Windy City Romance: Boxed Set: Prequel - Book III Read online

  “Come and kiss me goodnight!” Bella called out.

  Pushing the door wider, Harper went in to give Bella a kiss and hug.

  Poor little thing. How Harper ached to give this little girl enough kisses to make up for every night her mother had been gone.

  “I love you, Harper,” Bella whispered against her neck.

  “I love you too, sweetheart.” How she longed to say those words to Cameron. Regret followed her up to her room, where she rocked in her chair until long after the lights came on along Victory Drive.

  Sleep didn’t come that night. McKenna had left a message on her phone. “What’s this about you coming back to Chicago? Let’s talk. Guess my question would be, is this really what you want?”

  Harper had no answer. She didn’t return McKenna’s call.

  Harper was disappointed when Cameron hadn’t found another nanny by the time her own birthday rolled around. The job market must have improved. Not every girl would be as desperate as she’d been when Cameron hired her, able to move in and start immediately. Upstairs, she had everything packed and ready in the boxes she’d stowed in the attic four months earlier. The drawers were empty, her drafting board folded up.

  The phone rang with her usual ringtone of pealing bells. When she answered, McKenna launched into a belated and raucous version of “Happy Birthday.” So amazing that she could still laugh. For the past week, there’d been no grins or giggles. Thank goodness Cameron had decided not to tell Bella until the new nanny had accepted. This time he was interviewing candidates in his office. Probably a good decision. Harper didn’t want to see them. Didn’t want to think of them sleeping in this room.

  “So what’s the update?” her sister asked.

  “No new nanny yet.”

  “Hey, you don’t sound excited about coming back to Chicago. Are you positive that this is what you want?”

  “I’m sure I will be when I get there. Adam has offered to drive me home.”

  “And you’ve sent out resumes?”

  “Stop being such an older sister!”

  “Fine, you can help me get Vanessa ready for Eye of the Tiger, that TV show I mentioned.”

  “Sounds good.” Anything to keep her mind off what she was leaving behind.

  Finally, they said goodbye. When Harper came downstairs, the mansion felt so empty without Bella and Pipsqueak. Connie had taken them both to the park. “No one should have to work on her birthday,” she’d told Harper.

  Harper was puttering around in the kitchen, licking the chocolate frosting from the bowl Connie had left on the counter. The smell alone was enough to start her salivating. Connie had made a spectacular three-tier cake, dark chocolate all the way through. If the frosting was any indication, the cake would taste yummy.

  When the doorbell rang, Harper dropped the spoon back in the bowl with a clatter and headed for the front of the house.

  But Cameron got there first. From his unruly blond curls to his Italian loafers, Cameron looked so handsome. Her heart hurt as she watched him open the door. The thought of a future without him opened an empty pocket where her heart used to be.

  When she saw who waited outside, that pocket slammed shut.

  “A visitor, Harper.” Cameron’s voice held a crisp edge.

  She inched forward. “Billy?”

  His tall profile was dark against the bright Savannah day, but there was no mistaking Billy’s ponytail. Was that a bedroll in back of him on the porch? Her former boyfriend wasn’t at all shy about walking right in.

  “Adam told me where you were. Hey, girl, I’m your birthday present.”

  She ignored his open arms. Harper’s mind was working, but her mouth wasn’t.

  “You can talk in the library, Harper, if you like.” Cameron was looking at Billy as if an alien had dropped from the sky. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  “Hey, thanks, dude.” Head bobbing, Billy looked around. “Nice digs.”

  Stepping into the library, Harper waited for Billy to follow but she wasn’t about to sit down. Having him in this room felt so wrong. She moved to the center of the red Oriental rug and stood there, feeling awkward.

  “Looks like life’s been treating you good, babe.”

  “I’m the nanny, Billy. What are you doing here?”

  Billy rocked back on his heels. She could see the sophomore she’d fallen in love with—the rebellious hair, the rakish smile. But these weren’t the blue eyes she loved.

