth to apologize for the way I left on Sunday
morning, but she forestalls me.
“Which event do you wish to talk about, Mr. Carrey?”
“Giselle, I—”
“Mr. Carrey, perhaps we should leave this conversation for
when you have more details. My colleagues are waiting.
Pardon me.”
Before I can say another word, she stuns me by giving me
an icy smile and walking away. I stand there, staring after her
as she hurries to join her colleagues in the semi-crowded
lobby.
Although I’m furious at her reaction, I can’t say I blame
her. If I were the one who had woken up alone in a hotel room
with only a brief note, I’d be pissed too.
But I realized I made a mistake and have been regretting
that there was no way to get in touch. I rub a hand across my
chin. Running into her again by chance in a big city like this
must be a sign. Usually, I don’t date, but I know now I’ll want
to see her again. As she’s clearly annoyed by me, I’ll need to
find a way to make it up to her.
As I turn away to head for my meeting, which I’m now
almost late for, my face relaxes into a smile. I’ve never been
one to pass on a challenge.
I’ll surely have another wonderful day … and night with
Giselle Bartholomay.
CHAPTER 6
 GISELLE

T his is childish, Gigi.

Shaking my head at what I’ve reduced myself to,
I leave my hiding spot and stroll across the Great Hall. I regret
telling my colleagues to go ahead, staying behind with the
excuse of wanting to tidy up a few things in the office. The
wariness of seeing Miles again made me linger in my office
for some time after the end of the day. And now I feel silly.
The only justification I have for such a pointless act is that
seeing him again a few hours ago shocked me. And to think
that I would most likely be unable to avoid him again. We
might even work together, since he’s on the Board of Trustees.
As I finally decide to head home on this balmy October
evening, I’m completely oblivious to my surroundings, the
blaring of horns, the throng of pedestrians, and the usual rush
hour traffic. My thoughts are fixed on Miles and his effrontery
at approaching me to demand why I didn’t tell him I worked at
the museum. The gall of the man, especially after leaving me
in the hotel room the way he did. If we had been alone, I
would have slapped him hard across the face for his audacity.
Remorse fills me once more as I wonder again why I let
down my guard with a guy I barely knew. As progressive as I
am, I have never slept with someone I just met. And for good
reason, it appears. Heck, it took a while for my ex-boyfriend to
get me into his bed. So why was Miles different? He’s not the
only handsome man I’ve known.
No doubt he approached me earlier thinking I would jump
at the chance to hook up again. He has another thing coming if
he thinks I’ll be so gullible. The only recourse now is to stay
out of his way as much as possible.
Casting thoughts of him aside, I let myself into my
apartment. When I get there, I can’t believe I spent the twenty-
minute walk thinking about him. My mood turns for the better
when I see my niece watching television next to her babysitter.
“Aunt Gigi!” She hurries to throw her arms around me.
Warmth floods me like it usually does when she hugs me.
Gabriel won’t be home until later in the evening. He is a
neurosurgeon at a downtown hospital, and he works long
hours. After changing into a t-shirt and shorts, I join Maddie to
watch SpongeBob SquarePants. Seeing it as an opportunity to
spend some alone time with my niece, I send the babysitter
away.
“What do you say we make dinner together?” I suggest.
She beams. “Yay!”
We talk about her new school and the friends she made in
kindergarten while we prepare spaghetti with meatballs and
tomato sauce.
“This is delicious, Aunt Gigi,” she says sliding a strand of
pasta into her mouth.
I laugh. “I had a good sous chef.”
She giggles, and my chest tightens a little at how much she
looks like her mom. How a woman could abandon her child is
beyond me. Gabriel was devastated when his wife, Beth, left
soon after she gave birth to Maddie. She told him she realized
she couldn’t be a mom after having a difficult pregnancy and
delivery. Gabriel had tried his best to convince her to change
her mind and see a therapist, but she refused and disappeared
when Maddie was only a couple of months old. She later filed
for a divorce, got her wish, and has never been heard from
again. I don’t want to judge her for her actions since I don’t
know what she was going through.
However, observing the sweet little girl as she eats makes
my heart ache that her own mom couldn’t love her enough to
stay and watch her grow. Gabriel, heartbroken, has vowed
never to have anything to do with another woman. Maddie has
become his life.
We, the children of Philippe Bartholomay, might be jinxed
in love.
After dinner, I go through Maddie’s homework, and then
we play checkers. I’m surprised at how good she is.
“I win again, Aunt Gigi.”
I laugh as she sticks her tongue out at me.
“Oh, yeah? Then how about a ballet dance-off?”
She giggles. “You’re on.”
The next half-hour is filled with laughter as we dance. I
show her some steps, and she demonstrates what she has
learned so far. Then we try to outdo one another and end up on
the rug, laughing.
“Who won?” she questions, breathing heavily.
“What do you think?” I ask.
She laughs heartily. I reach out to caress a strand of her
tousled hair. For a moment, I imagine having a daughter like
her someday, and I lean in to kiss her cheek. I look forward to
having my own daughter to bring up and love. In the
meantime, I’ll bathe Maddie with so much affection, she’ll
never feel the loss of her mother.
Gabriel calls an hour later to tell me that he’s still caught
up in the hospital due to an emergency surgery. So, I help
bathe Maddie and put her to bed. We read her favorite book,
Frozen, and she dozes off. Watching her as she sleeps
peacefully, the yearning to become a mother floods me again.
“S EE YOU LATER , M ADDIE .”
I wave after dropping her off at the all-girls school next
door. I gaze at the cute faces of the little girls in navy uniforms
trooping into the building. I enjoy walking Maddie to school.
My phone starts buzzing in my purse as I turn away. I
retrieve it and smile when I see it’s Josephine calling.
 “Guess who I just bumped into,” she says immediately
after I answer the call.
“Who?”
“Pierre,” she answers with dismay in her voice.
I sigh at the mention of my ex-boyfriend.
“He was all about you, asking where you were and what
you were doing.”
“And you told him?”
“Of course, with gusto. I didn’t want him to think you
were pining away for him. After what he did, he should be
glad I didn’t spit in his face.”
The anger in my sister’s voice mollifies me a little. The
mention of my previous failed relationship makes me
remember why I swore never to get romantically entangled at
work again. Meeting and falling for Pierre is one of the
mistakes I’ll regret forever. As soon as he told me he wasn’t
interested in ever getting married again while suggesting an
open relationship, I should have ended things. But I couldn’t
believe he was serious, and so I hung on for a few more
months, trying to change his mind. It cost me dearly.
“It doesn’t matter anymore, Jo. I’m over him,” I inform her
as I sidestep a man hurrying past me on the sidewalk.
“I know, but gosh, I detest him.”
It’s unsurprising to hear her say that since she hates all
men at the moment.
“I could barely stand there talking to him. I can never
forgive him for what he did to you. Leading you on for two
years and then cheating with a woman you work with. What a
despicable man!”
I halt in my stride and close my eyes for a moment as I
recall the whispers and pitying looks I received from my
colleagues when word got out at the Louvre that Pierre was
entangled with a fellow curator. After that ugly incident, I
knew I couldn’t work there anymore. I started looking for
other jobs, landed the one at the Met, and never looked back.
 “Gigi? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge up the past,”
Josephine says when I don’t respond.
I open my eyes and continue walking, ignoring the weird
looks I get from my fellow pedestrians.
“It’s okay, Jo. Like I said, I’m past it.”
Indeed, I am, which is one more reason to stay away from
Miles. Once bitten, twice shy where office romance is
concerned.
“I know. Anyway, that’s not the only reason I called,” she
says. “It has to do with your new job.”
My brows shoot up with curiosity. Josephine works for the
Directorate-General for External Security in France. It’s sort of
like a French Secret Service. She has always had a flair for
espionage, so it was hardly surprising when she chose that
career path.
“Okay. Tell me more,” I inquire.
“A few days ago, we made a bust and recovered a Mayan
sculpture from an art trafficking ring. The Directorate-General
worked with the FBI Art Crime team, and the sculpture is now
at their headquarters in Washington D.C.”
“No kidding?”
“I knew you would be interested.” She laughs softly.
“Yesterday, I spoke about it to a New Yorker journalist, and she
told me a big story would be published about the operation
soon.”
“What do you know about the sculpture?” I ask and stop
walking.
“It’s The Old Man of Copán. It rightfully belongs to
Honduras.”
I squelch the urge to whoop with delight. The Old Man of
Copán is often depicted on various monuments and stelae at
the Copán site, particularly in hieroglyphic inscriptions and
iconography.
“Gigi? Are you there?”
 I blink and realize I was so lost in my thoughts that I forgot
I was still on the phone with my sister.
“I’m sorry, Jo. I got carried away by the news.” I start
walking again, more than eager to get to the office and tell my
boss about it.
“Why am I not surprised?” She laughs. “It’s typical of you
and your love for art.”
I shrug. “You know me well. Thanks a lot for this
information, Jo. It means a lot to me.”
“I figured.”
“There’s a Mayan art exhibit coming up at the museum
soon. It would be great if I’d be able to get the sculpture and
include it in the exhibit. Do you think that’s in the cards?”
I picture her wrinkling her nose in her typical way as she
thinks about it. “I’ll have to call my FBI contact and ask him.
I’ll get back to you later today or tomorrow.”
“That works. Thank you, Jo. So, how’s Paris treating you
without your sis to have your back? I miss you.”
“I miss you more.”
We talk about our parents and some of our friends before I
end the call. My face is flushed as I go over our conversation.
If I can organize for the sculpture to be included in the
upcoming exhibit before it is returned to Honduras, it would
be impossible not to notice me, and it could propel me to my
dream job as a conservator. What a great opportunity!
An image of Miles runs through my mind, and I shake my
head. Now that it seems as if I’m so close to achieving my
lifelong dream, I won’t let my one-night stand with him get in
the way of it. Miles, just like Pierre, is history to me.
CHAPTER 7
 MILES

T he sight of brown, red, and orange leaves on trees as

I drive past, brings a smile to my lips. Fall was
Gwen’s favorite season. She used to enjoy painting trees in
their changing colors, casting an orange glow on the ground.
“Don’t you just love the beauty all around you?” she
would say, her eyes awash with excitement. It was little
wonder that winter was her least favorite season, even though
she enjoyed Christmas.
In the rearview mirror, I look at my daughter, who is
humming to Taylor Swift’s Enchanted on the radio as she
sways her head. Looking adorable as usual in her pink ballet
attire and black sweater, I smile brightly. With each passing
day, she looks more and more like her mom. Her ash blond
hair is becoming lighter and curlier at the tips, her turquoise
blue eyes are more expressive, and her round face creases just
like Gwen’s when she’s lost in thought.
She catches me watching her and grins goofily before
poking her tongue out at me. I reciprocate, and she laughs. The
car behind me honks its horn, and I sigh as I press the gas and
continue our short drive to Alvin Ailey. Like most girls, she
enjoys dancing. Every Sunday since she turned three, I’ve
taken her to her ballet lesson.
At first, I participated in the class, and once she graduated
to taking it on her own, I waited for her outside the studio. The
only times I’ve missed doing that are when I am away on
business and when we lost Gwen. If she hadn’t made me
promise to continue with the Sunday tradition, I would have
given it up. It hurt too much. Gwen and I used to wait together
for her to finish her lesson. Sitting alone had been unbearable
at first, but I eventually got used to it, just like I got used to
going to the museum, ballet shows, and the Philharmonics.
“We should get pizza on our way home, Dad.”
“You mean you aren’t satisfied with all the pizza you ate at
your grandparents’ last weekend?”
She makes a face, and I laugh. “You know San Matteo’s
pizza is the best.”
I rub my clean-shaven jaw. “Are you trying to tell me they
don’t have good pizza in the Hamptons?”
She places a hand across her mouth and giggles. “I never
said that.”
My eyes sparkle with mischief. “I’ll be sure to pass that
piece of information to your grandparents when you go over
there the next time.”
“Aww, Dad. I’ll deny it.”
I burst into laughter. Even when I’m having an off day, I
can be sure to count on Ashlyn to cheer me up. Having her in
my life is all the fulfillment I need. We’ve done just fine
together in the past five years. There’s no need to bring
someone else in that might upset the balance.
“She’ll grow up, go to college, get married, and leave
home for good. And then you’ll be lonely and wish you had
remarried or at least let someone into your life. You can’t
mourn Gwen forever.” My mom’s words come to haunt me a
few seconds later.
The thought of losing my little girl to a man she loves
doesn’t please me, but I know it’s inevitable. Though it will be
hard accepting it.
“Dad!”
“Yes, sugarplum?” So lost in thoughts about her future, I
didn’t hear her talking.
“How about that pizza?”
 I glance at her in the rearview mirror again and grin.
“Anything for you, sugarplum.”
She gives me a wide smile. My mom would frown in
disapproval if she were here. I try my best not to spoil Ashlyn,
but she’s all I have left of her mom.
When we arrive at our destination, we are lucky, and I
manage to snatch a parking spot right next door to the dance
school. Hand in hand, Ashlyn and I enter the building. Her
friends are already in the main lobby with their parents, and it
becomes a flurry of ballet dresses and giggling girls, which
reminds me of the Degas painting of ballet dancers. And that
brings back the memory of Giselle. Ever since her icy reaction
to me last week, I haven’t set eyes on her at the museum. I’ve
found excuses to be there twice just to see if I could catch a
glimpse of her, but my efforts were unsuccessful. Given that
I’m still unsure what I want, I didn’t try too hard. A
relationship? Another splendid night of fucking?
I talk on the phone for about half an hour with my parents
and then a business partner while waiting for Ashlyn’s lesson
to end. Taking a stroll along the hallway while talking to a
friend, I do a double take.
“I’ll call you back, John,” I quickly hang up to gawk at one
of the other classes.
At this rate, I might just have a heart attack from the shock
of seeing Giselle in the most unexpected places. What is she
doing here? How is it that I run into her everywhere? I didn’t
know she was into ballet as well. But of course, with such a
graceful carriage like hers, it makes sense that she would be
into dance.
Hoping she won’t think I’m stalking her, I stand in front of
the studio and watch her through the window. The other adult
dancers dissolve into thin air as my sight is trained only on her.
With the lithe way she moves her body, it’s obvious this is not
her first rodeo.
Instantly, my body hardens when she lifts her long leg
upward, reminding me of how I placed them against my
shoulders as I thrust deep into her. Her expression is one of
pure joy as she goes through the movements, bringing back the
memory of when my head was buried between her legs.
Feeling my dick beginning to rise, I close my eyes and take in
a deep breath before letting it out slowly.
What is wrong with me? How is watching a woman dance
turning me on, so much so that I wish I could send everyone
out of the dance class, grab Giselle, peel the black leotard
down her sexy body, pin her against the barre, and claim her
until we both can’t stand straight anymore. I shift uneasily,
hoping the people also watching the class and moving about
the hallway haven’t noticed the growing bulge in my pants.
Leaving or at least looking away seems like a smart
solution. But I’m unable to move or shift my gaze from her.
She’s graceful in her stride and gait. Looking at Giselle dance
makes ballet feel like an erotic ritual.
Remembering my mom’s warning about living a lonely
life once Ashlyn goes to college one day and has her own
family, I cringe. Moments later, I come to a decision. I want
Giselle in my bed again so badly that it hurts. But I realize
that’s not all that I want. I enjoyed my day with her, and I want
to know more about her.
A wave of determination seeps through me. I am ready for
a relationship.
Giselle will be mine.
And what about wanting more children? A tiny voice
questions me. Lately, Ashlyn has been hinting about a baby
sister she could dance ballet with. She’s always full of stories
about her friends’ siblings. But I’m not keen on having more
children. Ashlyn is more than enough for me, and I intend to
keep my relationship with Giselle away from her. My role as a
father to my daughter will be separate. They should not meet.
Things could go wrong, causing untold heartache for Ashlyn.
Giselle’s class has come to an end, and I wonder if it is
wise to approach her to ask her for a date. Ashlyn’s class is
ending any minute now, and I don’t want her to see me with
Giselle. No doubt my daughter will question me, and I don’t
make it a habit of lying to her. She should be shielded and
separate from a potential girlfriend, at least for now. Giselle
and I will take it slow, so I can see how the relationship
develops before deciding whether to tell Ashlyn. I wouldn’t
want her to get close to Giselle and get her heart broken again
if we don’t work out.
My brooding is interrupted when Giselle comes out of the
dance studio and spots me. Is it my imagination or did her
green eyes just light up? Encouraged by her reaction, I take a
step forward to go to her.
“Dad!”
Damn!
I whirl around immediately, and a smiling Ashlyn runs to
me.
“It’s pizza time.”
I laugh. “Was that all you thought about when dancing?”
“Of course!”
“I bet you didn’t dance well because you were distracted.”
She shakes her head. “I did. Ms. Collins praised me for
dancing so well.”
I put my arms akimbo and give her a pretend thoughtful
look. “Are you sure about that?”
Her smile widens. “You could go and ask her. She’s inside
the studio.”
I cup her cheek. “I believe you, sugarplum.”
She rolls her eyes. “Duh.”
Laughing, I raise my head to search for Giselle. A frown
contorts my face when I see her rushing into the elevator with
other dancers. I yearn to go after her, but that would mean
introducing her to Ashlyn. And knowing my daughter, she’d
be full of questions I don’t have answers to yet. Besides,
Giselle might just behave the same way she did at the
museum. I don’t wish for us to be in the spotlight.
 Perhaps it’s for the best. If only I could get my head to
accept that.
CHAPTER 8
 GISELLE

U nbelievable!
Miles has a daughter? He’s married? Bastard!
I stare unseeing at the other ladies in the elevator as it
closes. I should have simply taken the stairs to the floor below
to pick up Maddie from her class, but the shock of seeing
Miles and then hearing the cute girl call him Dad made
escaping my only thought.
Conversations whirl around me, but I stand there frozen,
wondering if I didn’t imagine the whole scene. It’s a
coincidence that his daughter also takes ballet lessons at Alvin
Ailey, though not too surprising. It’s one of the best dance
schools in the city, after all.
“Um, please excuse me,” I say to the lady in front of me
before reaching around her to punch the button to the floor
below. I almost forgot to do so, and it would have surely taken
me to the ground floor. Little Maddie must be waiting and
wondering where I am.
Quickly, I step out of the elevator and force a smile when I
see her chatting animatedly with a friend.
“Aunt Gigi,” she calls with delight, and I remember how
the blond-haired girl called Miles.
Miles is married! That piece of information refuses to
penetrate my consciousness. But having a daughter doesn’t
necessarily mean he’s married, does it?
 I shake my head. Surely, he must be, because it’s now clear
why he snuck out that morning without leaving his number.
Only a man hurrying to get home to his wife and daughter and
not wanting further contact with his misdemeanor would do
that.
“Aunt Gigi?”
“Huh?” I gaze dazedly at Maddie, who is staring at me
with worry in her eyes.
Pull yourself together, Giselle.
“Are you all right?” she questions in a quiet tone.
Forced laughter falls from my throat. “I’m fine, Maddie.
I’m sorry. I think I’m a little dazed. I haven’t danced in a
while.”
A smile chases away the apprehension from her eyes. “Did
you enjoy it?”
“I sure did, and I can’t wait to come back here next
Sunday.”
She nods, and I hold her hand as we walk toward the
elevator. My movements are slow because I don’t want us to
encounter Miles in the lobby. Making a scene in front of my
niece and his daughter is the last thing I want. But I don’t
think he would want to stick around for his little girl to know
his dirty secret and maybe inform his wife about it. Or am I
letting my imagination run wild?
I sigh. He had been about to approach me when I came out
of the class but had quickly turned around when his daughter
called to him. His back was turned for some time while I stood
rooted to the spot in utter shock. If truly he had nothing to
hide, he would have led her over to me.
But you ran away, Giselle.
Flushed, I shake my head. But I didn’t run away
immediately. Shock immobilized me for a moment. He could
have taken that time to come over.
“Aunt Gigi, are you sure you’re all right?”
 I jerk from my thoughts when I realize I’m just standing
there staring at the elevator doors.
Smiling sheepishly at her, I push the button. “I guess I’m a
little out of sorts, but I’ll be fine.”
Suddenly, her face loses its color. “Does that mean you
won’t come here again?”
Alarmed at her interpretation of my disconcerted reaction,
which has nothing to do with her, I squat and throw my arms
around her. “Of course not, sweetie. I’ll be here next Sunday
with you.”
Her smile returns, and I place a kiss on her forehead.
“Come on, let’s get you home. Your dad promised us some
delicious pot roast.”
“Yummy.”
Giving her a conspiratorial grin, I say, “Don’t tell him I
said so, but he’s a better cook than me.”
She makes a gesture of zipping her mouth shut. “Your
secret is safe with me.”
I laugh with relief. Oh, how blissful it is to be a child
without worries. I wish I were that lighthearted and carefree.
Realizing that my anger about Miles and his daughter is
alarming my niece, I put thoughts of them away until we get
home. I fake a cheerfulness that I don’t feel as we join Gabriel
in the kitchen. After lunch, with the excuse that I’m tired after
the class, I go to my room and lie down.
Finally, I allow myself to think about Miles and how
foolish I was to sleep with him. How could I have fallen for a
married man? It’s not enough that I slept with him the very
day I met him, he had to also be married with a kid … or
maybe even kids.
Had I seen a ring on his finger last Monday at the museum
when I discovered he was on the Board of Trustees? It’s not
unusual for men not to wear their wedding rings these days,
though.
 If he were my husband, I would make him wear it. In fact,
I would make him tattoo it. Nope, my handsome and sexy
husband wouldn’t go about ringless for ladies to get the wrong
message about his availability. I laugh at my thoughts despite
my annoyance.
“Classic Giselle. Falling for a man who isn’t available,” I
mock myself with tears in my eyes that I refuse to shed.
I must be jinxed. My pattern keeps repeating. It’s always a
man who isn’t obtainable that crosses paths with me. This is so
much worse because he’s a married man, and I slept with him.
Another married man approached me for a relationship in the
past, claiming he was on the brink of getting divorced, but I
refused. But in less than a week of coming to New York, I fell
into my own trap again.
Oh, Giselle.
I can’t deny that seeing him today brought back memories
of our time together at the Met, Central Park, and the
Mandarin. Heat sweeps through me when I think of how it felt
to have him inside me. I dip my fingers into my panties to
caress my clitoris as I recall his firm hands holding my waist
and lowering me onto his erect cock. He felt like satin over
steel as I rode him and he sucked my nipples. I whimper as my
fingers work my clitoris, remembering the feel of the tip of his
cock against it. Gosh, I want him to fuck me again. I want him
so badly, I don’t care if he has a wife and kid. I …
No! Sanity returns seconds later, and I shake my head
vigorously. No! I will not be dragged along again as Pierre did
to me for more than a year. This feels like déjà vu. Pierre and I
met at the Louvre before we started our relationship. Miles and
I also met at a museum. I have sworn never again to have
anything to do with workplace romance, and I’m not about to
change my mind, not even if the man is drop dead gorgeous
and a god in bed. He’s fifteen years older than me, probably
only wants me as a fuck buddy whenever he can get away
from his wife, and he also works at the museum. Multiple red
flags.
 Sighing heavily, I rise from the bed to go and take a
shower. My career should be my only focus. Getting the
Mayan sculpture my sister mentioned into the upcoming
exhibit is my primary goal for the time being.
And also forgetting about Miles Carrey.
T HE FOLLOWING day at the office, I almost scream with delight
when I receive a text message from Jo. She sent the contact
number of the FBI agent in Washington. She called me earlier
to tell me that she’d spoken to him, and he was okay with me
seeing the Mayan sculpture and possibly displaying it at the
museum.
Inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, I dial the number. It
rings for a while before a man with a deep baritone voice
answers.
“Good morning. This is Giselle Bartholomay. Am I
speaking to Mr. Armstrong?”
“Yes. Josephine called to inform me about your interest in
the Mayan sculpture,” the FBI agent says in a crisp but
friendly tone.
Keeping my fingers crossed on my desk, I say, “Yes, I’m
very much interested in the sculpture. You see, Mr. Armstrong,
the Met is about to hold a Mayan exhibit, and it would be
wonderful to add the sculpture to the list of art to be displayed.
I understand that it’s a huge request given that it was recovered
and has to be returned to its original country. But I was hoping
we could have the privilege of displaying it before it’s taken
back to Honduras.”
He’s silent for a while, and I hold my breath. “Well, I
guess it’s possible as long as Honduras agrees to it. You’d
have to follow procedure and fill out the proper paperwork.”
My head bobs vigorously. “Certainly.”
“But first and foremost, I think you should come to
Washington to have a look at the sculpture and see if it’s worth
the hype.”
“Of course. I’ll get back to you next week after I inform
the museum and have their go-ahead. Perhaps we can arrange
a meeting in Washington?”
“All right. I’ll be expecting your call.”
“Thank you for the opportunity.”
“You’re welcome. I look forward to meeting Josephine’s
sister,” he says before ending the call. I find that a little weird.
With the endearing way he said her name, I wonder if
something is going on between him and Jo. Has she finally let
go of her cynicism? I file the thought away to ask her later.
Unable to stop myself, I get up from my chair, put on some
music, and dance around my desk, celebrating.
“Yes!”
Now I have to inform my boss and convince the
conservator team that the project is worth pursuing. But I feel
it in my bones. It’s all working out beautifully. Hopefully, I’ll
get the nod to head to Washington with the right
documentation to acquire the sculpture for the exhibit.
More than ever, I need to forget about everything else.
Humming, I reach for the phone to call Jo.
CHAPTER 9
 MILES

