Faking Forever (First Wives #4)(47)

“I haven’t been touched by a man since Paul, and I’m considering letting this guy put me on the hook, pushing off my plan for three months based on one kiss.” One spectacular kiss.

Avery shrugged. “I guess when you put it like that . . .”

“See?”

They were both silent for a few breaths.

“How good was the kiss?” Avery asked.

Shannon closed her eyes and shivered. “I’ve never been kissed like that. With such abandon and need. It was like he had this one shot of making his point, this one moment, rolled up in a single kiss.” She opened her eyes, found Avery smiling. “I think it was the best first kiss I’ve ever had.”

“Doesn’t your best first kiss deserve a chance?” Avery asked.

“Why are you so congenial about Victor? The man was engaged to another woman less than a week ago.” A big red flag in anyone’s book.

Avery kicked her feet up in the water. “Oh, that’s easy.”

“Why?”

“You. Because of you! The First Wives Club is going on, what, three years? I have never seen the kind of smiles on your face that I have since we’ve been here. Even when Victor ticks you off, there is a glow in you. So if he ends up being the selfish douche guy you spoke of, right now the man is pulling you out of the muck that Paul drug you through. And I’ll take it. You’re quite the catch, Shannon. I don’t think you’ve ever allowed yourself to acknowledge that li’l fact. Hell yeah, I’m gonna promote Victor. For worse or for better, the man is empowering you.”

“I don’t want to get hurt.”

“Then don’t let him.”

“How do you do that?”

“By keeping it honest with yourself. You fell for Paul, but he didn’t fall for you. You couldn’t just walk away because of the marriage contract. I get it. But that isn’t the case with Victor. If you start diving off the heart-filled cliff for the guy and he’s waving as you’re going over, get out. If he wants to date you and other women at the same time, then be sure and do the same. Enjoy what he has to offer, and don’t take any crap that you’re not okay with.”

“Should I wait for him?”

“In a normal situation, I’d say hell no. You just met the guy, you’ve had one kiss . . .”

“A fabulous kiss.”

Avery grinned. “. . . he just got out of a serious relationship, and the chances of him jumping around right now are pretty high.”

Shannon heard a however coming.

“But,” Avery continued, “I’ve never been on this ‘get pregnant with a stranger’ bandwagon, and the last thing you want is an accident with the wrong guy. Therefore, waiting a little longer, three months . . . I think that’s the way to go.”

“I had a plan,” Shannon said.

“Change the plan,” Avery suggested.

Three months . . .



Shannon stood in the reception area of the hotel, her suitcase by her side. Avery stepped away so they could talk without an audience.

“You’re a surprise I wasn’t expecting this week,” Victor told her.

“I would hope so, considering.”

He wanted to pull her in his arms and kiss her but decided that a public display might not be what she wanted quite yet. He reached out his hand. “Can I see your phone?”

She removed it from her purse and handed it to him.

He typed in his number and pushed a call through. His phone rang and he hung up. “I’m going to call you.”

Her ride to the airport pulled into the drive.

“If you change your mind . . .”

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t count on that.”

She sucked in a breath. “One thing.”

“Name it.”

Vulnerability crossed her face. “Don’t play me.”

He wasn’t sure he’d know how to play a woman like her. “I won’t.”

She leaned in, kissed the side of his cheek, and moved to the waiting car.

He held the door open for Avery and accepted her hug. “Congratulations,” he said in her ear.

“I’ll thank you when I stop throwing up.”

He laughed.

She lowered her voice. “Absence makes the heart forgetful,” she told him. “You might want to remember that.”

“I will.”

Victor watched the car drive away and felt the sunshine all around him dim.





Chapter Seventeen

A mausoleum would have been noisier than Victor’s office the day he returned. He purposely walked in late in the morning, yet a week earlier than he’d told Stephanie that he’d be back.

He walked past the receptionist in the main lobby, smiled, and said good morning. As he walked through the maze of halls and cubicles of desks and various employees, his presence seemed to stop all chatter midsentence.

By the time he walked into the foyer of his office, Stephanie was standing by his door, folders in hand, with very little expression on her face.

“Good morning, Mr. Brooks.”

“Morning, Stephanie.” He walked past her and into his vast space.

“Did you tell me you were returning today?” she asked, following him.