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A Christmas Affair
Adrianne Byrd
She’s on his Christmas list— this time for keeps…As president of the talent agency she built from scratch, Chloe Banks is a New York success story. But beneath the fast-track facade is a small-town girl who’s never forgotten her humble beginnings—and whose past is a closely guarded secret. Until Chloe’s family comes to visit and brings a special holiday gift.Sensual Southern charmerLyfe Alton was her childhood sweetheart…and is the man who still owns her heart. Lyfe was devastated when Chloe left their Georgia hometown for the bright lights of the big city. Now he has just four weeks to seduce her back into his bed…or lose her forever. With Chloe nestled in his arms where she belongs, can Lyfe turn their sizzling Christmas affair into a season for second chances?




The sexiest smile slid across Lyfe’s lips a fraction before his head descended.
The two seconds it took for their mouths to connect felt more like a lifetime, however, the reward was well worth the wait. That underlining sweetness she remembered was still there, but there was also so much more.
More power.
More richness.
This was not the kiss of puppy love. This was a kiss of a confident man who knew how to do manly things.
Weightless and suspended in what felt like an alternative time and place. In his arms, she was grace and beauty … and love. Just like that. As if there hadn’t been more than a dozen years since they’d been in each other’s arms melting from each other’s kisses. At the heart … there was still a strong foundation of love.
There was no room for reason and reality at this moment. The past didn’t matter and tomorrow was just too far away for her to be concerned about. All that mattered was right here and right now.
In no time at all, she was returning his kiss with the same fierce hunger that he was trying to devour her with. When she heard a deep growl rumble from his chest, a surge of power surged through Corona. Her ego couldn’t help but inflate at the realization that she still had power over him. She could do whatever she wanted with him, right here and right now.
A Christmas Affair
ESSENCE BESTSELLING AUTHOR
Adrianne Byrd




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Chapter 1
December 16, 1998 Dear Diary,
Tonight I, Corona Mae Banks, became a woman.
We did it. I can’t believe it, but we finally did it. After dating since the seventh grade, Lyfe Alton and I have finally done it. I’m no longer a girl but a woman. I wonder if everyone is going to notice a difference in me tomorrow. You know that they say that women walk differently after they … well, you know. (LOL) Anyway, I know that you want all the details—and it’s not like I’d ever hide anything from you. So let me set the scene. As you know, Mom and Daddy headed out to Lagrange for Uncle Gary’s hoedown Christmas party. They’ve been planning on it for weeks. Well, that left me to babysit Tess (like always). Once I got her to stop bumping her gums, and to actually go to sleep, I called Lyfe over. Let me tell you, he must have been circling the place because he was here in like three minutes flat.
It was still enough time for me to get a fire going in the fireplace, put the radio on the Quiet Storm—that’s the program where they play nothing but slow jams—and sneak out one of Daddy’s beers for him and one of Momma’s wine coolers for me. When Lyfe tapped on the back sliding-glass door, I almost didn’t hear him. But when I turned to see his tall frame (he’s now six-four, can you believe it?) standing back there with snow flurries in his head, my heart melted. His shoulders looked like they were expanding a half an inch every day and there’s just something about his milk-chocolate skin that makes me want to lick him every time I see him.
He’s soooo fine—I swear that he could be a model or actor instead of a farmer. Heck. He could even be an architect. I’ve seen a lot of his drawings. He’s really talented. He could really get out and see the world. I know that’s what I want to do.
But a farmer? I still can’t believe that’s what he wants, but it’s what his father does and he loves and admires his father. That breaks my heart just a little bit because that means he’ll never leave Thomason, Georgia.
What’s worse is that he’d want me to stay here with him. Don’t get me wrong, I love Lyfe—always have and always will—but I can’t wait for the day I leave this Mayberry-wannabe town. All I’d have to look forward to would be jarring peach preserves, milking cows and birthing a whole village of babies. I mean, c’mon, Lyfe is the youngest of six. SIX!
Don’t get me wrong. I now know that making seven babies with Lyfe will be rather … wonderful. *Sigh*
Okay. I’m getting ahead of myself. I was telling you about how our whole evening went down. First, I let my Boo into the house and then immediately took him over to the nice spot I had arranged in front of the fireplace. There, he asked a few questions about how it was putting up with my Energizer Bunny sister and when I started answering him, he started nibbling on my ear.
“Ooh, honey. That tickles.” I giggled, but snuggled closer.
Lyfe responded by gathering me closer. Soon after, his lips stopped tickling and started feeling more like paradise. There’s this spot just at the juncture of my neck and collarbone that is … giiiiiirrrrl. My toes are curling just thinking about it.
Before I know it, we’re butt-naked and lying down on my father’s God-awful bearskin rug. Well, at least it was soft. I can’t say the same thing for Lyfe. (LOL)
My Boo was hard all over. And at his height, that’s a lot of hard chocolate.
But Diary, he is soooo beautiful. His body deserves to be sculpted in granite and shown at all the major art museums for the world to just marvel at. Meanwhile, I’m the only woman who gets to feel the real deal. And let me tell you. It’s something to behold. And he smells so damn good—and clean. He’s not loaded down with cologne or aftershave. He just smells like Ivory soap. Who knew that that could be a turn on?
“Are you sure that you want to do this?” Lyfe asked. It was an awkward question to ask now that he had made it all the way to third base. Any other guy, particularly his older brothers, would “act” first and “talk” second—or just skip the talking all together.
This was it.
The big moment.
He was naked.
I was naked. But suddenly there was this massive lump in the center of my throat and I couldn’t get any words out. To say, “yes,” meant that I couldn’t turn back.
At my silence, he quickly added, “I mean … I completely understand if you’ve changed your mind.”
I heard what he was saying but his eyes and body were practically begging for me not to change my mind. I smiled up at him. “Are you nervous?”
“What? Who? Me?” he squeaked.
My lips stretched wider as I grew more relaxed. “Yeah—you.”
“No. Of course not. Don’t be silly,” his voice squeaked so high this time that it cracked. He quickly coughed to cover it up, but the damage had already been done.
I struggled but I didn’t laugh. “Actually, I kind of like it that you’re a little nervous.” “You do?” he asked, astonished.
I nodded. “I’m nervous, too—and since this is our first time, why not be nervous together?”
A corner of Lyfe’s lips hitched up and a good number of my butterflies settled down.
“Why not?” He turned his head and pressed a kiss against the palm of my hand before meeting my gaze with the same intensity I leveled on him.
My thick, wavy long hair was spread about my head like a black halo. “Do you know that your skin has a natural starburst of mahogany in your cheeks?”
“It does?”
He nodded, staring at me like I was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
“And I love your eyes,” he said.
“You do?”
“Yeah. They get me every time. They’re a beautiful mosaic of colors that could easily seduce any man.”
“Stop it.”
“No. I’m being serious,” he insisted. “They’re a burnt brown when you’re angry, light sienna when you’re happy and simmering amber when you’re excited or turned on—just like they are right now.”