T he Board of Trustees meeting is in full swing, and all

I can think about is Giselle. For the umpteenth time,
I wonder why I didn’t see her yesterday in her ballet class. Is
she avoiding me? Has she changed her dance lessons from
Sundays just to avoid meeting me there? I know she definitely
saw me with Ashlyn the other week and must have heard her
call me Dad. What did she make of it? Is that why she doesn’t
want to see me? If it wouldn’t seem unprofessional, I would
have asked a member of the conservator team for her phone
number with the excuse of wanting to plan an event at the
museum.
Grudgingly, I drag my attention back to the meeting as the
chairman is addressing the newly elected members. I
absentmindedly clap my hands as they’re introduced to us
again and their impressive profiles read. The scene reminds
me of my own introduction to the Board a few years ago. After
multiple generous monetary contributions and service to the
museum, I was glad when I was approached to join the Board.
“All right. Our next agenda is the museum’s financial
situation,” the chairman announces, nodding at the financial
secretary. “Over to you, Mrs. Adams.”
The elegant woman nods and turns to her laptop, showing
us charts and slides. There are nods all around the table. The
museum isn’t performing badly, but it could do better. We
discuss the financial situation, strategizing about different
ways to raise funds needed for an efficient operation. We tax
ourselves to do more individually.
 While the discussion is still ongoing, I decide to seek out
Giselle, even if it means asking Mrs. Winters to take me to her
office. She might not be pleased with my actions, but I need to
see her. And I won’t take no for an answer.
My head snaps up when I hear the next agenda item for the
meeting. The conservator team has an issue to discuss with us.
As soon as they’re called into the boardroom, my body stiffens
when I see that Giselle is among them. From my position at
the middle of the table, I study her.
She’s as beautiful as ever. Her lovely red tresses are bound
in a soft knot at her nape, providing an unobscured view of her
perfect face. The navy-blue dress she has on shows off her
lovely figure and pale skin. A reluctant smile curls my lips
when I notice that she’s keeping her eyes trained in the
direction of the chairman, doing everything possible not to
look my way. At that instant, I acknowledge that I desperately
want to be alone with her again. I have to find a way to make
it happen.
“Our new event planner, Ms. Bartholomay here, recently
brought to my notice the recovery of a Mayan artifact,” Mrs.
Winters, the head of the conservator team begins after they are
welcomed into our midst. “We wish to discuss the possibility
of obtaining this artifact for the upcoming exhibit on Mayan
art.”
“That’s interesting. What’s the artifact?” the chairman
questions.
Mrs. Winters nods at Giselle, and she takes over the
presentation.
“The sculpture is from the ruins of Copán, often referred to
as The Old Man of Copán. It was made known in Europe in
1570 by Diego Garcia de Palacio. For a while, it had been
hidden from the public eye. Having it displayed at the museum
will be a huge boost to the Met’s reputation. My contact at the
FBI is positive that Honduras will grant us permission to
showcase the bust at the exhibit, provided we follow the
proper protocol.”
 “Hence our reason for being here,” Mrs. Winters interjects.
“We’re seeking approval from the Board to pursue the
opportunity, especially considering that it is a recently
recovered stolen artifact.”
“Tell us more about it,” one of the vice chairmen prompts.
Mrs. Winters looks at Giselle. She smiles and starts
elaborating on the sculpture’s origins and history. The more
she speaks authoritatively about it, the more I yearn to have
her in my life. Furtively, I look around the table and note how
enamored the people are with her knowledge and authority on
the subject. I can’t help gritting my teeth when I notice some
eyes trailing not just her face, but her body as well.
Horny old bastards! She’s mine!
What the hell is wrong with me? Where is this schoolboy
jealousy and possessiveness coming from? One day and night
with her isn’t enough to claim her as mine.
I rub a hand across my jaw as I struggle to focus on what
she’s saying and not imagine her mouth on my cock again.
“For an event planner, I must say you’re quite versed in the
history of the Mayans,” one of the men says in a tone filled
with admiration.
Giselle smiles brightly, making me feel as if I’ve been
punched in the solar plexus. “I studied art and archaeology at
the Sorbonne.”
Wait. What? I didn’t know that. What the hell is she doing
working as an event planner? She should be a conservator.
“That’s impressive,” someone says with appreciation.
“Truly, this could be very good for the museum’s
reputation.”
“Yes. As it was recovered from an art theft ring, it will
draw curiosity among our visitors and make the exhibit a huge
success.”
“And raise more funds, which we discussed earlier.”
“Art lovers will definitely be intrigued by it.”
 As the discussion is going on around the table about the
merits of having the sculpture displayed at the museum, I think
of a way to get to Giselle and make her hear me out.
“I’m afraid we have to act fast if we want to acquire it.
Otherwise, it might be returned to the Honduran government
very soon,” Mrs. Winters chips in.
After further discussion, the chairman finally announces
the Board’s concurrence.
Giselle and her team beam with delight.
“And since Ms. Bartholomay is the one who brought up
the project and has the lead at the FBI, I think it’s only fair that
she should travel to Washington to view the sculpture and
speak to them.”
Her green eyes glint with joy. A surge of affection for her
rises in me, which I hastily crush.
“But as it’s a new role for her, I believe a conservator or a
board member should accompany her. Is anyone willing to do
that?”
Smiling as the perfect opportunity lands squarely on my
lap, I clear my throat and lean forward.
“I’ll go,” I declare before anyone else can speak up.
Giving nothing away with my blank expression, I continue,
“I’m also interested in the sculpture, and I have a contact at the
FBI as well, in case hers falls through.”
I chance a glance in Giselle’s direction. Silently, I applaud
her for maintaining a cool facade. Only the narrowing of her
eyes depicts her displeasure at my suggestion.
“Er … thank you, Mr… .”
“Carrey, Ms. Bartholomay,” I supply easily. Two can play
the game.
“Mr. Carrey. I’d prefer someone from my team. Someone
I’ve worked with to make things easier,” she protests calmly.
The chairman shakes his head. “I think we’re fortunate that
someone of Mr. Carrey’s art expertise is able to accompany
you. He’s one of our contributors to the Mayan art exhibit, and
I believe he’s as knowledgeable as you are. So, you two will
work well together to determine the artifact’s condition.”
“Precisely,” I concur. Turning to Giselle with a cool smile,
I add, “Rest assured, Ms. Bartholomay, that we’ll bring the
sculpture to the museum. I can be very persuasive in my
dealings.”
She ignores my double entendre and opens her mouth,
most likely to protest again, but the chairman cuts in.
“That’s settled then. When would you be leaving?”
“I … er … I’ll have to get in touch with the FBI contact
first to fix a date with him. It could be in a week or so.”
He nods. “Right. Thank you, Mrs. Winters, Ms.
Bartholomay, and the rest of the team.”
Giselle glances at me as her team exits the boardroom. Our
eyes meet and lock for some seconds before she looks away. I
hope she gets the message I passed in mine.
What I want, I get.
And now, I want her.
CHAPTER 10
 GISELLE

S tepping out of the cab in front of the magnificent

Hamilton Hotel, I grab my overnight bag. Although the
mid-November sun renders the air warm, it remains as crisp as
the pages of a new book. Tipping my head back, I stare up at
the building painted white with its dark green signage. Lucky
for me that the museum chose the historical hotel because of
its proximity to the J. Edgar Hoover Building. The urge to
check-in and explore the city is overwhelming, but I remind
myself to stay focused. Sightseeing isn’t the reason I’m here.
Perhaps after my successful assignment is complete, I can take
a few hours to tour around the city before leaving tomorrow.
With that decision in mind, I climb up the steps into the
cool interior of the building. I’m immediately welcomed by
the doorman. The vast lobby sprawls out, bathed in the gleam
of gold accents, offering an elegant spectacle. My heels click
on the black and white patterned floor as I cross to the front
desk where two receptionists, looking smart in black and white
uniforms, greet me with broad smiles. The pillars loom large,
their grandeur juxtaposed with eclectic decor that dances
between time worn elegance and contemporary flair.
“Welcome to the Hamilton,” the man behind the counter
says in a booming voice.
“Thank you. I have a reservation for Ms. Giselle
Bartholomay.”
The man glances at his computer screen, presses a few
buttons, and nods. “Yes. The Park View King Room. Excellent
choice. I hope you had a nice trip here.”
 I nod and provide him with the necessary identification.
The train journey from New York had been nothing short of
enchanting, each landmark blurring past my window, rendered
hazy by my bubbling anticipation. Pinching myself, I’m
reminded of the museum’s board, their eyes widening and
faces lighting up as I delved into the intricacies of Mayan
culture and art. A mere week at the museum, and the
tantalizing possibility of joining the conservators for the next
exhibit already looms on my horizon. The thought sends
shivers of excitement down my spine as I dare to dream.
“Here are your keys, ma’am. Andrew here will show you
to your room.”
“Thank you.”
I take the key and turn around. A small gasp falls from my
throat when I walk smack into a well-built body. Instinctively,
I raise my hands to brace myself against the muscular chest of
the man I hit while his arms encircle my waist to keep me
steady. Warm, firm, and unrelenting. The man’s musky scent
tickles my nostrils, and before I even lift my eyes, I know it’s
Miles.
Oh, my sweet heavens.
My breath is trapped in my lungs, my femininity beating
like a heart. He smiles, the edges as sharp as broken glass, a
frightening hunger in his eyes. The weight of his gaze has my
entire body humming.
Swiftly, I pull away from his embrace, hating my traitorous
reaction.
“What’s the hurry, Giselle?” he asks, his voice a rumble
that shoots straight to my core.
I strive to put further distance between us, though I can’t
deny that I relished being in his arms again, even if it was just
for a few seconds. Just like a week ago in the board meeting,
he’s dressed in a sleek suit that shows off his muscular
physique. Once more, I see why it was so easy for me to fall
into bed with him. The man is damn handsome and fucking
sexy!
 “Mr. Carrey. I’m sorry I didn’t see you there.”
My voice is in shreds.
Smirking, his brows curve. “Mr. Carrey? Really?”
I catch myself shrugging, eyes drifting to the side. Civility
feels like a thin thread about to snap. His pull is like gravity, as
if the universe itself insists on drawing us closer. This hotel
lobby, with its ambient murmurs and soft lighting, only
amplifies the echoes of our night at the Mandarin.
“I know we’re here on business, but standing on formal
ground won’t work … unless you want to play with it, that is.”
He grins, taking a suggestive step closer.
The urge to shout bubbles up, fueled by the sting of his
concealed life. A wife, a daughter, all hidden as he whispered
dreamy illusions beneath sheets. But I rein in the surge of
emotions, biting back sharp words. As much as I’d love to, I
can’t completely dismiss him just yet.
The visit to the FBI needs to go well. If things are stilted
between us, chances are we won’t agree on anything and
thereby not make a good impression. Possibly, it might lead to
our request not being granted. All that negative energy around
me would not be productive right now.
On top of everything, even if we are given the go-ahead by
the FBI and Honduras, the Board still needs to agree. Miles
will be instrumental to achieving that, especially if the
conditions to loan the sculpture turn out to be stiff.
Waving aside my misgivings and annoyance that he forced
his way into coming along on this trip with me, I give him a
hint of a smile.
“My apologies … Miles. Please excuse me. The bellboy
was about to show me to my room before I bumped into you.”
“What a shame,” he utters quietly before I can even put a
step forward.
“What is?” I inquire, even though I’m not really interested
in what he has to say. I wish he weren’t here with me. His
mere presence is a major distraction, and I need to set my
priorities straight and clear my head before the meeting.
“That we couldn’t save some money for the museum by
booking only one room.” He grins. “The first time we shared a
bed was memorable.”
Incensed, I struggle to keep my cool and snap sarcastically,
“I don’t think your wife would approve of you sharing with me
again.”
A frown contorts his face, and I smile with satisfaction.
“Giselle, what—”
Hastily, I walk away, not bothering to listen to whatever
lying excuses he’s about to give. Even if he tells me he’s in an
open relationship or about to get a divorce, that won’t make up
for not telling me he’s married in the first place. Quickly, I
enter the elevator, hoping he won’t catch up with me. I might
just lose my cool and yell at him, causing a scene.
Lord knows I tried to be civil, but that quip about sharing a
bed was too much for me to bear. How dare he bring back
such intimate memories? Having him here isn’t a good idea,
but I don’t have a choice. I was even tempted to give up the
project when the Board endorsed him coming here with me.
But I will not allow him to ruin this opportunity for me.
Remain professional, Giselle. He can’t get to you unless
you let him.
Once the bellboy guides me inside, I offer him a tip before
sealing the world outside with a soft click of the door. The
room unveils itself in hues of gold and cerulean, a visual
symphony that soothes and invigorates. Drawn to the window
by the bed, adorned with snow-white linens, I gently part the
curtains. Before me stands the Washington Monument, its
obelisk silhouette commanding the skyline. The city beckons,
tempting me with its treasures. But a voice within reminds me
of the upcoming meeting, urging me to stay in the moment.
From my bag, I pull out a white silk blouse and print skirt
before going to take a quick shower. Staring at my reflection
in the bathroom mirror, I bind my long hair into a ponytail.
 I’m just sliding my feet into black heels when I hear a
knock on the door. A small frown creases my forehead. I
didn’t order room service. My heart misses a beat when I think
it might be Miles. Speedily, I go to the door and groan
inwardly when I look through the peephole and see that it is
indeed him standing there. How did he find out which room I
am in? More than ever, I realize that coming here with him
was a big mistake.
I jerk when he knocks again. I don’t want him to come into
the room, so I pick up my purse and pull the door open.
My breath catches when I notice he now has a different
suit on, showing off his broad shoulders and lean physique and
matching his gray eyes. I stand rooted to the spot, with little
quivers running through me when he slowly ogles me from the
tip of my toes to the roots of my hair. Male appreciation
reflects in his smoldering eyes. My skin flushes and my
nipples pebble, but I manage to keep a bland expression. Him
knowing how much his sensual scrutiny affects me will only
encourage him.
“You look good,” he says with a smirk.
“Thank you,” I reply, stiff-lipped.
“Ready?”
“For what?” I question, fighting to get my insides to stop
quivering.
He looks puzzled. “For the meeting. I already booked an
Uber. He should be here in a few minutes.”
“Why?” I frown.
He gives me an odd look. “I was hoping we could ride
together.”
He forestalls me when I open my mouth to protest. “It
doesn’t make sense for us to arrive in different cars when
we’re heading in the same direction and have the same
meeting.”
Unable to argue with his reasoning, I reluctantly mutter,
“It’s just a few blocks anyway.” I can’t help asking, “How did
you find out which room I am in? Don’t tell me they told you
at reception?”
His face softens into a grin. “I was standing right behind
you when he handed you your key. I saw the room number.
Besides, we’re neighbors. My room is next door.”
I grit my teeth inwardly. He must have planned this.
Resolving to keep things professional, I nod and wait for him
to step aside before I close the door and place the key in my
bag. Stiffly, I walk beside him to the elevator. The sooner this
meeting is over and we return to New York to continue living
our separate lives, the better.
If only I could get my treacherous body to believe it.
CHAPTER 11
 MILES

G lancing at Giselle outside the hotel as we wait for the

Uber, it’s hard to believe that she thinks I’m married.
Seeing Ashlyn made her come to that conclusion, for sure. But
she could have asked.
“Giselle,” I begin but am interrupted by the arrival of the
car. Quickly, I open the door for her.
Her expression shows she would rather be anywhere else
but here with me. She grudgingly slides into the vehicle. My
lips twitch with humor when I see the way she scoots over to
the other side, almost plastering herself against the door.
Sighing, I slide in beside her. The stiff way she holds herself
as she looks out of the window makes me think that she might
develop a backache by the time we get there.
I would have loved to wait until the meeting is over to
explain to her about Gwen and Ashlyn, but given her icy
demeanor, I think it’s best to tackle it now. The meeting might
be stilted if she doesn’t loosen up and become her usual, easy-
going self again. Although, she appears more than capable of
holding her feelings in and not showing them to the outside
world.
“Giselle,” I start again. “I think I owe you an explanation.”
“Please, Miles. This is hardly the time for this,” she cuts in
curtly, without looking in my direction.
My lips thin in annoyance. “We can’t have a successful
meeting with the FBI agent if things are stilted between us.”
 “You don’t have to do anything, Miles. Contrary to what
you think, you don’t owe me an explanation.”
“I believe I do. We—”
“We made a mistake sleeping together, and that’s it.”
My forehead creases. “Do you really believe that?” I stare
at her tightened face.
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. We’re here on an
assignment. Let’s make sure we are successful.”
“I know. Still—”
“If you don’t stop talking, I’ll tell the driver to pull over,
and I’ll walk to the meeting. I don’t even understand why we
need to take a car in the first place, when we could have
walked.”
Observing the tautness in her face and the firm
determination in her eyes, I give her a curt nod and look away.
If she thinks this conversation is over and done with, then she
truly doesn’t know anything about me.
A tense silence falls between us for the rest of the short
drive. I keep my mind focused on the meeting. Even though I
came along just because I wanted some time alone with her,
I’m very much interested in the museum getting the piece for
the exhibit.
From the corner of my eye, I look at Giselle holding
herself rigidly. Being in proximity to her is unnerving. I itch to
draw her into my arms and force her body to relax against me
by kissing away the mutinous line her lips have thinned into. I
want to undo her hair clasp and rake my fingers into the
glorious tresses. I—
“We’re here,” the driver announces.
Nodding, I open the door and get out of the car. Giselle
does the same on her side. I scrutinize the massive building
that has been heavily criticized for its architecture and location
on Pennsylvania Avenue. I actually don’t see what’s so ugly
about it, since it’s a utility building. Although the trees with
their falling leaves and the many flags lend an artistic quality
to the fortress.
The gravel-filled dry moat draws my attention as I stride
into the building among the people entering and exiting.
Giselle’s heels click on the floor beside me, but I don’t look in
her direction. We’ll keep things professional.
For now.
We go through the security check and get in touch with our
contact.
A tall, well-built man with dark brown hair and stormy
eyes walks toward us with a smile on his angular face. His
eyes rove Giselle’s features, and I stop myself from gritting
my teeth. It takes everything in me not to throw my arm
around her shoulders just to make sure he doesn’t get any
ideas.
I catch myself in shock. When did I become such an
insecure and possessive man? I reluctantly admit that Giselle’s
brush-off is getting to me. Her rebuff is a challenge, and I’m
determined to chase her and make her mine.
“I’m Special Agent Robert Armstrong. You must be Jo’s
sister.”
Jo? Sister?
Smiling brightly, which makes me stiffen with jealousy,
Giselle replies, “I’m Giselle Bartholomay.” She takes his
outstretched hand before turning to me with a stony
expression. “This is Mr. Carrey. He’s a member of the Met’s
Board of Trustees.”
The man and I exchange a firm handshake and nods.
“Thank you for agreeing to see us and show us the
sculpture, Agent Armstrong,” Giselle thanks him.
He shrugs. “Please call me Robert. It’s my pleasure. When
Jo called to inform me of your intention, I couldn’t say no.”
I rub a hand across my jaw to hide a smile. I sense that he’s
quite interested in this Jo girl. Regret fills me again at the way
I left Giselle at the Mandarin. Perhaps by now, she would have
told me about her sister and any other siblings she has, and I
would have possibly told her about Ashlyn and Gwen.
“She can be very persuasive.”
He laughs. A rich sound. “She sure can. This way, please.”
As we stroll across the seemingly never-ending corridors, I
notice that the building could benefit from a complete
renovation. Robert exchanges brief greetings with his
colleagues along the way. Finally, we arrive at an office.
“I arranged for the bust to be moved here so you can take a
look,” he explains as he lets us into the sparsely furnished
office.
The sculpture is in the middle of the room on a wooden
pedestal. It’s about two feet tall, made out of stone, and looks
heavy. I approach it with curiosity. I’m hoping everything will
go well, not just for the museum, but for Giselle too. She has
worked so hard to make this happen.
“Oh, my God!” Giselle exclaims beside me upon seeing
the stone sculpture. “It is indeed The Old Man of Copán.”
I give her a quizzical look. “Were you expecting anything
different?”
She nods without looking in my direction, her attention
fixated on the sculpture. “I was half-skeptical that it might not
be an original. But look, there is a tenon element on the back
of the stone. It served to fix the sculpture into a vertical
masonry face.”
The glint in her eyes, when she glances at me before
staring at the sculpture again, is heartwarming. Seeing her
obvious excitement is catching. It’s hard to equate this bubbly,
happy woman to the icy one who took an Uber here with me. I
love the change, though.
Reluctantly, I shift my gaze from her flushed face to the
famous head. Examining it, I’m surprised to see that it seems
to be in excellent condition. I remember seeing a painting of
the sculpture some years ago, and I nod at the striking
resemblance. The old man has water lilies tied to his forehead,
drooping cheekbones, and a scanty-toothed mouth so
prominent that I feel transported to the era when he existed.
Giselle turns to me just then with her eyes still sparkling
with joy. “Isn’t this amazing? I can’t help imagining the
rudimentary tools used to carve it.”
For an instant, I’m taken back to the Met when we first
met and were discussing Degas and the other artists. As if she
remembers too, her eyes dim a little, and my gaze falls to her
lips before rising to her eyes again. Time stands still as we
stare at each other.
The clearing of a throat and shifting of feet interrupts the
highly charged moment. I whirl around to look at Robert.
Entranced by Giselle and her excitement, I completely forgot
about his presence. He gives me a knowing smirk and a nod
before looking away.
I grin and turn to a flushed Giselle. “I understand how you
feel. It’s a shame what happened to their civilization.”
“It is, indeed.”
“What happened?” Robert interrupts.
“Let’s just say overpopulation, drought, and military
interference brought about their collapse,” I tell him
succinctly.
Giselle goes on to explain the three points I gave and how
the Copán archaeological site was discovered by Diego
Garcia, how UNESCO declared it a World Heritage Site in
1980, and some other distinct things about the era.
Robert listens with rapt attention while I marvel at
Giselle’s beauty, radiating from her knowledge of the Mayans
and her love for art.
“Thanks for the information. Jo warned me that you would
talk my ears sore.”
Giselle blushes and beams.
“But I enjoyed every bit of the information. Thanks,” he
adds with a broad smile.
 “You’re welcome.”
“Are you satisfied with it?” He nods at the sculpture,
glancing at us.
She nods. “Yes. I cannot thank you and your team enough
for rescuing this priceless historical piece from the thieves.
Last I’d heard, it was among the other structures excavated
from the Copán site and exhibited at the Copán Sculpture
Museum in Western Honduras.”
“Yes. There was a breach, and some artifacts were stolen.
Hopefully, we’ll recover the others as well.”
“Hopefully,” I insert. “So, what’s next?”
He scratches his forehead. “We’ve informed the Honduran
government about the recovery. So, you’ll need to coordinate
with them. As long as they give their approval, there should be
no issues in having the artifact exhibited at the Met.”
“That would be lovely,” Giselle says. “We intend to have
the exhibit, Lives of the Gods, for a couple of months. I’m
certain people will come from far and wide to see it, especially
those who can’t make it to Honduras.”
“That’s to be expected,” Robert agrees.
We discuss the logistics before we decide to take our leave.
We thank Robert profusely for his help, and we exit the
building after a successful meeting. Outside, the Uber I called
while we were finishing our discussion is already waiting.
Giselle enters without hesitation while I slide in after her.
Although her face is relaxed, unlike during our journey here,
she ignores me and looks out the window. As her demeanor
doesn’t encourage a conversation, I keep silent. However, I
know I can’t leave things the way they are. After the success
of the meeting, we’re slated to return to New York tomorrow.
By the time we get there, chances are she’ll avoid me again.
This is the best opportunity I have to straighten things out.
As the car pulls up in front of the Hamilton, I decide on the
course to take. Immediately after we enter the cool interior of
the building, I turn to her.
 “Meet me for dinner to discuss the way forward. About the
sculpture, of course.”
She glances at me with a wary expression. “Is there really
a need for that? I thought we settled everything earlier.”
“Not everything. We need to find a contact who will make
the Honduran government give us a favorable response.”
She opens her mouth, probably to protest further, but then
she snaps it shut and nods.
“I’ll meet you in the lobby by seven,” I inform her.
“Okay.”
She walks away, and I enjoy the view of her swaying hips,
appreciating the dip in her waist and imagining holding her by
it. I turn away and head for the bar to get a drink while I make
calls, first to Ashlyn and then to a business associate. The dark
decor of the bar is a contrast to the bright reception.
A smile curls my lips as I sip on my martini, looking
forward to the evening ahead.
CHAPTER 12
 GISELLE

