Second Chance Girl (Happily Inc. #2)

She laughed. “I have ideas. My parents are wonderful, loving people who told my sister and me that we were incredibly special. The most wonderful children in the world.”

“Most parents do that. At least the good ones do.”

“The problem is we believed them and no one told us otherwise. Not until we got to school and found out the truth the hard way. It was more difficult for Carol—she was older and got the brunt of the teasing. She tried to explain it all to me, to spare me the trauma, which helped. I kept my specialness a secret. Then, when I was seventeen, I was discovered.”

He shifted so he was facing her. “What does that mean?”

“A famous photographer saw me walking down the street in New York and instantly claimed me as his muse. Within weeks I was literally everywhere—in ads, on billboards. I had three major clothing campaigns and he put together a show that was pictures of me.”

“I had no idea.”

Violet did her best to stay in the moment. Talking about her past—at least that part of it—always upset her. “It was like being on a scary, wonderful roller coaster,” she admitted. “At first my mom wasn’t sure I should get involved with him, but I convinced her it was a great opportunity. I was interested in fashion and planned to study it after high school. What better way to make contacts than be a model for this guy?”

“I take it things didn’t end well.”

“No. What we didn’t know was he had the habit of picking a young woman to be his muse. I was just one in a long line of temporary faces in his work. Four months later, he moved on to someone else. It was only then I found out the advertising campaigns were with him, not with me. As far as the companies were concerned, we were all interchangeable. That was just his thing. My pictures disappeared from the gallery. It had never been about me at all. I wasn’t famous, I was a fool.”

“Not special,” Ulrich said quietly.

“Exactly. One of the masses. There were no contacts, very little money and no good memories. I went to fashion school and pretended it never happened.”

“On the outside. You had to deal with it on the inside.”

“I did. My mother felt terrible for not figuring out what was going on. I had to fake being fine so she could feel better.” She sighed. “It’s not like anything really horrible happened. Not one tried to sleep with me, I was never hurt or drugged or assaulted. I had my dream shattered. It happens every day.”

“Is that when you decided on safe, boring men?”

So he wasn’t going to try to pretty things up? “It wasn’t a conscious decision, but I would say yes. Part of living here is also about that,” she added, then tried to call back the words. That truth was one she usually kept hidden.

“Things are safer in a small town?”

She nodded. “There aren’t a ton of single guys in a wedding town. Not who live here permanently. And I’m not the type to pick up a groomsman for the weekend.” She managed a smile. “It’s okay. I’ll figure it out.”

“I’m sure you will.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “The timing of this statement might be suspect but I’m compelled to tell you that I’ve become quite smitten. You are lovely and I can’t stop thinking about you.”

She’d expected him to say something like, “You were a fool. Did you really think you were going to be a model?” Or “Could your story be less interesting?” Smitten? Smitten? Who used that word? Who meant it?

Ulrich turned back to look at the river. “You don’t have to say anything, Violet. Your silence speaks volumes, as they say. Not to worry. I’ll be gone soon enough.”

He spoke lightly, as if he was perfectly fine with his assessment of her lack of response, only that hadn’t been what she meant.

She spun to face him and grabbed his arm. “No,” she said quickly. “I’m not speaking with my silence. I was surprised by what you said.” She smiled. “Good surprised. I mean that. I’m fairly smitten myself.”

His features relaxed as he smiled back at her. “You are?”

“Yes. Unfortunately that means we find ourselves in quite a pickle.”

His dark blue gaze settled on her face. “Because I’m leaving?”

“That has been made pretty clear. You’re not from around here. I get that—what with the clues. Your accent, the funny clothes.”

He glanced down at his jeans and long-sleeved shirt. “How are my clothes funny?”

They weren’t but she liked teasing him. She had a feeling Ulrich didn’t get a lot of teasing in his life these days. “They’re just so British. And royal.”

“I’m not royal.”

“Sorry. They’re so dukeish.”

“As am I.”

They looked at each other. She read wanting in his eyes. There were other emotions but that was the one she was going with, mostly because she liked it. But when he didn’t move toward her or try to kiss her, she wondered if maybe he wouldn’t...because he was leaving. Because it would be bad form or whatever it was he would say. And because he was, at heart, a gentleman. He’d asked once and she’d refused. She doubted he would ask again.

Yet another pickle, she thought, although this one had a very simple solution.

She rose on tiptoe and lightly brushed her lips against his. The sound of his inhale was audible. His body stiffened, but he didn’t touch her.

“Violet,” he began.

She took his hand in hers. “I’m sure.”

He laced his fingers with hers. They walked back to her car and she drove to her place, then eyed the stairs up to her loft.

“You’ll never make that,” she said. “Let me grab a few things and I’ll take us to your hotel.”

Ulrich got out of the car. “I’m perfectly fine and extremely motivated. I can handle the stairs.”

“But your leg—”

“Is really the least of it,” he assured her. “Trust me.”

He was as good as his word. He climbed the single flight easily, then waited while she opened the front door. Once they were inside, he glanced at the open space, nodded approvingly, then pulled her close.

His kiss claimed her with mastery that left her reeling. She went from interested to take me now, big boy in less than two seconds. As his tongue brushed against hers, his hands moved up and down her back before settling on her hips. Heat burned. Heat and need and some whisper of emotion she dare not name. Not now...maybe not ever.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on as if she would never let go. He was tall and strong. Lean, yet powerful.

They kissed for the longest time. Deep, slow kisses that seemed to tug at her soul. He could have touched her anywhere, but he didn’t—not at first. Finally, when she was ready to complain that she wanted things to move just a little faster, he slid up her sides and lightly stroked her breasts.

Wanting grew as her breathing quickened. She broke the kiss to lead him to her bed at the far end of the loft. She set an unopened box of condoms on her nightstand, then unbuttoned his shirt. He unzipped her dress and let it fall to the ground.