I blushed so hard it felt like a Nevada heat wave.
The three previous times that we had gotten that far or close to “doing it,” Lyfe claimed that he had already familiarized himself with every curve and dip on my luscious body. (That’s what he called it—LUSCIOUS!)
He said that he liked my little black beauty mark beneath my right cheek and even the small scar above my right knee that I’d gotten on a bad slide into home base when I was nine years old. (Of course he was the one that was blocking the plate!) Anyway, he said that it was the small things that make me perfect. ME—PERFECT. I could just die.
Lyfe Alton is the most romantic man in all of Georgia.
“I’m sure,” I said, panting and fluttering my lashes up at him. “I want to do this.” There are just no words to describe how his strong chest felt against my breasts—other than paradise, but I’ve used that word already.
As much as he wanted to play it cool and act like he knew what he was doing, I knew that he was just as scared as I was. After all, this was his first time, too. Last year, he kept saying that he wanted to wait until he was married to have sex. It is, after all, what my father always preaches. But this year, the last thing we’ve been thinking about is what was being said on Sunday mornings.
He told me that he’d been dreaming of this moment for a long time. He’d practiced poetic words in front of the mirror like a love-sick puppy. He’d endured endless teasing from his five older brothers, usually after being caught talking—or doing other things—while imagining a night just like this one.
I cupped the other side of Lyfe’s face with my hands. “Did you hear me? I’m really ready this time. I’m not going to change my mind.”
Lyfe blinked and then struggled to swallow the boulder in his throat. This was really about to happen. I could feel his heart galloping inside his chest. How long had he dreamed of this moment? Since sixth, seventh grade? He said he couldn’t remember anymore—just like he was struggling to remember all the pointers his older brothers had given him for when such a moment arrived.
“Condoms,” he blurted. “We’re supposed to use condoms.” Panicked, he glanced around to where he’d kicked off his jeans. After scrambling to retrieve them, he pulled out a sleeve of four condoms—but they sort of looked … old.
“How long have those been in there?” I asked, frowning.
“Not long,” he said, shrugging. “About a year … or so.”
I don’t know. I had a feeling that when we opened one that a dust cloud was going to float out.
A single worry line creased my forehead. Maybe it wasn’t too late to back out—again. But I couldn’t do that to him this time. After all, it wasn’t the first time that we had gotten this far—not the first time that I’d told him that I was ready only to then stop him at the last possible second and announce that I’d changed my mind. Each time, I’d apologized profusely while he struggled to get his dick back into his pants so that he could limp home and take another cold shower. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” I asked. He was taking a long time about opening the condom.
“Of course I haven’t changed my mind,” he said. “I just want to make sure that you’re really, really sure this time.” He kept my gaze trapped as he vainly tried to swallow his own Adam’s apple. “Are you sure?”
My lips spread into another smile while my hands reached for the condom. I boldly ripped the sucker open and then reached over and rolled it over his erection. My hands were trembling so bad. But as hard as he was, his dick still felt like smooth silk. (And it kept growing against my hand.) After fumbling around with it for about a minute, Lyfe finally reached down and helped roll the rest of it on. By that time, I’m wondering if I’m going to be able to fit all of him in. Surely something that big is going to hurt.
He must’ve heard my thoughts because the next thing Lyfe was saying was, “I heard that it should only hurt for like a few seconds and then it goes away.”
A few seconds? Please. He was talking to a girl who’s still afraid of needles. Again, I’m thinking about backing out, but a little voice inside of me keeps saying, “You can do this.”
“You’re still okay with this?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions?” I lean up and brush a kiss against his lips and then I’m just lost. (I’ve told you countless times before about how good Lyfe tastes, and tonight was no different.) At some point, I reach out and boldly wrap my hand around his throbbing dick, and I swear nearly every ounce of air fled that boy’s lungs.
Suddenly I was filled with this amazing power. It was like I could do anything and everything I wanted with him and he was going to let me do it. I can’t even tell you all the things that raced through my mind, things that shocked and excited me at the same time.
While my sanity slipped a few notches, a sly smile hitched the corners of my lips. “Does that feel good?” I asked.
“I … I … Yes,” he blurted. He closed his eyes and I could tell he was trying to will himself not to come before we even got started. We both had heard about that happening to a few of our friends on their first time. That’s one humiliation that I think he could live without. But he continued to struggle with it while I slid my hands over his erection with long, fluid strokes.
To make matters worse, tears started glossing his eyes. Truly. I think it was feeling so good to him that he nearly started crying. Sure, it wouldn’t have been the manly thing to do, but I can’t help but think that it would’ve been sweet. *Sigh*
Anyway. He didn’t cry. But he definitely leveled the playing field when he reached down in between our bodies and slid one of his fingers through the soft hairs between my legs. Talk about being shocked. The air hissed out of my body like a flat tire. And when he started rubbing the pad of his finger against my pulsing clit, OH. MY. GOD!
I sucked in a quick breath and thrust my tits higher into the air. My reaction was clearly a pleasant surprise to him because he got this big ole smile on his face. So he stuck in another finger and started twirling them around even faster.
Each time his finger went from the tip of my clit to the base, my sighs heightened, my head tossed faster, and my thighs quivered like a 9.0 earthquake. Focusing on my pleasure allowed him to gain control over his own body—but not for long.
My hands stopped gliding and started pumping. In no time, his toes were curling. “How about this?” I asked. My competitive side had finally come out to play.
I never thought that sex could turn into a competition, but I’m here to testify that it definitely can. At first, I was compelled to win, but then Lyfe’s fingers hit a certain spot and I was ready to wave a white flag of surrender and let him do whatever the hell he wanted to do with my body. I just didn’t care.
Is that bad for me to say? Does that make me some kind of ho?
Then, within a snap of a finger, Lyfe started crying out, “Oh, God!”
I peeked out through my lashes to see that his eyes looked like they were ready to roll out the back of his head. Hell, I’m not even too sure that he was even breathing.
I know that Lyfe is no stranger to the art of masturbation (he’s told me plenty of times about how his mother has nearly walked in on him). But I have a feeling that his large, heavy hands are a poor substitute for my soft, delicate ones, which were currently driving him wild.
“You like this, don’t you, baby?” I asked, leaning up and brushing a kiss against his neck. “Tell me how it feels.”
“It … feels … wonderful,” he panted. “Just don’t … stop.” He planted his hands on both sides of my head and started to rock his hips, as his cock slid in and out of my hand.
“I’m not going to stop this time,” I whispered against his ear. “I promise.” With that, I rained more kisses down the column of his neck and then blew a long steady stream of air against his ear.
“Oh, God, yes.” Lyfe quickly sucked in a deep breath and reminded himself aloud not to come too soon again.
I pulled back, allowing Lyfe to unglue his eyes from the back of his head.
“I’m ready,” I said. “I want my first time to be with you.” I leaned up again, keeping my eyes open as I brushed my lips against his. “Tonight.”
