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The Silk Sisters—longtime friends Janelle, Sandra and Vicki—have turned their business savvy into a top-tier event agency. And in the wealthy enclave of Wintersage, Massachusetts, there’s an abundance of lavish parties, society drama and longing hearts to keep them busy.
Premier event planner Janelle Howerton swore off dating after college. Now her father wants her to make nice with an influential donor to his congressional campaign. After all, it’s just one date….
Billionaire Ballard Dubois wants to help Darren Howerton win the election. But he wants Darren’s daughter more—and his desires seldom go unfulfilled. Suddenly “one date” quickly spirals into a hot relationship, and celebrity gossip sites crown them the new “it” couple. And when Ballard proposes all of a sudden, Janelle shocks herself by saying…yes!
As the wedding date looms, Janelle and Ballard wonder: Is this marriage a mere political ploy? Or could this become a real, lifelong love?
“Ballard?”
He blinked as he heard his name on her lips, recovering quickly from his momentary speechlessness as he stared at her.
“A good-night kiss,” he whispered, moving in closer.
Her open palms immediately came to his chest, pushing slightly against him. He was certain it was to stop him. The problem was that it hadn’t reached her eyes. Instead, as Ballard looked at Janelle, he saw her lips parting slightly, her tongue snaking out to lick the bottom one then retreating inside quickly as she cleared her throat.
“Yes,” he began, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his fingers along her cheekbone and down the line of her jaw. “You can agree because you want to. Or you can simply tell me no, and I’ll leave.”
She hesitated, her hands still on his chest, making his desire burn hotter. After another second or so of indecision, her lips parted once more, and a small sound escaped.
“Ye—” she began to say.
And Ballard moved in, swooping his lips down over hers, taking the plumpness into his mouth before pressing his tongue inside.
She replied hungrily, grabbing the lapels of his jacket tightly in her fingers, tilting her head slightly so that when he deepened the kiss she was more than ready.
A.C. ARTHUR
was born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland, where she currently resides with her husband and three children. An active imagination and a love for reading encouraged her to begin writing in high school, and she hasn’t stopped since.
Working in the legal field for almost thirteen years, she’s seen lots of horrific things and longs for the safe haven reading a romance novel brings. Determined to bring a new edge to romance, she continues to develop intriguing plots, sensual love scenes, racy characters and fresh dialogue—thus keeping readers on their toes!
For all the latest news on A.C. Arthur’s books, giveaways, appearances and discussions, join A.C.’s Book Lounge on Facebook.
Dear Reader,
One of my favorite hobbies is event planning. So imagine my elation when I was asked to write this story about Janelle Howerton, an event planner! I absolutely love weddings and have planned a few in my time. Writing about Janelle’s hard-won trip down the aisle was a tremendous pleasure.
Janelle and Ballard were a special couple in that they both had high ideals for themselves and expectations neither of them could possibly meet—not alone, anyway. As they traveled the path to love, I felt a sense of pride at their personal growth and cheered them on every step of the way. I hope you, too, will root for this couple as they discover that no amount of material possessions or career achievements could make up for loving someone and being loved equally in return.
A.C. Arthur
To all the newlyweds, make every moment count!
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Introduction
About the Author
Title Page
Dear Reader
Dedication
Prologue
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
Copyright
Prologue
“You did not just say Justin Bieber,” Sandra Woolcott exclaimed after setting her wineglass down as gently as she could manage.
Vicki Ahlfors chuckled and shook her head.
“Yes, that’s what I said,” Janelle Howerton replied. “Or rather, that’s what the Parents’ Association secretary had typed on the list of demands they presented me this afternoon. In their words, ‘it is imperative that this year’s event have a wow factor.’”
“And Justin Bieber is a wow factor?” Sandra asked, still looking as if she just could not wrap her mind around the committee’s suggestion.
“Justin Bieber is a ‘wow, look what he’s doing now’ factor,” Vicki offered. “The last thing we need in Wintersage is the press and those no-class tabloid people hanging around reporting Bieber’s dirt and mixing it in with our homegrown dirt.”
Janelle nodded. “I absolutely concur. We have enough going here in Wintersage to write a couple of tell-all books. Besides, I’m thinking of classier entertainment.”
“Well, I guess by wow factor, they must mean who’s hot in the music industry right now. You could get Rihanna,” Vicki suggested.
“I never did understand why the town put so much time and money into a homecoming dance,” Sandra said. “It’s a high school function, not a national holiday.”
Janelle tapped a glossy peach-painted nail against her glass, partially agreeing with Sandra’s last comments. It was only a high school dance, but just about every adult living in Wintersage had attended Wintersage Academy, and thus all of them, the mayor and her director of finance included, thought this was the biggest event of the fall season. And since they’d already paid half Janelle’s commission to plan the event, she had no choice but to go along with their madness.