I stare at the simple but elegant black dress I brought

with me just in case I wanted to eat at the hotel’s
restaurant instead of having my meal sent up to my room. I rub
my nape as I again ponder the wisdom of having dinner with
Miles. It’s impossible to deny that I’m attracted to him. So, is
it wise to feed the chemistry when I know nothing can come of
a relationship with him?
Shame washes over me at the fact that I’m attracted to a
married man. His cheating on his wife and leading me on is
abhorrent, but sitting beside him in the car and talking to him
during the meeting brought none of those feelings. Instead, I’d
been so aware of his masculine pull that I hid behind the cover
of iciness.
“I should cancel the dinner meeting,” I mutter. But it might
not bode well for my career. I have to remind myself again that
he’s a board member, and I need everything to go well with
the exhibit to stand a chance of becoming a conservator. I
don’t picture him as a vindictive person if I reject his advances
or refuse to listen to him, but who knows? A wrong word in
the right ear might ruin my chances.
I don’t have anyone to blame but myself. If I hadn’t
jumped into bed within a few hours of meeting him, this
awkwardness would be absent now. With a deep sigh, I put on
my black dress, the darkness and silkiness of the fabric making
my worries fade away.
I reach for my jacket and purse. After putting on some
light makeup and my heels, I glance at my wristwatch. It’s
almost seven p.m. I’m a stickler for being on time, so I exit the
room, even though I would have loved to keep him waiting
just for the heck of it. But that would mean he would come up
to my room to check up on me and …
I’ve to get my mind off such thoughts. Stay civil with him,
and that’s it. He’s not the man for me, chemistry and his
dashing looks be damned.
My resolution is hard to keep when I find him standing
beside one of the huge lamps in the lobby, talking on the
phone. His attractive body is encased in a light blue shirt, a
camel coat, and navy trousers. I swallow thickly when he sees
me and walks over. His eyes rake my body, and even though
I’m fully dressed and wrapped in a coat, I feel as if he just
removed every piece of clothing from me, leaving me naked
and flushed.
In a superhuman effort, I keep my face bland. When he
reaches me, my eyes immediately dash to the top of his shirt
where he left the top buttons loose, showing tantalizing
glimpses of his glistening pecs. The memory of my fingers
trailing the stone hard muscles while he slid his dick in and out
of me has me holding my breath and wishing I had a change of
panties in my purse.
Oh, boy. This was a mistake.
“You look beautiful,” he says, giving me a smoldering
look.
“Thank you,” I say coolly and bite my tongue to keep from
telling him how handsome he looks.
“This way.” He puts his hand on the small of my back, but
I surreptitiously move away from him. How long can I pretend
that I’m not affected by his proximity? This is going to be a
long evening.
“Where are we going?” I ask when he leads me toward the
exit.
“I thought we could dine in a South American restaurant.
A friend mentioned it to me,” he explains as we go through the
revolving door.
 “Oh.”
“Don’t worry. It’s not far,” he says as we step outside.
Although the day was sunny and crisp, the night is cool
and slightly windy. It smells like autumn. A gentle breeze
rustles the leaves still hanging on to the branches. The area is
bustling. People are walking around the many shops and
restaurants lining the street. Miles and I walk side by side, and
I’m grateful he doesn’t try to hold my hand amid the throng of
people. I don’t think I’d be able to handle it.
A smile lifts my face when we enter the restaurant known
for its South American cuisine. The place is bright and
colorful with ridged iron and birdcage walls crafting stylistic
strata. The homey and pastoral ambiance is increased with a
graffiti-style work that makes the place look like an artist’s
haven. Fortunately, it isn’t as crowded as the other restaurants
we passed by, and I discover they only attend to customers
based on reservation. It’s not surprising that Miles has booked
in advance, though it’s a bit annoying. He already knew I
would agree to what now seems like a date. Suppressed anger
simmers inside me.
We’re welcomed and shown to a gleaming wooden table
with comfortable high-back seating in a corner. I merely nod
when Miles pulls out one of the chairs for me. While he orders
a bottle of wine, I glance around the posh place at the other
diners before settling my sight on the onion-shaped light
holder in the middle of the table. To keep busy, I take the
menu and scan through it. Another server shows up to take our
orders. I’m not really familiar with South American cuisine.
Although I want to choose the familiar ceviche, I decide to be
adventurous and go for the cazuela.
Mile’s phone on the table beeps, and he picks it up, looks
at it, and replaces it.
“Your wife?” I can’t help asking, managing to keep the
snark from my voice.
He stares at me with intense eyes. “Giselle …”
 “You don’t have to worry. You can pick up her calls.” I
shrug. “I don’t mind. Just pretend I’m not here.”
He gives me a tight smile. “It will be hard for me to do
that.”
I frown. “Why? Because I’m here? I don’t mind.”
“I meant talking to her would be difficult because—”
“Of me? Don’t worry, I’ll leave if you need some privacy,”
I hastily cut in, although jealousy strikes through me. Better to
get it all out in the open now and let him know that I don’t
date married men, just in case he has something else in mind
for this dinner meeting.
“It would be hard for me to talk to a dead person on the
phone.”
My eyes widen like saucers as I gawk at him. “What?”
He nods as sadness creeps into his eyes. “I lost my wife
five years ago.”
My hand dashes to my mouth in shock. “Oh, God. I’m
such a bitch.”
He looks away for a moment before returning his gaze to
my face. “You couldn’t have known. It was a devastating blow
to me and my daughter. She was only five, barely able to
understand what was happening. Somehow, I kept going and
Ashlyn became my life.”
Sadness wells up inside me at what he must have gone
through. I feel terrible for assuming, and for probably bringing
back the memories of his late wife.
“It was true what I told you that night at the Mandarin, that
I hadn’t had sex in a while. That’s because I don’t date.
Bringing a woman into Ashlyn’s life when she hasn’t fully
gotten over the death of her mom isn’t wise. She misses her
dearly.”
From the despondent note in his voice, I recognize that he
mourns his wife deeply.
 “How did she die?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything
further.
“Brain cancer,” he replies in a tight voice. “It was sudden.
Nothing we did to save her or even elongate her life worked.
Within six months, she was gone.”
I bite my bottom lip, avoiding his gaze. “I’m so sorry for
jumping to conclusions. I thought…”
He shakes his head. “It’s all right, Giselle. I understand.
It’s only natural for you to think that way, especially as I didn’t
leave my contact details before leaving the Mandarin that
morning.”
I lower my head again to stare at the table. I really should
have given him the benefit of the doubt and approached him
and his daughter at the dance school instead of running away
and imagining the very worst.
“I did that because I was unsure about things. Ashlyn has
always needed my full attention, and I didn’t want to renege
on that, even though I would have loved to see you again. I
had to consider her feelings and the impact it would make on
her if I brought another woman into her life.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that he can’t go on
like that. I want to tell him what I told Gabriel when he
decided he wouldn’t have another relationship ever again.
Someday, his daughter would leave home and he would be left
alone. But I don’t want to sound like I’m fishing for a
relationship with him, so I keep quiet.
He smiles briefly. “I hope you can remove the thought of
me being a lowlife from your mind now.”
My face becomes beet red at his words. “Definitely.”
I wonder if it would be too forward to ask him where we
go from here. But the answer stares me in the face when his
daughter calls a few seconds later, and he talks briefly with her
in an animated conversation about where he is right now and
what he’s doing. Without mentioning me.
Our meals are served just as he ends the call. Silence falls
between us as we enjoy the food. Now that I know I didn’t
sleep with a married man, although I’m sorry for his loss, I
relax. It’s obvious that, even though he enjoyed talking to me
just as much as he enjoyed fucking me, he doesn’t want us to
move forward. It’s painful, but I will have to accept it. Just like
my brother, he puts his daughter first, and I’m not about to
disabuse him of that notion.
It’s a shame he isn’t available for a relationship. He might
have been a good boyfriend. Again, I realize I am still
following my pattern of attracting unavailable men. But just
like how I’ve been able to cope with previous
disappointments, I’ll move on and forget about him. I really
should take Jo’s advice, no matter how sad it seems.
“T HANK YOU FOR DINNER . The food was out of this world,” I
tell Miles as we walk back to the hotel.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he replies curtly, looking
straight ahead of him.
After deciding that there is no future for us, I relaxed and
enjoyed his company. We agreed that I’d contact the Honduran
government to figure out the formal procedure for requesting
the loan of the Mayan sculpture.
As I am avoiding bumping into a woman who is hurrying
past me, my hand brushes against his. “Pardon,” I apologize
and step aside.
He nods and touches my arm. “Be careful.”
My chest tightens as electric current runs through me.
Lifting my head to see if Miles felt it too, I’m struck by the
weight of his gaze, dark and filled with desire. Swiftly, I look
away. This is all shades of wrong. We’re here on a business
trip, not to fuck each other. Even though I desperately want us
to.
The sooner I’m in my room behind closed doors, the better
for me. We continue walking in silence. Once we arrive at the
hotel, the thrumming of need between us turns deafening. Or
am I the only one hearing it? A woman enters the elevator
with us, and I sigh inwardly with relief. Every nerve in me
tingles as I catch Miles’s musky fragrance. Is it possible to be
turned on by his scent alone? How will I get any sleep tonight,
knowing his room is next to mine while I itch to feel his dick
inside me again?
The woman exits on the second floor, and I am sure he can
hear my heart thundering. His ravenous eyes are raking my
body, his gaze heavy and heated. He takes a step toward me,
boxing my head in with his hands.
“You are staying with me tonight,” he grinds out, his voice
husky. He grazes his lips across mine and gives me a gentle
tug on my lower lip. My pulse flutters in my neck like the
wings of a trapped bird.
“I … I am?” I rasp.
“I’ve obsessed for weeks over how you like to be fucked.”
His voice is a rumble rolling over my skin, leaving
goosebumps in its wake.
My back is plastered against the wall as he crushes his lips
to mine. I throw my arms around his neck as he deepens the
kiss. His dick pushes into my stomach, and all I can think of is
turning to the wall, lifting my dress up, and begging him to
fuck me from behind. The risk of being caught be damned!
The elevator doors open, and he bites on my lip again
before he reluctantly releases me. He grabs my hand and leads
me out of the elevator to his room. He opens the door in record
time and flips the light switch before shutting the door and
dragging me into his arms. Again, we’re ensconced with each
other and kissing as if our lives depend on it.
“I will ruin you tonight, Giselle. It’s all I’ve been thinking
about since that blasted morning I left you at the hotel,” he
murmurs against my nape. “I don’t think I can wait for us to
get to the bed.”
“Sex on the bed is overrated,” I tell him in barely a
whisper.
As if he knows what my deepest desire is, he whirls me
around and positions my hands on the wall, bending me
slightly. He raises my dress to my waist before swiftly
dragging my panties down to my ankles. I’m about to step out
of them when I feel his fingers on my clitoris.
“You’re so wet for me, baby,” he growls as his fingers
caress and slide in and out of my moist pussy. He goes to his
knees, his tongue takes over for his fingers, and my hands slip
from the wall at the bolts of pleasure that shoot through my
body.
“Oh, Miles,” I groan as his tongue continues to claim me
just the way his fingers did.
Just when I think I cannot take it anymore, my body
shudders with an orgasm that has me almost screaming with
delight.
“I love it when you come for me,” he rumbles in my ear as
he rises.
I’ve hardly caught my breath when I feel the tip of his
huge dick stroking my pussy. I brace myself for the delicious
onslaught of my senses. I’m not disappointed when he slowly
thrusts into me. I moan at the intense feeling coursing through
me. He stays in that position for a moment until I wriggle my
hips.
“Are you asking for more?” He chuckles and begins
pushing into me with long, hard strokes. He removes his hands
from my waist to reach around me to push down my bra,
freeing my breasts. He tweaks my nipples with his fingers, and
tears of pleasure fill my eyes.
Only our labored breathing and the sound of him slamming
hard into me can be heard in the room. Unable to keep this
position because of the buildup of sensations between my
thighs, my hands slide from the wall again.
His hands move from my nipples to curl around my waist
and before I know it, he’s sprawled on the floor with me.
“Suck me, baby,” he demands.
Liking that he has given me power, I remove my heels and
drag my panties from my ankles before taking off my dress
and bra. As he seems content to lie there with his clothes on
and only his rigid dick protruding from his trousers, I go down
on him.
Swirling my tongue around and around his cock, I lick and
suck him until he’s bucking and almost shooting his load in
my mouth. I lick the saltiness of his precum and smile. Then I
turn my back on him before lowering myself onto his
pulsating cock. Feeling like a cowgirl on a vibrant stallion
with the wind in my face, I ride him, twerking my buttocks to
feel him deeper. He grunts as I bounce on his cock with my ass
hitting his six pack. For the second time, I experience an earth-
shattering orgasm that brings tears to my eyes.
Miles doesn’t waste time laying me on the floor with my
back against his chest. He lifts my leg at an angle before
sliding into my swollen pussy from behind. Lying side by side
with his hand holding my breast, he continues pounding into
me.
“You take my cock so well, baby,” he grunts, and I feel
tension building in me again. He starts shuddering just as I
reach my peak and moan loudly with satisfaction. He lies
beside me on the floor, still clutching my breast.
“We really didn’t make it to the bed,” he says, grinning.
Laughter bubbles in my throat. “It didn’t make it any less
mind-blowing.”
“True,” he leans in and kisses me. He rises and carries me
to the bed as if I weigh nothing before ridding himself of his
clothes and joining me.
I just hope he won’t sneak out on me again in the morning.
CHAPTER 13
 MILES

“G iselle?”
I frown when my hand doesn’t find her on the
other side of the bed. I open my eyes, and my irritation
deepens. Where is she?
“Giselle?” I lift my head to search the room. Alarm rises
inside me when I notice her clothes are no longer strewn on
the floor.
Has she pulled a runner on me like I did? I search for a
note, but I don’t see anything. I lay back on the bed and stare
at the ceiling. It serves me right for doing it to her a few weeks
ago. This must be how she felt that morning when she woke
up and found I was gone. Lonely and confused.
At least I had the decency to leave a note. I sit up and rake
my fingers through my messy hair. We had a great night. She
was as insatiable as me. So why did she leave? Is she in her
own hotel room? I reach for my phone on the bedside table
and grimace. I don’t even have her number, and I forgot to call
Ashlyn last night. Guilt overtakes me when I see multiple
missed call notifications. My chest tightens when I read a text
message from my daughter, bidding me goodnight.
Shit!
This is the exact reason I don’t date. Having a hundred
percent attention for my Ashlyn would become a thing of the
past. Just one night of mind-blowing sex, and I forgot to call
her. Damn!
 My attention is drawn from the phone when I hear the
shower coming on.
“Giselle?” My heart lifts at the realization that she’s still
here.
Promising myself to call Ashlyn later, I go to investigate.
Instantly, my cock stirs to life when I see water cascading
down Giselle’s back.
“How about I join you?”
When she hears the shower door opening, she whirls
around with surprise. “I thought you were still sleeping.”
“Not having you in my bed woke me up,” I say, and I
immediately stiffen. I said those exact words to Gwen
countless times.
If Giselle notices my rigidity, she gives no indication. She
smiles brightly. “How sweet. By all means, come.”
Gwen used to love it when we’d shower together. Too late
to take back the words now, I step into the cubicle behind her
as I force thoughts of my late wife from my mind.
Stop thinking about Gwen. Don’t ruin this moment with
Giselle.
I close my eyes tightly for a moment and open them again.
Smiling, I take the soap and begin rubbing it across her body.
Her breasts receive special attention as I roll the bar around
her nipples. She flings her head back onto my shoulder as my
hand lowers to her pussy. I sigh with joy when my fingers find
her wet and ready.
Even after claiming her over and over last night, I still
want her as badly as if it was our first time. This is new to me
with any woman. And I must confess that it worries me.
Giselle’s moans have me returning to the present. The
sound is so intoxicating that I know I’m done with foreplay. I
want to be inside her desperately, so I bend her over, making
her hold on to the shower knobs as I slide into her.
“You are so tight and wet for me, baby,” I growl as I move
my hips, pulling out completely and then plunging back in.
My hands caress her waist and her pert ass as I push into her.
She wriggles her waist and pushes back against me while I
enjoy the water running down her hair and back and sliding in
between our joined bodies. Holding on tightly to her waist, I
increase the tempo of my thrusts. When her hands slip from
the knobs, I change our positions. I switch off the shower and
sit on the warm tiles, and she sits down on my dick with her
back to me. I grab her breasts and twirl her nipples with my
fingers. Watching her ride me as if her life depends on it
almost has me reaching my peak. But I want to savor the
moment a while longer, so I take deep breaths. Soon, her
panting becomes ragged, and she lets out a loud moan before
she falls back against my chest.
“That was hot. You are hot.” My lips find hers, and our
tongues entwine before I push her onto her knees. I hold her
tits together and glide my dick in between them. Her tongue
curls around my cock every time I slide up. She is so sexy, I
want to fucking explode. I manage to control myself for a
while before I draw her to her feet and place my hands on her
ass. I lift her, and she quickly wraps her leg around me to
receive my thrust.
With her back against the wall, I fuck her until I can’t feel
my legs anymore. Grabbing a towel, I wrap her in it and carry
her to the bed, where I continue to fuck her on her knees until I
quiver and grunt as I spill myself into her. I notice with a smile
that she’s also trembling and breathless as she finds her own
release. I collapse on the bed beside her, winded, and then
curve my hand around her to pull her to my body.
“I want you so sore, you remember who fucked you for
days.”
She smiles, lifting her head from the bed. “I should go and
pack.”
I frown. “Why? It’s barely seven.”
“Yes, but we have to get back to New York.”
“What’s the hurry?” I shrug. “It’s just a few hours.” Then I
frown. “Did you book an early flight out?”
 She shakes her head. “No. I came on the train, and I intend
to go back the same way. When is your flight?”
“Not until noon.” I rub my hand across my stubble. “You
know what? I’ll call and cancel. I think a train ride with you
will be more interesting. That is, if you want my company.”
She laughs softly. “That would be lovely.”
I give her a quick kiss. “We should order breakfast. I’m
famished.”
Her eyes sparkle. “And who is to be blamed for that?”
Scrutinizing her flushed face and sexy body, I grin. “You,
of course. For being the most beautiful, sexy, and passionate
woman ever.”
A deep blush covers her face, and she reaches out to throw
a pillow at me, but it falls to the ground.
I laugh. “Don’t start what you can’t finish, lady.”
She squeals and jumps off the bed when I reach for a
pillow. Laughing, I chase her across the room.
W ITH MY HAND on the small of Giselle’s back, I step out of the
elevator. When we arrived back at Penn Station, she was
reluctant that I see her to her apartment door, but I wasn’t
ready to let her go yet. I said I wanted to see her home safely,
though I also wanted to find out where she lives. During the
train ride, we were both careful not to mention the future. We
have a lot of thinking to do. Spending a night and a morning
with her wasn’t enough. I even forgot to call Ashlyn to wish
her a good night’s sleep. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she
called while I was having breakfast with Giselle before I
realized I hadn’t called her back.
What a terrible father I am. And all because I was lost in
this flaming-haired beauty with gorgeous green eyes and a
great personality.
“Thanks for seeing me home.” Giselle turns to me,
smiling.
I’m almost tempted to tell her to let me in for a cup of
coffee, but I stop myself. I have to get home to my daughter
and make up for my negligence.
“And thanks for a great time.”
I lift my hand to caress her cheek and lean in for a kiss just
as the elevator door opens. Surprised, I drop my hand and step
away from her just as a tall, broad-shouldered man comes out
of it, holding a little girl’s hand.
“Aunt Gigi!” the little girl cries upon seeing Giselle.
“Maddie!” Giselle dips low to swing her into her arms and
kiss her cheek.
A thick knot forms in my chest at the sight. It reminds me
of Gwen and Ashlyn and how much they loved each other.
Giselle’s eyes are filled with warmth. “Did you miss me? I
sure did.”
“Yes.”
“Where are you coming from?”
“The playground. It was fun.”
“Welcome back, Giselle,” the man says and then turns to
me to give me a look filled with curiosity.
“Thanks, Gabe. This is Mi-Mr. Carrey. He’s a member of
the Board of Trustees at the museum. He went with me to
Washington for the meeting. Miles, this is my brother, Gabriel.
And this is his daughter, Maddie.”
I shake hands with her brother while I smile at the little
girl. “Hello, Maddie.”
“Hello,” she says shyly and looks away.
“I believe we’ve already met, Miles,” her brother shocks
me by saying.
Upon closer inspection, I realize I’ve seen him before.
“At Brearley, right?” I ask, and he nods.
At the beginning of the academic year, the school had
organized an event for new families, where our paths had
briefly crossed. I was there as a parent of a child in the fourth
grade, and Gabriel was a newcomer.
 “Yes,” he replies and laughs softly. “The Upper East Side
sure feels like a village right now.”
I laugh. “True. I can’t tell you how many people I know
from work or somewhere else that I keep running into.”
“Same here. It’s almost like I know everyone.”
“Indeed.” I turn to Giselle, who is staring at me with
Maddie still in her arms. “Goodbye, Giselle.”
“Goodbye, Miles.” I wince inwardly at her icy reply. But
who can blame her?
I nod at Gabriel and wink at Maddie before striding away.
I itch to kiss her goodbye, but I can’t do that in front of her
family, especially since we haven’t agreed on what we are to
each other. Just a week ago, I was certain I wanted to pursue a
relationship with her, but now I’m having second thoughts.
“D AD !”
The joy on my daughter’s face is a delight to my soul as
she rises from her chair to rush over and throw her arms
around me. Warmth spreads through my body as I envelop her
in a bear hug.
“Welcome back, Mr. Carrey,” her babysitter says with a
smile on her face.
“Thanks, Mrs. Harrison. Why don’t you take the rest of the
evening off?”
“That would be nice, thank you.” She looks at Ashlyn,
who is still clinging to me as if she’ll never let go. “See you
tomorrow, Ashlyn.”
“Good night, Mrs. Harrison.”
“How was your trip?” she asks as the babysitter lets herself
out of the apartment.
“It was fine. But I missed you. Did you miss me?”
She pulls away and tilts her head to the side with a
thoughtful expression on her face that makes her look so much
like her mother. “I suppose.”
 My heart drops. Is she upset with me for not calling her
back last night and this morning? “Look, sugarplum, I …”
She bursts into a fit of giggles. “You should see your face,
Dad. Of course, I’m joking. I missed you too, especially when
you didn’t pick up my calls.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie.”
She shrugs. “It doesn’t matter, Dad. I know you were busy
with your meeting.”
Meeting my body with Giselle’s, you mean.
Her naive response makes me feel even guiltier. I couldn’t
even have the decency to answer her calls simply because I
was with a woman.
“I’ll make it up to you,” I promise.
She smiles. “Pizza and ice-cream?”
I burst into laughter because that’s what she usually asks
for whenever I want to give her a treat.
I kiss her cheek. “Let me take a quick shower, and we’ll
play some games. What did Mrs. Harrison plan to cook for
dinner?”
“She already made it. Lasagna.”
“Hmm. Yummy. I’ll be back shortly.”
“All right, Dad.” She returns to her chair and continues
watching the Disney Channel.
I hurry to my bedroom to clean up and change into a T-
shirt and slacks. The stimulating shower I had with Giselle
back in Washington flashes through my mind as my eyes fall
on a small portrait of Gwen. A strange sense of guilt consumes
me, as if I betrayed her memory. Hastily, I look away. Gwen
wouldn’t mind me having a relationship with Giselle. On her
deathbed, she told me not to mourn her for too long and carry
on with my life. But moving on sure feels awkward.
“All set,” I say when I get back to the living room. “How
was school today? Tell me all about it.”
 She tells me how a frog was let loose in a science class and
caused pandemonium in the entire school, with girls screaming
and running around.
“You should have been there, Dad. It was hilarious.” She
laughs heartily.
“Were you scared?”
“Not really. I found the entire thing funny.”
“That’s my girl.”
“How was Washington?”
I merely shrug and avoid her gaze. “Fine, I guess.”
“Mrs. Jones said we’ll be going on a field trip there next
year to visit the White House.”
“That will be amazing for you girls. It will be your first
time away from home for a night. Or maybe even two. You
must be excited.”
“Did you see the White House?”
“Yes. From afar, though.” Yearning to change the topic, I
nod toward the piano stationed at a side of the living room.
“How about you show me what you are working on right
now?
“Sure, Dad.”
We settle ourselves on the stool before the piano, and she
takes the lead in playing the upper voice of Schumann’s Album
for the Young. I join her with the lower voice. After that, we
play Clementis Sonatinas.
She claps with joy when we finish, which she usually does
when I play for her … and when I used to play for her mom. I
swallow thickly as I remember how Gwen sat curled up with
Ashlyn, listening to the piano.
Gosh, I miss my wife! Even after five years, it feels as if I
lost her yesterday.
“Dad?”
 I blink rapidly before rising to do my usual ritual of
bowing and forcing a smile on my face. Telling her I was
thinking of her mom would only put a dent in her happy mood.
“I beat Mrs. Harrison in chess yesterday.”
I grin. “That’s my girl! Let’s see if you can replicate it with
me.”
Her eyes widen a little. “Challenge accepted!”
I make a cross across my chest. “I promise to take it easy
on you.”
She laughs. “Me too.”
Thirty minutes later, I nod with pride. She has indeed
improved. I taught her how to play as a coping mechanism
when we lost Gwen, and it brought us even closer together.
“Checkmate,” I say quietly as I move my queen.
“It took you long enough,” she remarks with a sigh.
“I told you I would be gentle with you. But you’ve become
better. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
We have dinner, and I help her with her homework. Then
we settle in to watch television. Observing Ashlyn and her
facial expressions as she’s engrossed in the show, I can’t help
thinking of Gwen once more and missing her. She would have
been seated beside me or her head would be in my lap while I
stroked her soft hair. We would speak lightly, so as not to
disturb Ashlyn, and when it was her bedtime, we would take
her to her room and put her to bed together. We alternated
telling her bedtime stories. Though, Ashlyn is now too big for
that.
Will Ashlyn accept another woman in her life? Doubts fill
me about allowing Giselle into our small world. I don’t want
my daughter to feel estranged from me because of my
relationship with Giselle. It’s already bad enough that I forgot
about her for hours because I was caught up with a lover. What
if she becomes a regular in my life, and we go on dates?
Would Ashlyn be comfortable with it or would she pull away
from me, thinking I’m trying to replace her mom?
I know she has hinted at not wanting to be an only child
anymore. But wishing for a sibling is different from getting a
stepmom.
Whoa! Am I not getting ahead of myself? Starting a
relationship with Giselle doesn’t mean it will end at the altar
and creating a nursery in the house, does it?
But I can’t get thoughts of Giselle from my mind. I enjoy
every moment I spend with her. I loved having dinner with her
at the South American restaurant and talking throughout our
trip back to New York. Not to mention the many times I
fucked her. Giselle is a beautiful and intelligent woman, and if
things were different, I wouldn’t hesitate to make her mine.
But I have Ashlyn to think about.
CHAPTER 14
 GISELLE