While still holding his gaze, I glided his erection closer to the center of my body.
“Is this it?” he asked, jamming his cock dead into my thigh.
“Ow. No.” I shook my head and then tried not to laugh out loud. “That is definitely not it.”
He struggled to reposition himself while I take hold of his cock again and tried to get him a little closer. But before I could get him to the right spot, he surged his hips forward again and jammed up against the wrong hole.
“OWWW.” I nearly jumped up off the floor.
“Sorry. Sorry.”
The worried look on his face was just priceless. We tried it again, but I warned him, “Don’t do anything until I get you at the right spot.”
Sheepishly, he nodded and waited like a good boy until I eased the head of his cock between my lower lips. Then … this was it. The big moment. I drew in a deep breath, wanting to savor the last few seconds of my virginity. I wanted to be cognizant of the fact that I was going from being a girl to a woman.
“Now?” Lyfe asked, jittery with anticipation. Even his eyes looked fever pitched.
“Now,” I told him and then planted a big wet kiss on him.
He surged forward.
“Ahh.” I tore my lips away just as quickly and sank my nails deep into his shoulder blades.
Lyfe hissed in his own shock and froze. “Did I do something wrong?” For a few seconds, he remained completely and utterly still, except for his throbbing cock pulsing inside of me.
I wasn’t sure if I was okay or not. I was halfway embarrassed and halfway scared that I needed a doctor. I thought he might’ve broken something.
At long last, he pulled his head up to search my face. “Are you all right? Do you want to stop?”
If I said yes, I knew that he would be in an iced shower for at least a week. He continued to hold his breath until I mustered up my courage. “N-no. I’m okay,” I panted.
“Are you sure?” The minute the question was out, I could tell that he wanted to smack himself over the head. Why keep looking a gift horse in the mouth?
I eased on a soft smile and then slid my hands down to his strong, muscled ass. “I’m absolutely positive,” I whispered. Clearly, it was my turn to take charge. I dipped and rolled my hips, easing him in deeper.
Lyfe struggled to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head again. Instead, he kept his gaze locked on mine as he started to move inside of me again. Somehow, in some unexplainable way, my body heat penetrated his soul. At least it felt that way as wave after wave of pleasure washed over us. Our hips moved in sync and, within a few glorious strokes, we were filling the living room with soft sighs and moans. We’d done it. We’d officially made the leap from mere high school boyfriend and girlfriend to full-fledged lovers, and it was clear that neither one of us was sorry.
While we rode high, I knew that this was a moment to be savored and forever etched into our memories. I watched as the flittering light from the fireplace danced across his dewy skin, and gloated while his lower lip quivered between strokes and low baritone moans.
“Ohh, Lyfe,” I panted. I was more in love with him at that moment than I’ve ever been. Our pants and moans blended together like a beautiful duet.
Soon after, he swept more kisses down the column of my neck while whispering, “I love you so much, Corona Mae. I’m yours forever. I’m here, baby. Tell me what you want—what you need.”
Hell, all I needed was for him to keep doing what he was doing.
I rolled my hips a third and then a fourth time. I was getting warmer and wetter with each stroke. It seemed like a whole new world was opening up to me and I was greedy to see and feel more. Is this how it always is with sex? Or am I feeling these things because I’m in love with Lyfe?
“Whoa … whoa … wait … wait … “ Lyfe gasped and then bit his lower lip. I could tell that it was just an attempt to regain control of his deteriorating willpower. Mercifully, I eased up and gave him all of fifteen seconds to try to regroup. As he opened his eyes, I was once again overwhelmed not only by the passion flickering in them but by the intensity of love that danced there as well.
With renewed confidence, Lyfe surged his hips forward and watched my expressions with fascination. His strokes were gentle, but he made sure that they grew longer and deeper.
“How does it feel, baby?” Lyfe asked. His lips stretched wide as he watched me struggle to answer. After a few more strokes, his cockiness evaporated and his toes curled tight. “Oh, God,” he groaned and then dropped his head against the crook of my neck where he breathed in my scent and lazily dusted more kisses across my collar bone and then down the valley between my breasts.
“Mmm. You smell and taste like honey and cinnamon.”
“Oh, Lyfe,” I moaned, digging my nails into the tender flesh of his muscled shoulders. “Please, don’t stop.”
“I have no intentions of ever stopping. You’re mine now.”
Diary, I felt like I was really losing my mind. But through the fuzzy mesh of my eyelashes I could see that in his quest to give me pleasure, he was steadily marching himself right over a cliff. Things started tingling in places that I can’t even risk writing to you. But just know that it was all so wonderful.
Lyfe’s breath came in short, choppy puffs. Before long, he was completely and utterly lost.
I started slipping into a vortex of pleasure. It became increasingly hard to keep air in my lungs while my body was being assaulted with all these wonderful sensations. Our moans grew into a crescendo that drowned out Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” playing on the radio.
I cried out and then started trembling violently. Above me, Lyfe unleashed a growl that sounded like something out of the jungles of Africa. A half a second later there was a bright light and then we were floating in a galaxy of stars. It was the most beautiful thing ever.
Collapsing in a heap, he locked his arms around me while I rolled over and peppered kisses across his sweat-slicked forehead. “Thank you,” I whispered.
He fluttered his eyes open. “That’s kind of an odd thing to thank me for, don’t you think?”
I blushed and then was rewarded with more kisses. “Thank you,” I repeated.
He just stamped on a silly smile and said, “You’re welcome. Feel free to ask me to do this with you again any time. Your wishes are my command.”
I giggled. “How about now?”
He blinked. “Now, now?”
“Yeah.” I smirked. “That is … if you’re UP for it.”
We both looked down at his growing cock.
“I don’t think that is going to be a problem,” he said. The front door banged open.
From the corner of my eye, I saw a pair of skinny legs racing up the stairs. (Tess! She probably saw the whole thing!) But that wasn’t our main problem. Mom and Dad came back home early.
“Damn it, Adele! It’s colder than a witch’s titties out here,” my father declared, swiping off his hat.
“Just be glad that we were able to get back before they closed the roads, Rufus,” Momma said. “Just get yourself on in by the fire and I’ll fix you some … “ They froze as their eyes finally landed on the scene before the fireplace.
Lyfe and I were equally frozen.
Then, finally, Daddy thundered, “WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE?”
“Uh … evening, Mr. and Mrs. Banks,” Lyfe fumbled out. Hell. I don’t think he could think of anything else to say.
But Daddy brought us back to reality real quick.
“Adele, where’s my damn gun?”
That was cue enough for Lyfe to jump his butt up and make a grab for his clothes. The rest of the sleeve of condoms sliding across the floor didn’t make things any better. Momma looked faint.
Daddy pulled out his shotgun from his gun cabinet next to the grandfather clock.
“Wait, Daddy no!” I yelled, jumping up—naked as the day I came into the world.
“Father in heaven,” Daddy roared and then took aim.
“Rufus, baby, wait!”
