Anything but Vanilla(70)

It was time to send him one that would let him off the hook, one that conveyed the message that she’d enjoyed chatting with him long distance but she had to get on with the life she had, not the one that shimmered in the distance like a mirage.

It was time to seize the fish.

* * *

Alexander rounded the bend of the towpath and saw Sorrel standing fifty or so yards ahead, looking down at the phone in her hand.

She was wearing an old pair of paint-splattered jeans and one of his T-shirts, her hair was tied up in a scarf, there was a streak of blue paint on her cheek and he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

He’d covered half the ground between them before she looked up and in that second, before she could hide behind the killer smile, he knew that nothing could ever beat this. This coming home to the woman he loved, who loved him...

‘Alexander...’ Now the smile was back. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I hated to think of you puddle-jumping on your own.’

‘You flew halfway round the world to jump in a puddle?’

‘No, I flew halfway round the world to jump in a puddle with you—’

And there it was again, a fleeting moment when she was emotionally naked and this time he didn’t wait for her to fix the smile back in place but reached out for her, sliding his fingers through her hair, drawing her close to him.

‘Don’t you have puddles in Pantabalik?’ There was a tremble in her voice that transmitted itself to his body. This was too important to get wrong.

‘Not ones you’d want to jump in,’ he said, ‘at least not on your own because that’s the other reason I flew home. To tell you that I love you, Sorrel. I’m home. If you’ll have me.’

He kissed her then, before she could say anything. Telling her in the only way he knew that one day without hearing from her was too long. That he could not live without her.

When he raised his head, he saw that she was smiling, but it was a different kind of smile. Soft, tender, the smile of a woman fulfilled, the smile that had lived in his dreams.

‘I won’t leave,’ he said.

She shook her head. ‘I don’t want to tie you to my side, Alexander. It’s not the leaving that matters. All that matters is that you come back.’

* * *

Six months later Michael was Alexander’s best man as he waited in a packed parish church for his bride.

Sorrel had been right. He’d had to leave, go back to Pantabalik, negotiate a settlement with the headman of the tribe for the harvesting of their precious plant. The texts had flown back and forth, full of warmth, fun, love, but he couldn’t wait to get home.

Home.

He’d never had one before, but now there was Gable End, and the flat in the gothic mansion that Sorrel had filled with warmth and the house, perched high above the river bank, that they were building together.

He turned as the organist struck up, warning the congregation that the bride had arrived, and for a moment he could see nothing as his eyes misted over. Then she was there, her hand in his and looking up at him with the smile that no one but him ever saw as they seized the moment, the day, the life they had been given.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from The Taming of a Wild Child by Kimberly Lang.





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ONE



The only thing worse than waking up naked in a strange bed was realizing there was someone else sleeping in the bed, too.

Someone male.

The bright light on the other side of her eyelids sent pain streaking through Lorelei LaBlanc’s head as she tried to piece together exactly what the hell was going on...and who she’d just spent the night with.

She forced herself to lie still; jumping right up might wake her companion, and she didn’t want to get straight into a confrontation before she had a handle on things.