“T his isn’t healthy,” I say as I swing off the bed and

start pacing my room. It’s been a good hour that I
have been thinking about my relationship with Miles. Going to
the playground with Gabriel and Maddie might have been time
better spent, but I knew I wouldn’t enjoy myself because
thoughts of him keep popping up in my head.
It’s a week after we came back to New York, and I haven’t
heard from him at all. I mean, what the actual hell? Is he for
real? Our paths haven’t even crossed at the Met. We
exchanged numbers, and I’ve been very hopeful that he’d call
me, but no. Am I expected to call him? After our time together
in Washington, I thought we had something going on, but the
way he reacted when seeing Gabriel and Maddie also has me
wondering.
One minute he was leaning in for a kiss, and the next, he
was formal. One would think we had exchanged no more than
handshakes. He probably didn’t want Gabriel guessing what
was going on between us, but did his tone have to be so
formal? He’s attentive and passionate when we’re alone, but as
soon as we’re in public, he becomes cool and distant. Now that
I think of it, he started acting that way after he received a
phone call from his daughter at the train station and on the
way to the apartment. He’d become aloof and only relaxed
when we stood together by the apartment door. But as soon as
we had company, he became Mr. Glacier again.
And here I was, thinking he would invite me to spend
Thanksgiving with him and his daughter the day after
tomorrow.
I sit on the bed and run my fingers through my hair. It’s
obvious that Miles is still on the fence about a possible
relationship. With the relentless way he pursued me and made
sure he came along to Washington, I’d thought he was truly
interested in going further. Apparently, I’m nothing but a fuck
bunny for him. This was exactly how Pierre behaved. He kept
blowing hot and cold, confusing me until I was forced to ask,
and he gave me the bombshell that he wasn’t a candidate for
marriage. That was even before he started sleeping with a
colleague. The snake!
I shake my head vigorously. “No. I’m not doing this again.
No man will string me along for years and then ultimately
feign confusion about my expectations before cheating on
me.”
Not that Miles and I have established that we’re an item
for him to cheat on me in the first place.
“I just have to admit the truth. We might have great
chemistry, enjoy spending time with each other, and are
compatible in bed. But he’s unavailable.”
From my conversation with him at the restaurant, I sensed
that his daughter is very dear to him, and he doesn’t want to be
involved because of her. I understand and respect that, but I’m
done waiting for a man to see that I’m worth fighting for or
being with on a long-term basis. If he only wants me for sex,
I’m not game. I deserve better. Perhaps it’s old-fashioned, but I
want to get married and have a family. Evidently, I won’t get
that with Miles. Besides, a relationship with an older man who
already has a child is doomed to fail. He already feels he has it
all.
Even though I genuinely like him and he’s a fantastic
lover, I have to move on. I resolve again to focus on my career
goals and to not let myself get distracted anymore. Miles
won’t sidetrack me.
Luckily, I’ve spoken with the Honduran government
already, and they’ve agreed to loan us the Mayan sculpture for
the exhibit. Excitement bubbles inside me at the thought of
furthering my career as a curator.
My phone buzzes on the bedside table, and I reach for it.
It’s the doorman.
“Ms. Bartholomay. There’s a Mr. Boucher here to see
you.”
Pierre!
“What?” I jump to my feet in astonishment.
“He said he’s a good friend of yours from Paris. Should I
allow him up?”
Good friend, my ass!
What’s he doing here? What’s he doing in New York? He
must be here for work. Wait. How does he know where I live?
Did Jo give him my address? She should have at least given
me a heads-up. When I spoke to her about Robert, she refused
to give anything away, saying they simply had sex and that
was all there was to it, even though I sensed there was more.
Shouldn’t she have told me about Pierre coming to look for
me?
“Ms. Bartholomay?”
I’m almost tempted to tell him not to let Pierre in, but
curiosity gets the best of me.
“Let him in.”
Quickly, I change from my skimpy gown into a T-shirt and
jeans. I hurry to the living room when I hear the doorbell. A
little gasp falls from my throat when I see that it’s indeed
Pierre. His glossy black hair is pulled back from his face. His
topaz-blue eyes rake me from head to toe. Dressed in a gray
silk shirt and black trousers and shoes, he’s still as handsome
as I remember him, but the usual stirrings upon seeing him are
long gone.
“Giselle! You look amazing as usual!” he says in his
baritone voice and tries to throw his arms around me, but I
step back.
 “What are you doing here, Pierre? What do you want?” I
probe coldly.
“Aww, come on, Gigi. Please don’t be like this.” He runs a
hand across his clean-shaven jaw. “We haven’t seen each other
in months. The least you can do is let me into your apartment.”
Wary of eavesdropping neighbors, I move sideways for
him to come in.
“Wow. This is a lovely apartment you have here,” he
mentions as he strolls into the living room.
Folding my arms across my chest, I ask, “How did you
come to know about it?”
He slowly turns around. “Tu manques, Giselle. You have
missed me too, oui?”
“No. Now tell me what you want.” My patience is
beginning to run thin as I remember the cold way he told me
he couldn’t commit to me and wanted an open relationship.
My lips part when he drops to his knees, places his palms
together, and regards me with soulful eyes.
“Gigi, I’ve been miserable without you. I realized what a
terrible mistake I made by letting you go. Please say you’ll
give me a second chance, oui?”
At first, shock has me immobilized, and then I close my
eyes, thinking this must be all a dream. Maybe I fell asleep on
my bed while thinking about Miles. But when I open them, my
ex-boyfriend is still kneeling before me. How on Earth he
believes I would find that attractive is beyond me.
“Please, Gigi, say you’ll come back with me to Paris. Let
us start anew. I’m no longer afraid of commitment. I thought
with one failed marriage, I dare not venture into another. But I
can’t live without you, Gigi. I love you. We’ll do whatever you
want from now on. Take me back.”
I push away from the door, still amazed by his actions and
words. Something must be up with him to have flown all the
way here to tell me these lies. Does he need to get married to
acquire a promotion? I remember how ambitious he used to be
… or possibly still is. So, he thought of desperate Giselle who
wants to get married and flew across the ocean to get me back
into his life? How pathetic!
“Stand up, please. You are embarrassing yourself.”
He winces and slowly pushes to his feet.
“It’s over between Francine and me. It never really started
anyway. Like I told you, she came on strong, and in a moment
of weakness, I fell.”
What a flimsy excuse.
“I’m so sorry I cheated on you and put you through so
much heartache. I never knew Francine would go bragging
about it. It was a one-off thing, which I greatly regret to this
day.”
I nearly tell him to go to hell for his lies and all the pain he
put me through, but I don’t want him to think I still care about
him.
“I’m flattered that you came all the way here to try to win
me back, but it’s too late. I’m no longer interested in a
relationship with you. We can be friends if you want.”
His shoulders slump and his puppy dog eyes become more
prominent, but I’m not moved.
“I’m sorry you came here for nothing. You have to leave
now. I wouldn’t want my brother to meet you here.”
Gabriel had been raving mad when he heard what Pierre
had done to me. I don’t trust my older brother not to act
protectively by punching Pierre for daring to show his face
here.
“Is there someone else?”
There would have been if he had the courage to ask me for
a relationship.
“It doesn’t matter if there’s another man in my life or not.
The bottom line is that we can never be together again. Please
respect my decision and go.”
“Then please have dinner with me before I leave.”
 I shake my head. “It won’t change anything, Pierre.”
“I promise not to pressure you. You said we could be
friends.”
“Sure, we can. But no dinner.”
Pierre continues begging, and desperate to get him out of
the apartment, I agree to have dinner with him in two hours at
the Amelie, a French restaurant in West Village. If nothing
else, it will be a good distraction from Miles.
I get him out of the house just a few minutes before
Gabriel and Maddie return. I tell them that I’ll be having
dinner with a friend. There’s a question in my brother’s eyes,
but he doesn’t comment.
Dressed in a dark blue sleeveless sheath dress with heels
and a small clutch, I leave the apartment and go down to the
lobby, where I wait for Pierre. He’s staying at the Courtyard. I
ask myself repeatedly if I’m crazy to be doing this. I guess an
evening out with my ex-boyfriend is better than pining for a
man who is out of my reach. With Pierre, at least I know
where I stand.
He shows up looking dapper in a dove gray suit. I know he
wants to impress me, but it falls flat. On our way downtown,
we talk about the Louvre and he asks questions about the Met,
which I gladly answer. I’m grateful he hasn’t mentioned
anything about us getting back together again.
We arrive at the restaurant, and I wish we could sit outside
with the other diners and enjoy the cool evening breeze and
the overhead lamps, but there are no empty tables. I overhear a
conversation in French, and I smile with longing. I do miss
Paris.
The interior of the restaurant is welcoming. The ambiance
is cozy, although it’s a little crowded and slightly noisy. Even
though there’s a small queue, we follow a waitress to one of
the empty tables. I’m about to shrug off my jacket when I
catch a pair of intense gray eyes on me.
Miles? What’s he doing here?
 My eyes shift from him to his companions. I recognize a
few Met board members. His heated gaze trails my body
before pointedly staring at Pierre, who is offering to take my
jacket.
A little flustered but able to hide it, I smile and sit in the
chair Pierre pulls out for me. I wish I could ask to go
someplace else.
My brows curve when Pierre orders the best champagne
from the outstanding wine bar.
“What are we celebrating?”
He grins widely. “Our reunion.”
“Pierre …”
“Please just indulge me, Gigi. I know you might feel it’s
too soon, but I never thought we’d ever eat together again.
Now here we are.”
Instantly, I regret coming to the restaurant with him. I
should have shut him down instead of thinking I could use him
to distract myself from Miles. The irony is that the very man I
want to forget about is sitting a few paces from me and
glancing in my direction almost every minute.
But why should I be bothered by it? Miles and I are only
lovers. It’s not like we’re exclusive. The jerk hasn’t bothered
to call me for a week after he fucked me sore in Washington.
Is that too much to expect? Too clingy? Too desperate? Or
maybe I misunderstood. What gives?
Well, now watch me drink champagne and eat oysters with
a French hottie.
He doesn’t need to know that I’m not interested in Pierre.
I just have to make sure I stop looking in his direction,
which is somewhat difficult to do as he’s sitting at a table
close to ours.
I reluctantly drink the champagne after clinking glasses
with a beaming Pierre. He insists on a three-course meal, even
though I have little appetite and can’t wait to be rid of his
mopey face and go home.
 He starts a tirade about his sad life since I woke up from
my hypnosis and dumped his sorry ass. The more he talks, the
more I wonder what I ever saw in him. True, he’s handsome
and successful, but I’m beginning to realize how tiresome he
is.
As I enjoy the delicious food, it becomes harder to listen to
him. I feel Miles’s heavy gaze trained on me, and I make a
show of indulging in the succulent, plump oysters, savoring
each slurp and hoping he’ll choke on his meal. Serves him
right if he thinks I’m just a fuck and dump kind of girl. So, I
take the opportunity and smile at Pierre as he continues talking
about rebuilding our dead relationship. I chance a quick glance
at Miles and smirk when I notice his eyes piercing Pierre like
daggers, his knuckles white.
I have moved on. Not with Pierre, though, but Miles
doesn’t need to know that.
Even though I’m not one to play games, the opportunity is
just too good to pass up. Miles’s stare is trying to light me on
fire. At this point, he is probably ready to snuff the life out of
my dinner companion.
Mercifully, Pierre’s strenuous monologue is over, and our
dessert plates have been cleared. I take another sip of my
cabernet, which has been enormously helpful in bearing
Pierre’s company. If it wasn’t for Miles and his jealous
reaction, I would have left Pierre to finish his meal on his own
a long time ago.
“Thanks for dinner,” I mumble as we walk outside.
“How about breakfast tomorrow?” he suggests
enthusiastically.
I’d rather endure a blizzard in a tank top than eat with you
again.
“I don’t think so. Look, I appreciate you coming, but as I
told you in my apartment, I don’t want to get back together.
I’ve moved on. I forgive you, but I don’t see a future with us
anymore.”
“There’s someone else, isn’t there?”
 For an answer, I start walking away. He catches up.
“I’m sorry. I just …” He pauses to run his hand through his
hair. “Tell you what. Why don’t I give you time to think about
it? We had some great times together, right?”
“Which you squandered for a quick fuck.” I bite my
tongue, but it’s already out. The color drains from his face.
“I’m sorry. If I have to keep apologizing for the rest of my
life, I will. I swear, I’ll make it up to you.”
I shrug, exasperated. “Why would you? Just find someone
else and start fresh.”
“I’ll allow you to think about it for a day. Then I’ll look for
you again.”
I frown. “Aren’t you going back to Paris?”
He leans forward to cup my cheek and caress it. “Not until
I get what I came for.”
At this point, I want to scream. I want to tell him it will be
a total waste of time, but I don’t bother, because he’s not
listening anyway. He will get the message that I’m determined
not to have him in my life again eventually.
He hails a cab. “Why don’t I see you home safely?”
I release a startled laugh. “Pierre, please. I should be the
one offering to see you to your hotel safely. A Frenchman in
New York!”
Loud laughter sounds from his throat. “Gosh, I’ve missed
you.”
He opens the cab door, and I enter. “See you soon. I’ll
spend tomorrow sightseeing.”
“Don’t get lost,” I tell him, and he laughs again.
He shuts the door and hails another taxi. While the driver
is waiting for the traffic to reduce, so he can pull away from
the curb, the door is suddenly pulled open, and Miles jumps in.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I question in
anger.
 “Who was that guy?” he answers with a question of his
own.
“None of your business!” I retort hotly.
The cabbie turns around and gives me a questioning look.
“Everything all right, miss?”
Could this evening get any more ridiculous? I sigh and
nod. “All is good, thank you, sir.”
Miles’s face darkens with fury just as the cabbie pulls into
the traffic. “I demand to know who he is!”
I scoff. “Demand to know what? Who gives you the right
to demand anything from me?”
“We’re … lovers and …”
“That’s right. We’re friends with benefits, so don’t you try
to run my life. If you think we’re more than fuck buddies, then
you have a funny way of showing it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you have no right to follow me around, and you
have no right to demand who I’m seeing when you couldn’t
have the decency to at least send me a text since we parted last
week, even if you couldn’t call.”
“Giselle …”
“Please leave me alone. I’ve had it up to here with men
who don’t want to commit. You are not willing to have a
relationship with me outside the bedroom, so don’t assume the
right to tell me who I can and cannot meet. Falling into
another yearlong, aimless liaison is out of the question. I,
Giselle Bartholomay, refuse to be someone’s dirty little secret.
So, go away and let me be. And by the way, I’m done fucking
you too.”
He watches me silently, his stare slicing through me like a
sharp sword.
“Oh, yeah?” he growls and grabs me by the waist. “Let’s
see about that.”
 Before I can stop him, he pins my arms to my sides, and
his mouth crushes mine. My treacherous body responds
despite my resolution to fight him. I want to be furious and
kick him out of my life. But his broiling mouth moving against
mine demands to table that thought.
“This is more than just fucking,” he rasps and bites my
neck possessively. He kisses me again and turns to give the
startled driver his address.
“You’re coming home with me tonight, and you’re going
to take my cock like the good girl that you are,” he hisses in
my ear as he reaches up my dress and pulls aside my soaked
panties, plunging his fingers into me.
“What about Ashlyn?” I manage to whisper meekly.
“She’s with my parents.” He strokes my pussy, rendering
me speechless and defenseless. “That’s what I thought.” He
grins, pulling out his hand and rubbing his coated fingers
along my bottom lip. He leans down and licks my lip, giving it
a gentle bite.
The cab stops at a Park Avenue building, and he drags me
out of the car, my legs shaking and barely holding me up. We
go through the grand lobby, a surprised doorman nodding at
Miles.
The elevator ride is silent, even though we are alone. I lean
against the wall, my breath caught in my throat. Frightened by
the hunger in his eyes, I don’t dare move, my heart beating
wildly. Once the door of his apartment clicks behind us, he
lifts me up on his shoulder and carries me to his bedroom.
“I’ll spend the whole night between your legs, until you
can’t hold yourself up anymore.”
It sounds like both a threat and a promise. My throat is dry,
my pulse galloping. I’m unable to form a coherent sentence.
He throws me on the bed, standing tall over me while he
undresses and drops his clothes on the floor, uncovering a wall
of muscle, big and sinewy, shadows playing on the indents of
his shoulders and arms. His erect cock is bobbing in front of
my face.
 “Come and take what’s yours,” he grinds out, and I sit up
to reach for him, unable to help myself.
He’s big and beautiful, and I want to hold him and feel him
in my mouth. Precum is glistening on the tip of his cock, and I
give it a short swipe with my tongue, tasting the saltiness.
“You are fucking amazing.” He holds the back of my head
as I slowly engulf his length in my mouth, sucking at it
greedily.
“You’ll be shaking and exhausted by the time I’m done
with you.”
He leans down to unzip my dress, pushing me to lie on my
back, and hooking his fingers around the waist of my panties
to tug them down. I’m bare except for my bra, and in a
moment, that’s gone too. Cold air pinches my painfully hard
nipples.
“I can’t get you out of my system.” He trails his tongue
over my pussy, making me shudder. Then he slides up, bites
my nipples and positions his cock against my wet entrance.
I’m liquid fire, throbbing in places I didn’t know existed
before. When his dick glides into me like a silk spear, I scream
and pump my hips hungrily. Waves of pleasure beat like heavy
rain inside of me, my pussy clenching around him, already
close to my peak.
“All of this is mine,” he whispers darkly in my ear, holding
my ass in place and squeezing it. “Say it. Say it, and I’ll let
you come.”
“M … Miles, please,” I beg, pushing my hips into him,
trying to get that sweet release I need like oxygen.
“Say it, Giselle,” he orders, his voice dark and raspy,
unwavering, his hand firm.
“Y-Yes, I’m yours,” I cry, and he starts pumping into me,
increasing the cadence of his thrusts. Finally, a violent orgasm
courses through me, my pussy clenching around his length.
“See the gorgeous girl come undone for me.” He smiles as
he gently wraps his fingers around my throat, pushing through
my peak until he reaches his own release.
CHAPTER 15
 MILES

W ith a smile on my face, I caress Giselle’s naked

back. Her long hair is spread across her back, the
bed, and the pillows, and I stroke it with my fingers. She turns
her head and gives me a sweet smile.
“Good morning.” I close the short distance between us to
place a soft kiss on her lips.
“Good morning,” she replies cheerfully.
I prop myself on my elbow to stare at her beautiful face
while I continue caressing her hair.
“How long have you been growing it?”
She frowns. “Growing what?”
“Your hair.”
She smiles. “Like forever.”
“It’s beautiful. So soft and silky.”
“Thanks.” She reaches out to touch my hair. “Yours isn’t
bad either. Glossy.”
I chuckle. “Thanks, I think.” I kiss her again. “I didn’t tire
you out, did I?”
She laughs softly. “No, but I’m starving.”
My eyes darken as she turns to lie on her back, revealing
her perfect breasts. “Me too.”
Her green eyes light up with a glint. “Why do I suspect
you’re talking about a different kind of hunger?”
 Grinning, I drag the sheets from her lower body. “That’s
because food is the last thing on my mind right now.”
I lower my head to capture her nipple in my mouth while
my fingers trail down her body to slide into her pussy. She
squirms as I caress her clit and suck her nipple. I love how she
surrenders to my touch.
Moments later, her legs are wrapped around my waist
while I pound into her. Moaning, we switch positions, and she
rides me, both facing me, then with her back to me. Loving the
way her ass hits me, I also fuck her in a kneeling position until
we both find our release. We flop on the bed, panting. I throw
my arm around her and curve her body to my side.
“Now I’m ready for food,” I admit as my chest rises and
falls while I catch my breath.
She giggles. “All I want to do is go back to sleep.”
I chuckle. “I’ll get you breakfast in bed, then.”
“Sounds good.”
“Don’t fall asleep on me now.” I kiss her nose before
getting up.
“Seeing you like this makes food the farthest thing from
my mind.”
I whirl around to give her a cheeky grin. “We’ll revisit that
statement after breakfast.”
The smile dissolves from my face when I turn around and
catch a glimpse of Gwen’s portrait on the bedside table.
“Is something wrong?”
I stiffen at her voice as I wonder if she’s seen it. Guilt fills
me instantly. What had I been thinking, bringing her home?
The thought of inviting any woman to my house after the
death of my wife has never crossed my mind. Would it be
awkward if I were to take the frame with me or position it to
face down?
“Miles?”
 Forcing away the guilt, I smile at Giselle. “No. I was
thinking of what to make.”
“Toast and coffee will do.”
I nod. “Right.”
Quickly, I pull on sweatpants and leave the room. I rake
my fingers through my hair as I stroll down the hallway. In the
airy and spacious kitchen, I stare at the counter, wondering if
I’m doing the right thing. Last night, seeing Giselle with
another man had made me furious and irrational. I have never
see myself as a jealous man, but all I wanted to do was flatten
his ass to the ground and take Giselle home. So much so that I
barely said a proper goodbye to my dinner companions before
I rushed out of the restaurant, chasing after her.
Shaking my head at my impulsive actions, I fill the water
kettle and turn it on. A smile curves across my lips when I see
Ashlyn’s paintings pinned on the door of the refrigerator.
Again, I question my actions from the previous night. I was
like a green teenage boyfriend, and without thinking things
through, I brought Giselle home.
But then, remembering how happy I was a moment ago
when I woke up with her beside me, I know I made the right
choice. Never have I been indecisive or second guessed
myself, but with Giselle, it sometimes seems as if I’m not fully
in control.
The toast and eggs are done when I hear her come into the
kitchen. My heart misses a beat when I see that she has on my
thick robe, her red hair a sharp contrast to its whiteness. It
feels like the very first day I saw her.
“I thought we agreed on breakfast in bed,” I tease.
She shrugs, smirking. “I got lonely.”
“Great timing, then. Breakfast is ready.”
“You have a lovely home.” She pulls out a chair and settles
on it.
“Thanks. Gwen decorated …” I trail to a stop and stiffen
when I realize what I was about to say.
 “She had a good eye,” she remarks into the tense silence.
I nod and serve the eggs to divert attention from the topic.
“Your late wife was very beautiful. I presume it’s her
portrait that sits on your bedside table?”
“Er … yes. Thanks.”
I hope with everything in me that she will see that I don’t
want to talk about Gwen and drop it.
“Hmm. This looks delicious.” She smells the plate of eggs
and toast before her and smiles.
Finally, I’m able to release the breath I didn’t know I’d
been holding. Knowing she likes her coffee light and sweet, I
pour her a cup and add cream and sugar.
“How did you know?” she asks with something akin to
surprise.
“That’s how you took it when we had breakfast at the
Hamilton.”
“You’re observant.”
“One has to be in my line of work.”
Her brows curve as she reaches for a piece of toast. “What
do you do actually? I don’t think we’ve ever gotten around to
talking about it.”
I wink at her. “Understandably. We’ve been busy with
other things.”
She laughs. “Stop stalling.”
Glad for the change of topic, I tell her about my hedge
fund, which it turns out, she doesn’t know much about.
“That’s surprising. I assumed you owned an art gallery or
something of the sort.”
I grin. “Everyone thought I would go that way because of
my love for the arts. But I enjoy money just as much, so I
decided to go the easy route.”
She sips from her cup of coffee. “Speaking of art, did I see
a piano in the living room when we came in last night?”
 “It’s amazing you were able to notice it. I couldn’t focus
on anything other than dragging you to bed.”
Her face reddens, hiding her freckles.
“Yes,” I answer her question. “And before you ask, I play.
Do you?”
She nods.
“Want to give it a go?” She nods enthusiastically.
“Let’s go, then.” I push back my chair.
“Wait. I’ve got to do the dishes.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Oh, please.” She waves at me dismissively as she rises
from her chair.
She hums softly under her breath while she puts the plates
away. She’s comfortable in my kitchen, as if she belongs there.
I try to remember Gwen standing by the sink, but all I see is
Giselle.
“Ready.”
I draw her into my arms, give her a lingering kiss, and lead
her to the living room.
“I really love your house. Your decor is exquisite.”
I look around the living room and wonder if she is fishing
for me to talk about Gwen again.
“Was your wife an interior designer? The way she blended
the colors is amazing, the art pieces and furniture all
complement, and the lighting is perfect.”
“No,” I say simply to end the discussion. I don’t want to
talk to her about Gwen. Not yet. We’ll have more than enough
time to do that later. For now, I just want to enjoy her company
and not delve into the past.
Swiftly, I walk to the piano and sit. “Come,” I beckon with
an outstretched hand.
She pauses for a second, as if she wants to say something,
but then she shrugs and joins me.
 “I’ll play the high notes, you play the low ones.”
She nods. “What are we playing?”
“Let’s begin with Debussy’s Petite Suite. I want to see how
good you are.”
She beams and positions her hands. “Is that so?”
We enjoy playing the classic, and I see that she’s quite
practiced.
“Now you play something. I want to see how well you
play.”
I burst into laughter. “Oh? Very well then.”
I play the piano adaptation of Mozart’s The Magic Flute
overture.
“You’re quite good.”
“Why, thank you, my lady. Your turn.”
She giggles like a shy schoolgirl, and my heart constricts at
the sound. Observing her sitting on the piano bench garbed in
my robe, she reminds me of Gwen, but I don’t see my late
wife. I see a beautiful, intelligent, and passionate red-haired
lady. Somewhere along the line, my feelings for her have
changed.
With a start, I realize I’m a goner for this girl.
I’m in love!
Last night, I should have easily guessed that my feelings
for her had deepened when I was hit with blazing-hot fury at
seeing her with another man.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m just enamored by your beauty.”
She smiles. “Thank you. I think.”
Before I can stop myself, I ask, “Who was the man with
you last night?”
The smile wipes off her face. “What a wonderful way to
find out about what doesn’t concern you. First, give a
compliment to soften or butter her up, and then go for the
kill.”
“It isn’t like that. I’m sorry. It just came out.”
She looks away.
“So, who is he? And please don’t tell me it’s none of my
business. We … you and I have something special. You might
think being with another man doesn’t concern me, but it does.
How would you feel if the reverse was the case?”
She stares at me with an indescribable expression and
sighs. “He’s my ex-boyfriend, Pierre. He wants me back.”
“What did you tell him?”
She snorts. “What do you think? Would I be here with you
if it was positive? Do you think I hop into bed with every
available man?”
“No. I …” I drift to a stop and rake my fingers through my
hair. Discovering I’m in love with Giselle has made me
somewhat unnerved. With an ex-boyfriend on the scene, I’m
desperate not to lose her.
“Maybe I should leave now. After all, you’re driving up to
the Hamptons for Thanksgiving today.”
I put a hand up to stop her from rising from her seat.
“Please don’t go yet. I won’t be leaving until later in the
afternoon.”
It’s at the tip of my tongue to invite her to come with me,
to meet Ashlyn and my parents, but I stop myself. It would not
be fair to Ashlyn to spring another woman on her like that. I’ll
speak to her first. My parents will be pleased, but to surprise
Ashlyn like this might make her think I don’t remember her
mother anymore and that she will be replaced and forgotten by
me. Gwen’s death was brutal on her, and I don’t want her to
fall back into the long stretch of sadness that engulfed her
then.
My fingers run through my hair again as I acknowledge
that I have to play my cards right with both Giselle and
Ashlyn.
 I itch to tell Giselle how I feel about her, that I want a
committed relationship, and why I don’t want her to meet my
daughter yet, but I hesitate. For one, I don’t know how she
feels about me.
“Miles? Are you going to just sit there and stare at me all
day?”
I grin. “Why not? You’re so beautiful. I wish I were an
artist. I would paint a thousand portraits of you, but I fear they
might still not be enough to capture your exquisiteness.”
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” she throws at me but
smiles brightly.
“Oh, really?” My eyes darken with desire, but she shakes
her head.
“Nope. That’s not what I meant.”
I laugh. “How about a game of chess? I warn you, I’m
pretty good. Unbeatable, in fact.”
She scoffs jocularly. “You’ll eat your words by the time
I’m done with you.”
“Bring it on,” I challenge as I get up from the bench to
fetch the chess set.
Thirty minutes later, I blink with surprise. “Damn! You are
good.”
“Told ya.” She sticks her tongue out at me, and I find
myself doing the same. We burst into laughter.
“Who taught you how to play?”
“My dad.”
“He must be a very wise man.”
“He sure is.”
The conversation leads to her telling me about her
childhood, and I do the same. After another game, which she
wins, we make love again, and I prepare us lunch before I
walk her home.
 As I walk away, I feel as if I left a portion of my heart with
Giselle. I wish now that I had already told Ashlyn about us.
We would have enjoyed the drive to the Hamptons, spent time
with my family, and enjoyed Thanksgiving together. I’m more
than ever determined to make things right when I return.
CHAPTER 16
 GISELLE

“T o family and friends. Happy Thanksgiving!”

There are smiles and cheers all around the table
after Gabriel’s toast. It was his idea to host a Friendsgiving
with our neighbors, his friends from work, and Amelia from
the Met. The table is laden with traditional Thanksgiving
dishes. Gabriel and I didn’t have much to do because everyone
agreed to bring a dish, and all we had to do was plate the food.
The ambiance of the place is one of joy and contentment.
Amelia is obviously smitten with Gabriel, but unfortunately,
he doesn’t even notice. He’s too interested in being the perfect
host to our guests to see that she’s trying to get his attention. I
don’t have the heart to tell her to stop wasting her time,
because women have thrown themselves repeatedly at my
brother and tried to get him to date them unsuccessfully. His
resolve never to get involved again is ironclad, and no one has
been able to change his mind about it.
I look around the table at the smiling faces as they dive
into the sumptuous meal before them. My mind drifts to Miles.
Is he thinking of me while he’s surrounded by his family?
Probably not. Most likely, he’s thinking about his late wife and
wishing she were there. It’s obvious he hasn’t gotten over her.
Hastily, I push away thoughts of him to enjoy myself.
Obsessing about Miles and wishing I were in the Hamptons
with him is pointless. If he wanted me there, he would have
asked me to come along.
The doorbell chiming above the low din at the table gets
my attention, and I wonder who it could be. All the people we
invited are here. Gabriel winces a little because clearly, he
hasn’t envisaged anyone else joining us.
“I’ll get it.” I push back my chair and rise as the
conversation continues. I stroke Maddie’s hair as I pass by the
small table set for the kids.
My eyes widen when I see Pierre on the other side of the
door. I’d completely forgotten about him. I stare at him and the
bottle of wine he’s holding.
“Happy Thanksgiving, babe. You look amazing!” He steps
inside and frowns when he sees the people at the table.
“I’m sorry, Pierre. I forgot to mention Gabriel and I are
hosting and—”
“What’s he doing here?”
I grimace at the sound of Gabriel’s voice beside me. He
and Pierre used to be casual friends, but they fell out when he
broke my heart.
“Gabe, please,” I try to intervene hastily to defuse the
tension between them.
The look my brother gives me would have been comical if
the situation weren’t so tense. He glares at me as if I’ve lost
my senses for contemplating spending such a special day with
my cheating ex.
“Let’s be civil,” I quickly tell him.
“Gabe, I came all the way from Paris to apologize to her
for the awful way I treated her,” Pierre inserts in a rueful tone.
“You think that’s enough? And do not call me Gabe!” my
brother retorts hotly.
I hold Gabriel’s arm. “Gabe, please. Let’s not cause a
scene. Today is a day for family and friends.”
Gabriel’s face contorts with a deep frown. “And he isn’t
one of them.”
I wince. “I know, but I don’t want to ruin the cheerful
mood. Maddie is watching us.”
 Gabriel turns around to glance at our guests and his
daughter before fixing a contemptuous look at Pierre. “Be
thankful we have guests, or I would have thrown you out.”
Pierre chuckles. “It’s Thanksgiving, after all, so I’m
grateful for your magnanimity.”
I roll my eyes and shut the door while Gabriel goes to
make room for another place to be set at the table.
“I can’t believe you forgot about me,” Pierre says in a hurt
tone immediately after he sits beside me.
“You could have sent me a message.”
“I wanted to give you some space, remember? I don’t want
to suffocate you, Gigi. I know I messed up terribly, but I really
want you to give me another chance.”
I stare at my plate laden with delicious food but lose my
appetite with Pierre here, reminding me how men find it hard
to commit to me.
“If it wasn’t for the fact that you would refuse me and
most likely embarrass me in front of everyone here, I would
have gladly gone on my knees right now to ask you to marry
me with the ring in my pocket.”
My head makes a dramatic curve to stare at him with
widened eyes. “What?”
He smiles. “I’m trying to tell you how serious I am. I wish
I could turn back the hands of time and undo what I did with
Francine. I would never have hurt you if I’d realized earlier
how much you meant to me and asked you to be my wife.”
My eyes roam around the table to see if anyone is listening
to our conversation. I’m beginning to regret that I allowed him
to stay. At the head of the table, I see Gabriel looking at us
keenly.
“Could we please have this conversation later?” I reply in
a low voice.
His blue eyes light up with pleasure. “Is that a yes?”
 “Certainly not!” I snap under my breath. “Pierre, I have
told you we can’t be together again. Which part of it are you
not hearing?”
He sighs. “All I ask for is another chance. Please.”
Mercifully, our next-door neighbor calls my name, asking
me a question about the Met. I shift my gaze from Pierre’s
imploring eyes to answer her. From then on, I ignore Pierre
and concentrate on the conversation around the table. He tries
to draw me into a private discussion repeatedly, but I snub
him.
After the meal, we enjoy a game of charades while the
younger kids draw and paint, supervised by the older ones. We
have a delightful time, and my team wins. Pierre insists on
speaking to me about something important. I reluctantly
follow him to the terrace. The weather is chilly as winter is
well on its way. I drag my jacket tighter across my chest.
“What is it, Pierre?” I ask as I sit on the white recliner
positioned beside the potted plants.
He settles on the bench and places his hands together. “I
need you to listen to me with an open mind. Please. Can you
do that for me?”
I sigh. “Okay.”
“Sincerely, I’m sorry for everything. I know sorry isn’t
enough, but I want to make things right with you.”
“Pierre …”
“Please listen. There’s an opening for a conservator job at
the Louvre.”
“What?”
He nods with eagerness. “I know how much you’ve always
wanted that position. Come back to Paris with me, and I’ll
make sure you get it. A recommendation in the right ear, and
the job is yours. But that’s only if you’re back in Paris.”
“And start a relationship with you again, right?”
 He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Not at all. I
promise I won’t put pressure on you.”
I chew on my bottom lip as I contemplate what he just
said. The offer is tempting, but at the same time, going back to
Paris and working at the Louvre means having Pierre close by.
Despite his promise not to pressure me, I know he won’t be
able to help himself. Considering he has gone as far as buying
an engagement ring, he won’t let me be until I tell him yes.
And do I really want to return to where I’d hear whispers
behind my back, especially if Pierre stalks me at every turn?
“This is a great opportunity, Gigi. Don’t let it pass you by
because of what happened between us. You returning to the
Louvre with my ring on your finger would make a romantic
story, wouldn’t it?”
I eye him with suspicion. “I wondered if you had an
ulterior motive for coming to New York. Now I see it.”
He grins. “Not at all, Gigi. It’s not what you’re thinking. I
want what’s best for you.”
I turn away from him and look at the East River in the
distance. It would be wonderful to go back to Paris to be with
my family. I miss them, even though I’m having a wonderful
time here with Gabe and Maddie. But now, I have an excellent
opportunity here in New York, and I hope that after the exhibit
opens, I’ll be reassigned as a conservator.
The show is set for next week, and we planned the grand
reception for the day before the opening. I’ve been
complimented on my work for securing the Mayan sculpture
for the exhibit, and I was made to understand that I’d be
assigned to a new role shortly after the event has taken place.
So, why throw all that away to go back to Paris for a job that
isn’t guaranteed? Do I want Pierre hanging around me every
day, pleading for a second chance? And then there’s Miles.
“Please think about it, Gigi. This is a wonderful
opportunity. It would be like you never left, and you would
have your dream job.”
 I shake my head. “Pierre, you and I know things will never
be the same again. Please let it go. I’m happy here in New
York. I don’t want to return to Paris.”
His shoulders droop, and his face falls. “Are you sure
about that? I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but I’m
really sorry for what I did.”
I smile and pat his shoulder. “I know you are, but you will
go back to Paris without me.”
He keeps silent for some minutes before raising his head.
“I won’t give up, you know. You once loved me, and I know I
can make you love me again.”
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. I don’t bother
telling him it will be a waste of time, because he won’t believe
me.
When he leaves, I allow myself to finally relax. I want to
sit here for a while and think about my future, but a cold draft
has me going back inside the living room. The sight of happy
couples and their children hits me with a terrible longing for a
family of my own.
My thoughts move to Miles. I reach for my phone in my
jacket pocket and see that he hasn’t replied to my ‘Happy
Thanksgiving’ message. I guess he’s so busy with his family
that he has forgotten about me.
I let out a heavy sigh. There’s no point building castles in
the air. I have to face reality. The bitter truth is that he is
unavailable for a committed long-term relationship. I must
break things off with him and make space in my life for
someone who will love me for all to see. All we have is good
companionship and great sex. Our relationship … or whatever
this is, doesn’t go past the bedroom.
Hell will freeze over before I allow myself to get dragged
along like this for years. Although I enjoy fucking him, I
deserve more. I thought being in his home was taking things to
the next level, but it only made me realize that he isn’t over his
late wife yet. He hasn’t changed a single thing in his house
that she decorated and refused to talk about her, even though I
created several openings. He’s still very much holding onto
her. I don’t begrudge him that, but I can’t wait around for him
to move on … if he ever does.
I’m better off single than with a man who might never get
over the loss of his wife.
CHAPTER 17
 MILES