Lyfe tried to cram one leg through his boxers but ended up tipping over too much and tripping over the head of the bearskin rug. It was a good thing too because Daddy got off his first shot.
POW!
The buckshot grazed Lyfe’s ass cheeks. “Oww!”
“Rufus, honey, don’t kill the boy!”
“Damn it, Adele. I told you those damn Alton boys were no damn good!”
POW!
Lyfe scrambled low on the floor, figuring it was best to try to dodge behind the coffee and end tables.
“Coming up in here and disrespecting my daughter!”
POW!
“My daughter!”
POW!
“My house!”
POW!
“Daddy, stop,” I wailed.
“You hush up now, child,” Daddy barked. “I’ll deal with you later.”
Lyfe made a dash toward the back glass door. Unfortunately, the next buckshot shattered the damn thing before he could reach it, but that didn’t stop him from diving straight through it and out into the Georgia snowstorm—in his birthday suit with Daddy still hollering and chasing after him …
Buuuuuzzzzzzz!
Corona Banks jumped a foot out of her chair and then slammed her diary that she’d been reading shut. It took another half a second for her to realize that the buzzing was coming from her desk phone. Not wanting the call to go to voicemail, she quickly snatched up the receiver. “Banks Artists Agency, this is Chloe.”
“There you are! What on earth are you still doing at the office?” Margo, her assistant, hissed into the line. “You’re supposed to be here at Rowan’s place for the E! interview. We’re all waiting.”
Corona sprung up out of her chair. How on earth had she forgotten about that? She glanced over at the calendar and there in bold black lettering was indeed this afternoon’s interview. “I’m on my way. Stall them.” She slammed the phone and then glanced back down at the stack of diaries on her desk. She needed to find a new hiding space. The floorboard that she had concealing her stash had been suspiciously moved, and she had a growing fear that someone had found her treasure trove.
With no more time to think about the possible spy, she jammed the books back into her briefcase and rushed out of her New York office. She had more important things to deal with right now than daydreaming about a decade-old love that had never had a chance.

Chapter 2
Corona rushed up the stairs to the SoHo apartment in a pair of fresh-out-of-the-box Louboutins. While she went through the fruitless exercise of berating herself for running late, she had long ago accepted the fact that in all likelihood she would be late for her own funeral. It wasn’t that she was lazy or didn’t plan ahead of time—she just had a tardiness gene somewhere in her DNA. At least that was her excuse and she was sticking to it.
“Is everyone still here?” she asked Margo the moment she bolted through the front door.
Relief washed over Margo’s face at the sight of her boss. “Oh, thank God. The film crew has been here for over an hour. They were just talking about doing the interview without you.” She rushed over to help Corona out of her A-line Mischka coat to reveal her snow-white Gucci pantsuit. “Nice,” Margo said, her eyes widening appreciatively at Corona’s immaculate fashion sense.
“Thanks. I can’t have my fiancé show me up. Call me vain.”
“All right, Vain,” Margo said, shooing her toward the living room. “You just get in there before Rowan starts reenacting his Hamlet soliloquies from his Shakespeare in the park days.”
Corona smiled. No one loved a camera more than Rowan James. Heralded as this generation’s most bankable movie star, Rowan lived to be in the public eye. He instinctively knew his best angle and lighting at any given moment. While Corona thought of herself as attractive, she couldn’t say that she and cameras had the same love affair.
Inevitably, her plump apple cheeks would look too big or her doe-shaped eyes would make her look like a deer caught in the headlights. It was the oddest thing. When people met her, they would always toss out the backhanded compliment that she was more beautiful in person.
“Hurry,” Margo kept shooing her. “He’s getting ready to thank God and the Academy.”
Corona laughed, brushed her thick hair behind her ears, and marched into the apartment’s large, open living room with a ready-made smile. “Hello, everyone. I’m so sorry to have kept you all waiting,” she announced, with her voice all syrupy sweet. “Things were crazy at the office.”
Rowan James turned his dark head, and his glowing blue eyes lit up at the sight of her. “There’s my baby now.” He stood up and drew Corona into his arms before brushing a sweetheart kiss against her upturned face. “Glad you could make it. I hope this isn’t a dry run of what you’re planning to do to me at the altar,” he joked with just a tinge of seriousness.
“We’ll just have to wait and see,” Corona joked back with a playful wink.
K. D. Hardaway, a trailblazing celebrity reporter with womanly curves and high volume, corkscrew curls, popped up out of her seat and thrust out her hand. “The lady of the hour. We’re so happy that you could finally join us. I personally have been dying to meet you.”
Corona went to accept the woman’s handshake, but at the last minute, the exuberant woman abandoned the idea and instead threw her arms around her like they were long lost friends.
“You know the whole world is hating on you now, right?” the woman informed her.
Corona didn’t but she supposed that she should be grateful for the update. When she pulled back, K.D. kept a tight hold of her right hand. “Let’s see the rock, honey. Bam!” The reporter dipped her knees and dramatically flung her head back. “Well, all right now! Ha!” She turned toward her lone cameraman. “Ed, we don’t need a close-up on this one. I think the folks down in Texas are busy trying to get the glare of this diamond out of their eyes right now.”
Corona smiled sheepishly while Rowan swung his arm around her shoulders and thrust out his chest. “Nothing but the best for my Chloe.” He pried her hand from the reporter and then pressed a kiss just above her ring. “Honest to God, she’s the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he boasted.
K.D.’s perfectly arched brows damn near stretched to the top of her hairline as she gave them snaps in a Z-formation. “Well, all right now!”
Rowan laughed and pulled Corona even closer.
“So the entertainment world has their new power couple,” K.D. announced, winking into the camera. “It’s all good with me. It’s about time someone knocked Will and Jada off their throne.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Corona said, shaking her head. “My work is behind the cameras.”
“Exactly! That’s where all the power is, girlfriend. Don’t play.” She held up her hand, signaling for a high five.
Corona gave Rowan a look that asked whether this chick was for real or a caricature of every sister-girl role that she had ever seen in rom-com movies rolled into one.
He responded with a quick shrug.
“Don’t leave me hanging, girlfriend.”
Corona finally threw her hand up against K.D.’s which caused her entire arm of silver bracelets to start jiggling like crazy while she cheesed with a smile that could rival The Joker’s.
“So while we still have a few minutes, why don’t you tell our audience how you two met? Was it love or lust at first sight? Give us the dirt.”
Corona opened her mouth to answer, but Rowan quickly cut her off.
“I’m not ashamed to say that I felt something the first time I laid eyes on her. Chloe was like a ray of sunshine, and that’s saying a lot in this business.”
K.D. shifted back to Corona. “Is that how you felt, too? Wait. What am I saying? Who wouldn’t have fallen head over heels for this gorgeous hunk, huh?”
“Well … “ Corona hesitated with a nervous look over at Rowan.
“You got to be kidding me.” K.D.’s traveling brows had now blended into her curly hair.
Corona opened her mouth, only to be cut off once again by her overeager fiancé, who undoubtedly wanted to put a nicer spin on the story.