  “I’m back, Harper.” His smile stretched too wide. “Hey, I thought you’d be happy.”

  “Back in Savannah?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah I stopped by our place. Did you know some other couple’s living there? I went to Adam’s shop, and he told me where you were.”

  “That’s nice, Billy. So you lost your job?”

  A red flush flooded his face. “How’d you know?”

  “Just a guess. Otherwise you wouldn’t have returned.”

  “I missed Savannah. I mean, you.”

  Perfect. Harper had rehearsed this scene so often in her mind. The moment didn’t feel as good as she’d thought it would. She just felt sorry for him. “It’s over, Billy. Really over.”

  His complexion deepened, but he didn’t look surprised. “It is, huh?”

  “What we had was fun and felt good for those years, but, well, I’ve changed.” And you haven’t.

  His shoulders slumped. “I’m really sorry, Harper. Guess I made a mess of things.”

  “You’ll figure it out. You always do. Besides, if you hadn’t done what you did…”

  “You wouldn’t have all this, right?” He pivoted on the heel of one battered boot.

  “I’m the nanny. I don’t have anything.”

  “Yeah, sure. I saw that guy.” Billy’s sad eyes dialed back to hers. “Saw how he looked at you.”

  “Bye, Billy.”

  “Right. Happy Birthday, anyway.” He reached for her.

  Revolted, she skirted him and made tracks for the front door, wrenching it open.

  “See you around?”

  “Maybe. Good luck, okay?” Then she did hug him. The guy just looked so sad, so clueless.

  After all, she’d loved him. Once.

  But he was the boy from her past.

  And that love was nothing compared to what she felt for Cameron. She didn’t know what the future held. But she wanted to explore it with a man.

  One man. And if he didn’t love her, well, he’d learn to. She had to believe that. Suddenly, Harper was willing to risk it all to be with him. She’d stay.

  When she reached the kitchen, Cameron was standing at the window. Next to him on the counter stood her three-tiered chocolate birthday cake. “He’s gone so soon?”

  She sidled closer. “Not exactly the birthday present I was hoping for.”

  Cameron’s eyes softened. She wanted to wrap that look around her like a quilt, but she’d settle for his arms. She loved how his lips tucked in at the corners when he smiled. Loved how they felt so soft at the start of a kiss, so darn demanding at the end. And his arms? So secure and comforting when he settled them around her.

  “Can you pull your ad for a nanny?” she managed when her head stopped spinning.

  “Never placed it.”

  That made her chuckle. “Oh, aren’t you confident?”

  “I’ve always believed in the future.”

  She touched her forehead to his. “Bella told me she loved me. I can’t leave a little girl who loves me.”

  He pushed back. “What about the man who loves you?”

  The sudden head rush made her giddy. But he wasn’t getting off so easy. “You mean Jack has a crush on me?”

  “Don't tease me now. I love you. You have to know that. You’re the love of my life, Harper Kirkpatrick. How could you have any doubt?” His eyes turned to blue velvet. Made her feel all soft and squishy inside.

  “A girl likes to hear the words, Cameron.”

  He melted. “Oh, Harper. Sweetheart. I’m a
southern boy. Takes a spell to get around to saying how we feel.”

  “I need it now. Maybe we should take a trip to Chicago so you can learn different ways.”

  His eyes brightened. "I get to meet your family?"

  "You bet. But only if you behave."

  "Now, what fun would that be?" he murmured, devilish mischief in his eyes when he lowered his head. Cameron’s kiss was comfort, slow and steady and oh so nice.

  Sure felt like she’d come home. Took a while to breathe again. “So then, we’re moving on from the past?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Harper’s eyes swerved to the counter. After all, it was her birthday. “I just came in here for the cake.”

  “Right, me too. But I’m having a private party. Are you the entertainment? I heard your kicks are spectacular.”

  She glared up at him. "Are you teasing me again? So I'm not a great dancer. I have other positive qualities."