A s I stroll into the Met a week later, I have only one

mission in mind, and that’s seeing Giselle. It’s been too
long since I saw her after dropping her off at her place and
heading to my parents’.
The last message I received from her was wishing me a
happy Thanksgiving. Wrapped up with meal preparations and
chores, I didn’t reply right away. When I called later, she
didn’t pick up and didn’t reply to my messages. Since then,
she’s been silent. I wonder if she’s mad at me for not reaching
out to her until much later. But I don’t think so. Giselle is too
smart to be upset and sulking over an unanswered message.
Something else is going on.
A smile crosses my lips when I survey the place and see
the guests dressed in cocktail attire and staring at the Mayan
art and sculptures. As expected, the star of the exhibit is The
Old Man of Copán. In the background, a band is playing and
waiters are moving around serving drinks and finger foods.
I recognize several of the people here, board members,
staff of the Met, and acquaintances, but my eyes trail the
buzzing place for the red-haired beauty that has captured my
heart. My face breaks into a smile when I see her talking to
some patrons by the sculpture of the god, Itzamna.
As usual, she looks stunning in an elegant navy-blue silk
dress with a V-neck and a small slit on the side that falls
slightly below her knees, showing off her shapely legs. Her
feet are encased in heels, which make her taller and even more
captivating. Although I enjoy seeing her lovely hair bouncing
on her shoulders and back, the French twist she’s wearing adds
a sophisticated touch to her attire and accentuates her beautiful
face.
Even though I see that she’s busy and enjoying her role as
a hostess, I long to go and speak to her. It’s the wrong place
and time to tell her how much she means to me, and yet, I
must do it soon. But I have to respect that this is her workplace
and she put this successful event together.
Still watching her, I reach for a glass of champagne from a
passing server’s tray. Pride flows inside me as I observe her
move from one group to another, talking and smiling with
them. She once told me that she loved dressing up for events
and socializing with people at the various occasions she
coordinates. Knowing how sophisticated, stylish, and well-
read she is, I can’t help noticing that she’s very comfortable
interacting with the wealthy Met patrons. Unexpectedly, I
envision her hosting my family and friends. She would be
perfect.
I have to talk to her.
Slightly annoyed when I get waylaid by acquaintances and
board members alike, I give up on the idea of speaking to
Giselle for the time being. Perhaps after the event, we can go
somewhere to talk.
By the time I disengage from the last couple who stopped
me to compliment the successful exhibit, Giselle is nowhere to
be found. I’m a little alarmed by her absence because guests
are still arriving that will need her attention. I don’t think she
has called it a night, though. She possibly went to the ladies’
room.
With my eyes still searching for her, I go over to the bar,
where I meet a friend who I did business with a while back.
“Dave! It’s been a while.” I shake hands with him, smiling.
“It has, hasn’t it?” He sips from his brandy.
I order a martini and sit on the empty stool next to him.
“What have you been up to? When did you get back from
Germany?”
 “A week ago. I meant to reach out, but I had a little family
issue,” he says with a slight wince.
My brows shoot up. “I hope it wasn’t serious and you’ve
handled it.”
He tilts his head to the side. “Let’s just say it’s partially
resolved.”
I sip from my drink. “That serious, huh?”
He nods and sighs. “Tell me, Miles, how do you separate
your affairs … er … relationships from your family? I mean
from your daughter.”
A frown wrinkles my forehead. Dave is divorced. His three
children live with him, while his ex-wife lives in London.
“What happened, Dave?”
“My girls discovered I have a girlfriend, and they made a
huge fuss about it because they had the hope that Shirley and I
would get back together.” He sighs heavily. “I know you
haven’t had a girlfriend since your wife passed away, but
surely you have casual flings, don’t you?” Then he eyes me
with wonder. “How have you been able to manage?”
I can’t help grinning at his apparent stupefaction. “Because
I made Ashlyn my entire world.”
He frowns. “Is that healthy?”
I shrug. “It might not be to some people, but after I saw the
way Gwen’s death affected her, I resolved to always be
available to her.”
I swallow thickly before I continue, “When her mother
died, she became needy and possessive, fearing I would
abandon her. So, I had to give up a lot of things to assure her
that I would never leave her and would always be there for her.
Ashlyn is the most important person in my life, and no one can
ever take her place. For my peace of mind, I swore off women
and relationships to commit myself fully to being a father.
Because of that, there’s never been any room for a girlfriend.
And yes, I have casual flings here and there, but that’s it. Sex
to let off the steam.”
 I take my drink and gulp from it to keep from talking
further. I want to tell him about Giselle and how I want to start
a serious relationship with her, but I don’t think it’s right to
share since I haven’t spoken to Giselle or Ashlyn about it yet.
However, when Ashlyn went to bed after our Thanksgiving
celebration and I was missing Giselle terribly and regretting
that I hadn’t asked her to come with me, I spoke to my parents
about her. Since they have always been supportive of me
remarrying, it thrilled them that I’ve fallen in love again. They
encouraged me to pursue it and to talk to Ashlyn as soon as
possible. I would have told my daughter already, but she
caught the flu when we got back and only just recovered.
“Are you saying I should focus on my daughters and forget
about finding love again?”
I shake my head vigorously. “Not at all, Dave. I was
merely talking about my own life. If you find love again, grab
it with both hands. My point is to first reassure your children
that no matter what happens, you’ll always be there for them.
Let them know that having another woman in their lives
doesn’t mean you’ll love them any less or no longer have time
for them. You being in a relationship with someone other than
their mom changes nothing. And tell your girlfriend how much
your daughters mean to you, and that you would love for all of
them to get along.”
Dave nods pensively. “That’s great advice, Miles. Thanks a
lot. At the moment, none of them are speaking to me.
Hopefully, I can make things right.”
From the corner of my eye, I sight Giselle, and I know it’s
time to speak to her. “You’re welcome, Dave. Please excuse
me.”
With determination in my gait, I walk over to her as she’s
talking to a patron.
“Giselle.”
I nod at her companion, whom I exchanged greetings with
earlier. She smiles and moves away.
 Warning bells ring in my head when I notice the iciness in
her green eyes as she stares at me.
“Hello, Miles.”
I rub a hand across my jaw, noting that the frostiness in her
eyes matches the tone of her voice.
“What’s going on, Giselle? I’ve been trying to reach you.”
She looks away. “As you can see, I’ve been busy.”
“I’m hoping we can go somewhere after the event and
talk.”
“I’m sorry, I’ll be too busy seeing that things are put in
order,” she responds coldly.
“What about tomorrow night?”
“Still a full plate. Please excuse me.”
As she makes to move away, I hold her hand. “What’s
going on, Giselle? Tell me what I’ve done wrong for you to be
acting like this. I thought we parted amicably when I dropped
you off at your apartment. What has changed?”
Looking me straight in the eyes with a small smile dancing
on her lips, she replies, “Please let go of my arm, Miles.
People are watching, and I wouldn’t want you to create a scene
simply because you can’t take no for an answer.”
I drop her hand as if it’s a hot plate. “Then talk to me.”
“I don’t have the time for such frivolities. As you can see,
I’m quite preoccupied attending to guests. Please excuse me.
Again.”
Anger gnaws inside me. “Giselle, I’m prepared to create a
scene if you don’t tell me what’s going on this instant. If you
don’t want to speak to me now, then tell me when you can.”
She gives me a chilly look before replying, “Very well
then. I’ve decided there’s no use trying to have a relationship
with a man with other commitments.”
I gaze at her with shock. Other commitments? What the
hell is she talking about? “Is it because I didn’t reply to your
Thanksgiving message early enough? I was—”
“Do you think I’m that shallow?” she snaps, and I shake
my head while trying to explain, but she cuts me off. “Our
relationship … whatever it was … is over. I’m ready to move
on. So, please leave me alone.”
“Giselle, let me explain. I—”
“There’s nothing to explain, Miles. It was fun while it
lasted, but I’m over it. I realize I want something else for
myself, and it’s not you.”
I stare at her with astonishment as she walks away and
leaves the gallery. What just happened? Something must have
occurred between the time she sent me that message and
tonight.
I freeze when I remember her saying her ex-boyfriend
wanted her back. Oh, shit! Have I left it too long to tell her
how I feel and that I want a serious relationship? Has that
moron who let her go in the first place convinced her to give
him another chance? Is he the something else she wants?
Regret fills me again that I didn’t ask her to join me in the
Hamptons with my family. What a mess I’ve made of
everything.
Swiftly, I turn around, searching for her among the throngs
of people. I don’t see her, and my heart tightens with worry.
Not minding that it might look strange given that we were just
speaking to each other, I ask around if anyone has seen her, but
no one has.
Quickly, I reach for my phone and dial her number. She
doesn’t pick up. I send her multiple text messages, imploring
her to come back, so we can talk, but she doesn’t reply. I’m
almost tempted to tell her that I love her and want to commit.
But that is not something to communicate over a text message.
After repeatedly trying to get a hold of her without any
success, I finally decide to leave.
CHAPTER 18
 GISELLE

M y pulse is in a sprint, my heart beating a rapid thud

against my chest as I wait for the result of the
pregnancy test. I’ve been living in denial, hoping my missed
period is due to stress. There were false alarms in the past
when I was overstretched at work. This might be the third one.
But something tells me that this time around, it’s different.
Sitting on the toilet seat, I tap my leg on the bathroom
floor, not knowing what to think. I’ve always longed for
children, but with a husband and in a stable home.
“Oh, my God!” I whisper when I see two red lines on the
test strip.
I’m pregnant!
A wave of panic rushes through me. How is it possible that
I’m pregnant when I’m on contraceptives? I don’t even know
how far along I am because I never thought it would be
possible while on the pill. It’s not a hundred percent failsafe,
but it worked in the past. If my very distraught calculation is
correct, I might have conceived when we were in Washington.
That would make me about five weeks along.
Pain squeezes my chest when I recall overhearing Miles’s
conversation with a friend at the reception the other night. It
broke me when he insinuated that all we had was a casual
fling, but it gave me the strength to stand by my decision to
end whatever relationship I had with him. I understand all he
said about his daughter, but making it seem as if he didn’t have
time for anything else made me recognize that I was wasting
my time.
But a baby changes everything.
Tears pool in my eyes because I always assumed that
whenever I’d find out I am pregnant, I’d be over the moon
with happiness. But now, I’m confused, and I don’t know what
to do. The baby is a blessing, without a doubt, though I will
have to figure out how it will affect my life and my work.
Being able to include The Old Man of Copán in the exhibit
was a big triumph, and as promised, I’ve been reassigned to
work on the conservator team.
It will be awkward taking time off to give birth and take
care of my baby.
Realizing that I can’t stay in the bathroom all day, I clean
up and return to my room. Needing to confide in someone, I
call my sister.
“I’m pregnant.” I don’t waste time on greetings and slam
Jo with the news as soon as she picks up.
“Come again?”
“I’m going to have a baby,” I repeat, chewing on my
bottom lip, barely able to hold back the tears.
“Are you sure? Aren’t you supposed to be on the pill?”
“I am, so I don’t know how it happened.”
Silence.
“Jo? Are you there?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I was trying to process what you just said.
I don’t know whether to congratulate you or … I don’t know. I
have so many questions. Is it Miles’s? What are you going to
do?”
“Yes, it’s Miles’s. Well, what can I do? I will be a mother.
But I’m a little nervous about what that means. Remember, I
told you I got reassigned and Miles doesn’t want a serious
relationship? So, I’m definitely on my own in all this.”
 “You’re not. Gigi, you have me, Gabe, Mom, and Dad.
We’ll be there to support you every step of the way. If Miles
doesn’t want to be in the picture, it’s his loss.”
Tears roll down my face at her encouraging words.
“Listen to me, Gigi. You’re going to be the best mom ever.
You and your baby are going to have a strong support system
with us; you won’t have to worry about a thing. You hear me?”
“Oh, Jo. What would I do without you?”
She chuckles. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Sometimes you make me feel like the younger sister,” I
admit, sniffing.
“Are you calling me old?”
I laugh through my tears. “Of course not. You’re way
wiser than me.”
“Nah. I just happen to have my head screwed on tight
because I have stayed clear of men.”
“Lucky you. Speaking of men, what about …”
“No. Please don’t start again. I told you we were only fuck
buddies, nothing more.”
I let it go and wipe away my tears. “If you say so. I have to
go and check if Maddie managed to put her dress on the right
way. Gabe has an emergency surgery, and I’m taking her to the
Nutcracker.”
After I end the call, I feel better. I don’t know what the
future has in store for me as a single mother, but with my
family by my side, I’ll be able to handle it.
Now, I have to decide how and when to tell Miles.
W ITH EXCITEMENT THRUMMING THROUGH ME , I brush the first
snowflakes off Maddie’s red coat as we settle into our plush
seats at the David H. Koch’s theater. The grandeur of the
auditorium is breathtaking, with its intricate designs and
golden accents catching the dimmed lights. Everywhere I look,
little girls dressed in a kaleidoscope of colors sit with bated
breath, their fancy dresses adorned with shiny bows, ribbons,
and sequins. I hear soft giggles echoing around. Some smaller
girls even excitedly clutch their teddy bears.
The air is thick with anticipation, as everyone eagerly
awaits the opening curtain of the Nutcracker performance.
Fond memories hit me as I remember my parents bringing my
siblings and me to the show. Once we moved to Paris, we
seamlessly continued the annual tradition at the Opera Garnier.
It’s Maddie’s first time at the grand theater, and she is
beyond thrilled. Gabe was quite unhappy that he wouldn’t be
here to witness it with his daughter.
“It looks magical,” she whispers to me.
“It sure is.”
Her words make me remember how it was for me when I
was her age.
“Do you know the story of the Nutcracker?” I ask her as
her eyes fixate on the elaborate stage elements and the
intricate lighting.
“A little,” she replies, smiling.
I decide not to spoil it for her. She’ll understand it when
the performance begins. Seeing her expectant face makes me
recall that I have a baby nestling in my womb. I wonder if
she’ll be red-haired and green-eyed like me or black-haired
and gray-eyed like Miles. I laugh inwardly as I realize I’ve
already assumed the baby is a girl. It might be a boy that will
look exactly like his father. My heart flutters at the idea of
having a boy that would constantly remind me of Miles.
The last time I saw him, I had to leave in the middle of the
event to gather myself. Every time I decide to break it off with
him, he finds a way to change my mind and seduce me into
fucking him again.
This time, I won’t allow him to rope me in. I have my baby
to think about now. We will be fine on our own instead of
having a man in our lives who doesn’t know what he wants.
Blocking his number was the right decision. Thankfully, he
hasn’t shown up at my office, and I hope he doesn’t because
I’m afraid he might cause a scene.
 With a start, I realize that my long-lived wish to have a
family is manifesting, though not in the way I expected.
The show begins with an overture, and I shift my thoughts
from Miles and the baby. The curtain finally opens, and we
soon get carried away by the ballet. We laugh heartily at the
party scene and the battle with the mouse.
During intermission, I take Maddie to get a picture with a
ballerina. They are great keepsakes, and I know that Gabe will
appreciate having it. She excitedly hops on one leg beside me
while we wait in line.
Unexpectedly, I hear Miles’s voice behind me. I whirl
around, not believing my ears, and I see him a few feet away,
holding his daughter’s hand. Quickly, I look away. This
shouldn’t be a such surprise. I should have expected he’d bring
his little girl to the show.
It takes a supernatural effort not to look back, although I
know he must have seen me. Our eyes met and held for a
fleeting second. But I’m not worried about him approaching us
since he doesn’t want to introduce me to his daughter or his
family, anyway. He has made that clear enough.
“Hello, Giselle.”
I jerk at the sound of his voice next to me. He came over?
“Hello, Miles,” I reply in a cool manner.
“Giselle, meet my daughter, Ashlyn. Sweetie, this is
Giselle.”
Is this really happening? Is Miles truly introducing me to
his daughter?
“It’s a pleasure meeting you, Ashlyn.” I smile at the cute
girl, even though I’m filled with disbelief. Her glossy blond
hair is held back in a ponytail, and her blue eyes are filled with
curiosity. There’s a lot of Miles in her features judging by the
penetrating way she’s staring at me.
“Hello, Giselle,” she answers in a confident voice.
“And this is Maddie, Giselle’s niece.”
 Ashlyn giggles. “You don’t have to introduce us, Dad. We
know each other.”
“From school. Of course.”
“We see each other in the cafeteria all the time, and my
class visits her kindergarten classroom every month,” Ashlyn
explains, smiling at Maddie.
In a matter of seconds, the two girls start talking about
Brearley, Maddie’s teacher, and cafeteria food while Miles and
I watch them. I lift my eyes from their animated faces to find
Miles staring at me intently. He wants to say something, but
because of the girls, he can’t. The tension between us is
sizzling like fireworks about to explode, and I look away. I
didn’t expect to see him here, so my defenses are quite low,
especially as I’ve discovered that I’m expecting.
“Tell you what. Why don’t we have dinner together after
the show?” Miles suggests, his eyes never leaving me. My
heart is slamming in a frenzy, and my head jolts in his
direction as anger flows inside me at his audacity. How dare
he try to prolong this unplanned meeting?
The girls whoop with delight and stare at me with
expectant eyes. I grit my teeth because I know I can’t refuse
them wanting to spend some more time together, though I
wish I could run in the other direction and not look back.
“Please, Aunt Gigi,” Maddie implores, staring at me with
puppy dog eyes.
Incapable of resisting such cuteness and not wanting to
disappoint her, I agree. “Dinner sounds great.”
“Yay!” the girls exclaim and giggle.
Even though I know Miles wants to talk to me, I avoid
looking in his direction. Once I tell him about the baby, I
won’t be able to take it back. On the one hand, I don’t want
him to feel obligated toward me, but at the same time, it would
be wrong to keep this from him. But I also don’t want him to
think that I intentionally got pregnant just to extract a
commitment. Who knows how he’ll react?
 The things he said to his friend at the reception make me
question whether he’ll want my child. His sights are focused
on his daughter and nothing else. If I hadn’t overheard that
conversation, perhaps I would have told him already. I wish
now that my colleagues hadn’t stopped me for a chat while I
was a few feet from him at the bar, causing me to overhear
what he said. After learning he equated what we had to a
casual fling, I hastily excused myself from the group and
walked away, feeling as if I’d been punched in the gut.
My head begins to ache from thinking so much. As we
wait in the line together, I decide to deal with it later. It’s not
something I need to do at this very moment. But hiding it for
longer than a few months won’t be possible. Soon enough, a
baby bump will appear, and I won’t be able to avoid him
completely at the museum.
I’ll have to decide soon. For now, I’ll enjoy my time with
Maddie, even though I dread having dinner with Miles and his
daughter. I’d love to get to know Ashlyn, especially now that
I’m carrying her half-sibling, but I don’t want to be
manipulated by her dad again. Being together in a relationship
that leads nowhere just because of the baby is a recipe for
disaster.
I deserve to have a real family, for both mine and my
child’s sake.
CHAPTER 19
 MILES

“A ll right, Gabe. We’ll see you later.” Giselle ends the

call and places the phone back inside her purse. She
carries on with eating her steak and avoiding looking at me as
much as possible.
“Your dad said he hopes you are having a good time,” she
informs her niece.
Maddie smiles. “I am.”
My gaze is intent on Giselle’s beautiful face, but she
doesn’t look in my direction, even though she’s sitting directly
in front of me. I ache to tap her on her freckled nose just to get
her attention, but I think she might be offended by it.
I look over at Ashlyn and Maddie, who are playing a
guessing game, and I smile. They’re obviously enjoying each
other’s company. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for
Giselle and me. Although she agreed to dinner, it’s apparent
that she’d rather be anywhere else. I’ve never known her to be
this cold and aloof, not even the first time we met. And it
worries me deeply. It seems she has disconnected completely,
probably as I’ve been sitting on the fence for so long about
her. She’s cordial and playful with the children, and it hurts
deeply that she’s treating me like a stranger. Watching her with
the girls gives me a preview of a family I could have with her.
Ashlyn suddenly stares at her, wide-eyed. “Is it true that
you used to dance ballet?”
Giselle nods. “You mean you can’t tell? Don’t I look as
graceful as a swan?” She flaps her hands with a twinkle in her
eyes.
Both girls giggle helplessly, and she laughs, while I am
smitten. She adds, “I used to dance ballet when I was little.”
“Then why did you stop?” Ashlyn asks, stunned. I’m also
interested in the answer as I don’t know much about that
aspect of her life.
Giselle shrugs. “Because of my height. My teachers hinted
I could never make it as a ballet dancer. I don’t mind because I
love what I’m doing now. It was fulfilling while it lasted.”
“Please tell us about it, Aunt Gigi,” Maddie entreats.
“Yes, please,” Ashlyn adds.
It’s clear that the three girls have a lot in common. I feel a
little like a fourth wheel. Ashlyn has barely glanced in my
direction since we sat down for dinner, all her attention
focused on Giselle and Maddie. I don’t know why I was ever
worried about her meeting Giselle.
“My love for ballet was instant. As a little girl, I knew I
wanted to dance and entertain with it. I was barely Maddie’s
age when my parents took me to see my first Nutcracker show.
Oh, it was so magical that I knew I wanted to be a part of the
production. And so, my parents enrolled me in the School of
American Ballet. It wasn’t long after that that I got to perform
in the Nutcracker.”
Ashlyn and Maddie’s eyes widened like saucers. They look
at each other before returning their gazes to Giselle with
excitement dancing in their eyes.
“You performed in the Nutcracker?” Maddie asks, barely
keeping from bouncing in her chair in her enthusiasm.
“Yes. Do you remember seeing all the kids on the stage,
dancing? I was one of them,” she explains gently.
“Oh, my God.” Ashlyn’s eyes are almost popping out of
their sockets. It warms my heart to see how impressed she is
by Giselle.
“What was it like?” Maddie questions.
 Giselle’s face takes on a distant look. “Oh, it was like
being in a fairytale. At first, I was nervous, but when I got on
the grand stage and started performing, it was as if I should
never stop. The music, the costumes, the props … they all
make you feel as if you’re in another world entirely. You
completely forget about the audience and bask in a world of
beauty and bliss.”
Both girls stare at Giselle with something akin to heroine
worship. I’m not surprised, since I believe I also have the same
glint in my eyes for her.
“But not to worry, I’m sure both of you will experience all
that soon enough. If you keep focusing on what you want and
take action every day, surely you’ll get your heart’s desires.”
Ashlyn nods enthusiastically. “Please tell us more.”
Giselle sighs but smiles. “Did you know I was named after
a famous ballet?”
“Aww. That’s so cool,” Ashlyn responds with awe.
“Yes. It’s a ballet by Adolphe Adam.”
I remember the romantic and heartbreaking story. How apt
to name Giselle after it.
“If you like, I could take you both to see it the next time it
plays at the NYC Ballet,” she offers.
For the first time in almost an hour, Ashlyn turns to me
with beseeching eyes. “Can she, Dad? Can she take us to see
it?”
I glance at Giselle, who quickly looks away. “Sure,
sweetie.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Ashlyn and Maddie look at each other
with glee before plaguing Giselle with more questions.
Observing the affability between Giselle and Ashlyn
makes me realize that I made a mistake in not introducing
them to each other sooner. Giselle could have spent
Thanksgiving with us and gotten to know my family. It was
unwise of me to remain skeptical about having her in my life,
despite my strong feelings for her.
 Hopefully, I haven’t ruined my chances with her for good.
Her attitude toward me is disheartening.
“Girls, I think you’ve bothered Giselle enough for one
evening,” I cut in when they continue pestering her. “Give her
a chance to finish her dinner.”
Giselle looks at me, then smiles at the girls. “You are not a
bother. I enjoy talking about dance with you. Besides, I’m
done with my meal.”
“Then perhaps we could talk.”
She stiffens perceptibly, though I don’t think the girls
notice.
“About work,” I quickly add, so she won’t decide to call it
a day for her and Maddie.
“Oh. Okay.”
“Ashlyn, why don’t you tell Maddie all about how you
spent your Thanksgiving with your grandparents and maybe
play a game or two while I speak with Giselle?”
“Okay, Dad.” She turns to Maddie. “Thanksgiving was so
much fun.”
I shift my gaze to Giselle, who stares at me warily before
looking away.
“We need to talk,” I say in an undertone.
“You said we’d talk about work.”
“I know, but …” I drift to a stop when I see her face take
on a cold expression. I’m more than certain if I mention
anything other than the Met, she’ll leave the table.
“Rumor has it that you’ve been reassigned to the
conservator team,” I say, even though I know all about it
because it was me who recommended her for the position. I
didn’t have to do much persuading, though. Her quality work
spoke for itself.
“Yes,” she says simply and sips from her water.
 “Congratulations.” I reach out to hold her hand on the
table, but she speedily withdraws it.
“Please don’t touch me.”
I glance at the girls. Maddie is telling Ashlyn how she
spent her own celebration, and Ashlyn is listening intently.
Neither of them seem to have noticed what just transpired.
“I’ve been trying to get through to you without success.
What’s going on? And please don’t insult my intelligence by
claiming that you don’t want me anymore. Your body
language tells a different story. Why won’t you tell me what’s
wrong?”
“I have nothing further to say to you, Miles. I’ve made my
decision. Please respect it.”
“Just like that? Something must have happened for you to
have a sudden change of heart.” Grasping at straws because I
don’t understand what’s going on with her, I ask, “Is it Pierre?
Is he back in your life? Is that why you want to throw away
what we have?”
She scoffs. “What we have?” She looks as if she wants to
say something further, but then she shakes her head and
reaches for her purse’s strap on the chair. “We had nothing but
a casual fling,” she hisses through a whisper. Loudly she says,
“Thanks, Miles, for a lovely evening, but Maddie and I have to
go home now. Her dad hasn’t seen her all day, and it’s way
past her bedtime.”
Both Maddie and Ashlyn look crestfallen, but they don’t
argue. Giselle rises and helps Maddie with her coat.
“It was wonderful meeting you, Ashlyn.”
Ashlyn smiles happily. “It was lovely meeting you too,
Giselle.” She turns to Maddie and hugs her. “See you in school
on Monday.”
Maddie nods. “You too, Ashlyn.”
Ashlyn surprises me by hugging Giselle, who also appears
surprised by the gesture. This is more than an indication to me
that Ashlyn is ready to have a woman that isn’t her mom in
our lives. Nevertheless, I’ll have a conversation with her about
it without mentioning Giselle’s name.
Outside, the weather has turned icy. The ground is covered
with a thin white layer, snowflakes falling steadily. I hail a cab
and help Maddie into it. I have to clench my hands until they
shake to keep from touching Giselle. Every fiber of my being
urges me to pull her close and insist on another chance. I not
only miss having her in my bed, but also talking to her and just
being with her. I wave as the cab drives away. My heart feels
as if someone ripped it from my chest.
This isn’t over, not by a long shot. Whether she likes it or
not, I’ll find a way to make her mine.
CHAPTER 20
 GISELLE