“Actually, it was probably not one of my best nights when we met,” Rowan laughed and then tossed a wink toward the camera.
“Oh?” The reporter edged closer, sensing a juicy story was coming her way.
“Yeah, I guess you can say that I was being a bit of a bad boy at a bar,” Rowan answered sheepishly. “As everyone out there in TV land knows, I went through quite an ugly breakup last year.”
K.D. nodded her head sympathetically, just like Corona imagined everyone else at home was doing right now. The entertainment world had been riveted for the past two years over Rowan’s love affair with Hollywood’s hottest sex kitten, Danica Foxx. Glossy tabloid magazines had made a fortune planting their faces on every cover in the western hemisphere. But, predictably, with all the media scrutiny, a couple that hot was bound to implode.
And they did. Quite spectacularly. Danica cheated on him. All that was missing was a set of golf clubs and a small library of lurid text messages to complete Rowan’s humiliation. But it was Danica’s announcement two days later that she was engaged to the movie star whom she did the cheating with that crushed Rowan.
“Anyway, I was sort of drowning my sorrows at the bottom of a Jack Daniel’s bottle, tossing back one shot after another when I looked up and there she was.”
Rowan turned and smiled at Corona. “An angel. A vision in white.”
Corona rolled her eyes at the way he was spinning their story.
“Sounds like you made quite an impression,” K.D. said.
“Yea, me.” Corona twirled her finger in the air with a breezy laugh before thinking better of it. Realizing that she needed to clean up her act a bit, she tried to explain. “You don’t understand. By the time me and my assistant, Margo, had made our way to the bar, Rowan and his new buddy Jack Daniels weren’t getting along so well.”
Rowan tossed the camera another wink.
“Our first meeting happened because I felt sorry for him for not being able to sit on a barstool,” Corona continued, finally starting to laugh at the memory. “Margo and I had a fun-filled evening lugging Mr. Blockbuster here back to his hotel. The whole time he kept telling me how perfect I was for a part in his next film. It was so cliché. Trust me.”
“Cliché or not, clearly whatever you did worked,” the reporter concluded.
“Not really,” Rowan laughed. “They dumped me on my bed—”
“More like he passed out,” Corona corrected.
“And when I woke the next morning, I was convinced I’d only dreamt her up.” He laughed and leaned over to give her another kiss. “Imagine my surprise when I saw her on the movie set later that evening talking to another star on the film. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was convinced that it had to be fate.”
“And I thought that I must have made someone mad in a past life,” Corona joked.
K.D. continued to look astonished. “You’re kidding me?”
“See why I’m marrying her? Anyone else in this town would’ve called the tabloids and made a quick buck.”
Sharp as a tack, K.D. cut in, “But it still proved to be beneficial to her. After all, she did sign you to the Banks Artists Agency, did she not?”
“Only after I tracked her down and begged her to represent me,” he said slyly.
“Really?”
“Well, what else could I do? She refused to go out with me.”
The reporter turned her incredulous eyes back toward Corona. “You’re kidding. You actually told the number one box office star in the world that you wouldn’t go out with him?”
Corona’s apple cheeks darkened with embarrassment. “No. I told the drunken guy that threw up in my shoes that I didn’t want to go out with him. I can forgive a lot of things, but ruining a pair of my favorite Jimmy Choos took divine intervention to forgive.”
Rowan smiled. “But the more she resisted, the more I just had to have her.”
“Ahh. So you’re a man who loves a challenge,” K.D. said.
“You can definitely say that,” he said, pressing another kiss to the back of Corona’s hand and then leaning over and stealing a slow kiss for all of America to see. When he finally pulled back, he declared, “I’m the happiest man in the world right now.”

Chapter 3
Over eight hundred miles south, in Thomason, Georgia, Lyfe Alton cocked his head up at the thirteen-inch television in Parker’s Service Station and tried to keep his drive-thru dinner down while he watched Corona Mae and superstar Rowan James smile and laugh in front of the cameras. Behind him, the small gas station’s door opened and jingled its bell.
“What in the hell is taking you so long in here?” Hennessey thundered, strutting up behind his younger brother and then smacking his heavy hand against his back. When Lyfe didn’t respond, he turned his head up at the television set to see what had caught his brother’s attention. “Hey! Ain’t that—”
“Yes,” Lyfe droned and then folded his arms.
Hennessey twisted up his face. “And ain’t that—”
“Yes,” Lyfe clipped out again, hoping his brother would catch a hint and shut the hell up. Of course he didn’t.
“Well, what in the hell are they talking about?” Hennessey asked and then glanced around until he saw the station’s owner behind the counter. “Yo, Parker. Can you turn this up?”
Lyfe closed his eyes and then drew in a long, steady breath. “C’mon. Let’s just go ahead and go.” He turned, but Hennessey’s gigantic hand locked on his shoulder and held him in place.
“Wait. Wait. Hold up.”
Behind the counter, old man Parker found his remote control and turned up the television set …
“Wow. I really am impressed,” the reporter with the wild hair said. She paused for a beat to allow the cameraman to zoom in on the engaged couple glancing lovingly at each other. “So let’s get to the nitty-gritty. When is the big day?”
“Christmas Day,” Rowan said, beaming. “Believe it or not, I’ve always dreamed of getting married on that day.”
“So did I,” Lyfe argued back at the screen. When he realized what he’d said aloud, he turned to his older brother. “Are you about ready to go?”
“Shh,” Hennessey said. “I’m trying to hear this.”
“Well, ain’t that about—”
“Parker, turn it up some more,” his brother shouted. “Motor mouth here won’t shut the hell up.”
Lyfe snapped his jaw shut while his two brows crashed together. Now if that doesn’t beat all. Grudgingly, he turned his head back toward the screen just as the station’s doorbell jingled again.
“Afternoon, Parker,” a familiar lyrical voice floated in.
Lyfe and Hennessey craned their necks around to watch willowy and leggy Tess stroll into the station.
Old man Parker lifted up the bill of his trucker’s hat and tossed the woman that was young enough to be his great-granddaughter a wink. “How you doing today, Miss Tess?”
“Oh, I’m doing fine,” she sighed, adding an extra humph! to her hips as she sashayed over to the counter. “I’m just looking for something to get into. You know how it is.” She handed over a pile of lottery tickets. “Daddy wants you to check his numbers.”
“Sure. No problem,” Parker said, jumping right to work.
Lyfe snickered. He had a feeling that if Tess asked the man to jump off the roof of the building while singing Old McDonald he would do it. The man was that smitten—just like most men that had the fortune or misfortune to cross her path were.
Catching the sound of Lyfe’s chuckle, Tess finally turned her bored gaze in his and his brother’s direction. She immediately lit up.
“Well, well. If it ain’t the Alton boys.” Tess’s beautiful smile grew bigger as she pushed away from the counter and strutted her way toward them. “Good Lord. All these chocolate muscles up in here. A sister might pass out.”