  "As I am well aware." Arms around her, Cameron swayed her back and forth. Oh, yeah. She could stay here for a while. "I don't think you fully appreciate how wonderful you are. You're kind, compassionate...and lots of fun. Just ask Bella."

  "Gee, all that flattery could give a girl a swelled head."

  Grin on his face, Cameron looked at the cake she'd been ready to cut. “Cake later?”

  “My thoughts exactly. I've kind of lost interest. In the cake, I mean.”

  THE END

  From the Author

  If you enjoyed Finding Southern Comfort, I’d sure appreciate it if you would post a short review where you purchased this book. Many thanks for taking the time!

  HER FAVORITE MISTAKE

  Windy City Romance

  by BARBARA LOHR

  Her Favorite Mistake

  Copyright © 2013 Barbara Lohr

  All rights reserved.

  Digital ISBN: 978-0-9896023-2-7

  Print ISBN: 978-0-9896023-1-0

  Purple Egret Press

  Savannah, Georgia 31411

  Cover Art: Kim Killion

  Editing: Nicole Zoltack

  Licensing Information

  All Rights Reserved. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be resold or given away to other people. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems. With the exception of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews, this work may not be reproduced without written permission granted by the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events and places in the book are products of the author's imagination and are either fictitious or used fictitiously. Any similarity of real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Dedication

  for Ted

  Chapter 1

  Appearing on national TV, totally terrifying.

  Looking like a total tramp on TV, even worse.

  Especially since Grandpa Joe watched Eye of the Tiger every Sunday night. He loved seeing young entrepreneurs negotiate for backing.

  Shoulder to shoulder with her sister Jillian, Vanessa kept walking. The short black skirt barely reached her thighs. As if that weren’t slutty enough, the three-inch heels were killing her. Anxiety ripped across Vanessa’s chest. This narrow hallway felt eternal.

  “You’re teetering. Don’t teeter,” Jillian whispered.

  “Don’t faint,” Vanessa shot back. Joking helped Jillian forget the chemo and everything that went with it.

  Orange and black ricocheted off the white marble floor as neon tigers stalked and pounced on the walls next to them. Really helped her nerves. Not. Corny, but viewers loved the whole tiger theme. Later, staff would edit the tapes and add the snarling soundtrack.

  Vanessa had to rock this presentation. Failure was not an option. She brushed her mother’s pearls with her fingertips for luck. Every budding entrepreneur in the country wanted to be on Eye of the Tiger.

  Jillian grabbed Vanessa’s pinkie finger with her own and squeezed. Show time. Straight ahead, the huge walnut doors swung open. Amazing how plywood could look so real. Skidding to a halt at the red Oriental rug, they dropped their hands.

  Business women did not do the secret sister pinkie squeeze.

  The set blurred before her eyes. Wingback chairs, fake palms and gleaming side tables swirled into a backdrop for the Tigers. Quick tug on the skirt, and Vanessa threw her shoulders back. The neckline of her white blouse showed just a little cleavage. The pearls saved her from feeling like a hooker down on Chicago’s Canal Street.

  Men dominated the panel of five successful entrepreneurs. Today she was playing every card in her hand. Winner took all.

  Even though Jillian had insisted she was fully recovered from her last treatment, her skin looked so pale, almost translucent. Still, her sister always hung in there.

  Time to put on my game face. Vanessa planned to concentrate on Beverly Nash in her bold red suit. The import guru was known for mentoring other women.

  Then she saw him. Two blinks. He was still there.

  Her Vegas Hunky Hottie.

  “Vanessa?” Jillian whispered.

  “Good. We’re good.” Her fingers turned numb.

  Seriously, Universe? What the heck was he doing here? Although she didn’t know his real name, she’d know her Hunky Hottie anywhere. After four years, the memory of that night still sucked the breath right out of her body.

  Shock turned to disappointment. Wolfgang Russo, king of specialty delicatessens, usually sat in that chair. Along with Beverly, Russo would have been a potential backer for their business.

  Now Hunky Hottie sprawled in Wolfgang’s seat—almost like he belonged there.

  Focus. Breathe. Breathe.