“T ake deep breaths. No sudden movement,” I mutter

after sipping the ginger tea Gabriel recommended
to help with nausea. I don’t like it, but so far, it’s what has
helped with the queasiness the best.
With my hand on my still flat tummy, I smile. I look
forward to meeting my baby, but at the same time, I’m aware
that my life will be turned upside down, especially my career.
Over the past months, I’ve worked hard for the chance at
being on the conservator team. Fortunately, it has paid off, and
my career has advanced more than I expected. As my first
assignment in my new role, the Met is sending me to Paris to
help the Louvre put up their Mayan exhibit, which they are
modeling after the one at the Met.
I received the news with mixed feelings. While I look
forward to the new role and seeing the rest of my family again,
I’m worried about my condition. Being in my first trimester,
I’m always nauseated and tired. It takes a lot of effort to stay
awake during office hours, and I’ve had to give up on coffee
because I read that too much of it isn’t good for the baby.
Gabriel had recommended an obstetrician from the
hospital, and I had already started seeing them for my
pregnancy. As I prepared to travel, I went to see him and
discuss my fears of flying in the first trimester. The doctor told
me my pregnancy is progressing normally and I shouldn’t
have any worries about flying. However, he told me to take
things easy and not overwork myself. That might be hard to
do, given that I have to make sure the exhibit at the Louvre is
successful. Although I’m eager to begin the project, I can’t
help having misgivings about seeing my former colleagues
again after the abrupt way I left. Most of them will be
surprised but happy for me that, in such a short time, I got the
role of assistant conservator at the Met.
Smiling, I think of the people I’d love to see again.
Hopefully, my pregnancy won’t be noticed before I’m done
with the assignment. I realize that, although I’ve always
longed for a family, I don’t know much about babies. Like any
new mother, I’m sure I’ll learn on the job.
My reverie is interrupted when my phone starts ringing. I
quickly reach for it, not wanting to wake up Maddie, who fell
asleep on the sofa. We were watching Paw Patrol when I
noticed she’d dozed off. As she was sleeping peacefully, I
didn’t want to wake her up by carrying her to her room. So, I
made her comfortable while keeping an eye on her.
“Hello, Gigi.”
I stifle a groan when I hear Pierre’s voice. I wonder why I
haven’t blocked his number the way I did Miles’s.
“Hello, Pierre.”
“Gigi, it’s so good to hear your voice again. I miss you so
much.”
I roll my eyes and say in a low tone, “Please, don’t start
again, Pierre.”
“Haven’t you punished me enough? I’ve apologized
countless times. What must I do to make you forgive me and
come back to Paris? Just tell me, and I’ll do it.”
“Wait. Do you really think I’m only trying to punish you
by rejecting your proposal?”
“What else do you want me to think, Gigi? I’ve admitted
my mistake, I’ve apologized, and I’ve asked you to marry me.
I know there’s no one in your life right now, so I can only
assume that you want me to suffer before agreeing. Believe
me, I’ve suffered enough. I can’t sleep and losing you has
affected my work greatly. Please forgive me and come back to
Paris, so we can be together again and be happy.”
 Given his self-centeredness, I’m almost tempted to tell him
about Miles and the baby. But I don’t think it would be fair to
Miles to tell another man before him. Besides, even though
I’m speaking in a low tone, I don’t know how deeply Maddie
is sleeping. She told me that her friendship with Ashlyn has
blossomed in school. Who knows? She might just blurt it out
to her, who could, in turn, tell her father. It wouldn’t take him
long to figure out that the baby is his.
“Giselle?”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Pierre. I’ve made
it abundantly clear to you that I don’t want to be in a
relationship again. I’ve forgiven you, and we can be friends,
but not lovers.”
Silence descends between us for a while.
“Fine. If you won’t come back to Paris because of me, then
come back to the Louvre as a conservator. It’s what you
always wanted. I spoke to the head of the conservator team,
and she was impressed. She offered you the job. You can start
as soon as you return to Paris.”
I tip my head to the side as I consider his words. It’s too
late for Pierre and me to be together again, but the thought of
returning to Paris to start a dream job and having my parents
and sister help me during my pregnancy is tempting. As Jo
said, I’d have such a support system that it wouldn’t matter
that Miles would be far away.
“Gigi?”
I’m jolted out of my reverie at the sound of his voice. “I …
er … I’m sorry. Why don’t we talk about this when I come to
Paris next week?”
“You’re coming to Paris?”
“Yes.”
“That’s great!”
“It’s not what you think, Pierre. The Met assigned me to
help the Louvre with the Mayan exhibit.”
“Oh.” He sounds disappointed.
 “Most likely, I’ll be there through mid to late January,
depending on when the Louvre’s management wants to host
the exhibit.”
“Wow! That’s great. It means you’ll be around for
Christmas and the New Year. We’ll spend those days together
just like last year.”
I try to interrupt, but it’s a waste of time as Pierre starts
making preparations for a Christmas celebration in two weeks.
I let him carry on because there’s no point telling him that
there’s no way I’ll leave my family to spend the day with him.
I breathe a sigh of relief when he runs out of steam, and I
quickly say goodbye and end the call. I think about my
options, especially as I have a baby on the way. Although
Gabriel promised to be there for me, if I stay in New York, I’ll
keep bumping into Miles. There’s no hope of having a
relationship with him, but I’ll have to tell him about the
pregnancy. But when? I can’t deny that I enjoyed spending
time with Ashlyn. She’s such a brilliant and cheerful child, and
I love her passion for ballet. She reminds me of myself at that
age.
I have a few weeks until I’m done with the Mayan exhibit
at the Louvre and have to decide whether to stay in New York
or in Paris. Even though my family will be supportive, I’ll still
have to provide for my baby. He or she is my responsibility.
A knock on the door has me groaning because I don’t want
to wake up Maddie. When the knock sounds again, I frown
deeply and slowly pull aside my blanket, drop my legs from
the stool, and carefully rise, trying to let the queasiness settle. I
take in deep breaths and let them out slowly before making my
way to the door.
Who could it be? Gabriel is expected home any minute
now, but he has his own keys. I look into the peephole and
sharply gasp.
Miles? What the heck is he doing here?
And why the hell did the doorman let him in without
buzzing me?
 Anger pulsates through me at his audacity in coming here
unannounced.
I have the mind not to answer, but I believe he’ll keep
knocking and wake up Maddie. After drawing in a deep breath
and releasing it, I open the door and fold my arms across my
chest to glare at him. My heart misses a beat seeing him
dressed in black jeans and a camel coat, his chest and biceps
stretching the expensive fabric. I quickly squelch the feeling of
longing. The bouquet of white lilies he’s holding would have
made me smile, but I’ve decided to be immune to his charms.
“What do you want?” I demand coldly, my pulse
hammering in my throat.
His eyes enlarge a little, but he maintains a cool facade.
“May I come in?”
“No. Maddie is sleeping, and I don’t want her disturbed.”
“We have to talk, Giselle. I’ve been trying to get in touch
with you, but you’ve blocked my number.”
“I think we’ve talked enough, Miles. We’ve said all that
needs to be said. At least, I have.”
“Then will you listen to me?” he quietly requests.
“No, I won’t.” I try to close the door in his face, my heart
thundering in my chest and my knees buckling.
“Giselle,” he grinds out, pushing the door gently and
preventing me from shutting him out.
Grasping that our next-door neighbor could overhear us, I
reluctantly step back. “You can come in for a few minutes.”
“Thanks,” he replies in a low voice. As he strides past me,
I catch a whiff of his familiar cologne, and it almost brings me
to my knees.
I shake off the feeling, shut the door, and stand beside it
while he looks around the apartment.
“You have a lovely home,” he says gently.
“Let’s step into the kitchen.” I gesture for him to follow
me and close the door behind us.
 His eyes trail my body, so smoldering it burns. I am barely
able to keep standing, my legs shaking.
“You look great. I’ve missed you.”
I’ve missed him, too. So much, but I’d rather keep mute
than admit it.
“Please say what you came for and leave.”
He sighs and offers me the flowers. “These are for you. I
remember you telling me that you love lilies.”
Here comes the charm. I won’t fall for it, no matter how
good the bouquet smells.
“I don’t want them.”
He shrugs and places them on the counter before turning
around to ask, “Is it true that you’re going to Paris before the
Christmas holidays?”
Great. A safe topic. “Yes. For the Mayan exhibit at the
Louvre.”
He eyes me with skepticism. “And that’s the only reason
you’re going to Paris?”
“Yes. For work. And to see my parents, of course.”
“And nothing else?”
I understand he’s fishing for me to say something about
Pierre, but I refuse to allay his concerns. What’s it to him if I
hook up with my ex-boyfriend? It isn’t as if we have a steady
relationship going.
I merely shrug noncommittally.
He rakes his fingers through his hair. I’m not a weak-
willed person, but he was able to charm me into changing my
mind before.
I glance at the clock on the wall. “I need to start cooking
dinner in a few minutes.”
“I’ll help you.”
His words bring back the memory of us preparing lunch at
his apartment.
 “No,” I manage to grind out.
“Giselle, what do you want me to do? I’m trying to tell you
that things have changed.”
“Please leave, Miles. You’re not good for me. I’ve
accepted that. I don’t want a man who only wants to fuck me.”
“Giselle, that’s not …”
He takes a step toward me, and I immediately move back
and wince as the urge to throw up almost overcomes me. He
has to leave now!
“Please don’t touch me.”
Looking frustrated he remarks, “Please listen to me. I don’t
want such a relationship anymore. I—”
“Good. Me neither,” I grind out through my teeth and step
out of the kitchen, opening the door to the apartment. I
remember how he brought down my defenses in the cab by
telling me he didn’t want to lose me, and that it wasn’t just sex
for him. Then he took me to his house, fucked me silly, and
demanded I declare I’m his. Afterward, he conveniently forgot
to discuss anything about commitment or moving to the next
level, not to mention failing to call me the following week. In
fact, he dropped any thought of me immediately. It sounds
petty, but I have to protect my heart and my baby.
“Would you please stop interrupting me?” he says in a
tight voice, as if he’s near his tether’s end. “I’m trying to tell
you something important.”
“And I’m telling you I don’t want to hear it. I admit that
I’ve been very foolish, falling into bed with you at every turn,
but not anymore.”
“You’re one damn stubborn woman, you know that?” He
yanks me into his arms, and I feel myself softening
immediately. The tiny muscles in my core pull taut like a
violin string. I’m liquid fire, throbbing. He must feel my
strength waning as he traces my lower lip with his thumb, his
eyes swallowing me.
“You’re wrecking me, woman,” he growls.
 Tell me about it, asshole.
“Aunt Gigi?”
“Yes, darling, I’m here.” I’m pulled back to reality as
Maddie stirs awake, and I jerk myself out of his embrace.
With a strained smile on his face, Miles turns to her. “Hi,
Maddie.”
Scratching her right eye as she sits up on the sofa, she
answers sleepily, “Hello, Mr. Carrey.”
“We are not done,” Miles whispers in my ear before he
takes his leave, his hot breath sending a trail of goosebumps
down my spine.
I shut the door behind him and tell Maddie I’ll be right
back. On shaky legs, I walk to the bathroom, needing a
moment to myself. I did the right thing not allowing Miles to
talk me out of my decision, didn’t I?
Then why do I feel so empty?
CHAPTER 21
 MILES

D amn it!
A heavy frown creases my face as I step out of the
apartment building. It’s snowing lightly, but I barely notice as
I walk down the street. The holiday spirit is in the air. Houses
and shops are laden with decorations while Christmas trees
stand tall at every corner. Children are playing in the snow and
throwing snowballs at each other. Jingle Bells is blaring from
the radio in a shop I pass by. People all around are wishing
each other a happy holiday. All of this is lost on me because
my thoughts are on Giselle.
I never knew she could be so stubborn. One minute we
were at my apartment making love, playing the piano, and
cooking together, and the next minute, I can no longer reach
her on the phone or even have a conversation with her.
Pierre!
I blame her blasted ex-boyfriend! Perhaps if he hadn’t
shown up, Giselle would have given me a listening ear. But
I’m really to be blamed for dragging my feet for so long, when
deep within me, I knew I wanted Giselle for keeps.
“Hey, Miles.”
I lift my head to see Giselle’s brother a few feet away. We
have run into each other a few times at the Alvin Ailey Dance
School after meeting at the apartment. When I wondered why I
didn’t see Giselle anymore, he told me with a knowing look
that she changed the time of her ballet class.
 “Hi, Gabriel.” We shake hands as I force a smile to my
face.
His penetrating gaze, so like Giselle’s, searches my face.
“Why do you look as if you’re carrying the entire world on
your shoulders?”
I hide a grimace by rubbing a hand across my jaw. How do
I tell him his sister has been causing me sleepless nights?
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he
quickly inserts while I’m trying to gather my thoughts. “I’m
tired. I had a complicated surgery today. I’ll see you some
other time.”
“Wait.” I put up a hand as he makes to walk away. I decide
to confide in him. Possibly, he’ll give me some advice on how
to get through to his sister. “I went to see Giselle, and she
refuses to speak to me. She has blocked my number. Even
when I tried reaching her from another phone, she hung up.”
He gives me a weird look before sighing. “Tell you what.
Why don’t we go somewhere and get a drink?”
“That would be great.”
He smiles warmly. “Nothing a good glass of beer can’t
handle. Come on. It’s not far. It’s my favorite relaxation spot
when the world gets to me.”
A genuine smile crosses my face as I walk with him down
the block. My thoughts are all over the place as we make the
short journey to a bar around the corner. Fortunately, the place
isn’t crowded, and Gabriel leads the way to the back after
exchanging pleasantries with the barman and some of the
patrons. He orders a glass of beer and does the same for me.
“It’s locally brewed and has different flavors. You’ll love
it. Well, that’s if you’re a beer lover,” he says as I glance
around the dim interior.
I nod, looking forward to it. I haven’t had beer in a long
while. My attention is drawn to the men playing pool in the
corner of the bar and the Beatles music coming from the
jukebox.
 The large glasses of beer are served, and just like Gabriel
promised, I love it.
“This is spectacular,” I remark, nodding and licking away
the froth that formed a mustache on my upper lip. “I don’t
think I’ve ever had beer this good before.”
He grins. “I told you.”
“They just won themselves another regular,” I utter with
delight, and Gabriel laughs. He takes another gulp of his beer
and sighs.
“Stop me anytime you think I’m prying too much about
your relationship with my sister,” he throws in casually.
“I wish I could get through to her,” I say in a resigned
tone.
He keeps silent for a few seconds while he stares at me
fixedly. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
As there’s no point lying about it, I nod. “I’ve been trying
to tell her, but she won’t give me the time of day. She seems to
think all I want from her is sex.”
“And is that true?”
Looking affronted, I snap, “No. Of course not. Initially, it
was only that for me, though I enjoyed her company too. But
somewhere along the way, I fell hard. It took me a while to
realize it and accept that it was time to move on from the
memory of my late wife. I must have given Giselle the wrong
notion about my intentions. Or her recent attitude might have
something to do with her ex-boyfriend resurfacing and
wanting her back.”
He frowns. “You know about Pierre?”
“Yes.” I eye him warily. “Are they back together?”
He shocks me by laughing. “You don’t have to worry
about him, Miles. I don’t think Giselle will ever have anything
to do with that toad again. But then again, with women, you
really can’t tell.”
 The sadness in his voice has me wondering about his life
story. He’s a single father, like me, and a successful
neurosurgeon, but that’s all I know about him. I struggle to
focus back on my quandary, but I won’t ask him what
happened to Maddie’s mother. Then I’d be the nosy one.
“Why won’t she just tell me what’s going on?”
He sighs and leans back in the chair. “Giselle is at a …
What do I call it? A very low place, right now.”
“But why?” I question with confusion.
He stares at me and opens his mouth as if he’s about to say
something, but then he looks away and shrugs. “Give her time,
Miles. It’s no use trying to change her mind right now. You
must have noticed that she can be very stubborn.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know,” I grumble.
He chuckles. “Yeah. It runs in the family.”
I gulp my beer and sigh.
“Giselle might put on a brave front for all and sundry to
see, but truly, she’s an emotional woman struggling to get past
her fears.’
I frown. “Her fears? What’s she afraid of?”
He stares at me for some seconds before replying, “She
hasn’t been fortunate when it comes to love. Her fears are
triggered by a man who isn’t ready to have a serious
relationship, and she has vowed never to get roped in like that
again.”
“I’m ready now.”
“So is Pierre.”
I groan.
“I know Giselle will kill me for telling you all this, but I
sense that you genuinely care for her, unlike that oaf, Pierre,
who broke her heart. Along the line, after multiple
disappointments, Giselle began to think it was her fault that
men refuse to commit. She has come up with a defense
mechanism where she doesn’t rely on others, so that she
doesn’t get let down. She’s in a stage now where she is
persuading herself that she doesn’t need you.”
I nod, having sensed Giselle’s independence from the first
moment I laid my eyes on her.
“While she’s bubbly and sociable, she doesn’t allow
herself to lean on others and will only let her closest family in.
And that’s why I believe you have a herculean task on your
hands, because she let down her guard with you despite her
resolve, and you messed up.”
Shit! I truly messed things up with her.
“But like I said, give her time. I believe she’ll come
around, especially as she’s …” He trails off and looks away.
“Especially as she’s what?” I repeat, and he shrugs.
“She’ll be leaving for Paris soon. Are you aware of that?”
My gut tells me that wasn’t what he was about to say, but I
shrug it off. “Yes.”
He smiles. “I’ll be traveling with her. Maddie too. We’ll
spend the holidays with my family. Maddie and I will come
back alone after Christmas.”
“And you want me to let her be? She’s going to Paris
where her ex-boyfriend will be lurking in the shadows.”
He chuckles. “You don’t have to worry about Pierre. She
would have been long gone if she wanted him back. I know
my sister. Let her cool off for a few days before trying again.
Pierre has been bugging her. She has had it up to here with
him. Don’t frustrate her as well.”
Even though I’m not comfortable with his suggestion, I
nod. “Thanks for your time, Gabriel. I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. Now, do you want to try another flavor
of beer? Believe me, they have some you can’t even imagine.”
“Bring it on,” I say with forced enthusiasm. I’d rather be
with Giselle than here drinking beer, but it’s an opportunity to
get to know Gabriel. Who knows? He might help me to
convince Giselle that I’m the man for her.
CHAPTER 22
 GISELLE

T he joy of being with all my family members again

floods me as I glance around the living room at my
mom, my dad, Josephine, Gabriel, and Maddie as we begin
our Christmas Eve dinner with aperitifs. We arrived at my
parents’ apartment in the sixth arrondissement a week ago. It
has been total bliss returning to the house I grew up in. My
parents didn’t change a thing in my bedroom, which I shared
with Jo. Now I have it to myself as my sister has her own
apartment a few blocks away.
Gabriel, Maddie, and I visited the Luxembourg Gardens
the previous day. The little girl had a lot of questions to ask
about the statues and the Luxembourg Palace as we strolled
around the park. After the walk, we went to the Treize Bakery
for snacks and drinks. We wanted to visit the Odeon too, but
the threat of rainfall made us return home earlier than planned.
My eyes trail the living room adorned with decorations.
The Christmas tree with garlands, wreaths, and gifts
underneath it, which will be shared later, stands tall beside the
fireplace. Dad and Jo are sitting beside it, engrossed in
discussing the most recent Michel Houellebecq. Gabriel and
Maddie are sitting beside each other in the middle of the large
living room while my mom and I are reclining on the sofa.
“Santé,” my dad says, lifting his glass of champagne.
Smiling at Maddie, we lift our glasses of sparkling cider.
“Dad, why isn’t it snowing here?”
 We all laugh at her question. I wonder why it took her so
long to notice. Probably the lights and sounds of Paris took her
breath away, so much so that she didn’t realize she hadn’t seen
any snowflakes.
As Gabriel explains to her that it rarely snows in Paris, Jo
steps out to answer a call.
“Ma chérie, could you please help me with the food?” my
mom asks me and then frowns a little. “That’s if you’re not too
tired.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m fine today, Mom. The evenings are
also better for me.” Then I giggle. “I’m pregnant, not
terminally ill.”
She smiles, in the calm way she usually does, and her
green eyes sparkle. “I know, mon ange. You’re glowing.”
A thick blush covers my face. “Are you sure? I was certain
I could pass for a scarecrow when I looked in the mirror a few
minutes ago.”
She laughs, and my heart swells with joy. It’s been so long
since we’ve been in the same room. Telling my parents that I
was pregnant was the right thing to do. Although now, I’ll
have to endure being babied like a little girl.
Rising, I walk with her to the kitchen.
“I don’t think Maddie will be able to wait up for Père
Noël,” my mom says as she starts dishing out the foie gras
while I cut the baguette to be served with sweet onion confit.
I laugh softly. “I don’t think she’s expecting to see Santa
Claus here, Mom. No snowfall must surely make New York
very different from Paris to her. Besides—” I get interrupted
when my phone buzzes in the pocket of my jacket. I retrieve it
and groan when I see it’s Pierre calling.
Smiling, my mom asks, “Is that Miles?”
“No. It’s Pierre.” I place the phone back inside my pocket.
Her brows shoot up. “Oh? Is he still in the picture?”
“He wants to be.”
 “And you agree?”
“Of course not. He’s very sorry for what he did, and he’s
quite serious now. He wants us to get married.”
My mom pauses in her task to stare at me. Her glorious red
hair is pulled back from her face in a loose ponytail. Her
freckles, which I took from her, as well as her hair, eyes, and
stature, are visible as she wriggles her nose with distaste.
“Do you believe him?”
I shrug. “He seems genuine.”
“Do you still love him?”
“No.”
“Do you trust him?”
“I don’t think so. No.”
“Have you told him about the baby?”
“No. It wouldn’t be fair to Miles to tell my ex-boyfriend
about the baby while he doesn’t know anything about it yet.”
She reaches out to take my hand and squeeze it. “Ma
chérie, you need to tell Miles that you’re pregnant. You owe
that to him. But that doesn’t mean you have to be in a
relationship with him. This is the twenty-first century. If you
want to do this on your own, you know you can, don’t you?
We’ll be here to support you. If, after the exhibit at the Louvre,
you wish to return to New York, Gabriel will be there for you.
If you decide to stay here, which I must admit I’d prefer, you
have me, your dad, and Jo to support you.”
Tears glimmer in my eyes. With my rampant hormones,
I’m so teary-eyed these days.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I know it’s your life and you’re a grown woman, able to
make your own choices, but here’s just some advice.”
I nod and sniff. “Okay.”
“Don’t get back together with Pierre. He isn’t good for
you. It isn’t just that he cheated on you and refused to commit.
He was weighing you down. I didn’t like it then, but I couldn’t
do anything about it, because you loved him. I was glad when
you broke up, even though it made you sad for a while. But
I’m glad you’re back on your feet now and having a baby with
someone else.”
“Even if that man doesn’t want a serious relationship?
Even if I again fell for a man who refuses to commit?”
“Oh, ma bichette.” She throws her arms around me. “How
are you sure he isn’t ready for commitment when you haven’t
told him about the baby?”
I pull away from her arms. “That’s because I know him.
All he wants from me is sex. He enjoys my company, but
that’s it. He has never mentioned anything about a future with
me.” I blink back my tears. “He’s still hung up on his late
wife, and I can’t be with such a man. I also don’t want him to
think I intentionally got pregnant to make him propose to me. I
was on the pill, but he might think I lied to him.”
“He’d be foolish to think that. They’re not a hundred
percent guaranteed.”
“I know that, but does he?”
“You’ll never know what he thinks if you don’t talk to
him.”
I sniff and allow myself to think about Miles and Ashlyn.
I’ve built a wall around my heart to stop myself from thinking
about how much I love and miss him. He’s probably in the
Hamptons with his family. I imagine them seated around a
Christmas tree tomorrow morning, exchanging gifts, hugs, and
kisses. Will he think of me and long for me the way I do for
him?
“All will turn out for the best.” My mom hugs me and
kisses my wet cheek before pulling away.
I wipe away my tears just as Jo comes in to assist with
setting the table. We begin talking as we devour the delicious
meal. We finish dinner with a cheese platter and salad.
“I’m surprised you’re still awake, Maddie. I thought you
were an early bird,” I tease my niece as she reaches for a piece
of brie.
She giggles. “Dad warned me about the long celebration.
So, I took a nap after lunch.”
“Oh, that’s smart.” I gently stroke her hair.
Again, I wonder if the baby nestled in my womb is a boy
or a girl. I want a baby girl so much. Being with Maddie these
past weeks and meeting Ashlyn has made me long for a
daughter I could take to ballet lessons, play girlish games with,
and wear matching outfits with. I wonder if Miles would
prefer a boy.
Miles! My heart thumps in my chest, and I’m mad at
myself at the realization that I still love him. I’ve tried to stop,
but how do you tell your heart to fall out of love? It was way
easier to move on from Pierre’s heartbreak than Miles’s.
“Are you all right, Gigi?” Jo questions me as we take the
empty plates to the kitchen. Her sky-blue eyes are filled with
worry.
My mom comes in with the Bûche de Noël, Maddie
yelping with delight at the sight of the cake.
“Gigi?”
“I’m fine, Jo.”
“Are you sure?” Her gaze is penetrating.
“Fine. I couldn’t help thinking about Miles … and his
daughter.”
She places a hand on my shoulder. “Why don’t you call
him and talk to him?”
I shake my head. “And have him sweet talk me into his
bed again?”
“You don’t know that. You told me he came to your
apartment wanting to speak to you. Maybe you should have
listened to what he had to say.”
“I already know what he had to say. He would tell me
sweet nothings, fuck me senseless, tell me that I’m his, and I
would fall for it all over again. He would return to his daughter
and his family, and I would return home waiting for him to
text me back, wondering why I gave in again. Jo, I want more
than that for me and my child. If I was sure that he loved me, I
wouldn’t have left New York without telling him I was
pregnant.”
She gives me a knowing look. “You’re in love with him,
aren’t you?”
Unable to deny it, I nod. “Silly of me, but I can’t help it. I
know I’ve always thought this with every man I’ve dated, but I
really thought Miles was the one. We have so many things in
common, and he made me happy.” I push back my tears. “I
guess it was just my silly girl fantasy again, hoping I’d found
the kind of love Mom and Dad share.”
She squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up, Gigi.
Love is a beautiful thing when you find it, but it’s not for
everyone.”
I eye her. “How do you stay so aloof at such times? How
do you get into a purely sexual relationship and keep your
feelings out of it?”
She shrugs. “I simply remind myself that it’s only sex.
Once I start feeling something other than desire to yank off the
man’s clothes, I know it’s time to move on.”
Smiling, I reply, “Is that how it is with Robert?”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, please don’t start. I told you it’s
just sex.”
“He sounded as if it was more and—”
“Girls, we’re waiting!”
She laughs and sticks her tongue at me. “Saved by Dad.”
I stick my tongue out at her too, and we laugh.
“The next time Miles calls, I suggest you answer him and
hear what he has to say. And when you get back to New York,
please tell him you’re pregnant. Regardless of how he reacts,
just know that you have me and everyone else in this family.”
“Thanks, Jo.”
 We hug before returning to the dining table. We enjoy the
cake, and then my mom hands out chocolates to everyone. We
open our presents. Maddie, although sleepy now, is excited by
her gifts. We sing a few Christmas carols, and Gabriel carries
Maddie to bed.
I cozy up to my dad on the sofa while my mom and Jo
clean up. He puts his arm around me, and I lean closer, feeling
like a little girl.
“Dad, I hope you’re not disappointed in me about the
baby,” I say after we sit in companionable silence for a few
minutes.
He tips his head back to look at me. “Disappointed in you?
Of course not.” He kisses my forehead. “I’m proud of you,
sweetheart. You’ve worked hard to get to where you are today.
You’re a conservator now, just like you’ve always wanted.
And now, you’re growing an addition to our family. It’s a
shame that the father of your baby isn’t in the picture, but
that’s his loss.”
“Oh, Dad.” I throw my arm around him to kiss his cheek.
“Thanks. I feel so loved.”
“That’s because we love you, and we’re a family
regardless of anything.”
The others return to the living room, and my dad makes a
toast to celebrate the news of a new baby arriving in our
family.
Their beaming faces make me feel like I can do anything.
CHAPTER 23
 MILES