“Do you remember the homecoming dances when we went to Wintersage? They were the best parties of the school year,” Janelle recollected.
She, Sandra and Vicki had attended Wintersage Academy together and had even gone on to Nillson University in North Carolina as a trio. When their career dreams seemed as in sync as every other aspect of their lives, they’d opened The Silk Sisters, a one-stop shop for the most over-the-edge, sophisticated and creative events. Alluring Affairs was Janelle’s heart and soul, as it gave her the opportunity to do what she did best—manage and plan. Her résumé of successful events spanned the globe, from corporate events for one of the world’s largest banks to a stellar after-party during NYC’s Fashion Week and the lavish wedding of their very own mayor.
Sandra’s Swoon Couture was fast becoming one of the go-to boutiques for unique fashions. Her friend’s focus was now on growing her business on a national level, which Janelle knew would be an absolute success, despite how Sandra’s parents liked to downplay their daughter’s dream.
As for Vicki, her passion had always been the whimsical beauty of floral design. Petals was the name of her flower shop that occupied the first floor of the grand yellow Victorian they’d transformed into their business offices.
“Girl, yes, I remember,” Sandra replied. “Johnny Blackwell is all I have to say.”
Janelle laughed and nodded. “Yes! You and Johnny Blackwell dancing so close Principal Chaney personally came to pry you two apart.”
“And then you carried that X-rated mess back behind the bleachers, using me as a lookout. I should have made you pay me,” Vicki added.
“Hmm, that seems like forever ago,” Janelle stated. “Remember we were so ready to get out of this town and really live?” She definitely remembered that time herself, even if her best friends didn’t. It had been a time of changes, of rejuvenation, of expectancy. Now, years later, Janelle felt more as if she was in a time of denial, or at least stagnation, and she wasn’t quite sure how to deal with that revelation.
“What I remember are the nights we used to stay up late, drinking that nasty beer we’d snuck into the dorm,” Vicki said. “We would lie on our beds, bottle in hand, and fantasize about our wedding day. Remember that?”
Janelle sat back in her chair. She remembered but for years had tried to forget. Not that the memory was painful; it was more that her perfect wedding would not come to fruition. The topic never failed to bring her spirits down, but as usual, she wouldn’t let it show. Janelle Howerton would never taint her family’s name with the darkness that had once hovered around her.
“I remember you talking about your dream wedding nonstop, like you thought Romeo was going to call to you from outside the window,” Sandra added to Vicki with a chuckle.
“Don’t laugh—I remember that perfectly, too.” Vicki sat up straighter in her chair, her long hair pulled back into her signature tight bun, clearing her throat and smiling.
Janelle couldn’t help but smile right along with her. Vicki had always been the romantic of the bunch. She was the one who maintained long-term monogamous relationships always with the hope of meeting Mr. Right, while over the years, Janelle and Sandra had resigned themselves to believe otherwise and to make the necessary concessions.
“Small, sweet and simple,” Vicki continued. “That’s what I want. I’ll wear my mother’s wedding dress and be surrounded by all my family and friends. It’ll be perfect and romantic and everything I ever dreamed.”
Sandra nodded. “And it will probably only happen in your dreams.”
Janelle tried not to chuckle this time, noting the crestfallen look on Vicki’s face at Sandra’s words.
“It can happen for her,” Janelle said, reaching a hand out to cover Vicki’s. “If she believes in her heart that this is what’s in store for her life, it can happen.”
“Well,” Sandra announced, slapping her palm on the table, “I believe that Swoon will become an international name among anyone looking for uniquely designed outfits. That’s my goal for the foreseeable future—to hell with all this love and happily-ever-after.”
“This coming from the woman who has had more dates than I can even imagine ever having in my entire life,” Vicki responded.
Sandra shook her head, long highlighted strands of brown hair moving alongside her stylish hooped earrings. “A date is not a husband.”
Janelle didn’t speak but nodded her agreement. This was an old discussion that they’d had more times than she could count during their girls’ meetings at the Quarterdeck. Since their return from college—and even though they worked in the same building and often collaborated throughout the day with each other—the ladies had had a standing ritual to meet every Monday at one of Wintersage’s most popular taverns.
It helped that the Quarterdeck was located centrally, at the corner of Main Street, its back facing the bay with boats coming and going, right around the corner from the old Victorian they’d renovated for their offices.
While they normally chatted about business, the events they’d completed and the ones that were upcoming, the conversation, more often than not, ventured back to their own ideas about marriage and men, and so far nothing the others had to say was changing their viewpoints.
“Well, at least you’re dating,” Vicki continued, ducking her head as she twisted the stirrer in her white wine spritzer.
“Are you referring to me?” Janelle asked, knowing very well she was.
“There’s only one of us here that hasn’t had a man wine, dine and tap that behind in ages.”