  “Hello. I’m Vanessa Randall, CEO of Randall’s Whipped Cream Cakes, and this is my sister, Jillian Randall, CFO. Today, we invite your wisdom, and hopefully, your support for our family venture.” How lame was that? But cocky contestants didn’t fare well. If the group turned on them, they’d be sent packing.

  That wasn’t going to be her. That wasn’t going to be Randall’s Whipped Cream Cakes.

  Moistening dry lips, she swept them with a smile, bobbling over Hunky Hottie. He lounged in that chair like a lanky basketball player who knew he could score with each free throw.

  Well, he’d scored with her.

  Or had it been the other way around?

  Memories spun her into free fall. The hotel room. Her rush to leave. She blanked out. The sudden brain freeze turned her stomach to an icy brick.

  Leaning forward with one of her encouraging smiles, Beverly prodded, “Why don’t you give us some background?”

  But Vanessa’s mind blanked out, panic mowing through her. Thank God Jillian stepped forward. “Chicago families have enjoyed Randall’s Whipped Cream Cakes since 1935,” her sister began in her marketing consultant voice. “The recipe dates back to our great grandmother.”

  Thank God, the Tigers were now focused on Jillian. One second. Vanessa just needed one second. She was sweating like a truck driver. The entrepreneurs’ faces brightened as they listened to her sister. They loved family history. So did the viewers. When Jillian mentioned Grandpa Joe, Vanessa’s panic thawed. The gentle lines of his face always crinkled when he smiled. “You can do anything, Nessie,” he’d say.

  “Now we need to expand our business base.” Jillian had turned to her.

  Vanessa nodded, back on track. While her sister spun the introduction, she’d cut wedges of cake. Cushions of whipped cream supported rich chocolate layers. The studio lights glanced off the shiny chocolate glaze topped by dollops of whipped cream.

  “Samples?” she asked, a plate in each hand.

  They all nodded. Well, all except him. Lips pursed, Hunky Hottie tugged at his red polka dot tie. She wondered if he still wore matching suspenders. He jiggled a gold pen against the pad of paper in his lap. That tap-tap touched every nerve o
f her body.

  Usually contestants began in the center and worked out. Today, Vanessa headed for Beverly on the right. Was there a flicker of encouragement in the older woman’s smile? In the chair next to Beverly, Jack Delamerced fidgeted with his cufflinks. Long and lean with intense good looks, Jack was the advertorial king. She’d sure like his help with a fast ramp-up. Maybe Beverly would partner with him? After a quick nod, his eyes slid to her short skirt.

  Fine. She kept smiling. Just stapled the damn thing on her face along with her pride.

  One chance. Perspiration prickled along her hairline. Camera men angled tight shots so they could splice in close-ups later. Oh, lordy. If these lights were making her dizzy, what about Jillian? But her sister seemed good, wig staying in place.

  After serving Lee Rocco and Griff Bullard, Jillian circled back to the center. Putting his notepad aside, Hunky Hottie began to nibble.

  Vanessa dove into the heart of her presentation. They were the last group pitching today, and the five entrepreneurs looked beat. The leather chairs squeaked as they fidgeted, but after a couple bites of cake, they settled back while Jillian gave them some revenue numbers. Questions would start flying any time soon. Vanessa felt like a dart board.

  “You’ve sold eight hundred cakes in the past quarter?” Jack asked. “That’s barely ten a day.”

  “That’s why we’re here.” She pressed damp palms against her skirt. “Right now, we can’t afford more employees.”

  “Sure. We understand that.” Beverly threw Jack a glance.

  “So what's your ultimate goal?” Jack pressed on, as usual. “Where are you girls headed?”

  Girls? She flinched. Behind her, Jillian jerked, like she wanted to deck the guy.

  When Vanessa gave their revenue projections, he frowned. “Not very ambitious.”

  “Of course, we’re open to input.” If Jack thought he could increase volumes faster, she was all for it. Excitement replaced the nervousness fluttering in her chest.