“I know you’re busy, but could you please call me

back? I’ve been trying to reach you since you left for
Paris. How is it going at the Louvre? Is it anything like the
Met?” I’m rambling again like in all the messages I’ve left her
lately, and I end the voicemail with a frustrated sigh.
At least, she hasn’t blocked this number. Yet.
I angrily throw my phone on the sofa and run my fingers
through my hair. Everything I’ve done to try to get in touch
with her has failed woefully. After my talk with Gabriel, I
decided to give her some time to cool off and hopefully, miss
me terribly and remember all that we’ve shared. Regrettably, it
didn’t turn out that way.
When I tried visiting again, I discovered she had told the
doorman not to let me up. Not even promising the man a better
job in my company would get him to let me see Giselle. Such
loyalty and dedication to one’s job is admirable, but I found it
frustratingly annoying. Reaching her on the phone proved
futile. She refused to pick up my calls, even when I used
another number to call her. Every time I’ve tried to reach her
since she left New York, my calls have gone to her voicemail.
A thought crosses my mind, and I whirl around to grab my
phone from where I flung it. Eagerly, I search through my
contacts for a friend’s number who recently moved to Paris to
be with his ailing mother. He also works at the Louvre.
I sigh with relief when I find it.
“Hello, Louis,” I say gaily when he picks up the call.
 “Miles! It’s been a while.”
“Indeed, it has. How’s Paris? How’s your mom?”
“She’s much better now that I’m with her.”
“Wonderful. How are Andrea and the kids?”
“They’re doing great. And Ashlyn?”
“She’s good too, growing up quickly. Listen, I’m calling to
find out about a friend from the Met who is currently helping
the Louvre with the upcoming Mayan exhibit.”
“Oh, you mean Mademoiselle Bartholomay?”
Relief floods me at his answer. Through him, I think I can
get in touch with her.
“Yes,” I reply.
“She’s working with the events planner and the
conservator group. Her office is close by. What do you need?”
Knowing I have to ask, I say, “What about a certain
Pierre?”
“Pierre?” He chuckles. “There are many Pierres here,
Miles.”
I groan inwardly. I don’t know the blasted man’s surname.
Although Gabriel said I had nothing to worry about, I can’t
help being anxious. He’s right there with her in Paris, and he
also works at the Louvre. For him to have come to New York
to try to win her back shows how determined he is. With her
right under his nose, who knows the amount of pressure he
might be putting on her? And he has more leverage than me,
given that they used to be in a serious relationship.
“Miles?”
“Er … forget about the Pierre guy. I’ve been trying to
reach Giselle unsuccessfully. I need to speak with her urgently.
Do you think you can help me get in touch with her?”
“Sure. The Louvre will be closing for a few days for the
New Year, but I’ll get the message to her before then.”
“Thanks, Louis. I owe you one.”
 He laughs. “I’ll put it on your tab.”
After I end the call, I continue pacing the living room. The
sitting duck feeling doesn’t feel good. I’ve never been one to
allow life to happen to me. I take the bull by the horns and
take my chances. Hopefully Giselle will agree to speak to me
through Louis.
The following day in my office, I sit on pins and needles
while I wait for my friend’s call. I get so distracted in my
meetings that I have them rescheduled. I even tell my secretary
to make whatever arrangements she likes for the annual end-
of-year office party.
All I want is to hear Giselle’s sweet voice again. She has to
hear me out. Life without her has been so empty that I wonder
what I did to make myself happy before I met her. The feeling
can’t be compared to when I lost Gwen, but the aching
emptiness is the same.
I pick up Gwen and Ashlyn’s portrait on my desk and stare
at it. Gwen made me extremely happy, and Ashlyn is a breath
of fresh air, but I know it’s time to move on. I’ll definitely
never forget my late wife, but Giselle coming into my life has
healed the wound her death created, and I have a chance at
love again.
For so long, I feared allowing a woman into my heart and
my life, using Ashlyn as an excuse, so I wouldn’t get hurt
again. But now, I know it will be okay. Giselle, from what her
brother told me, although having faced heartbreak, has never
given up on love.
My musing is interrupted by my ringing phone. My heart
nearly stops when I see it’s Louis calling. I brace myself to
hear Giselle’s voice again.
“Hey, Louis.” I fake a cheerfulness that I don’t feel
because I’m so tense. I find it amazing because even trying to
get Gwen to date me didn’t make me this nervous.
“Hi, Miles.”
A heavy frown instantly forms on my forehead at his less
than jovial greeting. I brace myself for the worst.
 “She doesn’t want to talk to me,” I remark to save him
from the awkwardness he’s obviously feeling.
“Yeah. Something like that. She wasn’t happy that you
contacted me.”
Damn!
“She said she’s here to work, and she’ll get in touch with
you when she gets back to the States.”
I should be relieved that she finally wants to talk to me, but
I’m not. That means waiting indefinitely because the exhibit is
still weeks away.
“Thanks for your help, Louis.”
“Anytime, Miles. I don’t know what happened between the
two of you, and it’s none of my business, but I want you to
know that I’m rooting for you.”
“Thanks, Louis. Please extend my greetings to Andrea and
the kids.”
“Will do. Give my love to Ashlyn. Bye.”
I end the call with slumped shoulders. I really thought this
would work and make her talk to me. My brain wants me to
throw in the towel and forget about her, as it seems as if she
has moved on, but my heart thinks otherwise.
Fight for her. You’ve waited this long to find love again.
Will you give up at the slightest challenge?
Never! I love Giselle, and I will prove myself to her.
Over the next few days, my thoughts are all over the place
as I think of my next course of action. I don’t think I can wait
for her to return to New York before telling her how much she
means to me. I drive out to the Hamptons where Ashlyn has
been staying with my parents since the Christmas break began.
Ashlyn surprised me when she asked after Giselle because she
got her and Maddie gifts. I wanted to broach the subject of
Giselle being in our lives, but as she has refused to talk to me,
I decided to hold off on the discussion.
 Ushering in the New Year with my parents and Ashlyn is
amazing as usual, but I feel something different this time
around. Giselle would have been here with us if I had played
my cards right.
“I’m going to Paris,” I blurt out to my parents after Ashlyn
has gone to bed.
“It’s about time,” my dad says, slapping me on the back in
his usual jocular fashion.
“You don’t think it’s hasty? Desperate?”
“Desperate?” my mom interjects with a huff. “Your dad
stopped me from telling you to go after her.”
“That’s because he had to come to that decision on his
own,” my dad adds with a wide grin.
“Yes, but I was getting tired of him moping around like a
lost puppy. It’s obvious you love this woman and want to be
with her. I wondered how long it would take you to book a
flight and go get her.”
I shrug. “I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
My father sighs. “Well, thank goodness you’ve finally
come to your senses.”
My mom smiles brightly. “Follow your heart, my dear.
We’ll take good care of Ashlyn. And don’t come back without
your girl. I feel I already know her.”
I blink. “What do you mean?”
“Ashlyn can’t stop talking about her. She even painted a
picture of the two of them dancing ballet together. I think, just
like you, our darling Ashlyn is ready to have another woman
in her life.”
Relief flows inside me at her words. Giselle made a great
impact on Ashlyn that evening. She kept going on about her
on the way home and the following day, but I thought that her
interest would wane when she didn’t see her again. However, I
know she and Maddie’s friendship had grown stronger.
 The following morning, I finally broach the topic with
Ashlyn in her bedroom while I’m combing her hair.
“Sugarplum, I’ll be traveling to Paris in a few days.”
“For work?”
“No. To see Giselle.”
She whirls around on the bed to look at me with
excitement in her eyes.
“Can I come along?”
I gaze at her, startled by her question.
“Oh, Dad, please. I want to see her again … and Maddie,
of course.”
“Sweetie, this isn’t a good time for you to come with me.”
Her face crumbles.
I cup her cheeks. “I messed up, and I’m going to ask
Giselle to take me back.”
She frowns. “What did you do?”
I sigh. “You won’t understand.”
“Grownup stuff, right?”
I nod. And then I decide to tell her anyway, just to see her
reaction. “When Mommy died, I was so hurt and sad, I told
myself I would never love again or allow any woman to get
close to me.”
“So, you wouldn’t get hurt again if they died?”
I smile softly, “Something like that. I’ve been wondering
how you would feel if I started dating again.”
She looks thoughtful for a moment. “You mean like having
a girlfriend?”
I nod, “Yes, exactly.”
A hint of excitement creeps into her voice, “That sounds
nice, Dad. Mom will always be special, and no one can replace
her, but it would be good for you to be happy too.”
 Her words warm my heart, and I feel a surge of relief.
“You’re absolutely right, sugarplum. Your mom will always
hold a special place in my heart. I’ll never stop loving her or
cherishing her memory.”
She nods in understanding, “I know, Dad. It’s okay to be
happy.”
I smile at her, my eyes a little misty. “Thank you, darling.
You’re so mature and understanding.”
She then guesses, “Is the girlfriend going to be Giselle?”
I chuckle, “You’re quite the detective. Yes, it’s Giselle.”
Excitement dances in her eyes, “I really like her. She’s nice
and fun to be around.”
“That’s wonderful to hear,” I reply, touched by her
openness.
I pull her into a warm hug, feeling grateful for her
understanding and support. “I’m really lucky to have such an
amazing daughter like you, who always knows how to make
things feel just right.”
Now that Ashlyn has given me the all-clear, all that is left
to do is go to Paris and convince Giselle that I’m the man for
her.
CHAPTER 24
 GISELLE

“S ince The Old Man of Copán will be the star of the

exhibit, I think we should place it here, and then the
other gods can be in the background. What do you think?”
“I think that’s a great idea. Any day now, we’re expecting
more Mayan art and paintings from the Mexican and
Honduran governments. This is coming together very nicely,”
Ines, the event planner, says with enthusiasm that is catching. I
can relate because that was the way I felt when I was working
on organizing the reception ahead of the Mayan exhibit at the
Met.
“We’re lucky to have—” Suddenly, I start experiencing a
queasiness that has me taking in deep breaths.
“Giselle? Are you all right?” Ines places a hand on my
shoulder.
Slowly, I walk back to the table in the office and sit. Ines,
with concern in her eyes, offers me bottled water. I shake my
head and force a smile.
“I’m fine, Ines. I suddenly felt a little woozy, but I’m okay
now,” I reply to the worried lady.
“Are you sure? You were looking green in the face,” she
says and pushes the water at me. “Why don’t you take a sip?”
I shake my head and groan. “I’m fine. I guess I stood for
too long.”
She gives me a weird look and then smiles. “How far
along are you?”
 My eyes widen, and I lower them, my face flushed. “About
eight weeks.”
“Don’t you worry. It will pass soon. I remember my first. I
couldn’t keep anything down. Getting up in the morning
required gargantuan effort.” The middle-aged woman carries
on telling me about her pregnancies and children.
I’m grateful for the respite, so I can rest a little from work.
It has been a struggle getting out of bed, but so far I’ve
managed. I hid the symptoms well, but I guess walking around
the museum to get a feel of the place again was too much for
me today.
I sincerely hope I can keep my pregnancy a secret before
the exhibit is over to avoid anyone else knowing about it,
although someone astute in such things might guess by now.
But then, returning to New York means seeing Miles. Will I be
showing by then?
I have to tell him about the baby, but I don’t know how to
go about it. After refusing to speak to him through Monsieur
Moreau, I later recognized that I had made a mistake. It would
have been the perfect opportunity. And now, I don’t know how
best to go about it. If I’m being honest, I’m worried that he’ll
agree to be with me out of obligation. But I want him to
commit to me because he wants to be with me and not because
I’m carrying his baby. Is that selfish? Is that too much to ask?
“You know what? I think we should take a break. We’re
already ahead of schedule with our plans. So, go home and
rest.”
“No, I can’t do that. We still have to sort—”
“Don’t worry, I’ll cover for you. You shouldn’t even be out
in this icy weather. It isn’t good for the baby.”
I duck my head as I roll my eyes. Now Ines will take on a
motherly role toward me instead of that of a colleague. Oh,
why didn’t the nausea hit me when I was alone?
Before I can reply, a knock shifts my attention to the door.
As if this day could get any worse, Pierre comes into the
office. Ines gives me a knowing look as he starts exchanging
pleasantries with her. No doubt, Ines believes he’s the father of
my baby. My former colleagues, although glad to see me and
impressed by my promotion, haven’t forgotten about the
incident that made me leave. Fortunately, I haven’t come
across Francine. I don’t look forward to such an unpleasant
meeting, even though I’m no longer bothered by what she did.
“What do you want, Pierre?” I snap. He has been lurking
around and trying to persuade me to go out with him like the
good old days. He shows up every day at my office and
wherever I am at the museum.
“Why do you insist on speaking in English when we’re in
Paris?” He perches on the edge of the desk. “We barely spoke
English before.”
“That was in the past. Why do you keep living in the past,
Pierre?” I snarl before I can stop myself. I’m not in the mood
for his long speeches about how wonderful it would be if we
were a couple again.
“Are you all right? You look a little pale,” he says, and
tries to caress my chin, but I jerk my head back. The sudden
movement makes my stomach flip, but I hold back,
determined not to throw up on him. He’s the last person I want
to know about my baby.
“I’m fine. Please go away. I’ve got work to do.”
“Why don’t I take you to lunch at the Café Richelieu-
Angelina? We could go to the—”
“Pierre! Cut it out. I don’t know why you can’t get it that
we’ll never be together again. We’re done for good! Please
stop disturbing me and making people think something is still
going on between us. It’s annoying!”
A tense silence descends between us after my outburst.
Pierre’s face pales, and I feel terrible for lashing out, but he
got on my last nerve.
He stands up and clears his throat. “I can see you’re not in
a good mood. I’ll come back at the close of work. Maybe we
could grab dinner anywhere you want.”
 Exhausted, I merely nod and watch him walk away. I bite
my tongue to keep from calling him back and apologizing to
him. I need him to get the message and leave me alone.
A few minutes later, accepting that taking Ines’s advice of
going home would help me avoid seeing Pierre later, I pick up
my bag and slowly rise. My breath catches in my throat when I
turn around and see Miles standing at the door. I blink rapidly,
thinking I might have conjured him.
“Miles?” I whisper not believing my eyes.
“Giselle.”
His voice seems real enough, as do the smoky eyes that
glide over my body like silk. The rapid beating of my heart
tells me he’s certainly not a figment of my imagination. Miles
is indeed standing before me, looking devilishly handsome as
usual in a gray suit and holding a map of the Louvre.
My heart does a flip, and I squelch the urge to rush
forward, throw my arms around him, and just weep while
telling him how much I miss him and how happy I am that
he’s here.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for
you? I’ve been standing outside in the cold at the Pyramid,” he
says with exasperation.
“You could have entered through the carousel or the
metro,” I respond irrelevantly.
“Thanks for the belated information. I’ll keep that in mind
next time I come to Paris to look for a woman who refuses to
talk to me.”
I blush and look away as I fight the usual attraction to him
whenever he’s in my proximity. Gosh, seeing him here makes
me acknowledge how much I’ve missed him. But I fight to
keep a blank face. I must not encourage him at all. He can’t
notice how happy I am to see him. Who knows why he is
here? Work might have brought him to Paris, and he decided
to pop in to see me.
The memory of him telling that man at the bar that I’m
nothing but a casual fling flashes through my mind, and I push
away any warm feeling at seeing him.
“What are you doing here, Miles?” I question coldly.
He stiffens noticeably, and his eyes darken. “Isn’t it
obvious? I came here to see you.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Why? Haven’t I made it
clear enough that I don’t want to speak to you? We’re done.”
“Fine. You don’t have to speak. Just listen.”
“Oh, I listened. And I happened to hear what you said to
your friend the opening night at the Met. I’m nothing but a
casual fling, it’s just sex to let off steam, Ashlyn is your world,
and you don’t want a serious relationship.”
A deep frown creases his forehead. “You heard that?”
Belatedly realizing that I just admitted to overhearing a
private conversation, I flush. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I
was passing by and couldn’t help it.”
His frown deepens. “Was that all you heard? Did you listen
to the end of the conversation?”
“I didn’t have to. It’s all self-explanatory. You don’t want a
commitment because of your late wife and Ashlyn. I
understand that, but I’m not the kind of woman who is
satisfied with only a casual fling, as you put it. So, as it
appears that we both want different things, there’s no need to
continue the fake relationship … if it could even be called
that.”
He rubs a hand across his jaw. “Giselle, you
misunderstood. I—”
“Please stop, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Stop interrupting me and listen,” he demands with a tinge
of anger in his voice.
“I’ve already heard all that you have to say.”
“No, you haven’t!” He crosses the short distance between
us and grabs my hand. His eyes lock with mine, and what I
wanted to say flies out of my head as I gawk at him.
 “Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were with someone. I’ll
come back later,” Ines says as she barges into my office and
then turns around on her heel, a confused smile plastered on
her face. She leaves before I can call her back.
I create some distance between Miles and me and turn my
back to him. “This is my workplace, Miles. You shouldn’t
have come here.”
“Where else could I have gone to see you? I went to your
apartment in New York, but you refused to see me. Even at the
Met. I had no choice.”
“Please leave.”
“Not until you agree to have dinner with me to talk things
through.”
To my consternation, when I turn around, I see him pulling
out a chair and sitting with a determined posture.
“You can’t stay here.” If Pierre were to pop in, as usual, he
would create a scene. And Miles looks bigger and meaner.
“Fine! I’ll have dinner with you,” I reluctantly agree.
“Great.” He pushes himself to his feet. “I’m staying at the
Buddha-Bar Hotel. Meet me at the restaurant at seven.”
I nod.
“If you don’t show up, I’ll be here every day until you hear
what I came here to tell you. And that’s a promise.” He strolls
to the door, pauses, and turns around. “It’s good to see you
again, Giselle. You look radiant.”
I grit my teeth after his departure and quickly take a seat
when a dizzy spell threatens to overwhelm me. It’s all for the
best. Finally, I can tell him that I’m pregnant.
And also, that he won’t be needed.
I’ VE ONLY BEEN to the Buddha-Bar once. I marvel at its
soothing cinema-style decor and art pieces.
“This is delicious,” Miles says as he eats his soup.
 I simply nod and stare at my salmon. I’m nervous about
telling him about the baby, and my appetite has taken a
nosedive. I take a sip from my water and wish I could have a
glass of wine for some courage. Miles’s brows shot up when I
said I wouldn’t have any. I’d wondered if he guessed the
reason, and I quickly lied about still being on antivirals
because I’d caught the flu the previous week. It’s too early in
the evening to blurt out the news.
“Here we are, Miles. Now what?” I probe, afraid that
nausea might overcome me from the smells around us.
He lifts his eyes from his plate and takes a sip of his wine.
His heavy stare chases a tingle up my spine, a traitorous flush
creeping up my face.
“I’m sorry you overheard a part of that conversation. It
was advice for a friend. I wish you had stayed to hear the end
it.”
“Which was?”
Smiling, he says, “I told him to grab love with both hands
if he finds it again.”
My heart summersaults in my chest. Love?
“I told him to strike a balance between his daughters and
the woman he loves, which is what I should have done myself
a long time ago once I realized what I feel for you is love.”
“What?” I can hardly believe my ears. Is this just another
way of charming me back into his bed?
He leans forward to take my hand on the table, and he
smiles at me so endearingly that warmth spreads all over me.
“Yes, you heard me right. I’m in love with you.”
Take deep breaths, Giselle. Don’t faint.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all this time. I
love you, and I want you in my life. Permanently.”
I pull my hand from his and sit back. With a shaky hand, I
reach for my glass of water. I take a sip and struggle to steady
my nerves.
 “I know you might find it hard to believe, as I’ve always
blown hot and cold. The truth is I … I was scared.”
“Scared?”
He smiles tenderly. “Of falling in love and having my heart
broken again if something happened to you.”
My jaw drops. “You thought I would die like your late
wife?”
He nods with a rueful expression. “I kept using Ashlyn as
an excuse to push women away, thinking I didn’t want to be in
a relationship because of her. The truth is, I was trying to
protect myself. It took you coming into my life, falling in love
with you, and losing you for me to acknowledge the truth.”
My heart melts at his confession. It’s totally reasonable for
him to have felt that way. I wish he’d just opened up to me
earlier. The misery of the past few weeks was pointless.
“I’m so sorry for pushing you away, Giselle. My head and
heart weren’t in the right place. But now, I’m ready to move
on from Gwen’s death. She’s always going to be in my heart,
but I have more than enough room for you, my love.”
All I do is sit there and stare at him, not knowing what to
think or say. Miles is in love with me. He wants me in his life
for keeps. This was all I ever wanted.
“Please say something,” he speaks into the silence that
falls between us.
“Um … I don’t know what to say. What about Ashlyn?”
He gives me a bright smile. “She told me not to return
without you.”
“What?”
“I spoke to her about having you in our lives, and she’s
thrilled. She looks forward to spending more time with you.
She even wanted to come along with me to beg you to take me
back.”
Laughter bubbles from my throat at that. It’s something
Maddie would do, too. And maybe our daughter if we’re
having a girl. This might be the perfect time to tell him that
I’m pregnant, but I hesitate. The feeling of loving and being
loved in return is so beautiful that I want to bask in it for a
moment.
“Let’s go to my room. This is not the way I envisaged
telling you that you mean the world to me, and I can’t bear to
think of my life without you.”
A warm flush flows through my body, and I nod eagerly. A
private place would be best to tell him my news.
It’s been a while since I felt his body against mine, and I
can barely hide how much I want him.
In the elevator, he is watching me intently. My pulse
flutters like the wings of a bird, my femininity clenching and
beating like a heart. I text Jo to tell her about the change of
plans and that I’ll tell him about the baby today. She sends
back a smiley face and fire, and then, “See you tomorrow …
or whenever.”
I smile and shake my head. It’s still somewhat difficult to
process that Miles truly loves me, even though his presence in
Paris ought to convince me that he’s serious about a
commitment.
Once we are in his room, Miles draws me into his arms,
even before he shuts the door. His lips move gently against
mine, and I melt into his arms.
“I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you, Giselle. I’ve
been obsessing for weeks over how I’m going to fuck you
once you are mine again. And it’s not just the sex. I love you
…”
I open my mouth to tell him that I love him, too, and that
we’re having a baby together. My words are forestalled when
he claims my lips again.
Oh, well. Tomorrow will be good enough. For now, I just
want to enjoy being together again.
CHAPTER 25
 MILES

