Watercolor (29 page)

“I was thinking about next year and the following years,” he said, “and how we’ll always have these little guys reminding us.”

Tears were in my eyes as I leaned my head back against his chest. He kissed it.

“It’s true,” I whispered. “Are you giving this to me?”

He laughed softly. “I don’t know. I kind of want to keep it for myself to remember. It’s going to be hard.”

The hoarseness in his voice increased my tears, and I turned to face him. “But you said we’d be okay. We’ll make it work, right?”

He smiled and bent down to kiss me. My hands held his cheeks as his lips pressed mine apart. Energy replaced the sadness I was feeling as his fingers lightly traveled to the back of my dress, locating my zipper and sliding it down.

“Yes,” he whispered, and warmth flooded my stomach from both his words and the touch of his hands sliding across my back. “I’m not losing my angel.”

My hands dropped to his untucked shirt, slipping to the skin beneath it. Our mouths reunited, and we were lost in preparing for the shortage ahead.

What was coming wasn’t ideal, but we’d made it through worse than distance. The ties that had grown between us were stronger than ever, and should they waver, I only had to look down at my hand to know how he felt and what we had. I remembered his explanation when he’d shown me his small tattoo. Dragonflies meant deeper understanding. They meant new beginnings, and in some cultures they meant good luck.

Standing here now, with him in my arms, I knew we had all three.

~ ~ ~

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Mosaic
, Book 4 in the Dragonfly series,
coming 2014
!

Mosaic

by Leigh Talbert Moore

The future never works out as expected.

People are not always how they seem.

And time changes everything.

The story that began in
Dragonfly
, grew more complex in
Undertow
, and culminated in
Watercolor
finds resolution in
Mosaic
.

Continue reading for a special sneak peek at
Mosaic
…

Mosaic
Special Sneak Peek!

Book #4 in the Dragonfly series

By Leigh Talbert Moore

Coming 2014~

Present Day

His feet sank in the soft beige sand of the beach he’d known since childhood. Walking this overcast morning, watching the storm building in the distance, he remembered a time when he’d eagerly anticipated days like this. Running to grab a surfboard, hoping for waves high enough to ride. He’d been in love with life back then, embracing experiences and going for whatever he wanted without caring about the consequences.

He’d been pretty lucky with happiness and getting what he wanted too, but a lot had changed in the last twenty years. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d picked up a board.

The invitation had arrived months ago, and he’d put off thinking about it until now, the weekend of the event. Had it really been twenty years? The past swirled through his memory as he watched the gray waters, the salty gusts pushing his dark hair back. He was still tall and slim, and most people mistook him for younger than he was. But he’d noticed the small lines around his eyes.

Business
. That was the only thing that mattered to him now.

All the colors and distractions of youth were behind him. Marriage, kids, those things had somehow escaped him, and going into this weekend of reunion, he suddenly felt like he had nothing to show for himself.

Which was ridiculous.

He had money and power. Those counted for something—especially around here. He was the son of the most famous real estate developer on the coast, and as it turned out, he’d inherited his father’s keen business sense. He’d been successful at moving into development, and he liked it—unlike his brother, the golden boy, who now practiced medicine in Nashville.

He could also have any woman he wanted, and occasionally he did. But he also had a past.

The past. For a second he unclenched the vice grip he had on those memories and allowed himself to see her green eyes the last time they’d talked. Hazel eyes. She’d always corrected him. They were filled with tears. He’d said… so many things. He’d been so angry. So hurt and betrayed.

But that didn’t excuse the choice he’d made. The words he’d said knowing they’d push her away for good. He hadn’t seen her face again since that night in his office. She’d told him he wouldn’t. This was the weekend he might.

Lost in these thoughts, he walked back up the shoreline toward his office when he slammed into the small body that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“Wanker!” The girl hissed, her wild black curls flying around her head in the breeze.

“I’m sorry,” he started to laugh at her petulance mixed with a light British accent when he realized pages were swirling around them and scurried to help her collect them all.

“Bloody hell,” she continued fussing. “They’re ruined!”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, still grinning. “I didn’t see you there.”

“You should watch where you’re going,” she exhaled as they returned to each other, messy stacks of papers in hand.

He stifled his mirth.
What a funny kid
.

“What is all this?” he asked, looking at the pages filled with words and small sketches.

“My memoirs, of course,” she said with a flourish.

“Memoirs? How old are you?”

“Fifteen.” She momentarily deflated, but quickly recovered. “But my mother says I come from a long line of artists. So I’m writing and illustrating my life now before I don’t have time for such nonsense.”

“Some people would call it keeping a diary.” He studied the pages. The kid had talent, he had to confess.

“And some people are not as creative as I am.”

“I can believe it.” He handed the papers over, catching her clear blue eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Juliet. But you can call me Jules. Everyone does.”

“That’s a very fancy name, Jules. Parents big Shakespeare fans?”

She shook her dark curls, and shoved one behind her ear. “Don’t think so. I mean, Mum likes to read and all, but I’m named for my dad.”