Sandra laughed at her own comment, while Vicki continued to avoid eye contact. These two had been in Janelle’s life so long, they were the sisters she’d never had biologically, and they both meant well—she knew they did. But her reasons behind not dating and the strict guidelines she had for when she did date were her own business and she wasn’t about to defend them. She couldn’t.
“Whatever,” she replied with a wave of her hand. “I’m not complaining.”
And she wasn’t. Her life was exactly the way she wanted it, her business was a success and she was healthy. What else could she ask for?
Chapter 1
The minute he walked into the room, Janelle knew she was going to regret working from home this morning. But she’d awakened with a horrendous headache, the third one this week, and try as she might, the stress-free yoga DVD she’d purchased and the two ibuprofen she’d downed thirty seconds after rolling out of bed were not helping. The headache and tired shoulders and general feeling of fatigue were becoming an everyday occurrence for her and while she didn’t want to become worried, she was.
Sitting at the dining room table with vendor contracts spread out in front of her, she looked up into the eyes of Darren Howerton Sr. and wanted to groan with annoyance. Sure, he was her father and there was no other man on this planet that she loved more, but his mere appearance in this room, at this time of day, meant he was about to ask her to do something. And from the way he pulled out the chair across from her with ever-so-slow movements before sitting and staring at her with almost apologetic eyes, she knew she was on point with her assessment.
“Hi, baby girl,” he greeted her, smoothing his paisley-print tie down in front of him.
“Hi, Daddy,” she replied expectantly.
“Are you busy? I need to talk to you.”
While her father didn’t openly suggest that Janelle’s career as an event planner took a second seat to Howerton Computer Technologies, as Sandra’s parents did with her career, his almost complete disregard of her career was a dead giveaway this was how he felt. So whenever he asked if she was busy, it really didn’t matter if she said she was or not—he would proceed with whatever it was he wanted. She’d blame that on her mother if Susan Howerton hadn’t died suddenly in a car accident five years ago. At any rate, Darren Howerton had gone from his own mother’s overindulging arms straight into the arms of a young and eager-to-please wife, who made him feel as if he’d hung the stars and the moon. After her death, Darren expected Janelle to pick up the torch and treat him the same way. In addition to moving back to her childhood home to help her father cope, she’d slipped right into the pattern of expectancy her mother had created. She was basically there for whatever her father needed. Back then, it had been best for both of them. Janelle hadn’t wanted to be alone—fear an all-too-prevalent part of her life at that time. And her father hadn’t been able to be alone either; he would surely have died of a broken heart if he had been.
“What can I do for you, Daddy?” she asked, attempting to let the past remain there.
“Ballard Dubois. Do you know who that is?”
Janelle figured she probably should, and maybe if it hadn’t felt as if someone were driving spikes into her temples for the sheer hell of it, she could have given it a little more thought. But things being as they were, she didn’t even try. “I don’t think I do. Why? Should I?”
Her father raised thick eyebrows, probably at the spike in her tone, but he didn’t speak of it, just continued on. She wasn’t even surprised—her wants and needs were always secondary.
“He runs Dubois Maritime Shipping with his father, Daniel. Hudson Dubois is the family patriarch, the old coot. Each generation of Dubois is insanely intelligent, shrewd and devoted to that company. But Ballard’s the one with his hand on the pulse of a growing political concern—health care.”
Janelle watched as her father talked, engrossed by the slightly raspy sound of his voice and the aristocratic air he exuded when speaking about his business. What she couldn’t figure out was where all this business and political talk was going. Two years ago her father had decided to hand over the reins of HCT to Darren Jr., who was three years older than Janelle and much more suited to work in the family business than she ever claimed to be. Not one to be idle, Darren Sr. announced his candidacy for a seat in the state House of Representatives about six months ago.
With that flashback she thought of just how much she’d seen her father in the past six months. It hadn’t been often since he’d completely thrown himself into the campaign. At any rate, she hadn’t seen him this excited about anything since her mother’s death. That was why she’d stopped what she was doing and tried like hell to ignore her headache to listen attentively to what he was saying. She owed him that much and probably ten times more after all she’d put him through when she ended her engagement with Jack.
“Health care is taking care of itself,” she replied, “or rather, the current president is wading through those muddy waters.”
“My platform needs a strong backing in this area,” Darren continued as if she hadn’t spoken at all. “Ballard, through his foreign and domestic dealings, has developed his own core of health-care reform supporters. Having Ballard and Dubois Maritime backing me would be beyond beneficial. It would give me the push I need to build an even bigger margin between myself and Oliver Windom.”
In Janelle’s estimation, Oliver Windom didn’t stand a chance against the weight the Howerton name carried in Massachusetts. Still, she could tell her father felt very strongly about this. “Okay, I understand what you’re saying. How will you go about getting them to back you?”