P ropped on my elbow, I watch Giselle sleep peacefully

beside me the following morning. Before meeting her
last night, I walked the streets of Paris for hours, thinking
through all kinds of scenarios. If someone had told me that she
would not only give me a listening ear but also accept my love
declaration and spend the night with me, I would have never
believed it.
And now she’s here with me, sleeping like an angel. She’s
never been more beautiful. I have the urge to wake her up, but
I decide against it. We can talk later. Last night, I was more
concerned with claiming her again after so long. It was a turn-
on to see her equally wanting. She missed me, too.
Eager to check up on Ashlyn and tell her that things with
Giselle went well, I shift my position on the bed to reach for
my phone on the bedside table. A groan from Giselle stops me,
and I turn again to look at her. A smile curves my lips, but a
frown quickly replaces it when I see that her face is knotted in
a grimace, even though her eyes are closed.
“Giselle?” I didn’t anticipate her waking up with a frown
after the wonderful night we had. I move on the bed to cover
the small distance between us, and she groans louder.
“Dammit! Stay still!” she snaps, and I jerk back.
“What’s wrong, baby? Are you all right?”
She doesn’t reply to me, but her face is still strained and
pale. Worried, I lean in and place a kiss on her cheek.
 “Morning.”
For an answer, her eyes snap open. She looks at me with
horror before pushing me away and flinging aside the
bedcovers. With astonishment, I observe as she runs naked to
the bathroom with her hand across her mouth.
“Giselle?”
Alarm bells ring in my head when I hear the sounds of her
heaving. Quickly, I get out of bed and hurry to the bathroom.
“Giselle? Are you all right?”
The door slamming hard in my face is the only answer I
get. My heart jumps in my throat when I hear her throwing up
again. What the hell is going on? Could it be something she
ate last night that didn’t agree with her system? But she barely
ate anything. The salmon she ordered was barely touched.
The only plausible reason for her sudden illness comes to
my mind, but I shake my head in denial. It isn’t possible. She’s
on the pill. But even as I stroll back to the bedroom to pull on
my briefs, I accept that it might be a possibility.
I walk back to the bathroom when I no longer hear her
vomiting and knock softly.
“Giselle?”
Silence.
“If you don’t answer me, I’m coming in right now.”
She groans. “I’m fine. I … I’ll be out soon.”
I wait there for a few seconds but walk away when I hear
the sound of rushing water from the sink. Wondering if my
suspicions are correct, I start pacing the floor. What if I’m
wrong? What if it’s just an aftereffect of the flu she told me
she caught a week ago? Or could she be reacting to the
antivirals?
My fingers comb through my hair. She could be pregnant.
She refused to drink wine last night. Gwen, oddly, had no
symptoms when she was expecting Ashlyn. All she had were
weird cravings, so I can’t really say that Giselle is pregnant
just because she’s throwing up.
A memory of when we were making out last night crosses
my mind, and I frown. Giselle had suddenly stopped and
reached for her phone in her purse on the floor. With the
excuse that she had to text her sister to inform her that she
wouldn’t be coming home, she hurried to the bathroom. When
she returned, she looked relieved and a glimpse at her phone
before she put it away showed that she had been browsing
something online.
I wonder if she had been trying to find out if it was okay to
make love. I also remember how full and tender her breasts
were, and she was extra responsive and sensitive when I
touched them. How far along is she? Or am I just overthinking
a healthy woman throwing up in the bathroom first thing in the
morning?
For a moment, I pause in my stride to consider what it
means if she’s indeed pregnant. I’ve never envisaged having
another child after Ashlyn because I thought I would never
allow any woman to capture my heart again. But as the
possibility sinks in, joy fills me. There’s no greater news than
discovering the woman you love is carrying your baby.
My attention jerks to the bathroom door when I see Giselle
standing there, looking spent. She’s put on a white robe.
Swiftly, I stride over to her, take her hand, and lead her to the
bed. I sit beside her, still holding her hand.
“Can I get you anything? A glass of water?”
She shakes her head.
Testing her reaction, I say, “We need to get you to the
hospital. The flu might not be completely gone, or you might
be reacting to the drugs.”
She keeps silent, so I add, “Or …”
She eyes me with curiosity. “Or what?”
“Or you’re pregnant.”
She evades my intense stare by looking away.
 “Are you?”
She nods and stares at me with an inexplicable expression.
“Yes, I am.”
Even though I had a hunch, it still surprises me to hear it
confirmed.
“I know you’re wondering how I could be when I’m
supposedly on the pill.” She lets out a heavy breath. “Believe
me, I don’t know how it happened. I didn’t miss taking them,
so I don’t understand.”
“When did it happen, you think?”
“In Washington. I’m about eight weeks along.”
I nod and rub a hand across my stubble. Joy bubbles inside
me, but I hold it in because of her downcast expression. Isn’t
she happy? Dear God, is she thinking of ending it? Is that why
she didn’t tell me all this time?
She regards me with an odd expression and says in a cool
tone, “It’s yours, by the way.”
My breath catches in my throat. I gawk at her, horrified
that she would think I would accuse her of sleeping with
someone else. “I never thought otherwise.”
“And I didn’t get pregnant intentionally just to get you to
commit to me. I would never do that. I don’t want you to think
I’m trying to tie you down or—”
I shut her up by drawing her into my arms and kissing her.
“Keep quiet, woman, before you say something that will hurt
me deeply.” I brush back the wet strands of her hair from her
forehead. “Giselle, I know you’re not the kind of woman to
want to trap a man. The thought never crossed my mind. I love
you.” I place my hand across her stomach. “And I’m thrilled
about the baby.”
Her eyes enlarge with something akin to disbelief. “You
are?”
“Yes.”
 She huffs. “You could have fooled me with that deadpan
expression you’re wearing.”
I grin. “I never thought I would have another child besides
Ashlyn, but I can hardly contain my joy at the moment. I’m
only holding back because you don’t seem to be happy about
it.”
Her green eyes start glowing suddenly. “Are you kidding
me? I’m overjoyed. I’ve always wanted a family.”
“Then why did you look so sad when you told me?”
Her lips curl in a dazzling smile. “First, I just threw up the
contents of my stomach, and I don’t feel great. Second, I’ve
been worried about telling you because I didn’t know what
you would think or how you would react.” She eyes me with
skepticism. “And you didn’t exactly jump for joy just now
when I told you.”
My heart clenches with pain at her presumption that
because other men in her past have disappointed and possibly
rejected her, I would do the same. I have a tough job ahead in
getting her to trust me and forget about her past, just the way
she unknowingly helped me overcome my grief at losing
Gwen.
“I realize that not telling you about my feelings for you
and the conversation you heard has put a dent in your trust in
me. But believe me when I say I’m thrilled that we’re having a
baby and I don’t think you planned this.”
She gazes at me with wariness. “Do you mean that?”
“I sure do.” I kiss her freckled nose. “Why don’t you lie
down? I’ll order breakfast. Do you want anything in
particular? Have you started craving weird things?”
She surprises me by laughing softly. “Not you, too. My
family already treats me like an antique vase.”
I frown. “They know?”
She nods and shifts her gaze from my face. “I had to tell
them. Even if I didn’t, they would easily have guessed the
cause of my morning sickness.”
 “What did they say?”
She shrugs. “They’re happy for me. They all encouraged
me to tell you.”
So, that’s the only reason she agreed to see me? Just to tell
me about the baby? My happiness dims a little.
“And they know that no matter how much I tried to hide it,
I’ve been miserable without you.”
My head snaps up to hold her gaze. She smiles warmly at
me and then looks away.
“Your hesitation with me was particularly hurtful because I
had fallen in love with you. I thought you felt the same way,
and it wasn’t just sex with you, but hearing you call us a
casual fling broke my heart. But I understand now that I took
the coward’s way out. I should have simply approached you
about what I heard. I would have avoided long weeks of
misery.”
I lean forward to gently kiss her lips. “It doesn’t matter
anymore. We’re together now. I love you, you love me, and
we’re having a baby.” I laugh. “Wait until Ashlyn hears the
news. She has been hinting about wanting a baby sister.”
Her alluring smile warms my heart. “It could be a boy.”
I shrug. “We’ll see. Although, I would prefer a baby girl
who looks just like her mother.”
Tears glimmer in her eyes.
“I love you, Giselle. Thank you for coming into my life
and showing me that I can open my heart to love again.”
“I love you too, Miles. And thank you for restoring my
faith in love and my belief that there is a happily ever after for
me, just like my parents.”
Overwhelmed by so much love for her, I lean in again to
kiss her. Her face contorts into a frown, she puts up her hand,
and rushes to the bathroom again. I groan as I realize that I’m
about to find out what having a pregnant girlfriend really
entails.
 I order a healthy breakfast while Giselle is cleaning up. We
call Ashlyn and my parents to tell them the good news.
They’re elated. After eating, we go to the Louvre where I, at
last, meet Pierre. He looks crestfallen when Giselle introduces
me to him, and I can’t help feeling a little sorry for him. He,
however, takes Giselle’s rejection on the chin and shakes my
hand.
“Congratulations. You’re one lucky man.”
“Indeed.” I nod with my arm around Giselle’s shoulders.
We embark on a quick tour of the museum before having
lunch at the Café Marly. By evening, she’s feeling much better,
and we make love again in my hotel room before we go to her
parents’ apartment for dinner. It’s a great pleasure to see
Gabriel and Maddie again. I’m surprised to see that, although
Giselle and her sister share a resemblance, Josephine is
nothing at all like her. There’s a toughness in Josephine that
Giselle doesn’t have. Her parents are very welcoming. I sense
no censure in them at having caused Giselle so much
heartache.
We enjoy a pleasant dinner, and we take our leave after
thanking them for a great evening.
“If you don’t mind, I’d love for Ashlyn to join us. Maddie
would be delighted, and I would love to get to know her
better,” Giselle says when we’re outside her apartment.
I gaze at her with surprise. “Are you serious?”
She nods and puts her arm around me. “We could have a
lovely holiday with her. Has she been to Paris before?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. We’ve only been to Morzine
for skiing.”
“Then she’ll love it here.”
“I love you. Have I told you that today?”
Her bright smile is infectious. “Countless times.”
I draw her into my arms and kiss her, feeling her love
envelope me.
CHAPTER 26
 GISELLE

“T his is so exciting, I can hardly sit still,” Ashlyn

says with catching enthusiasm as we take our seats
at the Metropolitan Opera in Lincoln Center to watch Giselle.
Observing the sunny smile on her face brings joy to my
heart. Ever since I returned to New York a month and a half
ago after the successful exhibit at the Louvre, Ashlyn and I
have become the best of friends. It feels good that she
wholeheartedly accepted my relationship with her father and is
so comfortable with me that she tells me everything.
At fourteen weeks pregnant, I’m finally into my second
trimester and feeling great. Nausea still grips me once in a
while, but the incidences are fewer and far between. There’s
no sign that I’m pregnant except that my figure is now a bit
fuller. My colleagues at the Met teased me that I had so much
fun in Paris that it’s clearly showing.
My attention is drawn from my thoughts when Miles’s
hand clasps mine. I lift my head to see his gray eyes fixed on
me with a charming smile on his face. I squeeze his hand and
return his smile.
Sometimes, I feel as if I’m in a beautiful dream and might
wake up to the nightmare of not having Miles, Ashlyn, and the
baby. For the first time in my life, everything seems to be
working out great for me. As a conservator, my job is not only
thrilling, but also incredibly rewarding, especially as I
immerse myself in the meticulous preparations for our
upcoming exhibit on early Buddhist Art from India.
 Yesterday, after having dinner at the Mandarin in the same
room where we spent our first night together, Miles asked me
to marry him. I look at our entwined hands and the diamond
engagement ring nestled on my finger, and my heart gushes
with happiness again. We haven’t told Ashlyn yet. We hope to
do so after the performance. I know she’ll be more than
delighted, especially when she finds out about the baby.
“It’s starting!”
Ashlyn’s excited words draw me out of my reverie. With
my hand still clasped in Miles’s, I settle back to enjoy the
romantic tragedy about a beautiful young peasant girl. As we
watch the apparent love between Giselle and Albrecht, Miles
and I share a knowing smile as his hand tightens against mine.
Tears flood my eyes at Giselle’s death. When the curtain
closes on Berthe weeping over her dead daughter, I turn to my
left to see Ashlyn crying silently. I wonder if she’s
remembering her late mom. She has spoken to me about her
several times, and I feel as if I knew her. Miles, too, finally
opened up and talked about Gwen, and I also told him about
my past and Pierre.
“That was sad,” Ashlyn whispers, and I nod.
The second act is even more heartrending, and I find
myself crying again. It must be the pregnancy hormones
because I have seen this ballet many times before, and I don’t
know why I’m so emotional today. Perhaps it’s because I’m
seeing it with the man I love and the girl I cherish.
We give thunderous applause at the end of the matinee.
Ashlyn is all smiles despite her teary eyes.
“Thanks for bringing me here to see the ballet, Giselle. It
was amazing. I can’t wait to tell everyone in school. It’s a
shame Maddie couldn’t make it,” Ashlyn chatters as we walk
out of the theater amid the throng of people.
Maddie is down with the flu. Gabriel is nursing her back to
health and couldn’t make it either.
“It’s all for the best. Maddie might still be a bit too little
for this ballet. She’ll come along next time,” I promise her.
 “Did you enjoy the performance, Dad?”
“I sure did,” Miles replies cheerfully.
He gives me a searing look, and only the presence of his
daughter stops me from throwing my arms around him and
kissing him until we’re both out of breath. It’s quite shocking
for me that even while I was in poor health due to morning
sickness, I still wanted us to make love. That was after I made
sure it wouldn’t harm our baby that first night in Paris. Now
that I feel amazing, the sex is even more mind-blowing.
Even though we’ve told Ashlyn we’re dating, we’ve still
been sneaking around. Sometimes we catch a moment in his
apartment before Ashlyn is home from school or when she’s
away at her grandparents’ for the weekend. Other times, it’s at
my apartment when Gabriel and Maddie aren’t at home. One
afternoon, when Gabriel and Maddie came home from a
birthday party earlier than expected, he gave us a playful look.
“She’s already pregnant. What more do you want, Miles?”
he had teased as he saw him getting ready to leave. I had
blushed to the roots of my hair while Miles roared with
laughter.
Looking back, I admit that it has been so much fun,
making us feel like teenagers again.
“What do my favorite girls in the world want for dinner?”
Miles questions as he slides into the passenger seat of the cab
he hailed while Ashlyn and I sit in the backseat. “Sugarplum,
please don’t say pizza.”
Ashlyn and I burst into a fit of giggles. I make a face at
Miles.
“What if I want pizza, too?” I ask with a glint in my eye.
He turns back to look at me. “Pizza isn’t good for the …”
He eyes Ashlyn warily and sighs. “Pizza, it is then.”
“We’re just pulling your leg, Dad. We don’t want pizza. I
want us to cook together.” She glances at me with a smile.
“The three of us. Like a family.”
My heart melts at her words. “That will be fun.”
 We arrive at Miles’s apartment on Park Avenue, and we set
off preparing dinner. Ashlyn suggests spaghetti with tomato
sauce, which is her favorite meal, and mine too. While she
boils the spaghetti, Miles makes the tomato and meat sauce
and I make the salad. We discuss the ballet we just saw, other
performances, and her school activities. When we’re done, we
settle down to devour the delicious meal.
Toward the end of dinner, Miles turns to his daughter
sitting at his left.
“Sugarplum, Giselle and I have something to tell you,”
Miles begins gently.
Her eyes take on an eager look as she slips a strand of
spaghetti into her mouth. She glances from her dad to me and
then keeps her eyes on him. I struggle to keep a straight face
because I’m nervous. Although she has shown that she’s okay
with Miles and me dating, I don’t know how she’ll react to
something permanent between us.
“What is it, Dad?”
“Giselle and I are getting married.”
She flies out of her chair to throw her arms around her dad
and my breath whooshes out from my chest when she hurries
over to do the same to me and kiss my cheek.
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks, sweetie. You don’t mind me being your
stepmom?”
She beams joyously. “Of course not! I’m delighted. It’s
what I’ve always wanted.”
I hug her tightly as tears sting my eyes.
“Will she come skiing with us next month?” she questions
her dad with excitement and then turns to me. “You’ve got to
come. It’s so much fun. I’ve been skiing since I was four.
We’ve skied in France, Switzerland, and Austria. Last year, we
went to Morzine in France. We’re going to Austria again next
month.”
 It was with excitement that I learned earlier that Miles is a
good skier, and that he takes his daughter on skiing trips to
Europe every March during her school spring break. As much
as I like to ski, having done so in Val Thorens and Tignes, I’ll
have to sit it out on the sidelines this year.
“I’ll come, but I won’t be able to ski.”
Her enthusiasm disappears as her eyes take on a dull
shade. “Why? You don’t know how to ski? Dad will teach
you.”
“It’s not that, sweetie.” I glance at Miles.
“We have something else to tell you,” Miles informs her,
and her eyes widen like saucers. He looks at me, grinning.
“Care to do the honors, honey?”
Holding my breath, I say, “You’re going to have a baby
brother or sister in about five months or so.”
She jerks out of my arms, looking stupefied. “You’re
pregnant?”
“Yes.”
She throws her arms around me again. “This is the best
day ever!”
“Careful, sugarplum.”
“Oh!” She draws away and stares at me with alarm. “I
didn’t hurt the baby, did I?”
Giving Miles a withering look, I smile at her. “Of course
not, sweetie. I’m fine.”
She hops from one leg to the other. “I hope it’s a girl. I’ll
teach her how to dance ballet.”
“And if it’s a boy?” her dad questions with curved brows.
She shrugs. “Boys dance ballet too. If it’s a boy, then I bet
you the next one will be a girl.”
Miles and I burst into laughter.
EPILOGUE
 MILES

M iles
Six years later …
“See? It wasn’t so bad, was it?” Ashlyn asks her five-year-
old sister.
Nicole giggles, her jade green eyes sparkling with humor.
“No, it was fun!”
My shoulders shake with laughter at my younger
daughter’s words. Nicole had been afraid of entering the cable
car to the blue slopes. Ashlyn had talked her into riding the
chairlift instead and held her hand throughout the ride while
muttering encouraging words to her.
“Help me with my zipper, Ash?” Nicole implores her older
sister.
“Sure.” Ashlyn bends to help her zip it.
Watching Ashlyn be a loving and protective big sister to
Nicole always brings warmth to my heart. To think that I’d
been so skeptical of bringing a woman into my life because I
was afraid my daughter would react negatively. I’m grateful I
didn’t take the coward’s way out. It worked out for the best.
“This is breathtaking.”
My attention shifts to my beautiful wife, who is standing
beside me, looking stunning in her ski gear.
“Yes, breathtaking,” I reply with a grin.
Giselle rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
 I curve a brow. “Do I?”
“You know I was referring to the picturesque scenery.”
“And I was referring to the most beautiful woman in the
world, who captured my heart and became the best wife and
mother in the world.”
Her sunny smile flips my heart. “And you had to say all
that now in public? You couldn’t say it when we were alone
back at the hotel?”
Laughter bubbles from my throat as I draw her into my
arms. “And what would you have done?”
Her green eyes darken with desire. “You should know.”
“No, I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”
“Argh! Mom, Dad, would you two please cut it out?
You’re not on your honeymoon.”
I pull away at Ashlyn’s exasperated tone. She ought to be
used to Giselle and me not being able to take our hands off
each other. Six years of marriage, yet the chemistry between
us is still as electrifying as the first time we met.
Giving Ashlyn an exasperated look myself, I ask, “Remind
me. When are you going off to college again?”
She snorts. “You’ll miss me when I’m gone.”
Nicole tugs on her sister’s blue ski jacket. “Please take me
with you, Ash. I don’t want to see their lovey-dovey stuff.”
“Of course!” Ashlyn pulls a strand of Nicole’s red hair
behind her ear.
Giselle and I share looks of mock astonishment. She
positions her hands on her hips and jocularly glares at her
daughters.
“Is this a plot against your dad and me?”
Both girls giggle, and I shake my head.
“You see why we should have had a boy?” I turn to my
wife. “Boys don’t plot against their parents.”
 “It’s not too late, you know,” Giselle whispers for my ears
only.
Her response fills me with desire. We’ve never really
talked about having more children. Giselle’s career has
blossomed over the years, and she’s now head of the
conservator team, having worked so hard and had many
successful exhibits.
“I’d enjoy the process of making another child,” I remark
with a grin, caressing her flushed cheek.
“Nicole, let’s get out of here and leave them alone.”
Ashlyn grudgingly takes her sister’s hand, and they move
away to join the throng of people ready to go down the
mountain.
My eyes travel across the far-stretching snowy slopes. The
view shows off the old villages in the valley below, spas, après
ski bars, and restaurants on the slopes.
“It is indeed a spectacular sight,” I concur.
“Told you.”
We join our daughters in doing some warm-up exercises to
prepare ourselves for skiing. Nicole can hardly hide her
excitement.
With pride in my eyes, I look on as Ashlyn watches over
her younger sister.
“Remember to have fun, Nicky,” Giselle says, and Nicole
nods.
“Don’t worry. We’ll start slow,” I tell her.
“It doesn’t matter if you fall,” Ashlyn says and laughs. “I
fell countless times.”
Nicole’s eyes widen. “You did?”
Ashlyn’s head bobs.
I laugh at the memory. “You should have seen her. She was
a hopeless case.” She was four years old then, and Gwen
thought skiing wasn’t her thing, no matter how enthusiastic
our little girl was about it.
 “But look at me now.” Ashlyn beams with pride.
Giselle cups Nicole’s cheek. “You can be a pro like her
someday. It doesn’t have to be today. Okay?”
“Okay, Mom.”
With Giselle and me bracketing our daughters, we slowly
slide down the flat slope. We keep a watchful eye as Ashlyn
shows Nicole how to bend her knees, side step, and slide.
When she finds her rhythm, we pull behind and allow her and
Ashlyn to enjoy themselves.
About thirty minutes later, our younger daughter is
beaming from ear to ear and challenging her older sister to a
race.
“No, sweetie. Let’s save that for tomorrow,” her mom tells
her as she bends down and kisses her cheek.
I put my arm around Ashlyn. “I’m proud of you,
sugarplum.”
Giselle stands up and turns to hug Ashlyn. “Thanks, Ash.
You’re the best big sister ever.”
“Yes, she is!” Nicole forgets she has skis on and tries to
jump enthusiastically, causing her to miss her footing and fall
back into the snow. We all turn in her direction with identical
looks of shock on our faces. She looks hilarious lying in the
snow with her skis up in the air.
Nicole starts laughing, and we all join her at the comical
sight she makes.
We enjoy the rest of the holiday skiing, taking pictures,
and delighting in the delicious cuisine that the place is known
for in its restaurants and mountain cafés. When it’s time to go
back home, we all know we just have to come back here again
… possibly with another addition to our happy family.

The End
 ALSO BY A J SUMMERS

Did you like this book?

Then you’ll love
Accidental Daddy
I wasn’t looking for a guy to pop my cherry, let alone a baby daddy.
The first time I laid my eyes on him, I thought he was an overconfident jerk hitting
on me at the bar.
Smug. Gorgeous. Hot as hell.
Hard pass.
The next time I see him, I’m having lunch with my dad. And it turns out, my dad’s
his boss.
When I mention that I need a volunteer in my preschool classroom, my dad
suggests Tyler help me with the task.
He shows up with a devilish smirk and a cocky swagger, and I just hate how
ridiculously good-looking he is.
It soon turns out he’s also gentle, patient and kind.
So I make a bold request.
Be my first.
He now helps me by day and breaks my bed by night.
Until a big fat plus sign tells me he’s going to be a daddy.
But we have a problem.
We need to tell my daddy he’s going to be a granddaddy.
START READING ACCIDENTAL DADDY
A C C I D E NTA L D A D DY
 CHAPTER 1

“To us!” I shout over the noise of the bar, raising my shot glass
high and clinking it with Jared’s before we down the fiery
liquid.
“Damn, that never gets old!” I exclaim, the burn lighting
up memories of wilder nights from our younger days.
We may be in our thirties now, but tonight, we’re here to
party like it’s 1999. Jared and I decided to hit up our old
stomping grounds, even if it meant dealing with a crowd that
could pass as our younger cousins.
“Where’s Jessica?” I ask, referring to Jared’s fiancé.
“We had a fight.” He rolls his eyes. “Let’s please enjoy the
night without bringing her up.”
“Gotcha.”
Jessica’s never been one to party anyway.
Jared smirks, scanning the crowd. “Speaking of significant
others, it’s time for you to find someone to celebrate with.”
I laugh.
“Oh, here we go again with your matchmaking
shenanigans.”
Before I know it, he’s pushing me toward a table where a
beautiful young woman sits alone. She’s definitely my type,
her wavy brown hair cascading down her shoulders, a river of
chocolate tempting me to run my hands through it. The soft
glow of the flickering light casts shadows over her angelic
face, her eyebrows graceful arches framing her lively eyes.
Her flushed cheeks are aglow. She’s impeccably put
together in a summer dress and an oversized blue cardigan.
I want to find out what hides beneath the flow of that silky
fabric.
But there’s more to her. A spark that sets her apart and
pulls me in.
“Go get her!” Jared winks, giving me another playful
shove. He knows me better than anyone, so it’s not surprising
he found a girl for me in this crowd.
Jared and I met as children, finding ourselves as neighbors
at the end of our Medford cul-de-sac. Our families quickly
became friends, and the rest was history.
I take a deep breath, my heart pounding with excitement,
as I walk over to the stunning brunette.
“Hey there, gorgeous.”
Her eyes lift from her phone, and instead of annoyance, I
see amusement dancing in her gaze.
“Right back at you.”
“What is a pretty girl like you doing by herself?” I ask,
already knowing the answer.
She shifts in her seat a little, looking around as if she isn’t
confident I’m talking to her.
“My friends are getting more drinks,” she tells me
hesitantly.
Her friends must be getting drinks for themselves, I
conclude. A glass of something fruity sits mostly untouched in
front of her.
“Lucky for me. It gives me time to talk to you.”
I shift my body a little closer to her so we can converse
better over the din of the bar.
 While her look doesn’t scream, “I want to fuck,” there’s
something about her whole innocence thing that’s a raging turn
on.
She doesn’t seem to have anything to say to move the
conversation along, fumbling with her sweater like a nervous
virgin.
“I’m Tyler,” I introduce myself with a smoldering smile,
not hiding my intentions.
She arches an eyebrow. “I’m Maria. And just so you know,
I don’t fall for pickup lines.”
Her voice is soft and warm, like a gentle breeze on a
summer night.
“Who said I was trying to pick you up? Maybe I just
wanted to introduce myself to the most beautiful girl in the
bar.”
Maria raises her glass, her face mottled red. “Well, you’ve
succeeded in that.”
“So, what do you do for a living?” I ask, trying to keep the
conversation going. This could go either way. As long as she
keeps talking to me, there is a chance she’ll be wrapped
around my dick later tonight.
A small smile breaks out across her face. “I’m a preschool
teacher.”
Figures. She has the vibe of a patient, loving grown-up.
Tentatively, she asks, “And what do you do?”
“I’m a lawyer, just made partner at my firm,” I say, trying
to impress her.
Maria’s eyes widen a bit, but she doesn’t seem intimidated.
“That’s cool! My dad’s a lawyer too.”
“Must be a great guy,” I say teasingly. “Speaking from
experience.”
I lean closer, a magnetic field pulling me toward her. I
catch a whiff of her scent, causing my groin to stir in
appreciation.
“Yeah, he’s pretty great.” She sighs, seeming to let her
mind drift to some far-off memory.
It’s only a matter of time before her friends come back,
and I’m not getting any closer to sealing the deal. It’s time to
steer the conversation in a different direction.
“Where is your boyfriend?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Why? You want to meet
him?”
I laugh. “Yes, I’d like to challenge him to a duel.”
Her cheeks flush, and I can’t help but enjoy her reaction to
me, imagining how red her face would be as she panted and
writhed while I thrust into her.
“A duel? That’s old-fashioned,” she retorts, smiling.
“Well, I’m an old-fashioned guy,” I play along, taking a
step closer. “We could have a lot of fun, you and me.
Assuming there is no boyfriend, that is.”
“Oh, really? What kind of fun are we talking about? You
seem a bit old for the regular playground kind of tumble.”
My heart races as I imagine the things I’d do to her if only
she’d let me. I’d fuck her in my lap, fisting her hair, her tits
bouncing in my face.
This woman is goddamn breathtaking.
I lean in and brush my lips against her ear, drinking in her
scent. “Not the playground kind, you’re right about that,” I
grind out, my breath quickening. “The kind that makes your
heart pump and your cheeks flush.”
Maria’s eyes widen, and I can see her shuddering. She
leans in and whispers teasingly in my ear, her breath warm and
inviting. “So, your plan was to come over here and simply ask
me if I’d go home with you?”
She moves her head back and looks me in the eyes, still so
close to my face that I’d have to lean in only slightly to
capture her lips with mine.
 “Did it work?”
I hold my breath as my pants tent and my skin crawls with
goosebumps, never breaking her gaze. I have nothing to lose.
There’s an off chance she’s feeling horny tonight and was
also looking for an easy lay.
“Not in the slightest,” she tells me, leaning back and taking
a sip of her drink.
In a last-ditch effort, I offer, “Are you sure? I could have
you screaming my name within the hour.”
She only smiles, holding my gaze.
I raise an eyebrow, disappointed. For a moment there, I
thought I had her. But I’m still not ready to give up.
“How about we dance instead?” I try, though I know
already I’ve lost this round.
“You should have led with that, my friend. Maybe not
tonight.”
“If you change your mind, I’ll be over there,” I suggest,
unfazed, motioning toward Jared.
“Trust me, I’m good.” She smiles and turns away.
Leave it to a preschool teacher to let you down ever so
gently.
Returning to Jared, he asks, puzzled, “What happened?
You’re supposed to be taking that girl home.”
“She wasn’t into it,” I confess, a tinge of annoyance
creeping in that Jared even pushed me to go over there.
Just looking at her, I should have known she was more on
the prudish side. She’s young, and I might have been too
forward.
“Well, don’t get down. There are plenty of women here
tonight,” Jared tells me optimistically, head swiveling to find
my next conquest.
“I’m good. I think you’re stuck with me tonight.”
 “Well, cheers to that.” Jared lifts up his bottle, waiting for
me to clink mine against his.
And I do.
I glance over to where Maria’s sitting. She is surrounded
by her friends, who have returned with their drinks. I’m not
even able to spot her anymore.
The chances of meeting Maria again are slim to nothing,
and I feel disappointed.
I may not be able to have her tonight, but at least I still
have my best friend with me, celebrating our wins.
CONTINUE READING TYLER AND MARIA’S STORY