“Your dad?” His brow creased. “You live around here?”

“We flew in from London for a school reunion. Mom, Aunt Gabi, and I are all staying at my grandparents’ house in Fairview.”

Gabi?
He paused and studied the girl a moment. “Your dad didn’t come?”

“Well, my real dad isn’t in the picture, if you know what I’m saying,” she slanted a familiar blue eye at him. “But Brandon stayed across the pond.”

“Who’s Brandon?” He felt a sting of something. It couldn’t be jealousy. He didn’t even know who this girl was. For certain…

“My step-dad. Mum finally agreed to marry him a few years ago, but it never took.” She exhaled, looking out at the water. “They separated last year. Poor Brandon. They think I don’t hear them arguing, but it’s hard to ignore.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t—”

“It’s pretty simple, actually.” Jules shrugged and started walking. Unable to help himself, he followed her. Was it possible this girl was… but her next words derailed that train of thought.

“She’s still in love with my dad,” she said. “She tries to deny it, but Brandon and I know the truth.”

Shock and energy surged through his chest. Was he furious? Was he glad? One thing was certain—he needed to hear this. “How do you know?”

“Oh, it’s the little things mostly.”

“Like what?”

“Well, she has this painting he did of her in her closet, and once I caught her looking at it.”

His brow creased. It wasn’t enough. “That doesn’t prove much.”

“Oh, no?” Jules flashed him a glance. “She was holding out her hand and tracing the brush strokes just so… I know she was thinking of him.”

They continued walking against the wind. “Sounds like you read a lot. Romance fan?”

“Well, naturally! But that’s not why I’m saying it.” She gestured to him as if making her big reveal. “There’s also the ring.”

He turned his face to the waves so she couldn’t see his expression change. “What ring?” He could barely ask the question.

“Well, Dad was brilliant.” A smile was in her voice. “He made her this gorgeous dragonfly ring when they were in high school, and she still has it.”

His eyes pressed closed. “Does she wear it?”

“No.”

“Then how do you—”

“I busted her trying it on one night, and there were tears in her eyes.”

He stopped walking and sat down in the sand. The soft white powder was cold and damp from the night before, and the sun hadn’t come out to warm and dry it. His slacks would be ruined, but he crossed his arms on top of his bent knees and forced the air in and out of his lungs.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jules asked, dropping beside him.

“Yeah.” He struggled to smile. “I like this weather.”

“Me, too,” she smiled looking out at the horizon. “Like something’s coming, brewing. I hope we move back.”

“Is that a possibility?” Did he want it to be?

The girl shrugged. “Mum’s always saying she misses it here. I can certainly see why.”

They were quiet a moment then he gestured to the growing waves. “When I was your age, I’d be out there surfing.”

Jules turned to him. “You live here?”

“Just up the road.”

She glanced at his slacks, dress shirt, and tie. “Very formal for a visit to the ocean.”

“My office is right there. I was on my way to work.”

Her brow creased over her blue eyes. His chest tightened at the sight of them, at the knowledge of what it all meant.

“You work in that big condo?” she said.

“Phoenician I. Penthouse suites.”

“What are you? Like the hotel manager or something?”

He exhaled with a laugh. “Something like that.”

“Did you go to Fairview?”

Pushing against the sand, he rose to his feet. “Yep. I’m supposed to be at that reunion, too.”

“Hang on.” The girl fished a phone out of her pocket. “It’s Mum. ‘Where are you?’” she read aloud. “She’s just waking up, I’m sure.”

He warmed at the memory of how she looked just waking up and glanced at the phone that held her words. A picture was there, but it disappeared before he got a good look.

“I’m at the beach talking to some old tosspot.” Jules read her response aloud.

“Thanks.” His eyes narrowed, but he smiled. Her cockiness reminded him of someone he knew too well.

“It’s okay,” she laughed. “I’m just messing with her. Watch this.”

They were quiet a split second before her phone buzzed again. Jules burst into familiar-sounding peals of laughter. “Come home now—five exclamation points,” she read.

She giggled again, speaking as she typed. “But he asked me to run away with him!”

“You’re not being very nice to your mother,” the man scolded gently.

“She’s used to me.” The girl poked her chin at him. “She likes to say I act just like my dad.”

Frustrated, he pushed his hand into the side of his hair, and Jules caught her breath.

“Hey, cool ink,” she said, reaching for his hand. He held it out to her. “It’s a dragonfly?”

“Yeah,” he said, watching as she slid her thumb across the small tattoo between his thumb and first finger.

Her instinctive response, exactly like her mother’s, burned in his chest. So many times he’d considered having that little reminder removed, but he could never bring himself to do it.

The buzzing of her phone interrupted them, and it was followed by the girl’s laughter. “911! 911!” she read.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I have to go.” She released his hand and turned, but she paused. “It was fun talking to you. Maybe I’ll see you at the reunion?”

“Yes, you will,” he nodded, making a decision.

“What’s your name?”