Darren smiled and Janelle almost faltered. It had been so long since she’d seen a genuine smile on her father’s face. Sure, he’d appeared happy during the holidays and then at small family gatherings when Darren Jr.—DJ—had come into town. But for the most part, the day his wife died, the joy seemed to have died in him. Her heart ached at the thought.
“I’d like for you to schedule a meeting with Dubois. Visit him in his Boston office and talk to him about the campaign.”
All other thoughts fled from Janelle’s mind as she completely grasped what her father had been saying.
“You want me to get Ballard Dubois to support your campaign? Me? Not DJ?” she asked her father, more than a little amazed at what he was suggesting. It was obvious that since DJ had already taken over the family business, he was destined to follow in his father’s footsteps, and as such would be the one building his family’s legacy.
“DJ already has his hands full with the rollout for next year. Competition is fierce and HCT has to stay on top of the market.”
She nodded, understanding what her father had just said, and the fact that he hadn’t really answered her question.
“I have a business to run, too,” she told him. “The mayor’s executive assistant emails me at least four times a day about the homecoming dance and we have three more weddings before the end of this year.” She was just as busy as DJ and she was certain that DJ hadn’t been the one to swear off dating for fear of getting hurt and embarrassed the way she had been before. She was absolutely positive he wasn’t the one who had almost been raped.
Darren leaned forward, his charcoal-gray suit jacket adjusting to the movement as he let his arms rest on the table, his gaze intent on his only daughter. “I need you to do this for me, Janelle. It’s very important to the campaign.”
Say no. Say no. Scream the one-syllable word and then run like hell before he gets a chance to really work his persuasion skills. It wasn’t worth it; the risk far outweighed the gain. Didn’t it?
“I don’t have time to go to Boston right now, Daddy. I have vendors to interview, two site visits in as many days and a Skype conference with a French designer at the end of the week. I just can’t,” she told him, her heart pounding with the mere thought of going on this date, whatever the reason.
Darren shook his head. “You know, you look more like Susan every day,” he began, his voice a little lower, his eyes... Were they blurring?
“Sometimes I hear you talking on the phone and I could swear it was her. I just listen and remember and miss her all over again.”
She reminded him of her mother. Of course, she did look like Susan Howerton with her high cheekbones and eyes often called exotic due to their natural upward tilt. They also shared the same chocolate-brown complexion and wide smile. Janelle knew all this, had known it all her life. Still, when her father said it, when it caused him to miss her mother even more, she never knew what to say or how to handle it.
“You know she was the one to first talk about politics. She was sure it was the direction I needed to go in. It took me too long to realize she was telling the truth.”
Janelle took a deep breath, listening to her father’s deep and somehow desolate voice.
“I’ll see if I can work a quick trip into my schedule, Daddy,” she said, clenching her fingers as she did. “But I cannot make any promises.”
Darren smiled. He stood then and came around the table. His hand was on hers as he leaned down closer, kissing her on the cheek. “You’ll do wonderful, baby girl, just wonderful,” he said before standing and leaving her alone once more.
When he was gone, the only thing that Janelle could recall about her father’s presence was that he smelled like Calvin Klein Obsession cologne. That scent was just as dependable as her father had always been in her life. She’d always been able to count on him, always been able to run to him or her mother with whatever issues she had and know without a doubt they’d move mountains to fix them. Yet she hadn’t come running home to them the night Jack had assaulted her. She hadn’t run to anyone, for that matter. She’d handled the situation entirely on her own and she was still doing so. The only difference now was that she was tired of hauling guilt and fear around like carry-on luggage.
* * *
“I need your help, Janelle. I’m desperate,” Rebecca Lockwood said from the other end of the phone. “I cannot bail on this client. Mal Harford is the owner of Pacific Royal Airlines. He’s eccentric, to put it nicely, his wallet’s bigger than his mouth, and what he wants he gets, all the time. Please say you’ll do this for me.”
Sitting in her office two days after the very strange conversation with her father, Janelle had thought she’d managed to escape drama for today. She had been wrong.
“Slow down. Wait a minute. What are you asking me to do exactly?” She really didn’t want to do anything. Her workload was big enough and the Parents’ Association was driving her absolutely insane over this homecoming. Clients that just signed checks and let her do her job were her favorite and she wished she had more of them.
Rebecca took a deep breath, let it out on a heavily exaggerated huff that made Janelle roll her eyes, then continued, “My younger sister Alexa just called to tell me she’s having surgery on Friday morning. Her husband is serving his second tour in Iraq and she has a six-month-old daughter and nobody to help take care of either of them. So I have to leave for Colorado first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Okay, sorry to hear that. Hope the surgery and the caretaking go well,” Janelle replied with a nod, her attention traveling to the window, where she could see the sun finally beginning to set.