Hennessey laughed, mainly because Tess was as big a flirt as he was. “Don’t worry. If you faint, know that I got you.”
Lyfe rolled his eyes. He was going to have to take another look at his brother’s birth certificate and doublecheck that his middle name wasn’t “Corny.”
When she drew closer, her eyes widened. “Oh, my God … is that … Lyfe Alton? What on earth are you doing back in town?”
“Hello, Tess,” he said, tilting his head. “I’m on a little sabbatical from my architecture firm, so I came down to spend a couple of months with the folks.”
“Sabbatical, huh? Tired of living in the big city and thinking about coming back home?”
He shrugged to avoid answering.
Tess’s eyes roamed over him. He felt naked. He wondered if he should grab something to cover his private parts just in case she could see through his clothes.
“You know I never told you, but I used to have the biggest crush on you back in the day.”
“Is that right?” he said, straight-faced. The fact that Tess looked so much like her sister was beginning to make his chest hurt.
“Uh, huh.” Tess nodded. “But you were so stuck on Corona Mae that I don’t think you ever noticed any other girl in town.”
“He sure in the hell didn’t,” Hennessey said.
Lyfe gave his brother a hard glare that served as a final warning.
“What?” Hennessey asked, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s the truth.”
Only Tess picked up on his discomfort. “So where is the rest of the litter?” she asked. “Everybody knows that the Alton six-pack travels together.”
Lyfe shook his head as he looked her over again. “Like everything else, times change.”
Tess settled her hands on her hips as she tossed him a flirtatious wink. “Indeed.” She started to say something more when her gaze suddenly cut toward the suspended television set. “Is that—”
“Yep,” Hennessey said. “Looks like your older sister is still doing big things up in New York.”
“Parker, can you turn this up?”
“You got it!” Parker said, hitting the volume on the remote until people outside were likely able to hear the television set.
Lyfe groaned. But instead of leaving, like he should’ve done, his attention returned to the screen. Why not? He was a glutton for punishment, wasn’t he?
“Tess, honey. What the hell is taking you so long in here?” Rufus Banks thundered and then added to his old friend, “Yo, Parker, what’s up?”
“Nothing much. Just running your tickets through the machine here.”
Lyfe stiffened. He couldn’t help it. Things between him and Mr. Banks had never healed since the night he’d walked in on him and his daughter naked in their living room. Bullets flying at you in the middle of a snowstorm generally tended to have a lasting negative effect on a person.
The men’s gazes crashed.
“What the hell are you doing back here?” Rufus barked.
“You’ll never believe who’s on television, Daddy,” Tess said, interrupting a potential war.
Rufus grudgingly shifted his attention away from Lyfe and followed her finger that was pointing to the television. A millisecond later, a genuine smile carved its way into the center of his gray beard while he, too, strolled over to stand beneath the screen. “Well, look at Corona Mae all gussied up. What’s going on?”
Hennessey shrugged. “It appears you’re finally about to get yourself a son-in-law.”
“Say what?” Rufus squinted up at the screen.
“I’ll give you a hint,” Tess said, folding her arms beneath her small breasts. “Guess who’s coming to dinner.”
Rufus’s eyes bugged out. “What? That white boy right there?”
Lyfe gave him a lopsided smile. “Well, look at it this way. It’s not me.”
The men’s gazes locked again and another layer of tension was added between them. When Lyfe was younger, the look Rufus Banks was giving him would’ve been enough for him to trip over himself and scramble home. But fourteen years later, Lyfe was an intimidating man himself.
“Come on, Hennessey. Let’s get out of here.”

Chapter 4
The minute their wedding announcement segment ended on the entertainment channel, Corona powered off the television then jumped out of bed and raced toward the bathroom. “Oh, God. I think that I’m going to be sick.”
“Hey!” Rowan said from his side of the bed, as he lowered the script that he was reading. “I thought it was a very nice interview.”
Corona ignored him and dropped onto her knees next to the toilet bowl and waited for her dinner to make an encore appearance. But instead her stomach bent and turned like it was playing its own private game of Twister.
“Are you all right in there?”
She gagged and coughed but still nothing came up. “Yeah.” She sniffed and hung her head low so that her voice echoed in the porcelain chamber. “I’m fine.” In her mind, she replayed the syrupy sweet interview and felt another violent jerk in the center of her stomach.
What if my family saw it?
“You’re worried about your family,” Rowan said.
Corona jerked her head up to see her freshly minted fiancé leaning against the bathroom doorframe. He looked so studious in his wire-rimmed frames, and a hunk of his black hair flopped over his left eye. Then again, the man really didn’t have a bad angle on him.
“And don’t bother lying to me,” Rowan warned before she could think of a good lie. “I can tell that you’re worried about them learning about our engagement in the media before we get a chance to tell them in person.”
“Well—”
“Then let’s just fly down there and tell them. Get it out of the way. I don’t understand what the big deal is,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m starting to feel like the black sheep or something.”
Corona stretched up a single brow.
Rowan coughed and cleared his throat. “Okay. Bad choice of words.”
“You think?” Corona dragged herself off the floor and then quickly rummaged through her medicine cabinet for her beloved bottle of Excedrin.
“Okay. Then let’s just call them.”
“We will,” she said.
“When?”
“Soon.” It was all that she could offer.
Rowan’s steady gaze trapped her. “Is it because I’m white?”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Come on. You can tell me. I’m a big boy.”
“No.” She grabbed a Dixie cup and quickly filled it with water so she could down her precious two pills. “It’s not that.”
“But it’s something … right?”
Cornered, Corona prolonged swallowing her pills by holding them and the water in her cheeks longer than necessary.
When she didn’t respond, Rowan tossed up his hands. “Fine. Fine. I can take a hint. Believe it or not, I don’t need a brick building to fall on my head, you know. You don’t want to tell your parents right now. I’ll step back and respect that—but we’re going to have to tell them sooner or later.”
Corona sucked in a deep breath, but she didn’t answer him.
“All right. You know what? I’m going to head back to my place to study this script,” he said, turning around. “We begin shooting soon and I need to concentrate.”
Finally swallowing her pills, Corona followed him. “Whoa. Wait, Rowan. You don’t have to do that.”
“Actually, I do.” He completed his march over to the bed and started shoving his things into the leather duffle bag that he usually brought when there was a possibility of him being able to stay the night.
Corona sighed at having made a complete mess of this night. But, then again, didn’t this just fit the MO of how she generally screwed things up when it came to relationships? “Rowan—”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, blazing toward her and stopping briefly to peck a light kiss against the top of her head. That was definitely a sign that she’d screwed this evening up.
“Row—” She reached to stop him, but he was already halfway to the bedroom door and she was left grasping at air. “All right. Goodnight then.”
“‘Night.” He slipped out of the door and left her to listen to his heavy footsteps as they rushed down the staircase.
In the back of Corona’s mind, she had the fleeting desire to chase after him. But if she succeeded in doing that, what was she going to give as a better explanation as to why she wasn’t ready to introduce him to her family?
No, she wasn’t the only transplant from Georgia roaming the streets of Manhattan. But she was pretty sure that the other movers and shakers in the concrete jungle didn’t have fathers that proudly proclaimed winning the top prize in the Southern Select Show Pig Championship or chased the boyfriends they didn’t like with a shotgun and forced them to marry their daughters.
Call it a hunch.
Oh, she loved her parents. Really. She did.
She just loved them more when they remained in Thomason, Georgia. What was it they said? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? That was certainly the case with her and her family.
Hell, she’d forgotten to ask Rowan about her diaries—or accuse him of finding and reading them.
Riiiiiinnnng!
Corona jumped and then jerked her head toward the phone on the nightstand next to the bed. “Rowan.” Maybe he wasn’t so mad at her after all. A side of her lips quirked up. He might even be standing outside the building, wanting to say how much he hated how things had ended on a weird note between them tonight. After all, Rowan was a strong advocate of not going to bed angry.
The weight of the world lifted off her shoulders. She raced over to the phone and snatched it up with her apology cresting her lips before she even got the receiver to her ear. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”
“Well, it’s about time you admitted it!”
Her face twisted. “Who is this?”
“Damn. You don’t even recognize the voice of your little sister anymore?”
Corona slammed her eyes closed and groaned. “Tess.”
“Wow. What a way to make a girl feel special, Chloe,” her sister sniped. “What a ridiculous name. I’m calling you Corona. You were named after our grandmother, and you should be proud of that.”
“I am proud, it’s just … “
“Country. And country doesn’t work in the big city.”
“Can we please not argue about this?”
“Fine. I called to ask why I had to find out about your getting married to Mr. Action-Pack on that little thingy we call down here ‘the boob tube.’”
Corona’s heart sank. “You saw that?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. I watched it standing in the middle of Parker’s Gas Station with Daddy and … Lyfe Alton.”
“What?” Corona blinked and felt like she was being swept back into a time machine. What were the chances of Lyfe popping up on the same day that she had just been reading in her diary about their first time together?”
“Shocking, isn’t it?”
“To say the least,” Corona agreed. Her brain started churning out so many questions that she didn’t know which one to ask first. “What … why … how?”
“Exactly what I asked,” Tess said, picking up on her sister’s shorthand.
“Well, what did he say?”
“Not much. Really. Only that he was in town on sabbatical.”
Chloe nearly swallowed her tongue.
“Just imagine if you’d just come home for the holidays like I begged you. Who knows, maybe you two would’ve run into each other.”
She swallowed. “Like that would have been a good thing.” Still, she couldn’t stop herself from imagining what such a chance encounter would’ve been like. Awkward. Painful. Explosive.
“How long is he in town for?” Chloe asked, trying to sound casual.
“Don’t know. Didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t ask?” she said, shocked.
“Why do you say it like that?”
“Because I’ve never known you to miss an opportunity to get all up in someone else’s business,” Chloe answered honestly. “Never.”
“Well, we all were a little distracted with you and Rowan James trying to inhale each other’s faces on national television. Really. Next time, try just getting a room.”
“Ohmigod. Lyfe saw that?”
Tess clucked. “With you being in the industry, I figured that you knew how cameras worked. They broadcast to millions of people—even to ones who are just standing in a gas station.”
Corona felt like she might need to make another run to the bathroom.
“When exactly were you planning to tell us that you’re marrying a white boy?”
“Don’t say it like that. What difference does it make what color he is?”
“I don’t care what color he is, but people like a heads-up.”
“I know. I know. I’ll call them.”
“Uh-huh. Right,” Tess challenged. “Looks to me like you were planning to avoid the issue by doing what you always do, run away.”
“Not funny.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
“That’s not fair,” Chloe argued.
“But it is true.”
Silence.
“See? You may be good at running your little business up there.”
“Little?”
“But when it comes to family issues, you race out of the kitchen before the stove gets too hot. Talk to Daddy. It is waaaay past time for you two to settle y’all’s issues.”
“I know. I know.” And she did know. Things had never been the same between them since she had left Georgia the way she did. “I’ll talk to him. I promise.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Tess pressed.
“Okay. Is there another reason you called—other than to make me feel like crap?”
“Nope. I just wanted to check that off my to-do list.”
“Great. Fine. Consider it done.” She was tempted to slam the phone down, but she still had more questions about Lyfe that kept her from introducing Tess to Mr. Dial Tone.
“So. There’s nothing else you want to ask me?” Tess said, sounding like she knew exactly why her sister hadn’t slammed the phone down.
Silence.
“Say … anything about Lyfe Alton that you’re curious to know?”
“How … did he look? I mean—”
“Honey, let me tell you—that brother is sooooo freaking fine that the sheriff needs to be handing out tickets.” Tess roared to life. “I ain’t even lying. Tall as a mountain, muscle like POW! and POW! I mean, arms and thighs—but not like those gym muscleheads. I would give my right arm to drip some strawberry sauce all over Mr. Man’s body.”
“Have you forgotten just who in the hell you’re talking to?” Chloe snapped.
Tess cleared her throat. “Uhm … actually, yes.” Cough. “Sorry about that. But, Corona, I’m telling you. Out of the Alton six-pack, baby boy ain’t a baby no more.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean it. He’s—”
“I said thanks. I get it. He’s good looking. I kind of figured that much.”
“Can I have him?” Tess asked meekly.
“What?”
“Look, I know that there’s some unwritten rule about dating your sister’s exes. But hell. You don’t come around here no more anyway.”
“I’m about to hang up on you.”
“Is that a ‘no’?”
“Hell yes, it’s a ‘no,’” Corona thundered. If her sister was standing in front of her right now, she was certain that she would have wrapped her hands around the child’s neck and squeezed until she was the same color as a Smurf.
“Well, I don’t see what the big damn deal is. You’re about to get married and expand the family. Don’t you want to see me happy?”
“You so much as bat an eyelash at Lyfe, I’ll see you six feet under.”
“Ooh. Testy. Could it be that you’re not quite over your first love?”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“That’s all right. I know how to call back.”
“You’ll get the answering machine,” she warned. When in the hell is that Excedrin going to kick in?
“I’d imagine that if you really cared about Lyfe’s feelings that you probably wouldn’t have left him standing at the altar.”
“There was no altar,” she grudgingly pointed out.
“Fine. You wouldn’t have left him standing in our backyard in a suit that barely fit and with Daddy pointing a shotgun at his back.”
“Oh, God, are you ever going to let me live that down?”
“Uhm, no. Can’t say that I will,” Tess said. “What you did was foul.”
“Well, excuse me. Shotgun weddings went out about a hundred years ago. My ditching Thomason to come live in New York was the right thing to do and you know it.”
“Humph!”
“Fine. I’m the bad guy. I get it. Foolish me. I thought that you only called to remind me of that on Christmas and my birthday.”
“Consider today a special occasion.”
“Your snarky sarcasm is getting old.”
“And believe it or not, our worlds don’t revolve around you. Other people have feelings, you know?”
“Yes. I do know that!”
“Do you? Is that why you were all up on the television telling the world that you’re getting married but you didn’t even find time to call your family?”
“I said I was going to call,” she said.
“Uh-huh.”
“I was just … waiting for the right time. That’s all.”
“You had time to call a television crew, but not your own family? Right. You know, you usually only blow smoke up my butt on Christmas and your birthday, too.”
“I’m sorry. There. I said it. Again. I’m the bad guy. Got it. I’ll call Mom and Dad and just explain the situation.”
“Just explain? You’re not going to bring your Hollywood hunk down here to meet the whole family? What? Are you ashamed of us or something?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Didn’t have to. Your actions speak louder than words—and I have to admit I’m disappointed in you, sis.”
“You used to be proud that I escaped from that place,” Chloe reminded her. “You used to say that you were going to come live with me when you got old enough.”
There was an awkward silence over the line.
“Tess?”
“Corona Mae, it’s one thing to leave to go make something of yourself. It’s another thing to act like you’ve forgotten where you came from.”
“I didn’t—”
“Look. We’ve gone around and around on this issue. I get it that you didn’t want to be forced into marriage at seventeen. You didn’t want to become a teenage housewife, have a house full of children and work part-time at Momma’s hair salon while Lyfe likely joined Daddy at the church and the restaurant. You made your point. But that was a long time ago. Things have changed.”
Silence.
“Corona Mae?”
“Yeah. I know. It’s not like I don’t ever call.”
“Rarely,” Tess corrected.
“It’s just that … “
“You’re scared of running into him,” Tess said, as if picking up her sister’s thoughts over the line.
“Running into who?” She had no idea why she asked such a stupid question. Tess’s bark of laughter was so loud that Chloe had to pull the receiver away from her head in order to save her eardrum.
After a few seconds, she placed the phone back to her ear in time to hear her sister ask, “So are you a talent agent or are you a D-list comedian nowadays?”
“Ha. Ha.”
“You damn right, ‘ha, ha.’ I mean, really, Corona Mae. Don’t treat me like I’m stupid. You might have hauled your butt out of the state and got all your little fancy degrees at all those Ivy-league colleges up there, but I know damn well that you haven’t gotten Lyfe Alton out of your system. So play your little Jedi mind trick on someone who doesn’t know you.”
“I’m sure that Lyfe doesn’t spare me a second thought these days. We were just … kids.”
“Kids in love. You were each other’s first.”
“So what? Everybody had a first. It doesn’t mean that you walk around pining after them for the rest of your life.”
“Please,” Tess drawled. “Everyone is still a little in love with their first—especially women. I don’t care how awful or how much of a jerk the dude turned out to be, there’s still some part of us that’s always going to be in love with our first.”
“Yeah. Whatever.”
“That’s the best you got?” Tess laughed. “Pathetic. Why is it so hard for you to admit that you still have feelings for the guy? It’s not going to kill you or anything, you know?”
“Because it hurts too much,” she finally admitted. “Unless you’re telling me that Lyfe personally walked up to you and announced that he still has feelings for me, then I’m just going to assume that since he has never picked up the phone and called me that none of this means anything. I mean—did he even ask about me?
Silence.
The pain in her chest increased tenfold. “There. You see? Now can we drop it?”
“All right. Fine,” Tess finally agreed. “But what about Mel—”
“Drop it!”
“Fine. It’s dropped.”
“Thank you.”
“Well, I better go. Congratulations again on your engagement. Maybe one day you’ll tell me about this Rowan James—maybe even introduce him to me.”
“Tess—”
“I’ll talk to you later. ‘Bye.” Chloe was left holding the phone while the dial tone buzzed in her ear. “That went well,” she muttered.

Chapter 5
“Yo, Royce. I don’t know about this,” Lyfe said, climbing out of his F150 truck and then slamming the door behind him. “I really don’t feel like hanging out tonight.”
His oldest brother Royce waved his whining off his shoulders like a grain of sand. “Spare me. I think Mom or Dad can handle shoveling dog food into Sadie’s bowl for one night.”
Lyfe hitched up one side of his mouth.
“Seriously, bro.” Royce swung his arm around his brother’s neck as he led the way toward Henry’s Pool Hall. “You need to exchange that bitch for a real woman. I’m starting to worry about you.”
“Thanks, but that’s not necessary.” Lyfe tried to pry himself free from his brother’s tight hold, but Royce’s thick-muscled arm wasn’t having that tonight. He reached and got his older brother into a reverse head-lock and a three-minute wrestling match ensued. It was clearly a draw.
“Whatever happened to that one chick you were seeing a few months back—Kayla, wasn’t it? Hennessey said that he thought you were going to finally pop the big question.”
“Nah. It was never anything that serious.” Lyfe chuckled, stretching his neck muscles.
Royce frowned. “You two were together for like two years.”
Lyfe’s hand stilled on the front door of the pool hall and he tossed his brother an incredulous look. “Wait. You want to give me dating and engagement tips when you’ve never broken your three-month rule?”
Royce shrugged. “And? We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. And you—” he jabbed a finger in the center of Lyfe’s chest “—aren’t like the rest of us. You, unfortunately, inherited that monogamous gene virus that is all the rage with women nowadays.”
“You can’t be a gene and a virus.”
“See.” Royce thumped his chest again. “The mere fact that you know that makes you a freak.”
Lyfe rolled his eyes again—a habit he had whenever he engaged in these kinds of heart-to-heart talks with his brothers. “Let’s just drop it.” He jerked open the pool hall’s door and was greeted with a thunderous …
“Happy birthday!” everyone in the building shouted, holding up their beer bottles the minute the brothers strolled inside.
Lyfe laughed, then gave everyone a quick two finger salute. “Thanks, everybody. I really appreciate that.” He and his brother strolled deeper into the bar toward the back where he knew his other four brothers, Dorian, Hennessey, Ace and Jacob would be teamed up for their fierce pool competitions.
It was always Dorian and Jacob versus Hennessey and Ace as far back as anyone could remember. Only Royce and Lyfe could either take the game or leave it.
They were all competitive, a trait that had helped both Dorian and Ace to become lawyers and Hennessey to become a music executive. Royce was a farmer like their father, and Jacob worked as an architect in the same firm as Lyfe.
Bragging rights fluctuated from game to game and the obscene amount of money that they would bet was never actually collected by either side. That was true whether it was a game of basketball, football or even, sadly, Monopoly. One thing all the boys had equally mastered was the art of trash talking.
“Well, well. You finally found the runt,” Dorian said, sending his custom-made pool stick slamming against the cue ball and causing a thunderous whack for the break. “Where did you find him? At home proposing to his main girl, Sadie?”
The Alton brothers laughed.
Ace cut in, “Don’t worry. You’ll make an honest woman out of that bitch yet.”
Lyfe dusted off his shoulders. “Whatever.”

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